The Puppet Master - Part One of Four

The Puppet Master

Chapter One - Static Shocks

“Ow.”

A short, sharp zap to his fingers, like a powerful static charge, enough to make him pull back with a curse and suck on the offended digits, whilst glaring at the cause.

“What did you do? Did you break it?” Zelenka leant past McKay to examine the device closely, pushing his glasses up with one hand and reaching out with the other.

McKay slapped it away irritably. “No, I didn’t break it. And thanks for your concern.”

“You’ll be fine,” Zelenka replied automatically, without looking up. “What happened?”

“Damn thing nearly killed me,” he mumbled, through a mouthful of fingers. Removed them long enough to point at a flat, dull square of metal on the surface of the device. “I found the power inlet.”

“Hmm.” Another pause to push up the glasses. “Must have been some residual energy in its buffer.”

“You think!” He studied his hands suspiciously.

Zelenka clapped him on the back. “At least now we can charge it. Figure out what it does.”

”True,” McKay admitted, brightening. “At least we’ll get something interesting out of that god awful place.”

The last mission had been to M4P-278, a desert planet where molten rock bubbled up to the ground, venting great clouds of hot sulphur from large cracks. Whilst McKay was investigating the ruins of a building with Sheppard, Ford and Teyla had remained by the gate, paddling in one of the natural springs. They were apparently more content to ignore the stench of rotten eggs than Rodney was.

“I hear some of your team enjoyed themselves. Doctor Weir is considering a return trip to see if there are any bigger baths, enough for swimming.”

“Seems rather pointless,” McKay answered absently, having turned to his laptop.

“She thinks it would be good for morale, and I am inclined to agree. It’s been months since I had a proper bath,” the Czech said, wistfully.

“Always seemed like a waste of time to me. You know you’re essentially sitting in your own filth?”

“Each to their own, I suppose.” Zelenka rested one hip on the table, his head tilted thoughtfully. “I once worked with an astrophysicist who took baths three, four hours in length. He claimed it was the best place for him to solve problems.”

Rodney gave an irritable, pointed sigh. “And I’m sure his help would be appreciated now because I’m not getting any from you.”

Radek scowled, but pushed himself up from the table, joining McKay at the laptop. “So what does the computer say?”

He frowned, tapping at the keys. “It’s some sort of data storage device, although god knows what anyone would want to store on that heap of a planet. We’ll have to hook it up to the Atlantis computers.”

“You know we’ll have to be careful,” Radek warned. “Dr Weir will want to protect Atlantis’ systems from any intrusion.”

“I’ll take precautions,” he snapped. “Besides, we have to work out how to interface the two first.”

“True,” Zelenka admitted, then yawned, barely managing to cover his mouth. “Tomorrow.”

McKay was about to object, then stopped. A month ago he might have stayed up all night, but he was beginning to learn from Sheppard that it was better to grab sleep when you could, because who knew when the next Genii invasion would force you awake for three straight days. Besides, he reasoned, the object wasn’t going anywhere.

It sat on the surface of the table doing nothing, impassive. About the size of a football, but covered in hexagonal flat surfaces a perfect two inches in diameter. There was no inscription, no buttons, no decoration of any kind, nothing to mar the flawless silver squares save for the sole matte shape McKay had accidentally touched.

It was neither Ancient nor Wraith, bearing no resemblance to any culture McKay had seen previously. And in the hours since returning from the planet, they knew little more than it was a memory storage device, and it gave a nasty static shock if handled improperly.

“Alright,” he agreed, grudgingly. “But tomorrow I want Johnston and Kusanagi to join us. See if we can’t figure out this one before we get to the next.”

Zelenka blinked, surprised. “I thought you disliked Doctor Kusanagi?”

“No,” he shot back, flustered, burying his gaze in his laptop.

“You normally assign her to Dewi’s team.”

“She,” he paused, admitted: “She scares me?”

Radek’s eyes widened. “Miko?”

“She hides behind those glasses of hers. And every time I go somewhere she’s always two steps behind me. And I swear, the other day she tried to grab my feet. Just,” he mumbled, “don’t leave me alone with her.”

“Ah,” said Zelenka, amusedly.

“Ah? Ah what?”

“God only knows why, Rodney, but you may have an admirer.”

“Kusanagi?” The laptop was forgotten. “I thought she, ah…” and he stopped.

“Yes?” Zelenka nudged.

“Well, most of the time it’s hard to tell she’s even female.”

He received a muttered Czech curse and a glare for his comment. “Sometimes,” Zelenka started, then stopped, descending back into exasperated Czech. He scooped up his notes with one arm and stalked away from the table, still muttering.

“What?” Rodney called out after him. “What!”

Chapter Two - Blue Jello

Blue jello.

He'd seen it served up at Stargate Command, although in the short time he'd spent there, Sheppard hadn't risked life and limb to try it.

It wasn't natural, he decided. Not that jello was, but there was something particularly vivid about this shade of blue. Reminded him of nuclear waste, and the nastier experiments in his high school science lessons.

Standing at the end of the long table set up in the mess hall, with his tray of cold meat sandwiches and potato-like accompaniment, Sheppard eyed the jar

cautiously, afraid its contents might come to life.

It was one of the few Earth made deserts that had been brought through the gate. The small quantity of fresh fruit had been eaten within the first week, and the dried, reconstituted ice cream the week after that. On a few happy instances, the cooks decided to use local ingredients to bake a cake, but the result had a mixed success rate.

So now only jello remained. And they had run out of the red, then the green, and finally the yellow - which nobody really liked, but it was at least it bore a passing resemblance to fruit - and now there was only the blue. One last jar of quivering gelatin bound by a thick, plastic beaker.

Sheppard hovered, indecisive.

A hand reached past him and grabbed the beaker. "Not going to eat that?"

He turned, with a "Hey!" but Ford only grinned at him.

"What happened to ranks, Lieutenant?"

"Sorry sir," Aiden shrugged, carelessly. "If you want it -"

"No." He waved a hand, deciding it was better safe than sorry. "It's all yours." Then he picked up his tray and moved away from the line, Ford on his heels.

McKay sat on a table at the far end of the room, beneath the window. His plate held the half eaten remains of a non-specific meat casserole, dubbed "dog food" by the youngest of the ranks, though in truth the meal was fairly tasty, providing no questions were asked as to where the cooks had found the meat. McKay held a spoon of the substance in one hand and was studying it with great interest, barely looking up when Sheppard and Ford dropped onto the bench opposite.

"What is it this week?" Sheppard asked, picking up his own sandwich. "A hair? A poisonous bug?"

To his disappointment, McKay didn't rise. "It tastes different."

Ford studied his own plate of stew. "Different how?" he asked, suspiciously.

"Not sure."

"Good different? Bad different?"

"Try some."

Ford glanced at Sheppard, who shrugged. He'd exchanged various tricks and gags with McKay over the past few months, but his jokes were subtle and he'd never known the scientist to play a prank on Aiden.

"Looks safe," he offered.

"Hmm." Aiden forked some of the meat and glared at it suspiciously for a moment, then popped it into his mouth. After several apprehensive chews his expression relaxed, and he swallowed. "Tastes the same to me."

"Oh."

Sheppard glanced at McKay. "Are you okay, Rodney? You seem a little... off."

The scientist lifted his head to stare at Sheppard for a second, then blinked. "Off? I'm fine. I think they've been using too much salt. They never know when to stop."

He relaxed a little. "Last week it was that they never used any at all."

"And this week they're using too much." McKay dropped his spoon onto the plate. "It tastes funny."

Ford was busily clearing his own away, barely pausing to chew. "Maybe it was your batch."

“Mm.” The scientist yawned widely, blowing a waft of hot, meat-scented air into Sheppard’s face.

“McKay!” He pulled a face. “I’m eating.”

"Can’t help it,” McKay excused, scowling. "I barely slept. A couple of selfish morons spent most of the night stood in the corridor talking, right outside my room.”

“Catch a couple of hours now,” Sheppard advised. “There’s nothing waiting in your lab, right?”

He received a glare in return, McKay pushing back from the table in a sharp, jerky movement. “Right,” he snapped. “It’s not like there’s a stack of reports on my desk that I have to read, or a backlog of artifacts still unlabelled. After all, we’ve explored the entire city, back of my hand, right? I’ve got more staff than I know what to do with and they’re all freakin’ geniuses, not like they need hand holding every step of the way –“

“Woah!” Sheppard raised his hands in protest. “McKay –“

“No, you’re right.” The scientist towered over them, glowering. “I’ll just take a nap, shall I? I’m sure no one will even notice I’m gone.” And then he turned on his heel, and stormed out of the cafeteria. Various pairs of eyes watched him leave, then turned back to their lunch.

“What the hell was all that about?” Sheppard wondered.

Ford shrugged, scraping his plate clean with the side of his fork. “Maybe he’s still pissed after yesterday.”

