RATING: PG-13 for Language
SEASON: Sometime during the 1st Season, before "The Storm" - because that's as far as I've gotten so far
MAJOR CHARACTERS: McKay and Sheppard
DISCLAIMERS: The characters, setting, etc, all belong to Sony, MGM, Gecko, the Sci-Fi Channel... not me.  I own nothing.  I got nothing.  
NOTE: Okay, this is my first foray into this fandom.  I must confess that I haven't watched too much StarGate:SG1.  I've seen most (but not all) of the Atlantis episodes up to The Storm.  I'm trying to catch up -- being prodded rather pointedly by another of my ilk -- forced over the precipice, you might say.  My regular fandom is rather different than this one -- much more rustic.  All the flashing lights and cool doo-dads are a bit beyond my scope, but I'm trying.  I'm really trying!  Anyway, I want to apologize for any odd inaccuracies, or laughable mistakes.  I'm not a scientist.  I make up the medical stuff.  I'm a mess, really.  Ask anyone.  I beg your patience with me as I give this a go.  I also want to commend all the fine folks who have proceeded me.  You write lovely stories and your tales have encouraged me.  I'm just happy to be amongst you.
SUMMARY:  Ford finds an interesting piece of Ancient Technology... and a letter, so why should that cause so much trouble for McKay and Sheppard
ACKNOWLEDGEMENT:  Blame Tipper
FEEDBACK: Yes please! comments and suggestions are greatly appreciated.
SPOILERS: Some small ones for "Hide and Seek", and probably others too that I can't remember.
AWARDS:  2007 Stargate Fan Awards - Best Overall Story --  Best Gen Story -- Best SGA Fan Fiction - Gen - McKay - Hurt/Comfort

DATE:  November 13, 2004, minor housekeeping done July 22, 2006

A Bee in the Bonnet
By NotTasha... buzzing into this new fandom and hoping for the best

PART 1: POCKETS

“Well, where is it?” Dr. McKay asked impatiently as he leaned on one of the lab’s smooth counters.

"Hang on,” Lt. Ford muttered as he pulled gloves, binoculars and ammunition from his pack.  “It’s in here somewhere.”  The young soldier furrowed his brow as he sought.

They’d just returned from a mission, finding a world that may have had a thriving community at one time, but the place had since been reduced to ruin.  They’d surveyed the area, finding it hospitable and perhaps capable of growing crops, but no current habitation.  There was little of use to be found – if worthwhile technology had once existed, it was long ago looted.  McKay had made a valiant attempt to track down anything of interest, but it was Ford who had lucked upon the one little device worth recovering - one precious little device that was currently lost again.

McKay released a long-suffering sigh and hunched further.  “It has to be in there somewhere, Lieutenant.  I clearly remember you taking it.  In fact, I can well remember you stating that you wouldn’t lose it.”  And he tapped his foot in irritation.

“Oh, I didn’t lose it,” Ford assured, hoping he was speaking the truth.  Under his breath, he muttered, “Come on, bee.  Where are you?”  He upended the pack, letting the remaining bits fall onto the counter, gaining a scowl from McKay.

“Oh, this is wonderful,” Rodney grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.  “Now, you’re leaving my workspace in shambles.”

“It isn’t any worse than your desk,” Aiden told the doctor.

“But at least I know where everything is,” McKay responded.  “Ask me for anything.  I can put my hand to it in a minute.  There’s a place for everything and everything is in its place.” He spoke the line as if it were Gospel.  “Go ahead, ask.”

Ford shook his head, not biting.  “I’m just trying to find that bee.”

“The device we’re looking for isn’t a bee,” Rodney chided.  “There would be no bees on that planet.  No form of insect appears to exist there, thank goodness.” He cringed at the thought of insects.  “The planet manages quite handily without them.  For instance, pollination is performed solely by wind, as evidenced by the shape of the seed pods we encountered.  But I'm no botanist, and in any case, I've never been fond of that particular insect.  I'm deathly allergic.”

Ford said nothing, making his way through his loot.

Rodney continued, oblivious to anything outside his current line of information.  “It’s fascinating, actually.  The seedpods we encountered appear to have some sort of sail or parachute.  Rather remarkable when you consider that this haphazard means of pollination seems to satisfy their ecosystem.  Of course, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere near that place in springtime.”  And the physicist shuddered visibly at that thought.  Already he felt a sneeze coming on in commiseration.

“It looked like a bee,” Ford went on.  “My grandmother has a brooch like that.  She has bees and bugs and lizards.  She pins them on her coat for Sundays.” He chuckled.  “But if a real bug were to land on her, watch out!”

Rodney winced, not caring much for that idea either.  His attention returned to the soldier’s search and he asked unhappily, “You didn’t lose it, did you?”

“No,” Ford said firmly.  “It’s here.  I know it is.”

“Is it in any of your jacket pockets?” McKay asked, feeling his own pockets in case he’d managed to procure the object unconsciously.

Ford dutifully checked his pockets again, even though he’d gone through them once already.  After finishing his own search, McKay exclaimed, “Outside compartments!  Have you checked the outside pockets of your pack?” He waggled a finger at the emptied pack.

“No, sir,” Ford replied.  “I never use them.”

“Never use them?” Rodney returned, exasperated.  “But, Lieutenant, they’re so useful.  I’m always using the pockets to organize things.  Look,” and he picked up his own pack, which had been resting on the opposite counter.  “I have the life-sign detector in this pocket, power scanning device over here, instant nourishment here, sample bags on the left.  You probably put it in one of those outside sections without even thinking about it.  I use mine all the time.  I can’t see why you don’t.  Really, Lieutenant, you should.” 

“I’ll check,” Ford conceded with a shake of his head.  The pockets on his pack were flat, showing no signs of ever holding anything, but he’d humor the doctor.  It was easier than listening to him go on about the usefulness of pockets.  He unzipped them, one at a time and felt within, giving McKay an expression that told him that he was finding exactly what he expected – nothing.  It was only once he opened the last pocket, that his hand touched something.

“See!” McKay exclaimed, seeing the change in Ford’s demeanor.  “You did find something, didn’t you?”

Curiously, Aiden pulled out a piece of paper – an envelope.  He turned it over in his hand and smiled.  “It’s a letter.”

“Letter?” McKay cocked his head.  “Well, it just goes to show that you DO use the pockets.  You should just utilize them more often.”

“I’ve never seen it before.”  The soldier held it up, showing that it was addressed simply to FORD in block letters.  “Must’ve been in here since before we came to Atlantis.”

McKay frowned.  “It wouldn’t have anthrax in it or anything?”

Ford snorted and shook his head.  “One way to find out.”  He opened it, and he pulled out several pages from within the envelope.  McKay cautiously stepped back, but no mysterious white powder fell.  Instead, Ford smiled broadly. “It’s from Dodge.”

“Dodge?”  McKay still kept his distance.

“Yeah, Dodge. He’s a friend of mine.  Worked in Antarctica – Lt. Roger Murphy.”

“Ah!” McKay brightened.  “Lt. Murphy.  Yes, I remember him well.  Rather intelligent fellow.  He assisted me with projects on several occasions.”  The Canadian smiled, remembering.  “Oh, he didn’t always get things right the first time – but he persevered.  That’s what matters.  I rather enjoyed working with him, once he figured out what to do.  He seemed to appreciate whenever I supplied him with added information on a subject.  Always eager to learn more.”  Inquisitively, Rodney asked, “How did the letter get in your pack?”

