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rusty_armourTitle: But Who Killed Rodney McKay?
Author: Rusty Armour
Summary: Not every
Category: Action Figure fic, naturally. Mostly gen with, uh, heavyish slash overtones. Crossover of Stargate Atlantis, Enterprise,
Rating: PG-13ish, I guess
Word Count: 2,038
Spoilers: Bit of a spoiler for "The Day of the Doctor" and Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, but nothing else, I don't think.
Disclaimer: With a few exceptions, these characters aren’t mine. They’re owned by smarter, richer people. It’s totally not worth it to sue me. I’m just an editor.
Notes: Written for
jackycomelately’s birthday. Seems like a pretty shabby gift for such a special occasion, but I hope the birthday girl enjoys it. :-)
“I’m sorry, Trip, but you leave me no choice.”
“No!” Tucker said. “You’ve got plenty of choices! You don’t have to do this! No, Malcolm! Stop!”
Reed pulled the trigger and fired, smiling as Tucker collapsed on the ground.
“Oh my God!” Archer cried. “Malcolm, what the hell have you done? Why did you shoot him?”
Reed tilted his head slightly, eyeing Archer quizzically. “Where else are we going to get a body for the murder mystery?”
“So, you killed him?” Archer shouted. “You killed Trip?”
Reed frowned. “No, sir. The phase pistol was set on stun. I wouldn’t kill Trip. He’s my best friend.”
Archer cleared his throat. “Ah, yes. Right. Of course. I should have realized…Hold on! Did you say murder mystery? I thought we were doing The Man From U.N.C.L.E.”
Reed shook his head firmly. “No, we had a meeting and decided against it.”
“But it’s the fiftieth anniversary and-and
rusty_armour’s been watching a ton of episodes. It’s not as if we’d be short of ideas.” Reed shifted uncomfortably. “Yes, well, we’re not doing it, so I’m afraid you’ll just have to, er, suck it up, sir.”
Archer’s eyes narrowed. “They wouldn’t let you play Illya Kuryakin, would they?”
Reed’s bottom lip trembled. “I don’t know why. I’m short, I’m foreign, and I’m sure I can do a Russian accent just as well as David McCallum.”
Archer smiled gently and placed a hand on Reed’s shoulder. “I know all that’s true, Malcolm, but you’re not blond.”
“I could dye my hair! I’m sure if
rusty_armour used some yellow paint, I’d look just fine!” 
“You might look the part, but you wouldn’t be the part,” Lester said. He had snuck up behind them, looking smug when Reed and Archer spun around, startled. “You need a certain dramatic flair.” He looked down at Trip and nudged him with his foot. “Is this our body for the murder mystery? Awesome.” Lester was about to crouch down to ascertain whether they actually were dealing with a body, when he caught sight of the Doctor and Rose walking towards them.
The Doctor had his sonic screwdriver up to his lips, and Rose seemed to be holding an imaginary gun.
“Open Channel D,” the Doctor said, speaking into the sonic screwdriver.
Lester groaned. “No, we’re no longer doing The Man From U.N.C.L.E. We’re doing a murder mystery instead.”
Rose stomped her foot and pouted. “Oh! But I’ve been practising my Russian accent. Is good, da?”
Lester winced. “Nyet.”
Rose pouted even more. “Well, at least I’m blond.”
Lester smiled. “Not naturally.”
“Oi!” Rose said.
“If we aren’t doing The Man From U.N.C.L.E. then what are we doing?” the Doctor asked.
Reed, Archer and Lester glanced down at Trip.
“Oh. He’s not actually dead, is he?”
“No, just stunned,” Archer said.
The Doctor nodded. “I see. And what about Dr. McKay? Has he also been stunned?”
Archer’s brow creased. “Dr. McKay?”
“Yes, he’s lying down there.”
Everyone gathered near the edge of
rusty_armour’s blanket box/coffee table and stared down at the floor. 
“Well, I’ll be!” Archer said. “Will you look at that? Well, we know who shot Trip, but who killed Rodney McKay?”
“This isn’t The Man From U.N.C.L.E.!” Lester snarled.
“Then it must be some mysterious illness you’ve never encountered before.”
“Still not The Man From U.N.C.L.E.!” Lester yelled.
“Come on, buddy. Wake up. What happened? Who did this to you?” Fighting back tears, Sheppard stroked McKay’s forehead and drew him a little closer. “When I find the action figure who did this, I’ll make him, her or it pay, Rodney. I promise you that.”