Sheppard frowned, thinking back to the planet Aiden had dubbed: ‘Fustondia.’ McKay had spent most of the mission with his face pulled into a grimace and with his fingers pinching his nose. Ford had eagerly volunteered to cover the Stargate despite the unlikelihood of anyone else venturing onto the planet, and after half an hour spent rummaging through the ruins of a building with the whining McKay, Sheppard had longed to join them. It was only after being threatened with a sharp, short shove into the nearest lava pit that McKay had finally clammed up.

It was possible, given his lack of sleep, that the scientist had decided to hold a grudge.

Sheppard sighed, watching Aiden grab McKay’s plate and dig into the congealing stew. “I’ll drop by his lab later,” he decided. “He can’t flounce all day.”

Ford raised his eyebrows. “Flounce?”

“Eat your stew, Lieutenant.”

Chapter Three - Minty Fresh

He forgot about any peace offering until much later. Spent the afternoon consulting Elizabeth and Bates on city security measures, then a couple being thrashed by Teyla in what passed for an Atlantis gym.

“You have not been practising,” she scolded, putting her weapons back into the cloth sack she housed them in.

“You always say that,” he retorted.

“And it is always true.”

He pulled a face. “I tried asking Halling but he said it wouldn’t be a fair fight. I thought his leg would have healed by now.”

She smiled, and turned away, slow enough for him to see it.

“Hey! What? That’s a lie. I knew it!” He pointed a finger at her. “What?”

She pressed her lips together, clearly trying to stifle a laugh. “I believe he is afraid of breaking you.”

He was aware of his mouth opening and closing several times without emitting any sound. “Well,” he managed, “perhaps you could tell Halling that I’m stronger than I look.”

“One would hope,” she replied, then turned her back on him before he could respond.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He followed her out into the corridor, and stood there whilst she purposefully ignored him. “Teyla!”

She picked up her pace, left him alone, muttering to himself. Decided to have a long talk with Halling the next time he was on the mainland.

It was only on the return trip to his quarters, flushed and dripping with sweat, that he remembered to drop in on the scientist.

Sat on a stool beside a lab bench, McKay turned upon his entrance and gave him a disgusted look. “I hope you’re going to shower before you inflict yourself on anyone else.”

Sheppard lifted one arm and sniffed cautiously. Pretty foul, he decided, but he wasn’t going to give McKay credit and flashed him a grin. “Minty fresh.”

The scientist muttered something under his breath which sounded a lot like ‘gorilla,’ then turned back to the bench. Sheppard grinned, and sauntered across to stand behind his friend’s shoulder.

Scattered across the surface of the bench were various unfamiliar metal parts and a number of cut wires. At one corner was stacked a small pile of flat, hexagonal pieces of silver that seemed to Sheppard to be vaguely familiar.

“Isn’t that the device we picked up yesterday?”

“What?” McKay picked up one of the squares and stared at it for a long moment. “Oh. Yes.”

He viewed the jigsaw critically. “You going to be able to put that back together again?”

“Probably.”

“Probably?” he joked. “I thought you could fix anything.” And he dropped his hand onto McKay’s shoulder.

Instantly McKay jerked away as though he’d been stung, recoiling, a shudder rolling through his body. “Don’t touch me,” the scientist snapped, his voice a harsh rasp.

Sheppard dropped his hand, trying to hide his shock. “Sorry –“

“Yes, well –“ McKay paused, his voice returning to a shade of normal. “I don’t want to share your bodily fluids, thank you.” He wouldn’t look at Sheppard, his gaze fixed on the lab bench, but knotted shoulders were visible beneath the regulation blue.

He tried to change the subject. “You’ve not forgotten movie night tonight, I hope? Teyla’s choice, you can’t miss that. And it’s your turn to bring the snacks.”

This time the scientist turned, and present Sheppard with a careful mask, a mock grimace and a roll of his eyes. Sheppard didn’t buy it. “And where would you suggest I look? We ran out of popcorn months ago.”

“And there’s the challenge,” he replied, failing to feel amused. He waited a moment but McKay turned back to the bench without another word. “Right. I’ll see you later?”

“Mm-hmm,” came back the non-committal response. “Shower first.”

He threw a sloppy salute but it was a wasted effort. Walked slowly, laboriously to the door and then was out in the corridor without McKay having looked up.

Chapter Four - He's Not the Messiah

They were half an hour through the movie and McKay was still conspicuous only through his absence. Sheppard had saved him a spot on the couch, but the room was unusually crowded and he was now being squeezed out by Carson and Ford. Teyla sat upright on a beanbag, Zen-esque, whilst Zelenka and a couple of scientists whose names Sheppard couldn’t place had pulled up a bench from the mess hall and were now lounging against the wall. Elizabeth had joined them several minutes in and had failed to find a seat – even after attempting to order Sheppard to give up his. She now sat on the floor beside Teyla, her face lit by the screen above her.

“I do not understand,” Teyla professed, for the sixth or seventh time that night. “Is he not a god in your religion?”

“Yes.”

“Sort of.”

“Not to me.”

“Son of, actually.”

Teyla frowned deeply. “He is not your god?”

There was a splutter from one of the scientists. “Not by a long way. Now Cleese, maybe.”

“Ignore them,” Carson said, the only one with the patience to continue explaining the plot. “They’re being deliberately pedantic, the idiots.”

“Ah.” She nodded, but did not seem particularly enlightened. “Then this character is not your Messiah?”

“No,” the same scientists spluttered, “He’s a very naughty –“

“It’s a parody,” Elizabeth explained, interrupting. “The humour comes from people thinking he is.”

“Then your people find blasphemy funny?”

“Some of us,” said Ford, who had had no say in the choice of movie.

“Where is McKay?” Zelenka broke in, in an ill-disguised attempt to change the subject. “I would think he would not want to miss this.”

“I thought you’d be able to tell me,” Sheppard replied, shifting in his chair to look back at the Czech. “He wasn’t in the lab?”

Zelenka shook his head. “I have barely seen him. We were supposed to be working on the items retrieved from M4P-278 but instead he had me repairing one of the outlying transporters for the afternoon.”

“No talking of work during movie night,” Elizabeth scolded, caught up in the film.

“Sorry.” Sheppard pushed himself up off the couch, Carson and Aiden quickly spreading out into the space. “I’ll see if I can find him.”

“Don’t be long,” Elizabeth advised from her position on the floor, “or you’ll miss the best bit.”

He waved at her, “I’ve seen it,” then slipped out of the door.

The corridors of Atlantis were unusually empty. The night had been dubbed Saturday, despite the lack of reference. Bates had organized a regular poker tournament, now in its second round in the mess hall. There was an informal bar set up by a couple of scientists which moved location in an attempt to avoid Weir’s eye, though Sheppard knew the effort was pointless, since Elizabeth had already chosen to ignore the transgression. Then there were the increasing number of couples using the night to know each other better – a habit Sheppard encouraged, whilst restraining his own simmering jealousy. That left the skeleton crew manning the control room, and the few who continued to work.

Sheppard reached the lab, considered knocking, then decided against it and opened the door. A small Japanese woman almost toppled from her chair in shock, grabbing the bench in time to stop her backward descent.

“Sorry,” he said quickly, raising his hands and looking around the otherwise empty lab. “Didn’t mean to startle you. Is Doctor McKay here?”

The woman blinked owlishly at him from behind bottle sized glasses, then shook her head rapidly without saying a word.

“Oh. Seen him?”

Another violent shake of her head as she flushed, the tips of her ears turning scarlet.

“Right.” He hesitated, caught off guard by the big brown eyes staring at him intently. He suddenly knew what it felt like to be a lion startling a young antelope. “Ah,” he gestured at the bench, “good work, carry on.”

She bobbed her head several times then turned back to the bench, seemingly to their mutual relief. He left her behind, heading back out into the corridor and wondering whether any of the scientists came stranger than her.

The door to McKay’s quarters was locked, failing to open as Sheppard approached. He knocked on the surface then with one thought flipped the switch. It slid open soundlessly.

“Holy crap.”

The room was empty of life – although it was hard to be certain given the volume of material scattered across the small room. Clothes and papers were strewn across all available surfaces, including the floor. A t-shirt hung over a chair, a pile of mismatched socks at its base. The sheets were torn from the bed, save the bottom which clung to the mattress despite dishevelled creases. The contents of the trash can – a half eaten power bar, some empty wrappers, several screwed up balls of paper – lay in a heap beside the overturned container. The room’s appearance suggested it had been personally trashed but, disarmingly, in the centre of the unmade bed sat McKay’s laptop. Its screen flickered, casting shadows onto the mattress.

Picking his way across the floor carefully, Sheppard reached the bed and turned the laptop towards him. On its monitor was displayed a schematic of the control room, and to the side a list of files and folders relating to the layout of Atlantis. There was nothing to explain the state of the room, or its owner’s disappearance.