“He must’ve hid it before I left.  Funny guy.  Ha…” and Aiden paused as he read.

“What?  What does it say?”

Gamely, Ford read aloud from his letter.  “Hey, Skippy…” and he paused to give McKay a look, wondering if he should have just skipped that part.

“Skippy?” the physicist responded dryly.

“Long story…” Ford muttered unhappily.

“Interestingly enough, you don’t strike me as a ‘Skippy’.”

“It was a joke.  Hasn’t anyone ever given you a nickname like that?”

Rodney’s lips twitched, as he changed the subject.  “Well, it could be worse.  I suppose he’s called Dodge because his first name is Roger?  Roger Dodger? Hmm, inventive,” he stated sarcastically.

Ignoring the comment, Ford read on, “By the time you get this, you’ll either be on the adventure of a lifetime – or dead.  Personally, I like the first choice and hope you’re having a hell of a time.”

McKay snorted and started poking around in the items Ford had left on the counter.  He picked up an empty MRE bag to dispose of it when he paused, feeling that something was still inside.  Dessert maybe?

“That’s it!” Ford declared, pointing at the bag.  “It’s in there.  I remember now, I was just finished with lunch when I found the bee.”

McKay sighed loudly.  “So you safely stored it in garbage?”

“Cushioning?”  Ford tried, and smiled as McKay turned over the bag and out fell the object of their search.  “See?” Ford smiled triumphantly.

McKay grunted, as dropped the bag into a garbage receptacle and examined the device in the palm of his hand. It did rather look like a bee, he decided – with transparent disks that might have been wings and odd purple and green stripes, possibly a body and a knob at one end that resembled a head.  Curious.   But of course, if it were to represent something along the lines of an Apis mellifera, the ‘wings’ didn’t seem to be in quite the right position.  

How did it get to that planet?  But an insect on that world?  Well, the most likely explanation to its existence on that world was that it’d been gated there at some point.

Shaking his head, Ford let himself smile with relief.  He hadn’t lost it after all!  He’d been rather proud of himself for being the only one to find something worthwhile on that planet. Returning to the letter, he went on,  “Dodge says that they had a bet about who be chosen to go to Atlantis.  I was the odds on favorite.  Imagine that.”

“Yes, imagine it,” McKay repeated as he set up his equipment.  The ‘bee’ has yet to ‘light up’.  He loved it when things lit up.  The ancients were wonderful that way – something lights up and you know it’s working.  Simple and beautiful.  "It couldn't have come from that world since it is rather insect-shaped while the planet is insect-free." 

“Dumb ass,” Ford griped, and then looked up when McKay gave him a surprised look.  “Oh… Dodge.  He stole some of the MREs from our supplies before they were sent over.”

“He did?”  McKay responded, stricken.  “We were depending on those food supplies.  The nerve of some people! He might have taken some spaghetti and meatball dinners or the macaroni and cheese!  Almost as good as Kraft Dinner!” And he salivated in loving memory of the long gone dinners.

“Oh wait... wait…” Ford continued.  “He just took out a couple boxes so that there’d be room for more chocolate.”

McKay nodded, positioning the bee within the scanner.  “He’s a good man.  I always knew that about him.” 

A chirp at his headset stopped Ford from going any further.  “Ford here,” he responded, and listened for a moment before he replied, “I’ll be right there.”  He spoke to the doctor, “I’ve been called to the Gateroom.”

“Something I should know about?” McKay asked, not looking up from his work.

“No, sir.  Just another team coming in with some supplies.”

“Anything good?  Maybe some sort of coffee substitute?  Something sweet?  We really should start checking out planets based on their confections, you know that, Lieutenant?”

Ford chuckled.  “I’ll let you know what they bring,” he responded and then glanced at the mess he’d left on the counter.  “I’ll come back to clean this up, okay?”

“Yes, yes you will,” was McKay’s reply as he fiddled with the controls, hardly paying Ford any attention.

Setting the letter on top of the mound, Ford stated, “If you’re interested, you can read the rest of the letter.  I mean, since you know the guy and all.  Bet he wouldn't mind.”

“Sure… sure…” McKay returned distractedly, interested in the readouts that were appearing on his screen.

Ford turned and left, leaving the doctor to his work.


PART 2: RUSSIANS

“Major Sheppard?”

John looked up from his book, happy for any interruption in the comings and goings of the Rostov Family and the Bolkonsky princesses.   “Ford,” he greeted with a smile, as the soldier stepped within his room.  Then he noted the distraught look on the Lieutenant’s face.  “What’s up?”

“I found this letter,” Aiden began and paused as he held up the missive.

“A letter?” John brightened.  “We’re getting mail service now?”

“No… no,” Ford sighed. “I found it in my pack.  It’d been there since we got here and… well… I was reading some of it to Doctor McKay and…”

“Reading to McKay?”  Sheppard smiled, trying to imagine it.  “Hope he wasn’t correcting the grammar or your pronunciation or…”

“No!” Ford cut Sheppard off with enough intensity to startle the Major.  “No… it’s ….”  He shook his head unhappily.  “I screwed up!”

“What about?”  Sheppard set aside the book.

Ford groaned and explained, “I was called away, so I left the letter.  I told Dr. McKay that he could finish reading it if he wanted.  I’d only read as far as the first page and he seemed interested.  He knew Roger, the guy who wrote it – liked him,” and Ford paused a moment.  “I was gone for about an hour.  I came back to clean up my stuff.”  With a disgusted sigh, Ford shoved the letter at Sheppard.  “That’s when I read the rest of it.”

“What?” John queried as he grabbed the pages.

“Just read it starting there,” Ford stated, pointing to a spot halfway down the second page.

Sheppard took the pages, glad to look at anything that didn’t have to do with Russians and their unpronounceable names.  He read where Ford had indicated.  “Hope things are working out for you in the Pegasus galaxy, but honestly, I wouldn’t give that problem to a monkey on a rock.  I heard who else was going.  Stuck in Antarctica is bad enough, but being trapped for all eternity with McKay sounds like inhumane treatment. Doesn’t the Geneva Convention have something to say about that?”  John stopped and gazed up at Ford.  “McKay read this?” he asked.

Ford grimaced.  “I left the letter on my things.  When I came back, it was in the garbage.  I only found it by accident.  Read the rest.”  He shook his head woefully.  “It gets worse.”

With a narrow expression, John continued the letter in silence.  “The worst days of my life were when I had to work with him.  He explains EVERYTHING to me, as if I give a damn about anything he has to say. Calls himself a genius, yet can’t figure out that NO ONE gives a rat’s ass about anything he has to say.”

John groaned and Ford bowed his head as the Major continued to read, “You should hear Red.  He does the best impression  – got that whiney, superior tone just right.  It gets me to laughing when I hear McKay himself.  I have to pretend to sneeze to cover up.  He thinks I have allergies!  LOL. He thought we had some common ground… like I’d ever want to be like him.  He can have his goddamn genius.  I’d rather stick around human beings.  I hate sucking up to that pissy bastard. I can’t think of one person on base who can stand him.    If you’re lucky he’ll choke on a lemon on his first day.  Things will get a lot brighter for everyone after that.  Good luck with that.”

The letter changed topics and John raised his eyes to meet Ford’s. “This is a friend of yours?”  he asked incredulously.

Ford muttered, “I guess I didn’t know him at all.”

Sheppard slapped the pages against one hand and muttered, “Crap.”

“What do we do?” Ford asked.

“We?” Sheppard responded, lifting an eyebrow.