Earhart, with typical feline curiosity, went over and sniffed McKay.
Sheppard gasped, barely able to contain a sob. “Oh, baby, it’s okay. I’m sure your daddy will be fine. He’s just-just…having a little sleep.” Sheppard shoved his fist into his mouth to cut off the anguished howl that was threatening to erupt. Earhart gazed at him for an instant with his yellow eyes and then started washing himself. “Yes, that’s good. Any distraction will help. We all have to try to carry on as usual. Rodney…Rodney would want that.”
“I keep telling you that there is nothing wrong with Dr. McKay, Colonel. I have run every conceivable test and all of the results have been negative.”
Sheppard glared at T’Pol. “Then it must be some mysterious illness you’ve never encountered before. Run the tests again.”
“Colonel Sheppard – ”
“Has Giant Radioactive Sherlock Holmes shown up yet? Lester promised to hire him when I had him in that stranglehold.”
“Have no fear, Colonel. I have arrived.” Giant Radioactive Sherlock Holmes knelt down and studied McKay through his magnifying glass. Then he gave a loud huff and was standing upright again. “I was at a crucial stage in my experiment when Mr. Lester arrived. I offered my services because I was told it was a matter of the utmost importance. I don’t appreciate such interruptions over something as puerile as a…a prank.” Giant Radioactive Sherlock Holmes turned on his heel and stormed off.
“No, wait!” Sheppard cried. “This isn’t a prank! There’s something wrong with Rodney!” He bowed his head and sighed. “Well, if Giant Radioactive Sherlock Holmes won’t help me, I’ll have to solve this mystery myself.”
“This isn’t a Man From U.N.C.L.E....” Lester threw up his hands and groaned. “Oh, why do I even bother?” He walked over to the Doctor, muttering, “I hate
rusty_armour.” 
“Join the club,” the Doctor said. His eyes were fixed on Sheppard and he looked concerned.
“What is it?” Lester asked.
“Colonel Sheppard has started questioning suspects.”
“Oh. Is that a problem?”
“It is when he’s flinging around false accusations.”
Lester’s eyebrows rose. “Are you sure they’re false accusations?”
The Doctor frowned. “Well…not entirely, but Sheppard could get himself killed if he’s not careful.”
“By the Dalek?”
“Actually, I was thinking Other Giant Hand.”
“Oh, I didn’t see her there.”
The Doctor stared at Lester in disbelief. “How could you possibly miss her?”
Lester shrugged. “I’m accustomed to searching for dinosaurs, not giant extremities…Oh! Don’t look now, but I think the floor show has begun.”
Sheppard was crowding Other Giant Hand, pushing himself right into Other Giant Hand’s non-existent face. “It was you, wasn’t it?” he shouted. “You killed Rodney!”
“Um, Colonel, Dr. McKay isn’t dead,” the Doctor said. “He was still breathing last time I checked.”
Sheppard gritted his teeth. “Fine. You were the one who stunned, Rodney.”
Lester raised his hand and coughed. “We can’t actually be sure that he was stunned either. In fact, Sub-Commander T’Pol seems certain that he wasn’t.”
Sheppard whirled around, waving his arms wildly. “Well, something must have happened to him! He didn’t just lie down and decide to play dead!” He turned back to Other Giant Hand. “You kidnapped Lester and Master 1.0 and tried to drown Giant Hand in a wash basin! You’re up to your old tricks again! Admit it! Admit that ummph!”
“That was four years ago, Sheppard. Four years. I’ve turned over a whole new leaf since then and, yet, no one will let me forget. The Masters and Dalek Sek have committed countless atrocities, but I’m the one you point the finger at – an extremely puny and pathetic finger, I might add, tiny plastic man.”
“Okay, okay,” Sheppard wheezed. “I’m sorry. I never should have said those things. Could you please let me go now?”
“Yeah, okay.” Other Giant Hand opened her fingers, and Sheppard fell to his knees, gasping for breath.
“Sheppard! Sheppard!” Archer was running towards them. “Trip just woke up and…Well, you’ll never believe this, but…Oh, hell. I’ll let him tell you himself.”
Tucker slowly approached them. He had a hand pressed to his forehead and was swaying as if he were dizzy. Archer hurried back to meet Tucker, wrapping an arm around his waist to support him.