Sheppard straightened, working out the kinks in his neck. “Jeez, McKay. I knew you lived in a sty but this is taking it to new levels.”

He paused, lingering indecisively. Thought for a moment and tapped into the city’s communication system. “Grodin, this is Sheppard.”

There was a slight pause before he heard a British accent. “Major Sheppard. What can I do for you?”

“Working late?”

“For the next hour. Then I might take in the poker game. I believe Sergeant Bates is playing Lieutenant Forman tonight.”

“So I hear.” He lifted his hand to work at the muscles in his shoulders. “McKay hasn’t been past you, has he?”

“Not during my shift, no.”

“Oh.” His shoulders slumped, hand dropping to his side. “Never mind. Thanks.” He mentally toggled the off switch, then considered the room. Tried to think of other places the scientist could be and came up empty.

After several more moments he decided to give up the chase. Grabbing a pen from the desk and a sheet of clean paper, he scrawled a quick note: ‘Watching MP in sofa room. Drop by. Bring snacks.’ Then placed it atop the computer keyboard in the knowledge that it would be the first thing McKay would see upon returning to the room.

Three hours deeper into the evening, and two films later there was still no sign of the scientist.

Chapter Five - Kate

During career fairs in her college years there had been a number of opportunities open to a recent psychology graduate. Schools, hospitals, further study, private practice. She’d picked the military, much to the shock of her peers, though less so of her parents. And she enjoyed the work, found it both stimulating and challenging. Under Doctor MacKenzie she had learnt of the SGC’s existence, and she wasn’t surprised when he’d put her name forward for the Atlantis mission.

Outside of her office Kate was rarely surprised.

It came as no great shock either when McKay failed to turn up to his scheduled appointment. It wasn’t the first time and she knew it would not be the last, but it had been almost three weeks since she’d seen the scientist professionally, making it five since the nanovirus almost killed him.

She’d been busy that week.

Choosing wisely to not ask any of his colleagues, Kate instead called up the science department log of recent jobs and picked the one furthest from the city centre. The transporters on the outer piers had been disabled in an effort to save power, giving her a twenty minute ‘stroll’ before she reached his location. Found him alone, sat beside a console, its guts spread across the floor.

She stood in the doorway for a moment, watching him sit, his back turned slightly towards her, idly rubbing the back of his hand with his thumb. He was silent, gaze fixed on the window. It seemed alien to see such quiet solitude from a man normally so full of energy, ideas spilling from a body that couldn’t contain them. It set off alarms, already sensitive given recent events and his prolonged absence.

Kate coughed, deliberately. “Doctor McKay.”

There was a slight pause before he turned, and she caught a glimpse of his face. A strange, haunted expression. Grey circles highlighted beneath dark eyes, mouth pinched tight and tired, cheeks sunken. Then he blinked and the shadows fled, though the haggard look remained.

For a moment, Kate wasn’t sure whether the man before her was the Rodney McKay she knew.

“Dr. Heightmeyer.”

“Kate,” she admonished. “I’d like to think ours wasn’t a merely professional relationship.”

He considered her for a moment, seemingly indecisive, before his gaze dropped to the console. “What are you doing here?”

She shrugged, casually. “Out for a stroll.”

It wasn’t supposed to be a successful lie. He snorted. “Let’s try again. What are you doing here?”

“I might ask you the same thing. We had an appointment.”

“Oh.” His turn to shrug, and gesture at his work. “I must have forgotten. I was caught up in things.”

“Seems to be a bad habit.”

He looked confused. “The briefing this morning,” she explained. “I heard Dr Weir calling for you over the comm. system. You were late.”

“Only by a couple of minutes.”

“Apparently not for the first time.”

He glanced at her, a frown creasing his forehead. “Elizabeth been telling tales?”

“You don’t have to be qualified to hear the frustration in her voice.” She took several steps towards him. “And what about our meeting? This isn’t the first time you’ve cancelled on me, Rodney.”

His restraint seemed to snap. “Well in case you haven’t noticed, my department’s been a little short staffed recently. I’ve been busy.”

“Fine,” she said, keeping her voice cool. “Do you have time now?”

He gestured at the console again. “What do you think?”

Fine. Two could play at this game. “I think that we’d be wasting time going to my office when here seems secluded. And I would hate to note in your record that you’ve been deliberately avoiding me.”

There was a long silence as McKay glared at her, chin lifted in resolute defiance before dropping under her gaze. “Fine,” he growled. “Take a seat.”

She dropped into a seated position several meters away, drawing her legs under her. “Is there a reason for your choice of location?”

He looked up at her, suspicious. “It needs fixing.”

“You could have sent someone else.”

“And have them screw up? Better to do it myself.” Another glare. If looks could kill Kate imagined she would be little more than a stain on the floor. “Is there a time limit on this little chat?”

She ignored him. “How have you been sleeping?”

McKay rolled his eyes. “Fine. Peachy.”

Knowingly: “Ah.” And if she’d had a notebook she would have doodled on it.

A scowl. “I sleep. Not as much as I’d like.”

“You used to say you had no problem getting to sleep.”

“It’s staying asleep that’s the problem.” He shook his head and rose in a quick, jerky movement. Started pacing, the thumb of his left hand running over the right repeatedly.

“You’ve been dreaming?” she asked, watching him pace.

“Full marks to the doctor.” He was studying the floor, head bent down so his chin almost touched his chest.

“Of anything in particular?”

“You tell me. Is there something I should be dreaming about?”

“Oh,” she kept her tone casual. “Earth. The Wraith. The Ancients. Past missions. Colleagues lost. Stop me if I’m getting warm.”

He snorted. “I thought you were supposed to be good at this. Looking into people’s heads, that’s what you do, right? Bet you can’t see into mine.” Paused and glanced at her quickly. “You ever think you were supposed to be someone else?”

She paused before answering, taken aback by the question. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“No, of course you wouldn’t.” He resumed his pacing and study of the floor. His assault on his right hand grew in ferocity. “Thinking you weren’t supposed to be here. It feels wrong. Alien.”

It was a thought expressed by a substantial section of the Atlantis crew but not one she thought she’d hear from McKay. She had always found him to be enthusiastic about the mission, even back in Antarctica, and was one of the few who had no regrets over his leaving of Earth. Still, she offered: “It’s a common emotion, Rodney. You’re not alone in feeling it.”

He shook his head. “Not like this. It’s different for me. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Then explain it to me.”

More pacing, increasing, and a developing stutter, fumbling over his words. “Like waking up as someone else, and knowing nothing. But people expect things. Demand things, and ask questions, and I don’t know what to say. Don’t have a clue. He calls me Answer Man. Hah!”

“Who?”

“Major Sheppard. He doesn’t get it. I have all this knowledge in my head but it’s trapped. Fix this, mend that, but I’ve never been good with my hands.” His hands broke off their assault on each other for him to point at her. “Clumsy, my parents said. But they didn’t get me either.” Snorted. “Wanted to shut me up. Like they could.”

She was growing increasingly alarmed by his behavior, by his frantic speech. By the thumb that was still digging into the flesh of his hand, nail first. “Slow down,” she encouraged.

He shook his head violently. “Can’t. There’s too much going on. Sparking all the time. And you tell me to slow down!” He came to a sudden stop, turned to shout at her: “I can’t control it, don’t you get that?”

She drew a quick breath, realized she was actually pressing back against the floor, flinching. Had to force herself to relax, to look at him calmly. Saw a tremor wrack his body. “How long have you been feeling like this?”

He stared at her, and she saw his muscles tense, lines drawing in about his mouth and eyes. The mask pulling up. “I’m tired.” And his voice was tight and controlled. “I’m sorry, doctor. You’re right, I need some sleep.” Grinned, and it looked macabre. “Carson says I can be as cranky as his grandmother.” In several short, quick steps he had crossed the floor and swept all of his tools into their box, shutting the lid on the heap. “I’ll send someone else to fix this.”

She rose, and fought her reluctance to close the distance between them. “We should finish this discussion after you’ve had some rest.”

He glanced at her, then back at the box, lifting it up with one hand. “Quite probably,” he agreed, then headed for the door. Looked back briefly. “You know your way out?”

She nodded, and watched his departing back. Released a long, shaky breath.

Chapter Six - Faking It

The corridors in Atlantis were well designed to not just carry electricity, but also sound. She could hear their voices though they were hidden behind a corner wall, muffled, blooming as she turned into the same stretch of corridor.

McKay’s back was turned to her. He stood hunched, shoulders bunched, defensive. Sheppard stood opposite, leaning forward, one arm lifted slightly from his side and hand twitching as though struggling to restrain himself. Both seemed oblivious to Teyla’s approach and she found herself hanging back, reluctant to interrupt.

“I looked in the lab, McKay. That little Japanese girl was there, told me you hadn’t been there for hours.”

“Then I must have been somewhere else.”

“Like, where?”

“It was evening, Major. Ever think I might be sleeping?”

“Your room was empty. I left you a note.”