“I can’t go up to him and say, ‘Doctor McKay, about that letter…’”  Ford explained, spreading his arms in exasperation. 

Sheppard nodded.  “Yeah, bet McKay won’t be much fun to be around for awhile.”  John jabbed the papers back at Ford. Nikolay Rostov and Prince Andrey would have to wait for another day.  “He wasn’t in the lab?”

“No, at least not in HIS lab.”

“I’ll see if I can find him,” John resolved as he stood.  “He’ll get over it,” Sheppard promised.  “But, I figure I could talk to him a bit.”

“Thanks,” Ford responded, shoving the sheets back into his pocket.  “I really feel bad about this.”

“Pick better friends next time,” John muttered as he prepared to leave the room.


PART 3: 10 METERS or 32.8 FEET

Sheppard stopped at the Rodney's lab first, looking for any sign of McKay.  He paused at the physicist’s room, knocked and called the doctor’s name, but there was no response.  It was possible that McKay was sulking within his quarters.  He considered using the ATA gene to force open the locked door, but instead decided to look elsewhere first. If the man wanted to be alone, Sheppard wasn’t about to intrude.

He meandered about the complex, checking on the more of the known labs, thinking that McKay might have wanted some space.  As he looked, John tried to figure out what he was going to say to the man.  “About the letter…” no… that wouldn’t do.  It would probably be best to say nothing about the thing, he decided.  Just talk to McKay a bit, make sure that he was okay.

Hell, of course, he’ll be okay.  McKay was a big boy – he didn’t need any coddling.  He’ll be fine.  But Sheppard realized that the words would have put McKay in an unpleasant mood – and nobody wanted to be around that.  He was searching for McKay to ensure that the rest of Atlantis wasn’t left to feel the wrath of an unhappy genius.  There was nothing quite so obnoxious as McKay in a truly surly mood – everyone would pay the consequences.  

Aw, but it wasn’t that, was it?  Sheppard thought as he strode down one of the long hallways, out into one of the lesser-used arms of the complex.  McKay, knowing his bad mood, may have gone to one of the remote areas.  John just wanted to check on his friend – make sure he wasn’t too depressed or out of sorts – wanted to make Rodney feel a bit better about himself.  That wouldn’t be too hard, would it?

Sheppard sighed, and girded his loins… ready for a struggle as he rounded yet another corner, toward one of the exposed balconies.

He wasn’t prepared for the sight that met him.

“Major!” McKay called, spotting Sheppard at the same time that John saw him.  He was standing near the railing that overlooked the ocean.  “Come here… you really must see this!”

Sheppard strolled in cautiously, wondering at Rodney’s good mood.  The ear-to-ear grin was certainly not what he expected.  “McKay,” he greeted guardedly.

If Rodney noted Sheppard’s careful tone, he made no notice of it.  “Look!  Do you know what this is?  Do you have any idea what this is?” and McKay held out something in his hand.

“It’s that thing Ford found,” John replied, recognizing the odd gewgaw and wondering what sort of bee McKay had in his bonnet this time.  “Except it’s glowing now.”

“Yes, exactly,” Rodney replied.  “I was able to activate it.  It was really rather simple once I realized…” and he paused, making a face as he cut off his sentence and restarted.  “Do you have any idea what it does?”

“Ah,” Sheppard pondered and then shrugged.  “I suppose old ladies wear things like that.”

McKay snorted and said, “Hardly…” and he looked up at Sheppard, grinning.  “Watch this.”  McKay held up the pin with one hand and squeezed it with the other.  And he was gone.

Simple as that.  There was a strange “Shrumph” sound, and the astrophysicist disappeared.  “Doctor!” Sheppard shouted, darting out one hand to feel the space where Rodney had been a moment ago – nothing but air.  “McKay!  Rodney?  Where?”  A tap on his shoulder, and John spun around to face the gleeful doctor.  “What the hell?” he shouted at the overly-happy Canadian.

“A personal portable transporter system!” McKay declared, holding the device between finger and thumb.

Fascinated, John reached toward the device in McKay’s hands, but the scientist snatched it out of his reach.  “How’s it work?” Sheppard asked, his eyes still on the device.

“Pretty good, actually,” Rodney returned, smiling still, tipping back to his heels.

“Come on…” Sheppard returned, grinning too.  It was hard not to be infected by the doctor’s good mood.  And the possibilities of such a device were astounding.  “That little bit transported you?”

“Instantaneous, as far as I can tell.”  He held the device before him, nodding as he spoke.  “It doesn't have the range of an Asgard transporter.  No, not by any stretch.  It's range appears to be about 10 meters.”

“About 30 feet?”

McKay sighed his face pale and sweaty with excitement as he spoke, “If I had meant 30 feet, I would have said  ‘30 feet,’ wouldn’t I?  30 feet is about 9 meters.  Whereas 10 meters is approximately 33 feet.”

“32.8 feet actually,” John corrected.

“I was rounding up,” Rodney clarified.

“I was rounding down to 30 feet,” John added.  “Come on, how did it do that?”

Rodney shrugged. “I can’t completely explain it, at least not yet.  I must do more study.”  He tipped his head thoughtfully, as he considered exactly how the thing might function and where he might commence his next line of research.  “Truthfully, it goes against everything I know.  The fact that something this small functions at all is approaching the ‘dancing hamster’ thing -- but it works.”  He shook his head in wonder.  “Makes me a bit thirsty, though.  You wouldn’t happen to have any water on you?”

John shrugged, lifting his hands from his sides.  “Not on me, no.”

“I’d better find some soon,” Rodney commented, carefully holding the ‘bug’ in his hands.  “I wish we had brought some Dr Pepper to Atlantis.  I could really go for a can of that right now.  That and Mr. Pibb.  I really used to like Mr. Pibb.  High caffeine content.  Can’t get it most places. Think anyone brought some here?”

“Not that I know of,” Sheppard responded sharply, holding out his hand.  “Come on, hand it over.  I want to try it out.”

Rodney kept his hand around the device, for a moment longer, then tipped it into Sheppard’s outstretched palm, too excited about the discovery not to share it.  “It really is amazing.  I was thinking about calling it a PPTS for ‘Personal Portable Transporter System’, but the ‘bee’ is easier.”

“Bee?”  Sheppard held it to his face.  “Guess it does kinda look like a bee.  You come up with that?”

“Ah,” McKay paused and then admitted, “It was Lt. Ford who first mentioned the resemblance.”

John grimaced.  “I thought I told him he wasn’t allowed to name things anymore.  Do you think the personal transporter will only function for one person, like your personal shield?”

McKay shook his head.  “I don’t think so.  I did a bit of research on it and was able to find a line or two concerning it in the ancient texts.  It’s Ancient Technology – no doubt there.  Someone must have dropped it at some point on that planet, but it truly is fascinating because…” and he stopped again before restarting and stating, “It should work for more than one user.”

“What happened to it?” John asked.

Stymied, McKay asked, “What happened to what?”

“That glowing green turtle… the personal shield.  You ever figure out how to recharge it?”

“Interesting that you should say that,” McKay leaned forward, as if whatever he was saying was the most interesting matter possible.  “I found a unit in the lab that seems to be designed as a re-charger of some sort.  I’ve been trying to get it to reenergize the personal shield, but it doesn’t seem to be doing the trick.  It’s curious because the texts seem to indicate that it should work.  I just haven’t been able to initialize the correct sequence. Possibly it …” He stopped, then said abruptly.  “What’s important is…” And he jabbed a finger at the bee in Sheppard’s hand.  “…this thing works!”

