Misconstrued - the second half
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CHAPTER  14:  LIKE A VIRUS

It had started from the moment the first scientists returned through the Stargate, bloody and hastily bandaged, under the care of the triage team and escorted by Marines.  It started with their rumbling, discontented comments, and it spread like a virus.

Soon everyone was talking about what had taken place on that planet – how McKay had coldheartedly kept two of the team members too long in the tunnel.  The pursuit of Ancient technology had clouded the physicist’s mind one time too many and now others had suffered the consequences.

Dr. Weir had taken reports, had heard what everyone had to say.  The official comments were fairly consistent -- the team had been working in the underground cavern; Dr. McKay had been at odds with Dr. Merritt throughout the day; McKay and Merritt had discovered something and an argument broke out; the earthquake hit and, during the evacuation, the argument continued; many clearly remembered hearing McKay shouting at Merritt to get the device out; Zelenka had spoken briefly with Corporal Alava, and Doctors Powell and Burnaby and had verified this information; McKay called Zelenka back;  Moody had reported seeing Merritt, Zelenka and McKay in the tunnel together and stated that McKay was abusing Merritt in some way;  Moody died trying to get the lagging scientists out;  Merritt died because he’d been forced to remain;  Zelenka was in a coma because he’d been called back; McKay had run when Merritt was in trouble – had run to the first hole he could find and left Zelenka to find something for himself while carrying the device.  McKay was the only one of this group currently awake and recovering.

Weir listened, trying to remain dispassionate, trying to question and not accuse, but none of the reports made sense.  “Are you certain that’s what happened?” she’d ask them.

“I know what I heard,” she’d get in response – and several of the interrogated scientists had crossed their arms and looked at her with arrogant expressions.

But she didn’t believe it… not entirely.  The scientists were Merritt’s chosen team – loyal to him.  Of course they’d show him preference.  And there had always been a marked rivalry between the various factions in the science department.  But the military involved confirmed what the civilians told them.  There’d been arguments, there’d been shouting from McKay, demands that Merritt get the thing out during the worst of the quake, even Lt. Ford confirmed it.

“Yes, Ma’am,” the lieutenant responded, looking unhappy to say it.  “I did hear Dr. McKay shouting at Dr. Merritt.”

“Do you remember exactly what was said?”  Elizabeth asked hopefully.

Ford thought a moment and shook his head.  “It was just… you know… the way they are.  They’d been annoying each other all day.  Dr. McKay seemed really irritated with Dr. Merritt, kept saying his theories about the place were no good.”  He paused and then defended, “And I think Dr. McKay was right about most of it.”

Furrowing his brow, Ford continued, speaking quietly, “When the earthquake started, I heard McKay shouting, I heard him yell at Merritt, telling him to remove the device.  I heard him shout for Dr. Zelenka to come back because Merritt couldn’t handle it by himself.  But… that’s just the way he is,” Ford defended.  “When he gets excited, he tends to…”

“Get a bit abrupt?”

“Yeah, I guess that’s one way to say it.  It’s just how he is.  I didn’t think it meant anything.  You know that, don’t you?  You know all of this is wrong?”

And yes, Weir realized the information didn’t add up, but what else did she have to go by?  It was like the incident with Brendan Gall – rumors flew then as well.  She feared it would be even worse this time.

When the interviews were completed, Elizabeth could only sigh and hope that Rodney and Radek awoke soon and would talk to her to tell her their point of view.

Rodney had been in and out of consciousness over the past day-and-a-half, never awake for long.  He’d spoken briefly to Carson or his people, had managed a few words with Grodin when the Brit had stopped by to tell him about the progress on the Ancient device.  Apparently there’d been some speculation that removing the machine had caused the earthquake, but research quickly proved that false.  There continued to be aftershocks on P6M-301, but nothing to compare to the temblor that brought down the roof.

When Grodin told him that the device still remained a mystery, not divulging what made it so important.  "So far, it's worthless," Peter had said.  McKay became even more quiet.  So far, Weir hadn’t had a chance to talk to him – that was about to change, she decided.  She needed some answers.

“He hasn’t said much,” Beckett told her as she entered the infirmary again.  The wounded scientists were mostly gone now, except for Dr. Stanley who remained due to her head injury.  Beckett wanted to keep a close eye on her for a little longer.  Dr. Zelenka still hadn’t stirred and Rodney would be there for some time yet.

They passed Stanley’s bed.  She still had visitors, which was strange because she wasn't a very outgoing person.  Rubber-neckers, Weir decided, figuring that they wanted to be around to see what happened to McKay and Zelenka.  That would explain Kavanagh’s presence in any case.  The pony-tailed scientist gave her a self-satisfied look as she passed.

“Has he awakened recently?”  Elizabeth asked, as they approached McKay’s bed.

Jamming his hands into his lab-coat pockets, Beckett responded, “I believe he’s awake more often then we think.”  He leaned over the recumbent man and asked loudly, “Isn’t that right, Rodney?”

There was no response.

“Come on then,” Beckett said with a sigh.  “Just for a few minutes, Rodney.  Dr. Weir needs to talk to you.  Needs to find out what really happened.  We need to know.”

Weary blue eyes opened in a pale face and gazed up at them.  “What?” he asked softly.

Elizabeth smiled warmly, glad to see those eyes.  She took the chair that Beckett pulled out for her and she settled beside his bed.  “How are you?” she asked sincerely.

He furrowed his brow, opened his mouth as if to snap out some comment, paused and then said, “Not so good.”

She smiled again.  “I know,” she responded, taking in his appearance – battered and bandaged.  He really looked awful.  She leaned close to him to hear his soft voice.  “Are you up to answering some questions?”

McKay smiled weakly.  “Well… the Major calls me the ‘answer man’…I guess that’s what I’m good for.”

“Do you remember what happened?” Weir asked.

Again, his brow creased.  “I…I… I don’t remember everything,” he admitted as if he were confessing to a crime.  “I’ve been trying, but I just can’t fit it all together.”  His voice was soft and filled with frustration.

“That’s okay,” Weir told him.  “Just tell me what you recall.”

“We’d found a panel … Radek and I.  Merritt showed up, wanting to horn his way in.  He opened it before I had a chance, and we….” he paused, trying… trying to remember it right but it was all a jumble, empty spaces. Looking up into the sympathetic eyes of Elizabeth, he struggled. “Give me a minute….”

“Take your time. It’s okay, Rodney,” she said understandingly.  “Just try.   Tell me what you remember.”

And he hated it, because he couldn’t… there was a blackness after that… and empty hole… and it was terribly important to remember.  Weir’s expression was so encouraging, as if she was willing him to say something else… willing him to tell her everything.  How could he disappoint her?

Watching his attempt to speak, Weir told him, “Anything would help, Rodney.  Can you remember anything at all?”

He hated this.  “The earthquake…” Rodney tried.  It was all patchy and his inability to give her a correct answer tore at him.  He was the ‘answer man’ after all – he had to provide solutions.  He had to tell her something!  Had to fill in those holes.  “I… had to get the device out.  Merritt… I had Merritt do the work.”  And he closed his eyes… trying to put it all together.  “But he was taking too long.  I couldn’t wait.  Zelenka… he left, but I called him back.  Merritt couldn’t do it himself.  I needed someone else.”

And he couldn’t quite get it.  He had a mind capable of mastering the most complex puzzles, but he couldn’t un-muddle the events.  And ‘thinking’ was the only thing he’d ever had… how could his brain fail him?  “Made them get it out before it was destroyed by the earthquake… Zelenka and Merritt… had to bring out that device… I….” and he paused, trying.  “…made them stay until it was done.”

“Go on, Rodney,” Weir led, her voice sounding tight.

“Sgt. Moody, I saw him, wanted him to help us… so he came.  The archway collapsed and I shoved Merritt right under it,” McKay stated, his voice astounded as this bit of memory came clear.  His eyes opened again, and he looked up at Weir with disbelief.  “I did… I was so angry with him… I shoved him… under it as it fell.”