“How preschool of you. Must have missed it.” Added, with a complete lack of sincerity: “Sorry.”

She saw Sheppard take a step forward, lowering his voice. “Come on, Rodney. I realise I’m a few evolutionary steps behind you but give me a break.”

“Fine. I went for a walk,” came back the response, heated.

“All night?” The hand twitched. “Even geniuses need their beauty sleep.”

She saw one finger reach out and jab Major Sheppard in the chest. “Ah. You’re in league with Heightmeyer.”

“What? McKay –“

“No,” came back the response, sharp and biting. “go find another puppy, Major. I’m sure Lieutenant Ford won’t mind being babysat. This one’s wise to you.” And then the finger became a palm, pushing Sheppard out of the way so its owner could continue down the corridor.

She heard Sheppard swear, throwing up his hands in despair. “Fine.” He stepped into a transporter alcove, the doors closing on him. Teyla waited several moments before chasing after the scientist.

“Dr McKay?”

He was ignoring her, shoulders tense, pace picking up. Said, without looking: “If you heard that little brawl and want to comment then save your breath. I don’t want to hear it.”

“Perhaps,” she said evenly, drawing to his side, forced into long strides to keep up. “Nevertheless –“

“You’re going to tell me anyway.” He shot a dark look at her and she caught a glimpse of shadows on pale skin and the hint of stubble. “Go on then. You may as well spit it out.”

“Major Sheppard is only concerned for you.”

“Concerned for his trained monkey.” His fingers twisted against each other, an angry red mark blazoned across his right hand. “CO’s job.”

“As a friend,” she emphasised, “he worries. As do we all.”

“Why?” He nodded in apparent agreement with himself. “He thinks I’m a liability. He’s waiting for me to screw up.”

Teyla found herself at a momentary loss. “That is not what I meant.”

“Hah. Right. Be polite. That’s the proper thing to do.”

She paused, then pressed on: “We worry.” And though since the funerals the issue had been avoided, though she and Ford had respected the scientist’s privacy: “These past weeks have not been easy.”

McKay’s reaction was not what she expected. She was shocked to see confusion in his face, apparent ignorance. “What?”

“The death of your colleagues,” she prompted, hesitantly. “And the circumstances –“

His gaze broke off and he stopped, offering her an unconvincing: “Oh, that.” And with horror Teyla realized McKay had no idea what she was talking about.

“Doctor McKay –“

He pulled his face into what she thought was intended as remorse. “I, ah, I’m coping.” Then he continued his stride down the corridor.

She found her feet had slowed unconsciously, allowing McKay to create distance between them. He turned, snapped at her, gripping his right hand with the left: “Teyla - pass a message to Sheppard for me. Tell him to leave me alone. Him, and Heightmeyer, and anyone else in their little league. They can stop spying on me, because I’m not about –“

And then he faltered, anger dissipating as suddenly as it had formed, and he looked so exhausted Teyla feared he might fall. “There’s too much,” he muttered, to himself. “Voices. Eyes in the dark.” Then he lifted his head with a jerk, glaring at Teyla. “Leave me alone.”

Elizabeth rarely closed her office door. Sheppard guessed it was a conscious decision, a deliberate attempt to appear open and available to any concerns a person might bring to her. He'd told her that she

didn't need to make the effort, and though she'd smiled and thanked him, she still left the door open.

Then he'd startled her one day, found her sat at her desk with her eyes closed. She said she'd been listening, that from her desk she could hear all the sounds from the control room and the gate below. She knew when a team was returning before Grodin called her, and she was always ready to stand at the steps to watch them depart. She knew when there was panic, and when there was peace, and said it was more soothing than any comm call or paper report.

That afternoon the door was closed, and he could see the shape of another figure behind the mottled glass. The rooms were roughly soundproofed, and he could hear little more than quiet, indistinct mumbles.

Peter was sat at his console, clearly distracted, running the same scan over and over and paying no attention to the results. He looked up at Sheppard and frowned.

"Is it urgent? Because she's been in there a while."

Sheppard shrugged. “You tell me.”

"Ah." Peter glanced at his screen. “Must be about the mission.”

“Probably. Who's in with her?" he asked, casually.

"Dr Heightmeyer." A frown creased the Englishman's forehead. "She's a few days early this month."

"Early?"

Grodin looked up at him. "Every month Dr Weir is given a rundown of all the assessments Heightmeyer makes."

"Oh." He nodded. Common practice at the SGC, so he'd been told, and something he would have to become accustomed to. Knew that the details were kept vague, the exercise only serving to alert the commanding office of any potential problems, but he had still bristled at the idea and only attended his own meetings with Kate because he liked the woman, and felt a perverted sense of obligation.

Talking of which…

The two women lingered in the doorway for several moments after it had opened. Heightmeyer kept her voice low, but the words: “I’ll keep you informed,” carried to where Sheppard perched on the end of Grodin’s computer bank. As he watched, aware of his gaze being mirrored by Peter, Kate nodded her leave of Elizabeth then dropped down the stairs out of the control room. She gave both men a brief glance and a smile, but Sheppard’s attention was already back on Weir’s office.

“Come in, Major.”

She led him into the room, took a seat behind her desk and indicated he take the one opposite. Glanced down at the papers on the table surface, then back up at him with a look of calm control. “Could you shut the door?”

“Sure.” And whilst looking at Elizabeth he directed a thought at the city, heard the doors swish quietly closed a second later. Waited for another to pass before asking: “What’s wrong?”

She sighed, control slipping to reveal worry, small stress lines beside her eyes, threatening to overcome the laughter lines. “Have you noticed anything wrong with Rodney recently?”

A wince. He should have guessed the purpose behind the summons. If McKay was acting odd with him then the science department must have been really suffering, and there were members who wouldn’t take the scientist’s mood swings with the same relative patience as his team mates. But Kate’s appearance was a surprise.

“Is that what Dr Heightmeyer was talking to you about?”

“Amongst other things,” she said carefully. “Does that surprise you?”

Not for the reasons you think, he thought ruefully. Had always found McKay to be as talented as he was in deceiving the doctor. His like for Kate as a person did not stop him from remembering what her job was, and McKay always kept his personal space fortified with an electric fence. His friends were those allowed to come within sight distance.

“Look,” he shrugged, “I know he’s been a little off-kilter recently, but it’s McKay. ‘Out there’ is a permanent state of mind.”

She sighed softly. “I realize that. Rodney doesn’t do much to endear himself to his colleagues. He works long hours –“

“He’s not the only one,” Sheppard interrupted, pointedly.

“I know.” Elizabeth leant back in her chair, her expression troubled. “I’ve checked the schedules of the science department. He’s been working almost twice his usual hours since –“

“Since the nanovirus,” he finished. “They’re short staffed. And you know what he’s like. Thinks the city will fall apart if he doesn’t oversee every job.”

“The phrase ‘trained chimps’ springs to mind,” she said, dryly.

“It’s one of his favorites.”

She smiled, but faltered after a moment. “Recent losses have meant we’ve all been pulling long nights and double shifts. It’s not a situation I’m happy with but I realize there is little choice if we want to achieve even half of what we could accomplish here. But when that work ethic starts to affect a person’s emotional wellbeing I have to be concerned. Aside from being a friend, Rodney is also head of the science department. I need to know he’s…” She paused, lost for words.

“Surviving?” Sheppard asked, thinking of his own history.

“More than that.” She steepled her fingers and looked across at him. “I can’t send anyone off-world if they aren’t reacting to situations in a rational manner.”

Another wince, as he thought back to the argument in the corridor. To his friend’s knee-jerk reaction to a friendly pat on the arm. Of the bedroom, torn apart, and the unexplained absences. “I’m a little worried,” he admitted, reluctantly. “The man can’t relax.”

She looked away from him for a second, and he saw a flicker in her eyes. Something she knew, something she wasn’t about to share. He grimaced, and continued.

“He’s been a bit snappier than normal. But like you said, he’s over worked. I don’t blame him.”

“He’s been forgetting things,” she said. “He was late to the briefing.”

“Not for the first time,” he pointed out. “McKay gets distracted. Give him an alien device and he’s like a kid with a new toy.”

She smiled again, but it still seemed no more colorful than the first. “It’s getting worse, Major. I can put a few instances down to distraction but he was almost twenty minutes late last time. Even when he was here he barely said a word.”

“I know,” he admitted. “For McKay that’s near paranormal.”

“When was the last time you saw him out of work, John?”

He looked up, surprised. “A couple of days ago. In the mess hall.”

“And before that?” She gave another sigh. “Dr Heightmeyer believes Rodney is reacting badly to recent events.”

“Gee, I wonder why,” he drawled, and immediately hated himself. “McKay can cope.”

“He’s been pulling away from everything,” she continued, though he caught a glimpse of guilt beneath the mask. “He’s not sleeping. He’s increasingly distracted. I’ve received several complaints from his coworkers that he’s been forgetting things, blaming his mistakes on others.”