Sheppard examined the device.  “So, how do I get it to transport me?”

“Oh, you just press the transparent disks inward and…”

A roaring sound filled Sheppard’s ears as he held in the ‘wings’ of the device and felt as if he’d been lifted off his feet – flying. The sensation quickly ended as he was dropped. The next thing he knew, he was struggling on the floor, atop a body that was wildly flailing its arms and legs.

“Get off me!  Get off!” McKay demanded as he shoved at the pilot.

Surprised, Sheppard found himself on the floor, with McKay struggling to get out from under him.   Trying to get his bearings, he rolled, managing to get out of the embarrassing position in spite of McKay’s thrashing.

“For the love of God!” McKay cried.  “Why’d you do that?”

Sheppard jumped to his feet, and with a startled sound.  “Why the hell did that happen?”

Frustrated, Rodney brushed at his shoulders and scowled as he sat up.  “Because you didn’t listen to my instructions.”

“Yeah, well,” John shrugged one shoulder. “I was afraid the explanation was going to get rather long winded.”

Rodney harrumphed, not speaking immediately.  Sheppard’s comment seemed to flummox the scientist for a moment.  McKay covered, using the time to get to his feet. “Well, sometimes it pays to listen,” he muttered petulantly.

Realizing the shortness of his comment, John asked with a lighter tone, “So what happened?  Why’d I end up running headlong into you?”

After a frustrated sigh, McKay explained, “When you are pressing on the disks…” and he paused to lift a finger at Sheppard as if he expected the pilot to go off ‘half-cocked’ again.  “You must also focus on where you want to go.”

“Oh,” John returned. "A mental component."

“Yes, a mental component. It could also have something to do with the ATA gene, but that's not important right now. The mental component is! That’s why you ended up on top of me.  You were talking to me at the time, so your focus was on me and then… whamo!” and he slapped his hands together for emphasis

“I see.  So, it’s always a good idea to think about where you’re going before you start.”

“Always a good plan,” McKay continued.  “Well, this little … embarrassment… did teach us one important fact … besides the ‘listen to what Rodney says’ thing.”

“What’s that?” John asked as he picked at the glowing device and dropped it again in his palm, enjoying the weight and shape in his hand.

“Apparently, it has some sort of a failsafe that keeps you from hurting yourself.  You’re not going to reconstitute inside something solid.”

“Like you?”  Sheppard nodded in understanding. “Otherwise, since I was talking to you at the moment…listening to you…” John clarified.  “I might have ended up… materializing inside of you?”

“It wouldn’t have been comfortable.”

“Not for either of us,” John commented and both men cringed at the idea.  “Thank God for failsafes…”

“Yay, verily,” Rodney responded.

“How’d you figure it out what it did?  Researching those ancient texts?”

McKay returned a childish smile.  “Actually, I activated it purely by accident.  I’d managed to turn it on.” And he waved a hand to get past the explanation. “And was in my lab, holding it, thinking that I’d really rather be in my room, and the next thing I knew ... shrumph … I was standing in my quarters.”

“It’s just off the lab…” John continued. “So you were within the 30 foot limit.”

“Exactly.  Now you can imagine my shock?  So, a bit belatedly, I admit, I started doing some research here because I then recalled I’d read about a device capable of acting as a personal transporter.”

John squeezed down on he wings and imagined himself standing by the railings.  With a rush of sound, the world seemed to change around him and he ended up exactly where he imagined.  “Too cool,” he murmured as he took in his new view of the world.

“Yeah… cool…” McKay conceded, as he glanced about frantically at the spot where John and been, then turned to find him.  He gave Sheppard a perturbed look.  “Okay,” Rodney continued, “So I was…”

And John clutched the device again, focusing about 30 feet down the corridor and the doctor was cut off mid-sentence as the world seemed to de-constitute again and reform at his new location.

“This is great, McKay,” John said with a laugh.  He tried again, materializing further down the hallway, then further.  He looked toward McKay and saw him grinning lopsidedly at him.  He took a step toward the scientist. Then, with a smile, he stopped and zapped himself closer, and then closer, finally reaching the doctor again in a series of leaps.  “Okay, that’s fun,” Sheppard declared.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s endless fun,” Rodney told him, “But it’s my turn again, so hand it over.”

“Can you transport through something?” John asked, nodding to the wall beside them. "Get to the other side?"

Rodney rolled his eyes.  “As long as you think clearly about where you want to go, even if you’re not sure about what’s there, you should be able to…”

John didn’t hear the rest of what McKay was saying.  With a ‘shrumph’, daylight and the chattering physicist were turned to darkness and quiet.  John grinned, and turned about in the blackened room.  “Oh, this is so cool,” John muttered, aware that he hadn’t yet found a better descriptor for the thing.

He stepped forward in the darkness and slammed into something.  “Damn it,” he grumbled, pressed against a counter or a chair or some sort of unfathomable ancient technology.   Maybe they’d found a new room – filled with incredible, almost indecipherable wonders!

Light suddenly flooded the space as a door was thrown open and Rodney peered in at him.  “Major,” he said tiredly, “Would you come out of there?  Or do you need a moment of privacy?”

Sheppard let out a grumble as he stepped out of the closet and back into the hallway.  “You know, you’re right.  It does make me thirsty.”  John smacked his lips, feeling a dryness to his mouth.

“It possibly has a dehydrating effect,” Rodney realized.  “I believe the transportation somehow leaves behind a… residue...water... whatever.”

“Getting a bit hungry, too,” Sheppard added.

McKay nodded.  “Exactly! I was going to say the same thing.  I think it’s making me a bit light-headed.”

“That’d be the manly hunger,” John told him, getting a disgusted look from McKay in return.  “How many times have you used this thing?”  John asked.

“That'd be ten times,” Rodney responded.  “It’s all in the name of science and research!” he quickly defended, then leaned upon the railing feeling suddenly weary.  “Come on, give it back.”

“Aw, you’ve been playing with it for an hour now.  I want a chance.” And Sheppard held the device mockingly away from Rodney.  When McKay didn’t pursue, John glanced at it and decided, “It doesn’t seem to be glowing quite so brightly anymore.”

“Possibly running low on power,” Rodney told him.

“Think we need to stop using it?” John asked, knowing that his voice betrayed him – because, damn it, he wanted to play with it some more.

“We’re researching… still researching,” McKay told him, with a smile.

“I like that kind of research,” John told him.  “So, you find out anything else we need to know about this thing?”

“Not much beyond the fact that it was used as an emergency means of escape.”

“But it’s only good for 30 feet?”

“Well, I suppose it could get you out of a prison cell.  Or, if you’re being attacked, it would be enough to get behind your attackers.”

“Ah, so it could be used both as a means of defense and offense.”  Sheppard nodded, understanding. “Pretty clever.”

“It can be used for rescue.  Someone could transport to where a captive is being held and get him out of there.”

“It can handle more than one person?” John asked.

“According to the texts, it was designed with that in mind.  The Ancients were really quite concerned about rescuing captives.  Fascinating really, because…” and Rodney stopped again.

Sheppard grimaced, realizing finally why McKay kept cutting himself off.  That damn letter.  Rodger Dodger and his poison pen …   “Look, McKay… about that letter.”

McKay’s face went a shade paler.  “What?  What letter?”

“That one that Ford had… listen… you know that guy was full of crap, don’t you?”