Weir, leaning just above him, asked, “Are you sure?  Rodney, it couldn’t have happened that way.”

“But I remember,” he said softly, closing his eyes again, closing them tightly.  Oh God… he remembered.  It was true… it was true.  He was the reason they all died.  “I remember,” he rasped, wanting to get away… to run… to flee, and there was only one way to accomplish that.

“Rodney?” Weir called again but received no response.  “Rodney?”  She touched the side of his face softly, then looked up at Beckett who stood over them.

“Asleep again,” Beckett stated, noting the monitors, “Or at least I believe so.”  He sighed.  “I think he just hides this way sometimes.”

Coward, Rodney thought.

“Rodney?” she called again. She waited a moment longer, brushing her hand along his cheek, but it appeared that McKay would offer her no response.  She turned in her chair toward the other bed.  “And what about Radek?” she asked.

With a weary sigh, Beckett told her, “No change.  The swelling is down.  The latest MRI came clear and the monitors show there is acceptable brain activity.”  Shaking his head, the doctor told her, “I’m hopin’ he’ll be coming out of this soon.”

“Will he be okay?” Weir asked.

Beckett shrugged unhappily.  “With an injury such as his, it’s never certain.  I must tell you, he might have suffered some damage.”

“Brain damage?”  Weir repeated sorrowfully.

“Aye, it’s a strong possibility, I’m afraid. But, there’s a chance that he’ll be fine,” he added, trying to sound positive.

She moved across to Zelenka, watching the still face of the Czech – wishing he’d awaken – wishing and praying that he’d be okay.  To lose the brilliant scientist would be devastating to all of them; he brought such a lively spark to the science team, and was one of the most decent people she’d ever known.

“Will he remember what happened?” Weir asked.

“There’s no tellin’,” Beckett replied.  “But we can hope so – for both of their sakes.”


CHAPTER  15:  LIKE A CHIHUAHUA

Ford didn’t know what to do.  It seemed wherever he went, there was the quiet jabbering of people going on about what had happened on P6M-301, especially now that McKay had admitted to everything that had previously been mere speculation, adding on the final damning bit of evidence that the self-proclaimed ‘Smartest Man in the Galaxy’ had deliberately pushed Merritt directly under a falling archway.

Aiden didn’t believe it – how could any of it be true?  Yes, McKay had been yelling at Merritt.  Yes, He’d called Dr. Zelenka back.  And yes, Merritt had been found under the remains of an archway.  But the rest of it…  it just wasn’t like the Doc.  Sure, McKay was arrogant as hell, but Ford also realized – knew in his heart – that McKay wouldn’t let anyone get hurt if he could stop it.

And oddest of all, nobody seemed interested in affixing the blame on one Aiden Ford.  He was perplexed by that, had been prepared to take the brunt of the force, but there had been nothing aimed at him.  He had been in charge, after all.  But, it was as if the scientists from Merritt’s team had a vendetta against McKay.  It was as if they’d been ready and waiting for some great failing so that they could go after him.  And McKay had nothing to use for defense.

The doctor was too confused and weak to protect himself; Sheppard and Teyla were gone; Zelenka was incapacitated, and what help could Ford provide?

He'd tried to speak up on McKay's behalf – to shut up Burnaby and Powell, but now that Kavanagh had joined them, their rumors became unstoppable.  He’d pulled Kavanagh aside, tried to talk sense into him, but the big scientist had scoffed at him, throwing the evidence back at him.  McKay had condemned himself.  “If we were on Earth,” Kavanagh groused, “He’d be headed to electric chair.  Instead, he’ll probably get a medal.” And he sniffed disdainfully, and continued on his course.

Could he order the trouble-mongers to shut up?  Not likely.  Weir had yet to declare this a criminal case, much to Kavanagh’s disgust, so there was no legal recourse to hush anyone.  Threats didn’t seem to work – the scientists would just give him a smug look and walk away.  Hell, they all knew he could do nothing to stop them.

Dr. Weir had attempted to quiet the rumors, the innuendos.  She was met with nods and smiles as people seemed to acquiesce with her request, but the moment her back was turned, the whispering continued.

It maddened the young lieutenant that he could do nothing to silence any of it.  No matter how he tried to quell it, he still heard the snickering comments, the gossip, the conjectures.  He felt like a Chihuahua yapping at a Great Dane for all his efforts.

So he found other things to do.  He’d collected Moody’s effects, setting them aside for his parents.  There wasn’t much, but he did his best to gather everything and considered a letter to include.  “Sorry Mr. And Mrs. Moody, but your boy, Joe, broke his neck on my watch. He talked a lot about sailing but never said much about you.”  No, he couldn’t write it now… not now.

He spent as much time as he could in the infirmary.  Beckett had been rather patient with him – where he’d been more than a bit abrupt with some of the other visitors.  Burnaby and Powell had been banned from visiting Dr. Stanley again.  The ban didn’t stop Kavanagh and some of the others from trying to gain entrance.

Beckett made sure Ford received proper meals, would check on him, talk to him while he sat at the bedside, but really the doctor was far too busy to spend a lot of time just hanging out.

Aiden tried talking to McKay and Zelenka, but ran out of words.  McKay said little, and was asleep more often than awake.  When Rodney was awake, Ford found little he could say – he ended up blathering about nothing.  McKay responded so quietly to him, using so few words, it was impossible to keep a conversation going.  Not at all like him, Ford realized, not at all right.

And when McKay was asleep, Ford tried to keep chatting, but he was never the type to just ‘talk’ without anyone responding to him.  So he sat – saying nothing most of the time.

Zelenka had yet to awaken.  Some of the other scientists had come to sit with Zelenka, fellow Czechs, they spoke to Radek in his native tongue, and others who came by just because they liked him.  Few came to see McKay – Grodin, Weir, Beckett … once that shy Japanese girl poked her head in the room, but she spooked and left when she saw Ford was already there.

Aiden wondered if just sitting silently did any good at all.  But still, he sat and waited, talking sometimes, even if it was just to Beckett, Maria, Claire or one of the other nurses – because it was better than trying to fight the insidious gossip.

And for every moment he stayed with McKay, Ford felt that the rumor mill was being allowed to spin out of control. If he were out in the city, maybe he could do something to stem it.  He felt like a coward – felt like a little dog – felt powerless -- and counted the hours until Sheppard would return.


CHAPTER  16:  LIKE A DUST GEEBLER

Shuffling, Sheppard managed to press open the tent flap as he moved through the opening.  He paused, and his gaze fell upon his cot.  The thing suddenly looked damn comfortable to him suddenly.  A contented smile graced him at the mere sight of it.  A jab of a finger at his back, and, with a grimace, he moved forward, letting the others in.

They stumbled and groaned and half-fell onto their respective beds.  And for a moment, nobody spoke.

John zoned out, staring at a dust bunny on the floor.  He wondered if they called them ‘dust bunnies’ on the Capilanos home world and he figured they didn’t.  Dust geeblers, he decided, remembering a rodent-like animal that had been pointed out to him during their trek of yesterday morning.  Damn… was it really only yesterday that they’d come here?  “Dust geeblers,” he said out loud, feeling as if his head were full of them.

“What was that, Major?” Bates asked as he yawned.

“Nuttin’,” Sheppard responded quickly, glancing to Travis who sat hunched on his cot, holding a stack of papers to his chest, eyes tightly shut.  “Still got all of it, doctor?” he asked.

“Uh-huh,” was all Travis could mutter in return.  He looked about ready to keel over.

“Maybe we should put it somewhere safe?” Bates tried.

Shaking her head, Teyla returned, “There would be no need to worry about theft.”

“Theft?” Bates retorted.  “Hell, I’m worried that Orin is gonna fall on the thing and smudge it all.  Then we’d have to start from scratch.”

At those words, Orin’s eyes shot open and the engineer pulled the pile of papers from his chest to stare at them.  “They’re fine,” he told them.  “Perfectly fine.”