“You can’t listen to Kavanagh,” he rejoined immediately, but she was already shaking her head.

“I know there’s tension between them and if it were just him I’d be inclined to agree, but it isn’t. Dr Zelenka assures me everything is fine but I suspect he’s bending the truth to protect Rodney.”

“Zelenka’s been working the same hours,” he pointed out.

“And that may be another reason for him to be compensating for any failings by Rodney. But he isn’t…” And she stopped.

“Falling apart,” he challenged. And again hated himself.

Her eye shot up to meet his, dark and troubled. “I can’t let him go off world, John. Not like this.”

“You can’t ground him,” he returned. “He needs some sleep. We all do. But grounding him –“

“I know,” she interrupted, quietly. “Which is why I’m open to suggestions.”

He thought for a moment, plunged in with: “Make something up. Some lie. Ground the entire team. It’s a run of the mill mission, you can send Bates’ team in our place.”

“What would you suggest?”

He waved vaguely at her. “That’s more your department than mine, Elizabeth. Just keep us in Atlantis for a couple of days. I’ll talk to him.” Though he wasn’t quite sure what about, and whether he’d be allowed in the same room as McKay after their last conversation.

Her lips thinned, fingers threading and unthreading their grip. “He needs to sleep.”

“If I have to tie him to the bed.”

“And I want him to see Kate.”

“Already done,” he replied, with a confidence he didn’t feel.

“John…” And she stopped, took a breath, and started again. “Before I took command of the SGC I was warned that the military mind thinks differently to that of a civilian. General O’Neill told me the same, but he admitted that people still surprise him.” Another pause. “Atlantis is a unique situation, Major.”

He blinked in surprise. “You think because McKay’s a civilian he can’t cope?”

Elizabeth lifted her head to look at him, a sad look in her eyes. “You’ve lost people under your command before, John. Rodney hasn’t.”

He flinched, managed to nod, though his shoulders and back muscles tensed at the comment. “Just a couple of days,” he repeated.

“I can give you that.”

He rose from his chair, awkward in the silence. Opened the doors and was heading to them when she called after him.

“Major. For what it’s worth – I’d like to believe you’re right.”

He looked back at her and offered a fake, forced smile of his own. “Just wait.”

“Finally.’

Kavanagh lifted his chin into the air and glared at the latecomer. Drawled: “Good of you to join us, McKay.’

Rodney stopped in the doorway, watching his three colleagues with an expression of wary caution. “I was busy.’

“God knows why,’ Kavanagh sniffed. “You should be off-world, shouldn´t you?’

“The MALP reported monsoon season. They´re picking another planet.’ His gaze drifted over the cables and tools scattering the floor. “What do you need me for?’

“Not you, McKay. Your gene.’ Dave Ashcroft, an English chemist with a strong Yorkshire accent the Czech found difficult to understand. He was a broad shouldered, middle aged man with weight around his middle and a thick thatch of black hair. He sat beside a mass of power cables and open floor panels, accompanied by his usual flask of steaming liquid.

McKay´s gaze dropped to the drink, his nose wrinkling. “What´s that?’

“Tea,’ the man supplied. “Something the Athosians drink. Not quite the same as a brew back home but it´s the closest the Pegasus galaxy has to offer.’ He gave a wistful sigh. “What I wouldn´t give for a box of PG.’

“Yes yes,’ Kavanagh groaned, “We all feel your pain. Can we get on it? We´ve wasted enough time already.’

“Sorry,’ McKay offered softly. Zelenka looked up sharply at him, concerned. Took in his appearance – dishevelled uniform, flushed cheeks, shadowed eyes and pale skin.

“Rodney –“

“Where do you need me?’ McKay continued, ignoring him. He walked across to where Kavanagh stood, looking down on the pit of power cables.

Zelenka drew his gaze away, down to the snake pit. “Dr Kavanagh has recorded fluctuations in the power relay between the east pier and the jumper bay.’

“We´re losing almost a third of output ,’ Kavanagh added, stiffly. “I´ve narrowed the location down to this room.’

“Either there´s some damage to the live wire, or we´re busy powering a section of the city we´ve never been to.’ Ashcroft took a gulp of the Athosian tea.

“So,’ Zelenka put in, simply, gesturing at the mass of cables below them. “We test each one to compare input and output. But it needs someone with the gene to initiate power supply.’

“Right.’ McKay nodded, crossing the room to stand beside a large monitor set into the wall. On its flat surface was displayed a schematic of the room in which they worked, detailing the number of power cables, with a set of graphs running along the left side of the screen to show the amount of power streaming through each one.

Ashcroft set his flask down, then clambered down into the shallow hole beneath the floor and stood amongst the cables. Kavanagh squatted beside him, pointing at the various wires.

“We should try M-57 first.’

Temporarily ignoring both men, Zelenka followed Rodney to the display screen. He spoke softly, glancing at Kavanagh to be certain the man wasn´t listening.

“Are you alright, McKay?’

Two suspicious eyes glanced at him. “Why?’

“You do not look well.’

“I´m fine.’ McKay turned away from him, looking up at the display screen.

“Your dedication is appreciated, Rodney, but we can manage without you. There are others with the gene –“

“You sent for me,’ came back the response. “So now you´ll turn me away when you don´t need me?’

Zelenka stopped, blinking in surprise. “I am concerned –“

“Right. I don´t need it.’

“If you girls have finished chatting…’

Perched on the edge of a floor panel, Ashcroft gave the two men a grin and gestured at the pit. “We´re ready.’

Zelenka nodded, and reluctantly turned away from McKay. He dropped down into the hole, almost stumbling over the wires, reaching out to steady himself on the floor. Ashcroft turned away from him to grip the end of a thick, brown cable that stretched the five metre distance from one end to the other. Zelenka gripped the other end, at the point at which the cable buried itself further beneath the floor.

“McKay, I need to you turn the power off just before Ashcroft pulls the plug.’ Kavanagh glanced from the cables to the display. “I´ll monitor the readings.’

“We all know what we´re doing,’ Ashcroft pointed out. “This is old hat.’

Kavanagh´s nostrils flared. “I just thought you could do with the reminder. Ready, McKay?’

“Yes.’ Rodney turned towards the computer screen.

“On three. One…’ Kavanagh counted. “Two..’

“Three,’ Ashcroft finished, pulling the brown cable from where it plugged into a power inlet. Zelenka looked up at the computer screen and saw the second graph from the top change its output.

“Nothing,’ Kavanagh said, also watching the screen. “Plug it back in.’

Ashcroft did as he was told without sufferance. He was an amiable, good natured man, and was the only one to cope with the arrogance and rudeness of both Kavanagh and McKay without protest.

Though McKay had barely made a sound since coming into the room. Zelenka watched his friend with concern. The physicist had not been the best company recently, snapping at even those close to him and despite disgruntled protests from the entire department, adding weapons training and fitness meetings to the schedules of his fellow scientists. It was an idea that Major Sheppard had decided was long overdue, but Zelenka recognised McKay´s agreement as what it was – an attempt to absolve himself of misplaced guilt.

The recent losses had affected the mood of the city, and Zelenka was still struggling to forget his own near death experience.

“We´ll try M-19 next.’ Kavanagh pointed at a bright blue cable, prompting a grumble from Ashcroft.

“I know which one you mean, Kavanagh.’

The past few days had been the worst. Zelenka thought of the assurances he had given Dr Weir, and wondered whether he had been right. The truth was that McKay was increasingly distracted, making obvious mistakes and forgetting the most basic of knowledge.

He glanced surreptitiously at the scientist. McKay was staring at the computer screen with no recognition in his eyes, the fingers of his left hand tugging jerkily at a bandage that wrapped his right.

Lack of sleep, Zelenka assured himself. McKay overworked himself, and it was taking its toll. Perhaps he would speak to him. Encourage the man to delegate, that his colleagues were not the imbeciles he so frequently accused them of being.

“Dr Zelenka?’

He looked up to find Ashcroft looking at him, the older man´s hands gripped around M-19.

“I am ready,’ he assured him, taking up position next to the second cable.

“Let´s get on with it.’ Kavanagh looked down into the pit. “One, two, three –“

Ashcroft pulled on the blue cable hard, freeing it from its socket. Zelenka saw a flash of bright sparks and heard the Yorkshireman cry out in pain and drop the cable. The wire writhed like it was alive, pulsating with energy.

Kavanagh was yelling. “Dammit – McKay, the power –“

The sparks suddenly died away, the cable´s movements ceasing. Quickly clambering over it Zelenka reached the fallen Ashcroft, gently turning the man onto his side to see his uniform smoulder, bright red skin revealed through holes in the cloth on his shoulder and arm. There was the distinct smell of burnt flesh, and smoke rose from the man´s right hand.

Ashcroft clutched the wounded limb to his chest, face white as a sheet, muttering a soft curse over and over, his eyes screwed shut.