“Of course.  Of course.  Nothing new to me, right? Now, let’s test this function.  We both need to be touching the object,” Rodney told him.  “Otherwise it may think that I’m attacking you.  I might get my arm ripped off when you dematerialize.  Ha ha.”  He spoke quickly, not letting any time for John to get in a word.  McKay grasped John by the wrist, holding his hand still so that he could touch the device, too.  “We must be certain that we focus on the same thing,” he continued at a rapid pace.   “That black mark on the floor should do fine.  Do you see it?

“Yeah,” Sheppard responded, finally getting a chance to speak.

“Okay.  I’ll end up standing to the left.  You focus on materializing on the right,” McKay decided.

“Fine.”

“Remember, you’re on the right. I’m on the left.”

“Gotcha.”

“Your right.”

“Okay.”

“To clarify, your right as you’re facing it.  We’ll be facing in the same direction as we’re currently…”

“I got it, McKay.”

“Let’s do it!”

Okay, Sheppard thought.  McKay seemed to be dealing with the whole ‘letter’ thing okay  – kinda.

“Let’s do this!” McKay repeated impatiently.

“Here we go,” Sheppard stated, “One… Two… Three…” And John focused on ending up just to the right of the black mark as he pressed down on the disks.  The whooshing sensation returned.  It was an exhilarating sensation, like flying… like falling.

In the beat of a heart, he had moved ten feet up the hallway, to the right side of the mark. He staggered for a moment, strangely off balanced.  “What the…?”  His arm, that had been supported a moment ago, was free.

He spun around on the deck.  “McKay?” he called.  “McKay?”

“Rodney?” he shouted, but there was no answer.  He was alone in the hallway.


PART 4: OATMEAL

“McKay?”  Sheppard ducked into the bathroom he had vacated moments before, scanned it quickly and dove back out. “McKay!  Where the hell are you?”  In the palm of his hand rested the bee.  He clenched it tightly as he moved further down the hallway.  “McKay!” he shouted, “Stop screwing around!”

There was no response. The only sound that filled the corridor was the gentle lapping of the ocean beyond the railing.  “Oh shit,” Sheppard muttered as he turned and leaned over the edge, feeling an odd sense of vertigo that never usually assailed him.  “McKay!” he called again, gazing down at the tumbling ocean.  Nothing moved on its surface except for the foam.    “McKay!”  he cupped one hand around his mouth, wondering if his voice could carry, wondering if the bee would have allowed McKay to be tossed over the edge.

He felt odd as he stepped back, as if his head were full of mushrooms, or oatmeal, or fudge.

It has a failsafe, Sheppard told himself.  It wouldn’t let anyone get hurt.  It wouldn’t have dropped Rodney over the edge.  God, that failsafe better work!  John lifted his hand and stared at the device in his palm.  The bee no longer glowed – it was as plain as any brooch worn by anyone’s grandmother.  Whatever had powered it before, had apparently failed – or worn out.

Sheppard grabbed at his radio, affixing the earpiece and keyed it on.  “McKay!” he called, hoping the scientist’s device was on.  “McKay, respond!”  He couldn’t recall if McKay was wearing the radio earlier.  Had the scientist left it in the lab again?   Goddamn him!

Clutching at the bee, John regarded it – not a flicker of power seemed to arc through it.  Still, he tried to press the transparent discs inward, concentrating on finding Rodney – but the disks didn’t move -- the whooshing, flying sensation never commenced and he was left alone on the balcony.   He slipped it into his breast pocket.  Useless.

Sheppard glanced up and down the hallway, waiting – hoping – that Rodney would pop out of one of the nearby doorways – laughing at him about his little joke.  That would be just like him, wouldn’t it?  Smug as a cat, infuriating and superior.  Where the hell was he?

No doorways opened.  The major moved down the corridor, trying any door that would open – finding only empty, dark spaces – smelling of rooms that had been shut up for too long.  He searched for thirty feet in one direction – then thirty feet in the other.  But he felt so tired, and moving along the hallway was becoming harder by the moment.

The ocean beyond continued to roll, and empty, dark rooms were all that were yielded.  Suddenly, Sheppard leaned against he railing.  His head was spinning and his throat felt parched. That thick, oatmeal sensation seemed to be getting worse.   “Rodney,” he sighed.  “Where the hell are you?”

In his ear, the radio chirped, and Sheppard heard, “This is Dr. Weir.  What’s going on?”

Sheppard groaned, knowing that he’d best let the others know.  “I got a problem,” he explained.  “I’ve lost McKay.”

“Major Sheppard?”  Elizabeth’s voice returned.  Her simply stated question implied volumes.

“He’s gone.  I can’t find him.”  John blinked, feeling lightheaded and terribly thirsty.  The world around him seemed to tilt, and he only managed to mutter a frustrated, “Oh, crap!” before he fell hard on his butt.  His teeth clattered painfully.

“John?”  Elizabeth called, her voice startled.  She started calling to others around her – summoning help, issuing orders.  “John?” she called urgently into the radio.

But her voice went fuzzy, and the need to lie down took over.  Sheppard let himself slide to one side, and he closed his eye as a terrible weariness overtook him.


PART 5: PARADE FLOAT

“Major?  Major?  Major?” the insistent calling brought Sheppard back from his fog.  “Major, I need you to open your eyes and drink this.  Major Sheppard?  Can ye hear me?”

John squinted, surprised to find himself sitting up.  It took a moment to recognize the men on either side of him – Ford and Beckett, holding him upright.  “Ah, there ya be,” Beckett said with a thankful sigh and shoved a cup at him.  “Now, drink up.”

Sheppard tried to say something, but his throat felt dry as a desert.  He took the proffered cup and took a gulp.  

“All of it, now,” Beckett ordered.  “You’ll need every drop.”

Tipping back the glass, John drank down the contents – thirsty as hell.

“That should make you feel a bit better,” Beckett confided.  “You’ve gotten rather dehydrated.  When was the last time you had something to drink?”

“Lunchtime,” Sheppard responded thickly.  He turned toward the activity in the hallway, watching as a dozen Marines, and several scientists moved about on their varied missions.  “McKay?” he asked.

“Haven’t found him,” Ford responded, letting Sheppard lean on him.  “You said he was missing?”

“Yeah, he’s gone.”

“How?”

“PPTS,” Sheppard responded, trying to pronounce it as an acronym and coming out with a hiss.  He nodded to the Life Sign Detector in Beckett’s hand, not bothering to call it by its acronym.  “That didn’t help?”

Beckett looked unhappy.  “It doesn’t seem to work here, I'm afraid.”  The CMO held out the device, showing Sheppard the blank screen.

“Crap,” Sheppard murmured.  Just their luck – if there had to be ONE section of Atlantis that confused the Life Sign Detector, McKay would get lost in the midst of it.  “Status?” he asked.

“We arrived a few minutes ago,” Ford continued.  “Found you passed out on the floor and no sign of McKay.”

As Ford talked, Beckett pumped on the bulb of a blood-pressure cuff. Sheppard felt a tightness around his arm.  “Getting better,” Beckett said with a relieved sigh, as the cuff released.  “Really, Major, you must stop getting yourself into such fixes.  Your blood pressure was rather low.”

“Major Sheppard,” Weir called, as she appeared at one side of the corridor.

Making the valiant attempt to stand, Sheppard soon gave it up as a bad idea as his head swam – and then Beckett gave him a jerk to keep him seated.  “Dr. Weir,” John responded, shaking his head, trying to clear the oatmeal residue.

“What’s going on?”  She looked perplexed.  “Where’s Rodney?”