Still, Sheppard stood and crossed the short distance, taking the papers from Travis and turning them so he could see them correctly.  There, on a series of oversized pages, written in Ancient, Capilano and English, was the contract that would control how the barter would be meted out.  The Capilanos, they’d learned, were sticklers.  They hated to be misunderstood and this was their answer to that issue – clarity – everything written out for all to see in their native languages and their common language.

Oh, Teyla had been aware of that fact, had tried to explain it, and they’d specifically brought Travis along due to his knowledge of contracts, law and the Ancient language, but no one had been quite prepared for the intensity that the Capilanos brought to all things drawn up on paper.

They’d struggled over half the day, getting everything down correctly, each party writing in their own languages first, then translating the text to Ancient as the common language. Thankfully, they’d come to an agreement early on that the Athosian language wouldn’t be required – but that took almost an hour of discussion before they came to that conclusion.

It wasn’t that they distrusted others, Teyla assured her teammates, they just wanted to ensure that each party interpreted their own contract correctly.

The two ‘Ancient’ contracts would be compared for discrepancies.  The differences would be corrected on one or the other text and the whole thing would start again.  It was a fairly simple exchange really, food crops for medicine and technology, but the devil was in the details and it took a good part of the day to get their respective contracts to match acceptably.

Then, they had to do it all over again because Chilliwhack had brought up some contingencies that threw the whole thing into question.  Travis had argued that an amendment would suffice to add the extra information, but the Capilanos would have nothing to do with that.  “It must be perfectly clear,” they’d insisted.  So they started again – each in their own language, then translating to Ancient and comparing the results … fixing words until the contracts matched.  Then writing up the whole thing once again in ink on pretty parchment.

Travis argued that they should have started with a common contract, written in the Ancient language, and translated to their native tongues from there, but the Capilanos were insistent – start with the language you know best to ensure that both sides understood each other correctly. Ancient was too easy to misinterpret.

Then, after they’d thought all was said and done, there were more changes – just a little bit here and there – a sentence that needed to be inserted – a little addendum here – a date altered – and everything was thrown out again and restarted.

And once the newest version was agreed to, and properly inked, handwritten copies of the originals had to be made, and compared to the originals.  When a grammatical error was found on the Capilano’s original, all of the Capilano copies had to be rewritten – but thankfully the English and Ancient text stayed.

It was dark by the time the signatures finally hit the contracts, and the copies were divided up among the participants.  John held their copies, gazing over the pretty Ancient symbols, then the careful hand of Travis’ English text, and finally the Capilano language that looked like a mess of chickens had run all over the page.

Yawning, he stepped to his backpack, and brought out a tube.  He curled the contracts and inserted them into the document carrier, and returned it to his bag.  “Done,” he decided before taking three steps and falling back onto his incredibly comfortable cot.

He watched his exhausted companions for a few moments.  Travis was rubbing his sore hands, eyes closed again.  Bates sat forward, arms resting on his lap, hands dangling between his knees.  Teyla yawned.  They were a fair portrait of exhaustion.

“Teyla, I hate to ask,” John started.  “But, what’s up for tomorrow.”

“The Feast of Completion,” Teyla told him, nodding as if she were already half asleep.

“Urgh,” Travis responded.

“Hell,” Bates voiced.

“Dancing?” John asked.

Teyla shuddered.  “Thankfully, no.  A morning feast will complete the negotiation.”

“Good eatin’?” Sheppard asked, remembering the tasty doughnuts of that morning.

Teyla smiled.  “The Capilanos are well known for their culinary skills.  We shall eat well.  It shall be a time of relaxing and saying our goodbyes.”

“I’m all for goodbyes,” Bates commented.

“Mrrpph,” Travis got out before he fell to one side on his cot.

Sheppard gazed where Orin had fallen, wondering if he should check to see if the engineer was all right, but Travis was already snoring.  “Figure he has a good idea,” he spoke.

“Yeah,” Bates said with a yawn, as he curled onto his side on his cot without saying another word.

Teyla continued to nod as Sheppard unlaced his boots and stripped down to his civvies. He paused for a moment, wondering if he should do it elsewhere, what with Teyla right there, but she was too tired to even see at the moment.  Ready for bed, he climbed under his covers, turned off his light, and began his last night on the Capilano world.  He lay in the bed for some time, his mind too numb to even try sleeping at first.  He glanced toward Teyla to ensure that she’d eventually gotten herself horizontal.  Her light was off, and he didn’t see her sitting and nodding any longer, so he hoped for the best.

This is one crappy mission, he decided.  Could think of a dozen places I’d rather be – like back at Atlantis -- back at Atlantis for sure.  It hit him again, how much he wanted to be there.  He realized that it wasn’t just to get away from this place either – from the wild dancing, to the too-damn-serious negotiations and the constant revisions – he just needed to be … home.

He sat up for a moment, feeling his weariness tug at him, and looked out across the dark tent.  What was up?  He almost stood, put his boots on, and marched out. Yet, his eyes strayed to his bag where the completed contracts were housed.  The contracts were signed, but the negotiations weren’t officially over yet.  They’d leave in the morning, after the ceremonial breakfast and the hugs goodbye.

He nodded, satisfied, and decided that would be good enough – still, it was some time before he fell asleep and he never lost the feeling that he really should be in Atlantis at that moment.


CHAPTER 17:  DOG EARED

It was late.  The infirmary was quiet in the night.  Visitors had departed and McKay was left alone in the silence.  He missed Ford, now that he was gone. Funny, but the young man’s quiet presence had made him feel a bit better.

He sighed, staring up at the dim ceiling above him.  A nurse was at her station, idly reading a book.  He could hear the pages flipping and he counted the seconds between each turn, trying to decide how quickly she read.  She was either a fast reader, or maybe the typeface was large.

Miserable and lonely, Rodney could only wait.  He turned his head slowly, careful not to alert the nurse.  Dr. Stanley was asleep at her kitty-corner bed on his left.  He turned to the right to check on Zelenka, finding him as still as ever.

He watched the Czech for several long moments – watched and waited – but Radek only breathed slowly and consistently, showing no sign of coming out of his state.  Sorry, he thought.  Radek, I’m sorry.  I don’t know why I wouldn’t let you leave.  I wish I did.  I wish I could justify my actions but it’s all gone.  I wish you had a good reason to be like that.  I wish, at least, that the device was worth the sacrifice, but they’re finding nothing.  It was all for nothing – and I’m so sorry.

And still, Zelenka didn’t move and Rodney had to look away.

Beyond Radek’s bed, the nurse quietly read – her name was Claire, Rodney remembered, Claire Mosley, and he was proud he’d been able to remember that.  Never been good with names, he reminded himself.  I can hold the answers to a thousand questions in my head, can solve the most complex puzzles, but can’t put names and faces together.  Just goes to show… I’m not a people person.  Not good with people.

He blinked slowly, feeling as weary as hell, but unable to really sleep.  If he slept, he’d only dream about what happened.  It was better that he stayed awake – that way he could mull it over – try to figure out everything he’d done wrong.  Maybe he could justify it all if he thought about it often enough.  He had a lot to work out.

He’d made so many mistakes since they'd arrived at Atlantis -- plenty – there was Gall and Abrams, of course.  So many things to weigh heavily on him, and in the quiet of the night he could think about them – think about every wrong move he’d made.  And now there was this… this horrible incident to add to his responsibilities.

Maybe if he were just able to get up and around, he’d feel better.  He could get back to work and forget about all this – not have to lie right next to Radek and know, every second of the day, that Zelenka was getting no better.  If he was more of a man, he could get up out of this bed and leave -- but he was so tired.

Claire flipped another page, and McKay wondered if she was speed-reading or maybe just skimming pages.  He couldn’t tell the title of the book – but there were only so many available on the station.  They’d formed a library of sorts in one of rooms near the mess, and anyone willing to sacrifice their own books was welcome to leave it there for others to read.

McKay had held onto his own personal library – he wasn’t about to let people mistreat his few novels – to dog-ear them and break their spines.  That wasn’t the way to treat books, and he wouldn’t let his be abused.  Books should be treated with care.  Besides, he hadn’t had a chance to read them yet himself.