“God damn it.’ Kavanagh was beside McKay, his face flushed with fury. “You were supposed to switch off the power! A child could do it!’

McKay seemed unresponsive, staring at the injured Ashcroft with unblinking eyes.

“Gone deaf suddenly? You could have killed us!’

“Me.’ Ashcroft´s voice was little more than a soft rasp, but it still held the power to interrupt Kavanagh´s rant. “You weren´t anywhere near it, Kavanagh. And it was an accident.’

“Rodney?’ Zelenka looked up across the room to his friend.

McKay shifted his feet, seeming to come out of his trance. He looked on Ashcroft with an expression of dismay, then up at Kavanagh. “I didn´t – I – you weren´t –“

“Don´t blame this on me.’ Kavanagh´s face pulled into a sneer. “You´re a liability, McKay, and I´ll make sure the whole department knows it.’

“Kavanagh.’ Zelenka spoke firmly. He had a grip on Ashcroft´s unharmed shoulder and could feel the man shaking. “We need to get David to the infirmary.’

“And who´s going to clear up this mess? McKay can take him. He can explain this to Weir whilst he´s there.’

He gave an exasperated sigh. “Rodney –“

McKay was shaking his head, taking several steps away from Kavanagh towards the door. “Sorry. Sorry. I didn´t mean – I j-just, I didn´t see –“

Starting to feel frightened, Zelenka repeated: “Rodney –“

“What the hell´s going on?’

Four pairs of eyes turned to see Major Sheppard standing in the doorway to the room, a look of shock on his face. He took in Kavanagh´s rage, McKay´s horror and Ashcroft´s position of pain before his gaze finally rested on Zelenka. “What happened?’

He repeated Ashcroft´s words: “An accident.’

“McKay almost killed him,’ Kavanagh spat.

“An accident.’ Rodney shook his head, continuing to move towards the door.

“David is injured,’ Zelenka said, trying to sound calm.

“I´m fine.’

“No, you are not. We must have Carson look at you.’ He looked up again at Kavanagh. “Help me.’

“An a-accident.’ McKay was stuttering now, the colour draining from his face, swaying slightly. “L-like before. A-always like b-before.’

Sheppard was walking towards Rodney, taking slow, cautious steps. “Calm down, McKay.’

“He´s nuts,’ Kavanagh growled, prompting Zelenka and Sheppard to chorus a sharp:

“Shut up, Kavanagh!’

The man gave another sneer, but sealed his lips thinly, dropping to his knees beside the pit to help Zelenka lift Ashcroft to his feet.

“Come,’ Zelenka said softly, in the Yorkshireman´s ear. “Beckett will make sure you are scar free.’

“Shame,’ Ashcroft managed, his face pinched tight with pain, “the girls always like a war hero.’

“See?’ Sheppard was still taking slow step after slow step towards McKay, his hands held stiffly by his side. “We´ll get this sorted out.’

McKay´s arms were now hugging his chest, as he rocked gently on his feet. He spoke to the floor, seemingly unaware of Sheppard´s approach. “Did a b-bad thing. And they´ll p-punish you. L-lock you up and h-hide you away and f-forget and –“

Without warning, his head shot up and he yelled, his voice cracking on the final word: “I won´t go back!’ Then he bolted, lashing out with one hand to push Sheppard backwards and running out into the corridor. Zelenka almost rose to follow but Sheppard was ahead of him, chasing after the scientist.

Beside him, Kavanagh was lifting the trembling Ashcroft to his feet. “Nuts,’ he repeated to his audience, with a smug expression. “I knew it.’

Chapter Nine - The East Pier

Sheppard chased him through several corridors, McKay weaving his way through the city aimlessly, ignoring any pleas for him to stop. Even when he caught up to the scientist, the man wouldn’t look at him, studying his feet as they tripped over each other, muttering incoherent whispers to his chest. Sheppard’s first instinct was to grab him, pull him to a halt but he held back, afraid of the reaction if he tried. When they approached an external door he hesitated, considered radioing for help, then changed his mind and followed McKay outside. Whatever his friend needed, it wasn’t an audience.

The sky was overcast, a deep shade of grey. Fat, heavy clouds threatened rain and a strong wind whipped the sea into a fine mist, quickly coating both men in a fine layer of damp. McKay stumbled out onto the metal pathway, stopping several meters from the door and looking up with a confused expression.

Questioningly: “Major –“

Sheppard panted, mostly from desperation. “Glad you’ve stopped running.”

McKay turned with wild eyes and a haunted look. “Where are we?”

“East pier.” He watched Rodney look about him, out at the ocean, then back.

“You keep following me.”

“I want to talk to you.”

McKay shook his head, turning to stride out along the pier. John chased after him.

“McKay, this is ridiculous. Just stop for a minute. Let me talk to you –“

Without warning the other man turned in a sharp, violent movement, jabbing out with one hand. An ugly shade of brown mottled the badly wrapped bandage. “Leave me alone. Chasing me, watching me, spying on me, you and everyone else. You think you can keep me in a box but you can’t because, well,” and he gurgled a laugh, “obviously, I’m here, but you still keep coming and staring and watching and I won’t go back! You hear me! I won’t –“

Sheppard reached out to grab McKay’s flailing wrist without thinking. The reaction was instant.

“Don’t touch me!” A high pitched, strangled cry and McKay staggered backwards, stumbling against the railing and out towards the sea.

Sheppard swore, and forced his feet to take a step back. “Jesus, Rodney, what the hell is wrong with you?”

A snort, as McKay levered himself off the railing and back to his unsteady feet. “What’s wrong with me? What about you, Major? Don’t you think you’re a little obsessed?”

“With what?” He took a breath, struggling to lower his voice. “I’m just worried about you.”

And now you sound like Kate, or any other damn military psychologist, condescending and fake. Professional.

He took a different path. “What happened back there?”

“Accident.” McKay’s gaze darted back fearfully at the door. “It was an accident. I don’t – I don’t mean for anyone to get hurt.”

“Never thought you did.” He tried to insert some level of normality into his voice, to pretend they were just bantering. “I thought the great Rodney McKay didn’t make mistakes.”

“I do,” came back the response, in a soft hush. “I make them all the time. Try to cover them up, but I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“No? Ask Dr Ashcroft, hmm?”

“And how many times has one of Kavanagh’s slip-ups almost cost you an arm?” Sheppard challenged. “Carson’s always got a geek in the infirmary. You said it was a side-effect of experimentation. No gain without pain.”

“Doesn’t that sound wrong to you?” McKay shot back. “People shouldn’t get hurt.” And he turned away, out to the ocean, pulling at the bandage on his hand. “People always do, though. Things happen I can’t control.” Glanced back at Sheppard. “I’m dangerous.”

“Jesus,” and Sheppard scraped a hand through his hair roughly. “Rodney, what happened to Gaul –“

“My brother.”

He stopped, momentarily thrown. “You don’t have a brother.”

McKay looked at him sadly. “No, you’re right.” And fresh blood stained the brown, his thumb ripping and tugging at the flesh beneath the bandage.

Sheppard tried not to notice. “You never mentioned him.”

“He died. A long time ago.” Rodney took a breath, turning back out to the sea. “A lifetime ago.”

Weakly: “I didn’t know.”

A shrug. “No reason you should.” Added, darkly: “That was my fault. I was confused. It’s not like…” McKay’s voice drifted into silence, and he started rocking back and forth on his heels.

“Come inside,” Sheppard encouraged. “It’s freezing out here. I thought you caught a cold like that.” And he snapped his fingers.

His words were either not heard, or ignored.

“Why do you trust me?”

John paused, swallowing, struggling to answer. “Because you’re, well, you, McKay. You’ve proved yourself.” Joked: “You want me to massage your ego?”

“I make mistakes.”

“One mistake, Rodney. No permanent harm done. Look,” and he stepped forward hesitantly, “let’s go inside, get something to eat. It’s been a long day.”

Again he was ignored. “Mistakes.”

“Stop saying that.” He took a deep breath. “The McKay I know wouldn’t admit he’s human.”

“Fallible, you mean.” McKay leant against the railing, pushing his face out into the thickly wet wind. “And you don’t. Know me. You’ve got no idea.”

“See, I disagree,” Sheppard argued, taking another step. “Okay, so right now you’re off your game, but don’t go playing the martyr, McKay, because you’re not the only one. We’ve lost people. And what’s happened can mess with your head. I know, I’ve been there, bought the goddamn t-shirt.”

“So?” Rodney asked, tiredly.

“So I trusted people enough to let them help me.” He took another breath, and another step. “We can sort this out. Get your head straight.”

He caught a glimpse of blue as McKay turned, lifting his head to look at Sheppard sadly. “And you’d help?”

“Me, Elizabeth, Ford and Teyla.” And then, because he could see no better moment: “And sometimes, to talk to a professional –“

McKay stiffened, expression closing into one of anger and resentment, eyes glaring at Sheppard suspiciously. “Doctors. Should have known.” And the stutter was back. “Ulterior m-motives. Tricky th-things, everyone’s got them.”