Sheppard let out a low breath.  “I don’t know.  I couldn’t find him.”

“What happened?”  When she squatted to be eye-level with him, Sheppard could see the worry in her eyes.

Fumbling with his pocket for a moment, John grasped the object he was after and held it out for Weir to see.

“It’s the bee,” Ford declared.

“Bee? Weir responded, taking the device from John.  The piece was nicely weighted, striped green and purple with transparent disks on its apparent back.

“Personal Portable Transporter System,” John explained.  “It can transport someone about 10 meters – through walls, but apparently not into them.  So that’s a good thing.”  Wasted, John pulled up his knees and let his forehead rest on them.  He felt so woozy.  His head ached.  “You just need to press down on the wings, think about where you’re going… and you’re there in an instant.”

“Poof?” Ford asked.

“More like a ‘shrumph’,” John answered gamely.

“Where’s Rodney?” Elizabeth repeated, her voice taking on a darker tone.

“I don’t know,” John responded, getting irritated with the constant questions. “We were messing with it, and…”

“Messing?” Elizabeth furrowed her brow at this description.

“Scientific experimentation,” John explained.  “He’d discovered that thing could be used to transport more than one person, for rescue missions, escaping … whatever.”  He felt his hand being drawn back.  Two aspirin appeared and he popped them into his mouth without thinking.  When a cup of water appeared next, he asked no questions, and sucked it down in one impressive mouthful.

“John…” Elizabeth prompted, while Beckett took his pulse again.

“We were experimenting to see how it would work when transporting two people.  It functioned just fine for one … but I think it was running out of power.  We tried it with two.  I made it … he didn’t.”  Sheppard felt like crap.  All he wanted to do was to lie down and let this feeling pass – but he had to find McKay – find out where the hell he’d ended up.  “Dead now… the device… the bee… not McKay…” God, I hope not.  John closed his eyes, and let his head rest.

“It seems to have taken a lot out of you,” Beckett commented, looking concerned.

“I was feeling fine at first, but it seemed to … wear me out the more I used it,” Sheppard commented.

Zelenka appeared beside Weir, and made an acquiescent gesture before he took the little device from her.  “Hmmm,” he muttered as he examined it.  “Without anything currently powering it, it is hard to say, but it’s possible that it partially runs off your own energy when it’s in use.”  He turned it over in his hands fretfully, his eyes looking owlish under his lenses.  “It must take a tremendous amount of power to dematerialize a human body.  Once the body is broken down to molecular level, it may be fairly easy for it to harvest what energy it can.”

John closed his eyes, feeling that it was highly possible.  He felt as if he was ready for hibernation.

Weir took the little device from Zelenka’s hands.  “Harvests energy?  Like a Wraith?” she asked, anxiously.

Zelenka held up his hands.  “I couldn’t say without further research.  I would need to run tests before I could even begin to answer that question.”

”Major?” Weir’s voice brought the Sheppard back to reality.

“It’s not like the Wraith,” Sheppard decided. “I’m just tired.  Very tired.”

“And Rodney?” she continued.

“He seemed fine until, you know… he disappeared.”  Thinking, he rephrased, “He said he was thirsty, and hungry… and light-headed.”  His frown increased. “He was getting pretty pale, I think.  Sweating, too.  I thought he was just excited… but…”

“There’s a 30 foot limit?” Weir asked.

“10 meters,” John clarified. 

“But the power was nearly gone,” Zelenka considered, squinting at the device.  “It is possible that the device short-circuited or had a power burst.  It might have sent him further than 10 meters.”

John frowned, his head still on his knees, and wondered if the failsafe had been affected.  By the time he lifted his head, Elizabeth and Aiden were standing.  Weir was staring off into the ocean.  Zelenka had wandered off.  A dark-skinned man had arrived, one of the doctors that worked under Dr. Beckett.  John could never remember his name – maybe no one had introduced them – anyway, it was too late to ask because he’d seen the man too often now to go about inquiring after a name. 

The man came with a pack of supplies, and handed it to Beckett.  “I think I have everything you asked for,” the doctor responded smoothly.  “How’s he doing?”

“Better by the moment.  Thank you,” Carson responded – and Sheppard bitched to himself when Carson didn’t use a name to address his coworker.  From the bag, Carson drew a small device.  John looked away, watching Weir. He felt a painful stab at one of his fingers and Carson drew a drop of blood, testing it.  "Just as I thought," the doctor sighed.  "Your blood sugar, Major, is far too low.”

The other doctor pulled a bottle of orange juice from the pack, opened it, and handed it to Sheppard.  “Drink it,” he stated, his voice low and friendly.  “It’ll help.”  Sheppard spotted another bottle in the doctor's bag -- apple juice, obviously reserved.

"Thanks," John replied, giving the man a half-hearted smile.  He did as he was told, hoping that something would rid him of this awful, sickly feeling.  

“How often did you use this wee bee?” Beckett asked fiddled with his equipment.

“I don’t know… six times...seven maybe.”  The thirstiness hadn’t left him yet, but the orange juice and water was helping.   John quickly finished the bottle.  The dark-skinned doctor dug through the pack, setting up more supplies.

“I take it this device wasn’t meant to be used repeatedly?” Beckett considered.  “How often had Rodney activated it?”

“Ten times, he said,” Sheppard responded, and then closed his eyes.  “Aw, hell,” he muttered.  “He’s hypoglycemic, isn’t he?”  Of course he was… hadn’t McKay mentioned it whenever he was particularly hungry? The damn bee had messed with their blood sugar… robbed them of moisture… who knew what else had been screwed with.

"Aye," Beckett agreed.  "Of course, if he took better care of himself.  Ate regularly.  Slept.  Didn't exist on coffee and..."

But Sheppard was done.  With a groan, John shoved against Carson’s shoulder.  Instead of forcing the major down again, Beckett helped support him – letting John find his feet.  The black doctor stood, giving him a hand as well.  John nodded a thank you to the unnamed man and staggered a few steps until he could grasp the railing.

Weir turned, giving him a calculating look – probably trying to gauge whether or not he would stay standing.  “He wouldn’t have fallen into the ocean, would he?” Elizabeth asked quietly.

“I don’t think so,” Sheppard responded.

Elizabeth nodded.  She handed him the little bee, and keyed her radio to order a search by jumper along the base of the floating structure.  She gave orders to the searchers that stood around them, letting the group know what she’d learned – that McKay could be literally anywhere in the area -- possibly within 10 meters, possibly beyond.  She explained that McKay might not be able to respond. 

John watched the soldiers and civilians moving about, going from room to room, searching cupboards and closets, looking everywhere.  He hadn’t been able to count them all yet, but there certainly seemed to be a mess of them.

 He thought he’d caught sight of Stackhouse and Bates ducking into one of the rooms.  Grodin was talking with Zelenka as they moved through a doorway.  Everywhere people were calling out, looking for McKay.

A few of the soldiers, noticing he was upright, came to him, looking for direction, but Sheppard felt like crap and didn’t think he had the wherewithal to guide a parade float at that moment.  Ford stepped up beside him, answering questions, giving orders, taking care of things.

He’s a good kid, John thought, a good man.

“Do you think Doctor McKay might have ended up on another floor?” Ford asked, cutting through his haze.

John considered the thought, and then nodded.  Yes, McKay very well could have…that would make sense.  That was it! “Let’s go,” John decided and turned to locate a stairway to one of the other levels.  Of course!  The doctor was probably wandering around just beneath them.

“Zelenka,” John called as he came to the room where he’d last seen the scientist.