Claire kept reading, turning the pages too quickly.  Maybe she’d read the book before and was just going through it again.  That made sense.  He never read the same book twice – capable of committing an entire novel to memory, there was no point in going through it again.  It wasn’t as if he didn’t understand it the first time.

Why revisit something when you already understand everything about it?

You know, you really should put your books in the library. It isn’t as if you’ll have any time to read them.   Who cares if they bend back the covers and mutilate them?   Let them go.

He sighed again, quietly so that Claire wouldn’t hear.  He was tired.  He was so damn tired.  So he stared at the ceiling and tried to figure it all out.  Why? Why did I do it?


CHAPTER 18:  PILL

Ford sighed as we waited for sleep to find him.  He still felt like hell.   Maybe he should take some of the sleeping pills Beckett had given him the previous night.  He gazed at them, spotting the bottle on his nightstand.  I could really use the sleep.

Everything had turned out badly.  The mission on P6M-301 had been his responsibility.  He was supposed to keep the scientists safe, to bring everyone back alive and well, and he’d failed – he’d failed spectacularly.

Moody and Merritt were gone, casualties.  There was nothing else he could do for them.  He was a good enough soldier to understand that sometimes lives are lost.  It was never an easy pill to swallow, but it was a fact of life.  Sometimes, soldiers died.  Sometimes civilians died, too.

He could have done something to save them.  If he were to do it again, surely, he would have been able to get everyone out – alive and unhurt.  But he couldn’t rewrite history.  All he could do was deal with the present – try to fix the current situation.  But how?

Dr. Zelenka still hadn’t awakened – what else could he do besides wait for him?  It sucked, Ford knew, it really sucked and that was about all he could say on the matter.  Zelenka had to be getting better – had to be – and it was only a matter of time before the Czech awoke.  And he’d be fine, right?  He’d be perfectly fine.

Dr. McKay seemed to be getting worse, which made no sense at all.  All day, the doctor seemed to be falling into a depression, and Ford found he could do nothing to lift him from it. It wasn’t as if he could do much. “Sorry, Doc,” he muttered to the room.  “Maybe tomorrow things will get better.”

The Major would be home in any case – Sheppard would fix things.  He smiled slightly with this realization.  Tomorrow --

Glancing again to the bottle, Ford sighed and sat up.  He grabbed the prescription and opened the bottle, letting two pills fall into his hand.  Tomorrow’s anther day, he decided.

It has to get  better.


CHAPTER  19:  LIKE MUM USED TO MAKE

Beckett blew out a breath as he leaned over his breakfast in the conference room.  Dr. Weir sat across from him, and had asked for this meeting – a chance to sit quietly and talk before the morning activities took them away.  “He’s not doing so well,” the Scot admitted.

“I thought Rodney was recovering?” Elizabeth responded, poking at her plate of scrambled lookoo eggs from M77-336 and some sort of Athosian sausage.

“Aye,” Beckett responded, spreading a marmalade-like substance on his toast.  “He was, but he’s been making little progress.  I think he’s still in a lot of pain, but hasn’t said much about it.”

“You’re giving him something for that, aren’t you?”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Beckett replied.  “But honestly, he needs to be awake more than he is.  I’ve cut back as much as I’d dare, just to keep him lucid, but it doesn’t seem to help, and he won’t increase the dosage.” He sighed and muttered, “Stubborn man.”

“You won’t let him suffer?” Elizabeth asked.

“Oh, Lord no,” Beckett assured.  “It’s the last thing I’d do.  I’m just concerned about him, that’s all.  He’s been so… lethargic.  Not eating well either.”

Weir looked concerned.  “That’s not like him.”

With a weary sigh, Beckett said, “It’s just light liquids now, and he barely touches them.”   He bit into his toast and grimaced.  “The marmalade isn’t like home,” he muttered, waving the bread for emphasis.  “The Gandakans just haven’t got a knack for it.”  He took another bite, seemed to weigh his comment and perhaps decided that it wasn’t so bad, and then he continued.  He went on about the specifics of McKay’s situation as he ate and as Elizabeth stared at her plate.   The surgery to repair the internal bleeding had gone well.  The fracture of his arm would heal nicely.  The concussion seemed to be fading.  But McKay was still having difficulties.  “Troubling,” Beckett stated.  “He just isn’t getting better.”

Then he explained briefly about Zelenka – there was little to add – the Czech still hadn’t come to.  And two full days had passed – today started their third. “It’s not good,” Beckett commented.  “The longer he remains unconscious, the lower his chances of ever awakening.”

Letting out a sigh, Elizabeth watched Beckett tuck in, mopping up his sunny-side-up eggs with his toast as he went.  She couldn’t manage a bite of her own meal, and she continued to push it around.  “What’s their prognosis?” she asked finally.

“For Radek, we wait.  I just hope not too long.  And Rodney?  He’s hardly ever awake, or at least doesn’t let us know if he is,” Carson said unhappily.  “He just doesn’t seem to have any spirit in him.  Not like him at all.”

“No, it’s not,” Weir admitted. “Few people in this world have as much ‘spirit’ as he does.”

“Aye,” Beckett admitted.  “That he does.”  He exhaled and stated, “Finally sent Silvia back to her room – that was last of Merritt’s team.  I’m just hopin’ that if those bloody fools stay out of my infirmary, he might start gettin’ better. He’s had to listen to them all this while.  And I doubt they were sayin’ anythin’ friendly regardin’ him.  I’m thinkin’ that may have a lot to do with his current disposition.”

Weir nodded, feeling disgusted with herself.  “We have trouble, don’t we?” she asked.  “The rumors are flying.”

“Been hearin’ it all over,” Beckett responded.  “Can’t exactly stop it when everyone’s just statin’ the facts as we got ‘em.”

Giving up on her meal, Weir reached for her mug.  “The problem is, the facts just don’t add up. They just don’t seem right.”

“Even though Rodney’s admitted to everythin’?”

“Even so.”

With a smile, Beckett stated, “Glad to hear you say that.”  He nodded to her plate.  “You should eat.”

“Not exactly hungry,” she said with a shrug.

“Doctor’s orders,” Beckett responded.  “Let’s have a compromise.  You eat the toast and the eggs.  I’ll take care of the meat.”

She smiled at the barter and nodded, pushing the plate toward him so that he could retrieve the sausage.  “So you’ve become rather fond of Athosian sausage.”

Beckett laughed softly.  “Reminds me of the bangers me mum would make.  Hers tasted horrible, too.”

Drawing her plate back in front of her, Elizabeth stared down at the remaining breakfast until Beckett cleared his throat.  She looked up at him, seeing him sitting with a chuck of sausage on his fork, waiting for her.  “Go on,” he encouraged.

She smiled, glad for his friendship, and started her breakfast.


CHAPTER  20:  A JELL-O WORLD

Time seemed to trickle past, coming in dribs and drabs.  McKay spent most of his time silently listening to what was going around him.  He hurt, from his head to his chest to his arm.  The pain in his gut had lessened, but everything else still ached.  His mind was already too clouded and he didn’t need anything else messing with it, so he’d resisted using the painkiller as much as possible.

The doctor had been by often, checking on him and Radek.  McKay would steal glances at the Czech when one of the medical staff attended him, wanting to see if Zelenka was going to be okay – they were on the third day and still Radek hadn’t moved at all.  That couldn’t be good, McKay knew.  It wasn’t good at all.

So damn disgusted with himself, McKay could only wait and watch.  Come on, Radek, he thought.  Come on, show them up.  You got to wake up.  But he didn’t.

Beckett and other members of the medical staff were constantly bothering Rodney, forcing him to wake up, asking questions about how he was feeling.  The nurse brought by another tray – this time it was yellow Jell-O and chicken broth.  He might have eaten some if the Jell-O had been cherry or blue -- or the broth had been beef, but he didn’t have the stomach for yellow or chicken at the moment.