He panicked, realizing he’d lost control of the situation. Desperately: “McKay –“

“L-lies, Major. You’re sinking in them.” And then the blue eyes widened. “That’s why I’m still here. In Atlantis. Why the m-mission was cancelled.”

“Monsoon season, McKay, you heard Peter –“

“You and Elizabeth!” One hand pointed wildly at him. “You’re both doing this! You want me locked up!”

“No –“

“A liability!”

“Dammit!” And he took another step forward, forcing McKay to move backwards. “Look at yourself, McKay! This isn’t normal! I know somewhere in that incredibly stubborn brain of yours you know that and if you would just –“

The punch came out of nowhere, a closed fist connecting with Sheppard’s jaw firmly and knocking him from the slippery wet metal surface of the pier onto his ass. Before he could struggle to his feet McKay was running, back along the pier towards the city.

“McKay!”

Grabbing hold of the railing, Sheppard hauled himself to his feet, cursing inwardly. He started to run after the physicist but he was too slow, and the door closed in his face.

And wouldn’t open.

“Dammit!”

He hammered on the door, ineffectually. Ordered the computer to open it only for his instruction to be ignored.

“McKay!”

As though anyone could hear him over the sound of the wind.

It wasn’t the cold of the rain soaking his jacket that caused him to shiver.

Her short term as commander of Stargate Command had left Elizabeth with a new found respect for General Hammond. She had needed all her diplomatic skills to negotiate the minefield of a relationship between the SGC and the civilian government funding it, and had invented new ones to handle the Russians, the Chinese, and the Tok'ra. She had signed mandates, authorized transfers, read mission briefings and even picked out the exact shade of gray with which to repaint the weapons storage lockers. Even the lunch menu needed her approval.

She had hoped that in the Pegasus galaxy, light years from a single bureaucrat or filing cabinet, there would be less paperwork.

If anything there seemed to be more. Any trivial matter could become a problem. Now the lunch menus needed not only approving, but also several months of planning, diplomacy, fake smiles, trade agreements, and even an array of cultural dances before the main course was detailed. Bureaucracy found its way into the most backward of societies and if dealing with alien politics wasn’t enough of a problem, she then had the internal strife of a city divided between civilian and military.

There was always too much work. Too many people demanding her attention, and too many items on her populated ‘to do’ list.

And yet, for the past twenty minutes, she had done little but sit and stare at the report open on her desk. Kate's report on McKay's psychological development from his first day stationed at Antarctica to her last meeting with him. His medical files. Recently scrawled notes from Kavanagh and a neatly typed memo from Carson detailing a prescription for sleeping pills.

And an e-mail from Dr Zelenka on her computer screen, only minutes old. He'd detailed, briefly, an accident that had occurred during a routine repair job, promising her a full report once all injuries had been dealt with, and admitting that he feared McKay was ‘behaving not as himself.’

Her hand hovered over her keyboard, torn between a response and a message of her own to Kate.

“Why did you ground me?”

He stood in the doorway, pale and apparently wet through, his uniform covered in large dark patches, his hair plastered to his head.

Elizabeth dropped her hand from the keyboard and looked at McKay in shock. ”What happened?”

“It’s raining. Why did you ground me?”

She winced, and gestured at the spare chair. “Come in, and shut the door.”

McKay stepped forward, closing the door behind him but refusing to take a seat. He started to pace the short distance from one wall to the other, rubbing at a wound on his hand and moving his head in short, jerky shakes.

“You l-lied to me. You and Sheppard. Beckett too. And Teyla and Ford? They must know. The whole city. Nuts, that’s what you’ve told them.”

“Rodney.” She tried not to sound as alarmed as she felt, watching him move with violent energy around her office. The reports from Kate, the warning from Zelenka, the signs in his files – nothing had prepared her for the stranger before her. Shambling, pale faced, trembling, looking at her with paranoia and fear. “It’s not like that.”

“No? The truth. That’s what I want. You have to be straight with me.”

“Alright,” she agreed, soothingly. “We’re worried about you, Rodney. You’ve not been acting like yourself lately and we decided it would be better if you not go on the mission.”

“Who?” McKay glanced at her. “You and who?”

“Myself and Major Sheppard. We decided it would be better to delay the mission for another couple of days. You need some rest.”

“Rest?” He gave a gurgled laugh. “Like I can.”

“I could speak to Dr. Zelenka,” she suggested, gently. “I’m sure he could –“

He shook his head, quickly. “That would make things easy for you. Get them all in, take over, get rid of me. And who else, hmm? Who else is in this cover-up?”

“No one,” she insisted. “Rodney, there’s no conspiracy.”

“You lied,” he challenged, raising his voice to a sharp yell.

She flinched, and hated herself for it. Had to force herself to lean forward. “Perhaps we didn’t choose the right way to go about it, but we were trying to help you. I’m sorry if you feel –“

“Sorry? Help?” McKay shook his head more violently. “Right. Eyes on me, everywhere I go. You and Sheppard, Heightmeyer, Zelenka, Teyla, lying and plotting.”

Elizabeth rose from her seat, struggling to find the words with which to placate him. “You wouldn’t normally say things like this, Rodney. Surely you can see that. You know we’re only concerned because of your recent behavior –“

“I can’t keep it straight,” he snapped, ignoring her movement towards him. “All this stuff in my head. You say you’re helping me and he says it’s true, that you wouldn’t lie to us but I don’t believe him –“

“Who, Rodney?” she asked, confused.

He ignored her, muttering to himself as he paced. “Not like I can trust him. Can’t remember what’s mine and what’s not. It’s confusing,” and he looked at her with sudden resentment, “and you all want to lock me up, just like before, just like they did, and I know he’s afraid of that, afraid you’ll lock him up and forget and,” his voice raised to a shout: “So am I!”

“We won’t.” She reached out with one hand, hesitantly. “We wouldn’t forget.”

Her touch on his arm seemed to ground him and the pacing finally ceased. McKay stood still for a moment, breathing heavily, and Elizabeth could feel him shaking under the wet cloth of the uniform.

She took a step forward, closing the distance between them, and said, softly: “Rodney –“

His hand shot up and latched around her throat, whilst the other pressed against her chest and forced her to stagger backwards, pressing her against the wall. She choked, struggling to breathe as the weight on her neck increased, crushing her windpipe painfully.

Managed one word, a desperate plea as she pushed out all the air she had in a whisper: “Rodney –“

The grip on her throat tightened and she gagged. Could hear the pitiful gasps uttered from her mouth as she gulped, her chest heaving. He ignored her, oblivious to the hands which scratched and clawed at his own, or the hideous sound of wheezing as she struggled for oxygen. Then, slowly, the noise was drowned out by a buzzing in her ears, the color draining from the world around her, and as her vision darkened to a narrow circle of light she could see only the image of a stranger, expressionless, watching her die.

Grodin had been surprised to see a bedraggled looking McKay storm through the control room into Dr Weir’s office. He had tried calling out to the man, but was ignored, and had the door shut in his face. Confused, Peter returned to his console and had sat for a few minutes, trying to look busy and not like he was futilely eavesdropping, when an even wetter Major Sheppard appeared, running through the control room and calling for Bates.

“Seen McKay?” Sheppard demanded, taking the stairs two at a time. Water had plastered his hair flat to his head, and Peter could see a trail of small puddles marking the Major’s path from the corridor beyond.

“He’s talking to Dr Weir,” he supplied. “What happened to you?”

“Is the door locked?”

Peter blinked in surprise, then glanced down at the screen on his desk, running his hands quickly over the Atlantean keyboard. “Yes, but I can override it. Why –“

“Do it,” Sheppard ordered, looking across at Bates. “Sergeant –“

“Right behind you,” Bates answered, already moving towards Weir’s office.

“Major,” Peter protested, confused by the man’s demands, “If I knew what was going on –“

“Just open the damn door!” Sheppard growled, and Grodin was shocked to see fear in the man’s eyes, provoking his own sense of sudden dread.

His fingers dashed across the controls, driven by Sheppard’s hot breath over his shoulder. In only a matter of seconds he had the door open and was rising from his seat, following the two soldiers as they raced through into Weir’s office.

Elizabeth was forced up against the wall, McKay’s hand around her throat, her eyes rolling back up into her head. McKay never moved a muscle, not when they burst through the door, not as they ran towards him, not even to stop Sergeant Bates from tackling him to the floor – though then the change was instant. The scientist started kicking, punching, yelling angrily as Sheppard and Bates dragged him across the room.

Elizabeth had fallen to a crumpled heap on the floor and Peter dropped down beside her, gently reaching out for a pulse. He pulled back at the sound of a wheeze and instead his hands slipped under Weir’s shoulders, bracing her as she struggled onto all fours. He could hear her gasp, horrible dry sounds from her mouth as she drank in all the oxygen she could, her chest shuddering uncontrollably.