“Major Sheppard,” the Czech returned, turning toward the door.  “You want me to accompany you?  I’m ready to go.”

“No,” John returned, grabbing Zelenka’s hand and dropping the bee into it.  “Fix this.”

Zelenka blinked at the device, adjusting his spectacles as he examined it again.  “How was Dr. McKay able to activate this?”

“I don’t know,” Sheppard returned.  “Do whatever McKay did.  Get it going again.”

The doctor fingered the device.  “Did he say anything about his research …” and Zelenka fluttered a hand… “activate it?”

“No, damn it.  He started to tell me, but didn’t get that far.”  And Sheppard grimaced, thinking that the damn letter was at fault there.  Usually McKay couldn’t help but show off when he’d figured something out, but, this time, he’d kept shutting himself up.  Just this once, couldn’t McKay have run off at the lips?

The Czech looked discouraged.  “Doctor McKay takes excellent notes, but mostly after the fact.  He edits his work far too much.  He records successes and omits the failures.”  And Zelenka scowled, not caring for the careful, concise and flawless documentation.  McKay’s completed reports were usually a fraction of the length of Zelenka’s.  “It’s best to record everything, the good and the bad.  It makes for a better resource.”

“Look,” Sheppard returned dissatisfiedly.  “Just make it work.”

“You said the power was drained,” the scientist returned.  “If there is no power...”

“I don’t care what it takes.  Do it!”  Sheppard barked as he turned, feeling the room spin a bit at the movement.  He left the scientist behind and hoped that the bee wouldn’t be needed to find McKay … for certainly Rodney was just on one of the neighboring floors.

Someone appeared at his side as John moved down the corridor.  A warm hand came under his own, steadying his tottering gait. He wanted to yank his arm away from the intimate touch, until he realized that it was Teyla who touched him.

“We will find him,” she assured, slowing his pace.

“If he’s hurt…” John stated.

But Teyla held firm, stating, “We will find him.”  A strange look came over her and she released him and  leaned close.  “Major, do you think… perhaps…”

“What?” Sheppard returned.

She smiled tightly, as if she were about to mention something unpleasant.  “If both of you dematerialized at the same time and only one rematerialized, is it possible that you have been…” and she paused, looking for the right word, meshing her fingers together.

“Oh, just stop right there!” John muttered.  “Don’t go all Sci-Fi Channel on me.  No, we’re not merged together or anything creepy like that.”

“It’s possible,” Teyla commented, her eyes flitting about at the uncomfortable line of questioning.

“There’s a failsafe.  We already found that out, literally, okay?  He cannot materialize inside of something  … or someone… else.  He’s not here,” John responded sharply, slapping his chest.  “I think I’d know it if was sharing my body.”  Sheppard shook his head sharply and closed his eyes a moment thinking, you in here, Rodney?  You better not be.  Okay, if you’re in here, just speak up, okay? You’re not staying though.  Can we make that clear? I mean, feel free to relax, it’s not like I can kick you out right now, but you’re NOT STAYING.  You there?   No mysterious, disembodied voice answered.  Instead of feeling another presence, he was met with a feeling of loneliness and loss.  “He’s not here,” he repeated, softly this time.

Teyla nodded, taking hold of his arm.  “It was worth the try,” she decided and they moved off to check the other floors.

Weir stayed to keep an eye on the search.  Ford, Teyla, Grodin and three soldiers went with Sheppard, to find the nearest staircase.  When they reached it, Grodin and the soldiers went up.  Sheppard and the others went down.

Sheppard emerged on the lower floor, finding corridor black and cold – lacking the open balcony that would have allowed the daylight to enter.  There was no sign that anyone had trespassed there.  Sheppard paused, knowing that Atlantis had the habit of ‘turning on’ whenever anyone entered the spaces.  McKay wasn't here.  He stood in the doorway, discouraged, while the others waited, trapped behind him in the stairway.

“Major Sheppard,” Teyla said softly, touching his shoulder.  “We should check in any case,” she told him.  “Perhaps, he is here, yet not awake.”

Sheppard nodded and resolutely stepped forward.  The corridor came alive, bringing light to the dim space.  He moved toward the spot just under that 10-meter parameter, looking for McKay – not finding him.

The place was empty.

“Doctor McKay?” Ford called, itching to get around Sheppard, but letting the man lead at his stilted pace.  “Doctor McKay, are you here?”  But the corridor remained cold and quiet – only punctuated by Ford’s voice and the sound of their feet upon the walkway.


PART 6:  TRIPLE LUTZ

McKay let out a low breath as he slowly became aware of the world around him.  He ached.  His mouth was so dry it almost hurt to breathe through it.  His limbs felt heavy and unusable – and his mind buzzed – like a bee, trapped.

Somewhere… something thumped.

He was laying on his back, laying on something terribly uncomfortable.  He tried to adjust his position, to move off the metal lumps and budges, but he had no strength.

It took a moment before he could find the power to even open his eyes.  Blackness – only blackness.  He twisted his head and tried to turn over, finding that simple movement as difficult as a Double-Lutz to a figure skater, no… make that Triple-Lutz.  He wouldn't go so far as to call it a 'Quad'.  With perseverance, he prevailed.  Okay, you’re on your stomach – now what?  Still only darkness – a blackness so vast it seemed to fill his head.  With a weary sigh, he let his overly-heavy head rest again and he closed his eyes.

The pounding continued.  He grimaced as his head throbbed along with the noise.  He felt jittery – a strange feeling to be coupled with the weariness. He shook.

What the hell had happened?  Where was he? How did he get here?  If he could only get his mind to cooperate…he might be able to figure this out.  He furrowed his brow, trying to force his addled brain to work, to access the archive.

Now, think, McKay… think…  What?  Where?  How?  Come on now, you can puzzle this out.  You’re certainly smart enough.  Get that brain working!  Where the hell are you?  What happened?  Instead of finding vast files of information in his cerebrum, he located only a wide-open space – like an abandoned warehouse – with papers blowing in the breeze – and a mouse or two scurrying around on the broken tiling, someone playing a harmonica in the distance.  God, this must be what normal people feel like when they try to think.

He frowned, feeling sick… sick and tired and hopeless. Snap out of it!  What was the last thing you remember?  How was he supposed to think at all with that terrible buzzing in his brain?

The bee – aw yes – the bee.  Wonderful device, really.  And terribly significant.  Just imagine all the benefits that such an instrument could provide them!  Think of the possibilities!  If he carried something like that, he’d never have to worry about being captured or held against his will.  Yes, Mr. Wraith – Steve, II, you might think that you’ve cleverly captured me. But ha-ha!  You are wrong!  Sorry to disappoint you. Must pop off now – see you later.  And in the blink of an eye, he’d be gone.

He’d leave the rescuing aspects of it to Major Sheppard, or Lt. Ford, someone far more valiant.  Yes, they were better equipped to handle the heroic aspects of the device.   'Gee, McKay, those poor people have been taken hostage by Steverino and his buddies.  What are you going to do about it?  You have the device that will save them.’  ‘Well, I’m going to pass this Personal Portable Transporter System to Major Sheppard here and let him sort it all out.’

Still, it would be better to keep it in hand… just in case anything ever happened to him.  Better to be safe than sorry.  One must always look out for oneself.  Let the rest of them worry about saving lives. ‘Do you have that bee, McKay?’  ‘Bee?  What bee? Hmm.  Perhaps, I left it in my other jacket.’