He felt as if he’d been trapped in a Jell-o world at that moment, all formless and pointless.

He was responding less and less as time went by.  He ignored Beckett’s pleas, and closed himself off against the nurses – even the feisty Hispanic who was kinda sexy.

People came and went.  Various scientists from his staff visited.  It was nice to see them.  They all seemed so eager for him to speak to them, but what could he possibly say?  They usually ended up talking about their latest projects, but didn’t seem to be asking for his input in the matters, so he really didn’t understand the point of it.  “Everything is going fine,” they’d say.  “We got it under control.  Just rest up and feel better.”

Some of Zelenka’s friends came by.  It was good to hear them talk to Radek.  Grodin stopped in every day, filling him in on everything that was going on in the Gateroom, told him about the lack of progress with the device.  Damn… damn… if only that thing proved useful, McKay thought.  Maybe all of this would have been worthwhile.  But it’s worthless– why… why did I risk so much to obtain it?  What could I have possibly seen?

Elizabeth visited.  Ford sat beside him often, struggling for things to say, sounding lonely and rather sad.  It was a pity because the young man should have been elsewhere else – where someone might watch out for him. He wished he could think of something to say to Aiden, some decent sort of response that might make the young lieutenant feel better, but he had nothing to offer.

He wished he could tell Aiden how much he appreciated his presence if nothing else.  If he were lucky they’d just go away and find some worthwhile way to spend their time.

Time passed so damn slowly – three days already, and he wondered how much longer it would take.


CHAPTER  21:  LIKE A TIGER, SET ON A KILL

John Sheppard stepped through the event horizon with a grin and an armload of supplies.  “Good Afternoon, one and all,” he called out.  “I bring gifts from the Capilanos!”  He indicated the crate in his arms, then the tube tucked inside it, “And a contract for more in the near future!”

He was smiling ear-to-ear, feeling damn good about himself.  Sure, the breakfast feast that stretched into the afternoon helped.  The Capilanos were damn fine cooks.  Then, the ceremonial massages did wonders to relieve his cramped muscles.  When bathing at the hot springs was mentioned, he couldn’t say ‘no’.  He didn’t even mind all the hugging just before he slipped through the Gate to return home.  When all was said and done (and behind them), it was a damn successful mission.

Travis, Teyla and Bates came alongside him, and they stood together, looking pretty smug about their good fortune.

“Welcome back,” Grodin called, smiling tightly at them from above.  “It went well?”

“The results are satisfactory,” Teyla informed them.  “Our agreement will bring much needed supplies to Atlantis throughout the coming year, and the Capilanos have been generous in their negotiations.”

“Yeah, we got food,” Bates agreed.  He hefted the duffle from his shoulder and settled it to the ground.  “Their granola isn’t half bad.”

Travis displayed a basket of baked goods.  “We’ll need a MALP to haul everything out when they make their first delivery,” he said with a grin.  “We won’t need to worry about starving for a while.”

“Excellent,” Grodin responded, still looking uncomfortable.

Sheppard narrowed his eyes.  Everyone in the room seemed tense – uneasy.  “What?” he called up. “What’s going on?”

Grodin looked on them with a concerned expression.  “You need to talk to Dr. Weir,” he stated.

No… no… something was entirely wrong about that response.  Sheppard dropped his load and came up the stairs, looking like a tiger set on a kill.  “Talk to Weir?  Why?”

“I’ve called her to the Gateroom,” Grodin went on.  “She will want to talk to you before you go.”

“Go where?” Sheppard continued, reaching the balcony.

Grodin stepped back.  “Anywhere,” he responded weakly.

“What the hell’s going on?”  Sheppard pressed.  Something was wrong – definitely wrong – and he had the indisputable realization that everyone in the room was expecting some sort of explosion out of him.  “Grodin?” Sheppard continued.

Peter held up his hands.  “Dr. Weir is the one who should tell you,” he stated.

Oh God… Sheppard knew … knew for certain that something had happened.  He scowled at Grodin and started to come toward him again, ready to get the answer out of him some way or another – when a voice called from behind him.

“Major!”

He turned, seeing Elizabeth emerging from one of the hallways.  “What’s going on?” he tried the question on her, stalking toward the expedition’s leader.

“My office,” she commanded, leading the way.

Sheppard glanced down to the others of his group.  Teyla, Travis and Bates still stood around the hard-earned supplies.  The Athosian looked up at him with an anxious expression – and he followed Weir into the room.

The door shut as she settled herself behind her desk, and Sheppard took a chair.  “It’s good to have you home, John,” she started.

“Good to be here,” he responded tepidly.

“I take it the negotiations went well.”

He regarded her bland comments and returned in a clipped voice, “We got everything we came for – and more.  Had to give less than we figured, too.”

“Everyone happy in the end?”

“Except for some blisters from the dancing, Travis’ writer’s cramp and Teyla's ego getting a bit bent out of shape by the girl who thought her hair looked like a pony's mane.”  His words came quickly.  “Now, that we got that crap out of the way… what’s going on?”

Weir folded her hands on her desk.  “There was an accident on P6M-301.”

“That the planet with those giant dragonflies?” he tried.

“No…” Weir started, taking a breath to continue.  She was cut off before she could speak again.

John was on his feet.  “Goddamn it, that’s the planet where McKay and the others went, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Elizabeth responded.

“What happened?  What happened to him?”  There was no doubt that this involved McKay somehow – because didn’t it always?

“There was a cave-in at the underground site.”

“Son of a …” Sheppard turned sharply, pacing toward the door.

“Sgt. Moody and Dr. Merritt were killed.”

He stopped moving, laying one hand against he doorframe to steady himself.

“Rodney and Radek were hurt.  They were trapped in the chamber for some time.”

And he pressed his head against the frame and he asked, “How bad?”

“Rodney required surgery,” Elizabeth explained.  “He’s on his way to recovery, but is having a slow time of it.  Radek is still unconscious.”

“Still?”

“It’s been three days and according to…”

“Three days?” Sheppard’s eyes widened and he spun around to face her.

“Yes,” Weir responded.  “And they’ve been…”

“Three goddamn days?” Sheppard leaned on her desk, looming over her.  "And nobody told me?”

“I’m telling you now,” Weir replied, trying to keep her voice even.

“No… no…” Sheppard punctuated the exclamations with a fist to the desk.  “I just spent the last three days dancing, messing with papers, filling my face, and getting a goddamn massage.  Meanwhile, one of my team was injured?  What the hell were you thinking?”

“I was thinking about our future, John,” Weir answered evenly, folding her hands before her.  “I was thinking about the future of Atlantis.  If we were to disturbed the negotiations, then the agreements would have fallen through and we wouldn’t have been given a second chance.”

John scowled.  “How long did it take to get them out of that cave-in?” he demanded to know.  “How long?”

“A little over four hours,” Weir told him.

Nearly shaking with fury and frustration, John growled.  “And you thought it was fine that I was dancing like a moron while they were trapped and injured in that hole?  I should have been there!”

“Your presence wouldn’t have changed things if we were to recall you.”

“You got that wrong!”

“We couldn’t risk losing this trading partner…”

“Don’t talk to me about risk,” Sheppard shot back as he turned toward the door.  “I’d take that goddamn risk.  We’d find another goddamn trading partner.”

“It wasn’t up to you to make that decision.”

“You shouldn’t have been making decisions about MY TEAM!”  He slammed his hand onto the panel to open the door.  “Infirmary?” he demanded to know as the door opened.

Weir stood – “John, wait!”

But he didn’t wait for her confirmation and was through the door.  “Teyla!” he shouted as he moved through the corridor.  He heard her storm up the stairs and she fell in at his side even before Elizabeth joined them.

“Rodney’s been hurt,” John informed the Athosian.

Teyla looked stunned.  “Is he badly injured?”

“Yes.” He glared over his shoulder at Weir.  “It happened three days ago and he’s still in the infirmary.”

“Why is it that we were not informed?” Teyla asked, coming to an abrupt halt to face Weir.