McKay was still screaming incoherently, bucking against his captors with incredible strength. Twice he slipped from Bates and Sheppard’s grasp, though they grabbed him by the arms and hauled him back. Grodin could hear Sheppard, pleading for the scientist to stop.

“McKay, for god’s sake –“

“Major, his arm –“

“I got it – Rodney, just stop –“

And then the sound of a crack as bone hit bone. Sheppard’s fist collided neatly with McKay’s jaw and the man slipped backwards. Bates caught his weight and together he and Sheppard manhandled the unconscious scientist to the floor.

Weir was still struggling for breath, but though her chest still heaved the wheezes were now gasps, and the blue tinge to her lips was fading. Grodin helped her lean on him as she sat up, gripping her shoulder tightly as she shook, her eyes scrunched shut.

He glanced at Sheppard. “We need Dr Beckett.”

Sheppard was kneeling beside McKay, his hand resting gently against the scientist’s face. He looked up to meet Peter’s gaze with a resigned, grief-stricken expression. “I know.”

Chapter Twelve - Diagnosis

“You knew he was dangerous?” Bates demanded, furiously, and had the satisfaction of seeing Heightmeyer flinch.

“I never expected him to react like this,” the psychologist responded, without looking up. “His condition has deteriorated far quicker than I could have predicted.”

They sat in the conference room; Bates, Heightmeyer, Beckett and himself in a circle with Elizabeth at their head. She was still pale, taking frequent sips from a glass of water Beckett had placed at her elbow. A purple handprint was scored against the pale skin of her neck.

“But you thought there was a possibility?” Bates continued, sitting stiff-backed in his chair.

Kate tilted her chin defiantly. “If I were to act on every possibility, Sergeant, I would have half the city in the infirmary. I did not consider Dr McKay to be a risk.”

“Nice judgement call,” Bates shot back.

“Sergeant,” Sheppard warned, but was interrupted.

“I made my decision based on facts and intuition, Sergeant, just as you do.”

“He locked the Major out of the city –“

“Who was soon released by Dr Zelenka –“

“- and then tried to kill Dr Weir!”

“Sergeant!” Elizabeth broke the tension, her voice quiet and hoarse. She shot a stern look at Bates, who backed down, settling in his chair with a glower. “Where is Rodney now?”

“In the infirmary, under sedation,” Beckett responded.

“He’ll need to be guarded.”

“Two guards, ma’am,” Bates assured her, “and he’s restrained.”

“Is that necessary?” Sheppard demanded, only to have Elizabeth’s icy gaze turned on him with full force.

“Not only has he tried attacking members of this expedition, Major, but Dr Heightmeyer has informed me there’s a strong likelihood of him harming himself. It’s the best for all concerned, including Rodney.”

He flinched, pulling his gaze away from the bruise on her neck. Insisted: “It doesn’t feel right. This is McKay, we’re talking about. There’s got to be some other explanation than he’s,” and he paused, forcing out the word: “crazy.”

“A brain disorder,” Kate corrected, gently. “The symptoms point to schizophrenia.”

Carson was looking as uncomfortable as Sheppard felt, wringing his hands over the table. “Are you sure? Not that I’m doubting you, Doctor, and given the circumstances…” He lapsed into silence, and gazed at Kate pleadingly.

“He attacked Doctor Weir,” Bates pointed out, adroitly.

“Thank you, Sergeant.” Weir looked up at him, meaningfully. “I think you can go.”

Bates hesitated, glancing at Sheppard who merely nodded in return. He wasn’t in the mood to handle military diplomacy with a stubborn security officer. The soldier pushed back his seat and rose, walking towards the door. “I’ll check on the infirmary.”

“Thank you.” Elizabeth’s hand reached up to brush her throat as she did what Sheppard hadn’t: “Sergeant – your assistance was appreciated.”

Bates gave a trim nod of his own, then left, the door closing behind him. Sheppard heard Beckett release a small sigh.

“Though I hate to admit it, he has a point. Rodney would never do something like this if he were in his right mind. Still…” And the Scotsman floundered.

“If this were just one or two instances, then I would doubt it myself.” Heightmeyer lifted her gaze to meet Weir’s. “But his history shows all the signs. Disorganized speech and thinking, the tendency towards disinhibition, social isolation –“

“That’s just McKay being McKay!” Sheppard protested. “I know he shouts it from the rooftops but he’s right, he’s a genius. There’s so many ideas in that head of his I don’t blame him for not keeping them straight! But all the geeks are like that, look at Zelenka –“

“John.” Elizabeth coughed, pain creasing lines around her eyes. “Please.”

“Major, I’m sorry.” Kate placed her hand on the papers in front of her. “I wish there was someone to give you a second opinion, but there isn’t. I can show you McKay’s psychological history. Notes taken by his previous doctors.”

Sheppard forced himself to take a deep breath before responding. “If they’d diagnosed him as schizophrenic he’d never have been allowed to work for the military.”

“True.” She hesitated, clearly taking care over her words. “It is not uncommon for schizophrenia to be diagnosed later in a person’s life. Patients may have experienced mild symptoms for many years, only for a traumatic event to lead to a psychotic break such as this one. And given the amount of time he has spent on international assignments it’s unsurprising that there’s no consistent journal of his behaviour. And…” she looked at Sheppard, “much of it has been explained in just the way you’ve used. It’s McKay being McKay.”

“And now?” Carson asked.

“I’ll need to speak with him, run a number of tests. EEGs, MRIs, a PET scan…”

Beckett nodded. “I’ll see to it.”

“I want to make sure I’ve eliminated any other possibility before making an official diagnosis.”

“But your current judgment,” Elizabeth prompted.

“Is paranoid schizophrenia. I’ve read the material you passed to me, Elizabeth, and I’ve heard the Major’s account of his conversation with Doctor McKay.”

“He was upset,” Sheppard protested weakly, feeling swamped.

“I’m sorry, Major.” Again her gaze turned to his, and he saw her professional demeanour falter, her face shadowed with regret. “It’s not a diagnosis I want to make, but it’s the only one I can when considering all the facts.”

“We’ll do the tests,” Beckett added, gently. “Believe me, Major, if there’s any other explanation, we’ll find it.”

“It still doesn’t make sense,” he insisted. “For him to change so suddenly –“

“I know,” the Scotsman agreed, dropping his hands to the table. “I don’t want to accept it either, but with the lack of any other evidence…” He trailed off.

Kate glanced at him with an expression of regret. “It’s my belief that Rodney has been coping with a number of mild symptoms for many years, but recent events…” And she stopped, delicately. “The disorder means he is less able to cope. Hence the sudden deterioration, the delusions, paranoia, the violent attack against Dr Weir...”

Sheppard swallowed, his mouth dry. “So what do we do?”

Kate exchanged a look with Carson, who shifted in his seat. “We can’t begin to decide upon a medication until we’ve examined Rodney’s results,” he admitted.

“And then?”

“John, there’s no cure for schizophrenia, and any progress we make will be mostly trial and error.”

He knew that already, not entirely ignorant as to medical procedures used on Earth, though his experience was limited. And even without his shaky grasp on the science behind the condition, Carson was less adept than Kate at concealing his emotion. The man was an open book, increasingly uncomfortable, guilt and sorrow etched on his face. Elizabeth was doing a better job at remaining in control, but her right hand was gripping the glass of water so tightly Sheppard could see the whites of her knuckles.

“So he’s off the team,” he said, bleakly. “Permanently.”

Elizabeth looked at him sadly. “You know there’s no choice.”

“And lab work?”

“Let’s concentrate on treating him,” Kate said, gently. “That’s all that matters right now.”

He took a breath and nodded, grimly. Glanced at Elizabeth. “I want to see him.”

The shadow of a smile tugged at the edges of Elizabeth’s mouth as she nodded. “I imagined you would. Doctors?”

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Carson agreed.

“It might be helpful for McKay to see a familiar face when he wakes up.”

“And my team?” Sheppard questioned. “Teyla and Ford?”

“That’s your call, Major.” Elizabeth leant forward in her chair. “If you believe they need to know –“

“They’re his team,” he said, simply.

She nodded. “I will need to brief Dr Zelenka as well. I want him to take over as head of the department whilst…” and Weir hesitated briefly, and corrected: “in Rodney’s absence. Otherwise I’d rather the details of this be kept within this room.”

“You know that won’t last,” Carson warned. “Not with Kavanagh’s mouth. This station’s worse than my ma’s book club for local gossip.”

“Nevertheless, I would rather we kept this as quiet for as long as possible.” Elizabeth took a deep breath, sitting more formally in her chair. “My priority is ensuring this city is protected. At present, doctors, yours is to help Dr McKay in any way you can.” Her expression faltered. Read clearly what Sheppard himself was thinking, and couldn’t bear to voice.

You help him, because I no longer can.

Part Two of Four