I really wish we could get new jackets.   I know you’ve never had any fashion sense, but even you can figure out that beige has never been my best color, and I feel so very… puffy… when I wear that thing.  Must consider finding a Planet of Tailors…now where would we find them and what could we trade… maybe they’d like some cheese… everyone likes cheese…except for Father… said it tasted like mold…mold… like something moldy, unwanted and never quite good enough.

He drifted, listening the thudding and bumping that seemed to be fading… that seemed to be drifting as much as he was.  Knock it off!  He blinked in the blackness and grasped at the strange flooring beneath him.  Come on, you dimwit, you moron… nerd… idiot… think! Think!  What the hell happened?  Where are you? How did you get here?  Why are you alone?  Where is everyone?  Are they hurt?  Are they in trouble?  Do they need help?  You have to fix this – it’s what you do.  How can I get to them?  What can I do?

Nothing… not a damn thing.  You’re rather useless, you know?

No!  Stop it!  Think… the bee.  That’s right… the bee.  You were experimenting with the device… along with Major Sheppard.  Ah yes.  Then what happened?

Rodney could feel the sweat running down his face as he contemplated.  He felt so awful, so dizzy, sick and anxious.  Maybe if he just rested a bit longer… he’d feel better.  Both hands twitched incessantly.

Think… the bee… think.  The major seemed impressed with it.  And Rodney allowed himself a smile.  It was an excellent discovery, really.  A fine find!  And they’d been experimenting with it – trying to figure out how to use its features.  Oh! That was it… you were attempting to use it to move two people at once!  Yes!  Of course.  How could you  forget that?

But the power was running low.  Must have short-circuited somehow – sent me somewhere – not so nice.  Where did the Major end up?

Rodney tried to speak, to call out for the major, but his throat felt closed, his tongue seemed to be plastered to the roof of his mouth.  “Major?” he croaked, and could hardly catch his breath afterward.  Crap… aw crap.  Was Major Sheppard here, too?  “Major?” he gasped, the word coming out as nothing more than a hoarse whisper… horse whisperer… who’d want to whisper to a horse? He tried to cough, but instead made only a pathetic gasping sound.

He had to find Major Sheppard.  If they were both in the same shape… God… you had to find the Major.  This is all your fault after all!  How do I find him? I can hardly move. Just do it.  Look for him!   He moved about one shaking arm in the blackness – then the other –  then his legs -- trying to come in contact with anything.  He found nothing. He was alone.

Squinting into the surrounding area, McKay realized that he wasn’t in utter darkness –a sliver of light came in at him from above, about a meter in front of him – just a pinprick – a ghost of light – not enough to see anything – not enough for anything at all.

He lifted his head and gripped at the rippled surface beneath him.  Now, if he could just crawl over to that little shaft of light, maybe he could.  OW!  Ow!  Ow! OW!

As he lifted himself enough to attempt a crawl, his head cruelly slammed into the surface above him.  He saw stars and closed his eyes -- brightness in the black.  Crap, that hurt. Damn it… damn it… crap!   It took a moment to get one hand  up to gently probe the sore spot on his scalp.  Ow.. yes…ow.  That hurts… that hurts, too… ow.

When he lifted the hand further, he found a ceiling no more than 10 centimeters above him.  The arm dropped beside him, as if weighted.  Exhausted and discouraged, he let his head rest on his other arm.  Where the hell was he?    The space was less than a half-meter high.  It was a good thing that he couldn't see, otherwise his claustrophobia would be kicking in.  Oh God, I have to get out of here, have to find the Major.  What if he’s in trouble?  How? Think… how did you get here?

We were messing with the bee.  Come on, McKay, think about this.  Puzzle this out if you want to get out of this mess.  What happened?   The Major was talking about….

…ah yes… Ford’s letter.  That damn letter.  God, how embarrassing.  I should have destroyed it when I discarded it – let it get no further.  It was bad enough that Ford had to see the comments, but apparently, Sheppard was privy to it, too.  When the major had mentioned the thing….

And Rodney smiled at his own incredible stupidity, pressing his teeth into his arm.  Aw crap, I’m a dead man.  He recalled the incident, remembered how he’d felt, what he’d thought.  Because, when Sheppard had started talking about that damn letter, all Rodney wanted to do… was to get away… to be gone… to simply disappear into the floor.


PART 7:  COAT HOOK

The search was expanded as it was reasoned that the device might expended its last energy in a burst and McKay much further than the 10 meters. There were parties patrolling throughout the area, on multiple floors, searching everywhere in this otherwise uninhabited portion of Atlantis.

Beckett was worried.  What with McKay’s intolerance for fluctuations in his blood-sugar and the nasty after-effects of ‘too much messing about with things best left alone’, Carson had reasoned that Rodney may be in serious trouble if he wasn’t found soon.  “He’s possibly unconscious.  If he’s awake, he won’t be thinking properly and may not be able to move much at all,” the good doctor had informed them.  “We have to find him… soon.”

Sheppard found his strength returning with each moment.  As he jogged down one corridor and then another, he kept promising himself that McKay would be just around the next corner, or maybe in the adjacent room, waiting for them, needing help, getting impatient and fussy.  They’d find him.

Some doorways refused to open.  The ATA gene didn’t seem to help.  Task forces were assigned to find the secrets to the locks, but so far they’d had no success.  If Zelenka only had that damn bee working again, they could explore those hidden rooms.

An adrenalin rush had overtaken the last of his fatigue, keeping the major moving.  Coupled with the amount of sugar Beckett had forced on him, Sheppard felt as if he could run all night.  Teyla and Ford kept up with him as they moved from floor to floor, room to room.

Two puddle-jumpers patrolled the waves outside Atlantis:  one searched the structure, the other was circling in ever widening arcs, watching the sea.  Nearly every available Atlantian was actively looking.  Hell, Teyla even had Halling and the other Athosians searching the coast on the mainland – just in case.

“Where the hell are you?” Sheppard growled.   Night was falling… and there’d been no sign of the missing scientist.  “Where did you go?  What did it do with you?”  He searched his head again, wondering if a physicist was hiding somewhere in there – no – just as normal as ever.

Their radios were cracking with communication, people reporting in, giving updates that promised nothing.  So far, there’d been no news – no news whatsoever.

“Do you honestly think he got so far?” Ford asked, as they took another turn, bringing them closer into the central hub of the complex.  “Wasn’t Dr. McKay convinced that it only had a range of 10 meters?  He’s usually right about things like that.”

Sheppard sighed, annoyed with this contradiction.  They’d searched every possible space within that radius – up, down and round and round – finding no trace – no sign.  “I don’t know, Ford,” he muttered.  “We haven’t found him.  If he’s within that perimeter, then he either went off the edge of the balcony or materialized inside of something solid.”

“You’d think we’d see an arm sticking out somewhere if that was the case,” Ford said thoughtfully.  “Looking like a coat hook or something?”

Teyla shuddered visibly. “That didn’t happen,” she said earnestly.  “Certainly, he is alive.”

Ford let out a sad sigh, his face falling as he spoke, “I just feel really bad.  One of the last things he ever did was read that letter -- my letter  – then he gets transported into a wall.”

“He did not get transported into a wall!” Sheppard snapped.

“Then why haven’t we found him?” Ford continued, equally annoyed.  “We should have gotten to him by now!”

“I don’t know,” John returned.  “And it’s about time we find another way.”  And he picked up his pace – heading toward the main lab.

Continue onto the Second Half

Hope you enjoyed the story. comments and suggestions
CounterData.com


Pay Per Click Advertising Counter