“Because of the goddamned granola!” John barked, stopping to give Weir a vicious look.

Elizabeth was starting to sound like a broken record.  “It was for the future of Atlantis.  We had to ensure good relations with the Capilanos, and so the negotiations could not be interrupted.  They would not continue speaking to us if we did.”

Teyla looked confused and then angry.  “The Capilanos are not malevolent, Dr. Weir.  If you were to come to them and inform them of the situation, they would have understood.  They value friendship above all and would recognize our need to return if a companion was hurt.”

Weir dropped her gaze and a sullen look came over her.  “I didn’t know,” she sighed.  “I asked Halling.  He said that we shouldn’t interrupt the ceremonies.”

Teyla shook her head.  “Halling is not fond of the Capilanos.  They find his size amusing.  They make him perform the … Dance of the Spinning Scarves. His judgment is clouded regarding them.”

“I wish I’d known,” Weir whispered, all attempts at looking stern falling away.  “Because I really could have used you here.  Rodney really could have used that.”

John furrowed his brow, noticing the people who moved along the hallway – some looked a little smug, others looked relieved to see him.  “What do you mean?”

“Things have been rough on him,” she said quietly.

“How?”

Weir nodded toward her office again.  “Let me explain everything,” she pleaded.

John turned toward the infirmary, wanting… needing to get there immediately to check on his teammate…  Damn it!  Why’d I even go to that hot springs?  The damn ceremonies were over hours ago, but I had to go the fucking hot springs!

“John,” Weir repeated.  “Please.”

Realizing that it would be best to come armed with the facts, he nodded curtly.  “I’ll give you five minutes,” he told Weir and stalked back toward the office with Teyla right behind him.  “Not a minute more.”


CHAPTER  22:  THE CRAYON SNAPPER

If anything, John Sheppard was even angrier when he left Weir’s office for the second time.  After listening to what had gone on over the past three days, he wouldn’t wait another second to reach the infirmary.  His footsteps rang out in the hallways, and a path was cleared before him.  Teyla, walking a little quieter, did nothing to dispel the furious mood as they stormed the infirmary.

He was ready to bang some heads together.

Sheppard thought about the four hours that it took to find McKay and Zelenka.  Was McKay awake during that time?  God, he must have been in a world of hurt.  Hurt, trapped, alone, probably scared out of his mind.  Sheppard wished he could have been there – God, he SHOULD have been there.

Then, three days with the rumor mill grinding away and McKay getting chewed up in it, without anything to deflect their accusations.  How could McKay have confirm this story?  Goddamn, his mind must be messed up.  Sheppard knew how the allegations must have affected the man, knew how it would have hurt him.

Weir had carefully explained to him that some of the scientists from Merritt’s team were spreading their innuendos – but she’d made it clear that they’d said nothing beyond what McKay had confirmed.   Her look had told him – “Don’t go after them.”  Well, we’ll see.

And Weir had told him that Rodney wasn’t getting any better… hardly speaking.   That should have been a clue to the whole world that something was wrong with McKay.  And Carson thought he was spending all this time pretending to sleep so he wouldn’t have to talk to anyone… damn it… damn it all to hell!

And not eating?  What the hell was the matter with these people?  Are they totally blind?

Teyla kept pace with him, the same strained and intense look on her face.

Beckett was waiting for them as they entered the infirmary.  “Major!” he cried, “Teyla, it’s so good to see both of you back.”  He smiled, relieved as all hell.  “It’s been bloody awful and…”

“Where is he?” Sheppard asked.

Beckett nodded the way.  “He may be sleeping,” he warned.  “But I can’t say for certain because…”

But Sheppard had already left the doctor and was making a beeline toward back of the room.  Ford was sitting in the chair between the last beds, talking quietly. He scrambled to his feet at the sight of his CO.  “Sir!” he greeted cheerfully.

Coming to a stop, Sheppard regarded the occupants.  McKay was haggard and drawn out.  He seemed thinner.  Part of his face was black-and-blue as if someone had clobbered him.   There were dark circles around his eyes but he was otherwise pale as hell.  His left arm was encased in a cast, and an untouched food tray waited beside him.

Zelenka was quiet, unmoving.  Ford didn’t even look very good.  There was an anxiousness about the young man that was just unnatural.

Since Sheppard hadn’t spoken, Ford filled him in.  “I’ve been here for about an hour now, and he hasn’t said anything in a while.”

Beckett, who’d followed, examined one of the monitors and shrugged.  “He’s been in and out a lot.  Could be he’s just restin’ his eyes.  You awake Rodney?  Rodney?”

Fed up with everything, and not wanting to waste any more time, Sheppard leaned in and grasped a bit of Rodney’s good arm between his finger and thumb, and twisted it, pinching hard.

Rodney’s eyes shot open with a “Son of a…!”  He looked up with a frightened expression, and then focused on Sheppard.  “You pinched me!”

“You were pretending to sleep!” Sheppard shot back.

“I wasn’t… I was… dozing, okay?”

“Dozing… while Ford’s just sitting here twiddling his thumbs, talking to you… waiting for you to answer him.”

“He didn’t have to stay,” McKay answered petulantly.  “I didn’t ask him to sit there.”  And then he started coughing, a rough, painful sounding cough that got Beckett moving in a hurry.

“It’s all right, Rodney,” the Scot crooned softly as he moved in to help.  “It’s gonna pass in a moment.”

Ford stood beside the Major and said softly, “Good to have you back, sir.”

“Yeah,” Sheppard returned, crossing his arms.

“Things have been pretty crappy here,” Ford told him.

“I heard.  How’re you holding up?”

“Me, sir?  I’m fine.”

Sheppard glanced toward the lieutenant, then back toward McKay.  “You don’t look so good,” he commented.

“It’s just…” Ford started. He tried again, “I haven’t been able to manage much of anything.  I tried to shut some of those idiots up, but it didn’t seem to do any good.”

“They’re still talking?”

“Yes, sir.  I should've been out there, trying to stop it.  But, I thought I should be here with him.”

Sheppard gave him an approving nod.  “I'm glad you stayed with him,” he assured.

Beckett was still messing with McKay and whatever he was doing seemed to be helping.  McKay was resting on his pillows again, even paler than before, gasping for breath.  He looked absolutely horrible, Sheppard decided – and it had been three days.

“Can you all give me a minute?” Sheppard asked, gazing about at Beckett, Teyla and Ford. “I need to talk to McKay… in private.”   All stepped back except Teyla.

She leaned beside the injured man, smiled warmly and said, “It is good to see you.”

“Ah…” McKay paused, not sure what to make of her closeness.  “Likewise.”

“I am sorry we were not here earlier,” she stated serenely.

“Well,” McKay responded.  “You can’t be everywhere.  You have to make choices sometimes.  Anyone could understand that.”

“Yes,” Teyla replied.  “We make our choices.  I would have preferred to have been here.”  And she leaned further forward.  McKay gave her a startled look, trapped and unsure of what she was doing.  He tried to press his head further into the pillow, but he couldn’t get away.  She touched her forehead against his and laid her hands gently on either side of his face.  “It is good to see you,” she repeated and stepped back to join the others.

Sheppard waited until Beckett ushered them away.  McKay’s gaze followed Teyla.  Sheppard waited a moment after they’d left the area, waited for McKay to look at him, but his gaze continued to find something else to focus on.

“McKay,” he said finally, as he dropped into the chair.  “How’s it goin’?”

Looking annoyed, but still not turning toward him, McKay answered, “How’s it look?”

“Well, me, I’ve had a hell of a time.  First of all, we went on the nature hike from hell, then spent the night dancing like morons. You would have hated it.  It was like a really really bad version of Dance Fever without the judging at the end. Probably a good thing about the judging.   I think I saw someone doing the Funky Chicken at one point – Bates maybe.   Travis – I don’t know what the hell he was doing – might have been the Electric Slide.  The next day, well, you might have liked it – lots of nit picking and fussing about little tidbits of information.  For me, it was like being dumped in a pit full of geeblers.”