“I hate Malcolm,” Tucker moaned.
“Trip, tell Sheppard what you just told me,” Archer said.
Tucker stared at Sheppard blearily. “I hate Malcolm.”
“No, not that! The other thing. The thing about McKay.”
“What?” Tucker blinked at Archer in confusion for a few seconds before his expression cleared. “Rodney was supposed to be the body! Malcolm stunned me before I could tell him that
rusty_armour changed her mind.” “The body?” Sheppard asked.
“Yeah. For the murder mystery.”
“So, Reed shot Rodney? But if Reed thought you were supposed to be the body then why did he shoot Rodney?”
Tucker rolled his eyes. “Malcolm didn’t shoot Rodney. No one did.”
“Then why is he unconscious?”
T’Pol took pity on Sheppard, gently placing a hand on his arm. “I believe the term is ‘play-acting’. Dr. McKay was merely pretending to be dead.”
Sheppard’s face darkened. “It was all an act? That bastard.” He rushed over to McKay and nudged him roughly with his boot. “Playtime’s over, McKay. Get up.”
McKay yawned and sat up. “Sorry. I must have nodded off. Did you solve the mystery? Did you figure out who killed me?”
“Yeah,” Sheppard said. “Me – in about two minutes.” His extremely puny and pathetic fingers clenched into fists. “Dammit, Rodney! I thought something had really happened to you! You made me get all emotional and everything! I…I was even nice to your stupid cat!”
McKay jumped quickly to his feet and gathered a tense and glowering Sheppard in his arms. “I know, snooky. I’m sorry.
rusty_armour thought you’d give a more convincing performance if you thought I was really hurt. She wouldn’t even tell me who the murderer was, though my money’s on Other Giant Hand.” “Why is everyone always blaming me?” Other Giant Hand shrieked. “I’ll have you know that there isn’t even a murderer.
rusty_armour was too lazy to focus on that particular aspect of the plot. She figured the whole story would collapse before she had to worry about the big reveal.” “Oh, you nasty little snitch!”
rusty_armour cried. “I have a good mind to smash my left pinkie again just for that!” “I’d throttle you first, you sadistic bitch!” Other Giant Hand screamed.
“Okay, I can see that it wasn’t completely your fault, Rodney,” Sheppard said. “I forgive you.” He glanced over his shoulder at
rusty_armour and Other Giant Hand and winced. “Let’s go hang out on the balcony, okay?” McKay smiled his crooked little smile. “Okay.”
“Not only is this fic totally lame, but it’s seriously lacking in visible minorities,” Mayweather said. “Did you see any black people? No? Didn’t think so.” He turned to Spike. “And what about vampires? Pretty sure there weren’t any of those either. And-and…” Mayweather faltered as he looked at Snape. “What the heck are you, anyway?”
Snape shrugged. “Dead vampire wizard?”
Mayweather grinned. “Damn straight!”
“Well, now, Travis. I’m not entirely sure about that.” Spike smiled and ran his hand down Snape’s chest. “I’m not sure about the lack of visible minorities either. There were Time Lords, weren’t there? The last three of their kind.”
Mayweather snorted. “Steven Moffat threw that out the window with ‘The Day of the Doctor,’ remember?”
“Oh, yeah. Well, what about T’Pol? I’d say Vulcans are pretty visible minority.”
Mayweather laughed. “Are you kidding? You can hardly surf anywhere on the Net without tripping over one of them.” His eyes narrowed. “Vampires too, for that matter.”
“There was a black hand,” Snape said.
Spike groaned and bowed his head. “Oh God, Severus, why?”
“It wasn’t a black hand! It was a white hand in a black glove – and that glove wasn’t even black: it was navy blue!
rusty_armour lost the original black glove and had to improvise! She didn’t improvise on the visible minorities, though, did she? No, she didn’t even bother with those!” Spike placed an arm around Mayweather’s shoulders – or tried to. It was difficult with the height differences. “Dude! Chill out! Look, Severus and I were already planning to give the story two thumbs down. We’ll add an additional four thumbs for the lack of visible minorities. I’d suggest more thumbs, but there’s only three of us. Will those six thumbs satisfy you?”
Mayweather sniffed and nodded. “Yeah, all right…Until
jackycomelately’s next birthday, anyway...” Crossposted at http://rusty-armour.dreamwidth.org/127831.html
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