“Geeblers?”

“That’s what I said.  Gawddamn awful day.  Worked poor Travis nearly to death with all that scribbling.  I think Teyla just about choked one girl.  Funny, because I thought Teyla liked the kid.  The girl really seemed to be fascinated with Teyla’s hair.  Wanted to braid it, touch it, but Teyla almost slapped her.  Anyway, at least we got to relax a bit on the last day, but that was small reward for the rest of it. The breakfast feast was pretty good eating.”

“Hmmm,” was all McKay would say.

“Speakin’ a’which, what’s with the runny Jell-O?” Sheppard inclined his head toward the tray.

McKay made a face.  “It’s yellow.”

“What's wrong with yellow?”

“Lemon?”

“Oh, come on.  There isn’t any real lemon in it.”

“You never know.  And it tastes like death.”

“Okay… no citrus flavor.  That knocks out green and orange, too, doesn’t it?”

Instead of answering, McKay sighed.

“You got any problems with red?”

“As long as it’s cherry.”

“Cherry then.”  Sheppard poked at the cold broth with a spoon.  “I hate chicken broth,” he muttered.  “Carson has it made up from a powder, doesn’t he?  Crappy stuff.  Maybe he still has some of the beef?  It’s better.”

“That wouldn’t be bad,” McKay said, sighing again.

”Anyway… where was I?”  Sheppard sat back, looking thoughtful.  “Oh yeah, my last three days – I wouldn’t wish them on my worst enemy.”

“That’d be Koyla?” McKay tried, still not meeting his gaze.

“Naw, he was small potatoes.  Bruce Lougheed was worse. Second grade bully.  Used to hog all the crayons.”

McKay chuckled softly, little more than a ‘heh’, but it was enough to pull him up short with a surprised gasp.  The reaction made Sheppard think that McKay hadn’t had any reason to try laughing during this time.  McKay laid his good arm against his aching chest as he stated, “Somehow, I don’t see you as the ‘crayon’ type.”

“Oh, in second grade, I was an artist… a Master.  I drew all the greats – the house, the dog, rainbows, the family – everything.  Oh!  Cars.  Man, I loved drawing cars.  My works were always stuck on the fridge.  Mom was damn proud.  But she always thought my cars looked like cows for some reason.”

“But Bruce would steal all the crayons.”

“Steal them and snap them to nubs.  Didn’t want anyone to have any fun.  Ruined every one of them except black and white.  Little bastard thought he had me, but I started drawing penguins, zebras, snowmen.  Black cars with white stripes and big black wheels that didn’t look anything like Holsteins.  Cop cars in stealth mode -- no lights.  Crap like that.”

“He was your worst enemy because he stole your crayons.”

“That and he beat on my best friend.  I met him out behind the school one day and his bullying, crayon-snapping days ended.”

McKay furrowed his brow, “And this is supposed to mean something to me?” he asked, irritated.

“I had to change schools after that.  It was a big mess.”

“Look, if you’re telling me that you’re going to have to fight my battles for me… I don’t need it,” McKay grumbled.

“You need somethin’,” Sheppard responded.  “You definitely need someone to straighten you out.  You’re not even telling Beckett about the goddamn Jell-O! That’s not like you, McKay.  If you’re not pissing and moaning, something must be wrong. You won’t even talk to Ford and he’s been here for days.”

McKay paused, and looked up at the Major, ashamed.  “You’ll tell him I’m sorry about that, won’t you?  You’ll tell him I appreciated it.’

“Tell him yourself.”

“I’m… I’m just not up to it,” McKay admitted quietly.

Leaning back, Sheppard looked at his friend again, taking in his unhealthy pallor. “You really look bad, did you know that?”

“Yes,” McKay snapped back. “I am well aware of my appearance!”

“No, I don’t mean physically, because, well, that’s obvious.  The rest of this crap – all this shit about what happened – you come off rather badly.”

“How?  How do you know…?”

“Weir told me.”

“Oh.”  McKay stopped talking, and his pale face took on a bleak expression.  “I guess everyone else knows. It was only a matter of time before you heard.” He paused a moment, before continuing, “I come off badly, huh?  There’s no helping that.  I can’t change what happened.”

“Well, except that it’s all ass backwards.”

McKay shook his head against his pillow.  “How would you know?” he said softly, closing his eyes.  “You weren’t there.”

“I know crap when I hear it,” Sheppard stated, “And the fact that you’ve agreed with all of it, well, I’m not sure if you were really there either.”  He glanced at Rodney, seeing him turning his head away with eyes closed.  “Hey!  None of that!  No more of that sleep shit from you.”  And he jabbed a finger against his arm.

“Ow!  Knock it off!  I’m tired,” McKay whined.  “I’m just so tired.”

There was no denying that the Canadian looked weary as hell, but Sheppard wasn’t going to put up with it.  He’d entered the game late and had too much ground to make up.  “You can sleep later,” he decided.  “Right now, we’re going to figure out what the hell went wrong.”

“Everything,” McKay said softly.

“You’re not talking like yourself,” Sheppard said.  “You sound like some little baby that just gives up at the smallest problem. You’re usually the guy who solves problems, who looks for problems just for the joy of fixing them.”

Grimacing, McKay stated, “Sorry if I’m not myself, but I just sentenced three men to death.  I really don’t feel like having any fun.”

“Three?” Sheppard asked, turning toward Zelenka.  “Don’t mean to disappoint you, Rodney, but he ain’t dead yet.”

“Might as well be,” McKay murmured. “My fault….”

“So, let me get this straight. You caused the earthquake.  And your magnificent mind brought down the ceiling and …”

“You can stop making fun of me,” McKay snapped.  “I really don’t need that right now.”

“I think you do.  Because, you’ve been laying here for three days, listening to all the ass-hats blaming you, and believing them, for Christ’s sake!  You’re not doing anything to correct them, and I KNOW that this is all crap.  Why don’t you?  And no one’s been around to set you straight.  Seems to me you need someone to smack you around a bit.”

McKay’s expression softened as he looked up at Sheppard, “But it IS my fault.  It is.  I kept them down there too long.  They wanted to leave, but I forced them to stay to remove that device.  Merritt is dead because of me.  I shoved him directly under that arch as it was coming down.  I remember that!” he stated, as if to emphasis the one bit he truly could recall.  “And Moody – he was coming to help us.  And Radek – he wouldn’t be like this if I hadn’t called him back… if I hadn’t taken the first safe place and made him go on to the second, carrying that damn thing.  It’s my fault that he was on the mission to begin with.  It’s all my fault, John…”

“You’re wrong,” John responded.  “You got it all wrong.”

The softly voiced, “no…” from behind John almost escaped both of their attention.

McKay frowned, confused by the word that seemed to come from nowhere.  Sharply, Sheppard turned to the other bed, to find Zelenka turned toward them, blinking lethargically. “No,” Radek repeated softly and closed his eyes again.


CHAPTER  23:  BACKS AND BUTTS

There was a sudden burst of activity in the infirmary, as John called out for Beckett and his team.  Rodney leaned toward the other bed, calling and trying to get Zelenka’s attention, but Radek had gone silent again.

Beckett came back in a hustle, trailing Weir, Teyla and Ford along with him, and a half-dozen folks from the medical team.  They crowded around Zelenka’s bed, making a tremendous fuss.  Beckett kept saying, ‘It’s good, it’s good…” even though Radek didn’t make another peep.

Meanwhile, Sheppard stepped away from the crowded bed, coming around the other side of Rodney’s.  McKay was half on his side, twisted toward the other bed in an effort to see what was going on.

“Hey,” John said, calling for attention.

McKay looked back at him, gasping, “I can’t see anything.”  There were too many backs and butts blocking his way.  He strained to turn further, but winced as the pressure against his busted ribs increased.  “Aw, damn,” he murmured as he wheezed painfully.

Gently, but firmly, Sheppard grasped McKay by the shoulders and leveraged him onto his back again.  “Nothing’s happening,” Sheppard explained quietly as the buzz continued one-bed-over.  He carefully settled the broken arm back on its pillow.  “Beckett’s as happy as a clam though.  Seems like it’s a good thing.”  He glanced up at the others, watching their movements around the Czech.

“He’s coming around?” McKay asked.

“Yeah, seems to be.  But, it looks like he’s sleeping now.”  Turning his attention on McKay, Sheppard couldn’t help but think how truly wretched Rodney appeared – it looked as if he’d been taken out behind a school and had the snot kicked out of him.  “Hard business, waking up again.”

“Yeah,” McKay agreed, his eyelids drooping.  He blinked and turned his head back toward the crowd.  “He’s going to be all right?” he asked.

“Sure,” Sheppard responded, not knowing, but it was the only answer he cared to give at that moment.

Rodney nodded dumbly, his eyes hooded with exhaustion.  “Good…” he murmured, “… good.”

Seeing that McKay was fighting to remain awake, Sheppard told him, “Go to sleep, Rodney.  No more faking it.”

The almost-closed eyes opened.  “You’ll wake me up if he says anything else.”

“Yeah,” Sheppard agreed.

“‘Cause if you don’t… I’ll come lookin’ for you…”

“You do that.”

Eyes closed again, and McKay said softly, his voice fading, “It’s good to have you home, Major.”

“Yeah,” the Major agreed.  “Good to be back.”  He watched Rodney for a few more minutes.  The group around Radek’s bed was breaking up.  Everyone seemed cheerful as hell about what had happened, but Sheppard had yet to feel glad – no he wouldn’t feel good until this whole mess was straightened out and they’d cleared up all the misunderstandings that had so shattered the Canadian.


CHAPTER  24:  QUESTIONS

“Where am I?” 

At the softly voiced question, Sheppard slid a marker into his book and set it aside. “You’re in the infirmary, Radek.”

“Major Sheppard?” Zelenka turned his head and looked toward him in confusion.  His voice was soft and hoarse. “You’re back?”

“Yeah,” Sheppard responded brusquely.  “Finally.”

“Oh,” Radek responded and then frowned, confused.  “What happened?”

“You got caught up in a cave-in… and…”

“Yes…yes… I… Rodney!”  The Czech’s eyes opened wide with worry.

“He’s okay,” Sheppard assured.  “He’s right over here, sleeping.”  He patted the bed at his side.

Beckett had been pleased when he checked on McKay after assessing Zelenka.  Apparently, the genius was finally getting some real sleep, something he hadn’t gotten since he first awoke.  And in the hours that followed, he remained sleeping deeply.

“How long have I been here?” Radek asked next.

“Three days,” Sheppard responded.  He glanced toward Maria, catching her attention.  The nurse nodded, understanding, and bustled off to get the doctor on duty.

“Three days?  Oh, that’s so long.”

“That’s what I’ve been thinking.  You’ve been worrying the hell out of everyone.” 

“Worry?” Zelenka repeated.  “Yes, reason to worry.”  He blinked and squinted at Sheppard as if he couldn’t quite focus on him.

The action concerned Sheppard for a moment, until he remembered the spectacles on the table beside him.  He settled the book and picked up the glasses, handing them to the scientist.  “You want these?” he asked, opening the frames.

“Yes, please,” Zelenka responded, pulling one shaky hand from beneath the sheets.  “Rodney is okay?” he asked again, as he settled the glasses on his nose.

“Got banged up pretty good, but he’s going to pull through.  Probably will do a lot better now that you’re awake.”

There was a commotion, and Maria came back, bringing that tall dark-skinned doctor with her.  Sheppard stepped back, letting the man have access to the patient.  Together, the nurse and doctor checked Radek over, asking questions – like ‘what’s your name?’… ‘do you know where you are?”  Sheppard listened intently, waiting for the tall doctor to ask, ‘do you know my name?’ so that Radek might supply the answer to the problem that had been plaguing the Major, but the question was never asked.  Damn

As the hubbub continued, Sheppard moved closer to Rodney’s bed and considered waking him as promised, but after seeing that the physicist he was resting so peacefully, the Major decided against it.  If this was the first real rest he’d gotten since this began, then McKay deserved to sleep just a little while longer unmolested.

The black doctor turned to him suddenly and asked in his deep, rich voice, “John, can you stay with Radek for a few minutes?  We have to set up some equipment and will be right back.”

“Sure… Doc,” John responded, smiling weakly.

Doctor No-name gave him a big, warm, disarming smile and a slap on the shoulder, before he turned and walked away with Maria, going on about what needed to be done next.  Maria, damn her, responded to him with a proper, “Yes, doctor.”  Too bad, because Sheppard was thinking that maybe the two of them were gettin’ it on.

Moving back to the Czech’s bed, he noted that Zelenka was still awake, but probably not for long.  “Radek,” he asked.  “Do you remember anything about what happened?  There’s been a lot of crap being slung around and we really need to clear this up.”

Zelenka narrowed his eyes at the Major.  “I know…” Radek replied softly, fading.  “He is not the only one who’s been listening.”


CHAPTER  25:  ANSWERS

Zelenka was returned from the tests, and slept for the rest of the night.  At sunrise, when the Czech awoke again, Beckett, Weir, Ford and Teyla joined Sheppard in the infirmary, along with Kavanagh, Burnaby and Powell, who’d also found out about Czech’s recovery.  Somehow, news always traveled like lightning through the facility.

When Radek was awake again, he peered up owlishly at them, looking apprehensive at the number of them.  He wasn’t the type that liked crowds.

Kavanagh, Burnaby and Powell stood across the foot of his bed.  Beckett and Weir were on his right side, with Ford and Teyla at the left.  Sheppard was between his people, sitting on McKay’s bed, who slept – oblivious.  John watched Burnaby, Powell and Kavanagh with a scowl.  The three men squirmed a bit under the scrutiny – perhaps finally realizing that they were marked men.

“Are you sure you feel up to this right now, Radek?” Weir asked.

“Yes,” was the response.  “I’ve heard much of what was said here.”  Zelenka scowled.  “It was frustrating that I couldn’t say anything, that I could only listen.  Now, I can speak, so I will speak.”

“Can you tell us what happened?” Weir asked, “In the tunnel.”

“It was as they said,” Zelenka explained.  “Rodney and Dr. Merritt were not … getting along.  Rodney had discovered a panel when Alvin joined us.  We found a device and were trying to remove it when the earthquake struck.”  He furrowed his brow, remembering.  “Rodney demanded that we all leave immediately.  Alvin would not go without the device.  They argued.  Dr. McKay made me leave, for my safety and to ensure all the others evacuated.”

Zelenka glanced around at the group surrounding him, finally letting his gaze land on McKay, who slept beside him.  He spoke softly, as if he didn’t want to wake his friend,  “Alvin would not leave without the device, so Rodney stayed to help him remove it, in spite of the earthquake.”

“That’s not right!” Burnaby shot back.  “I heard him.  I heard McKay screaming at Alvin to get the damn thing out of the wall.  McKay wasn’t helping, he was ordering.”

“You, who know nothing, should not speak!” Zelenka snapped.

At that statement, Sheppard gripped the skin on McKay’s arm and gave it a twist.  McKay came awake with a little squeak, and blinked blearily at the ceiling before turning to Sheppard. “You pinched me,” he stated huskily, “Again!”  And he seemed to come to another realization as he added, “And you’re sitting on my bed.  Couldn’t you find a chair…?”

“Shut up and listen,” Sheppard returned in a low voice, barely moving his lips.  “Time you heard this from someone else for a change.”

Zelenka continued with, “You heard what was said, but you misunderstood it all.”

“I know what I heard,” Burnaby continued, unaware.  “And McKay was making Alvin stay to get that thing out.”  Powell nodded in agreement, and even Kavanagh added his own snide nod, despite the fact that he hadn’t even been on the planet.  “I heard the way McKay was shouting at Alvin,” Burnaby included.

Annoyed with the interruption, Zelenka stated, “The earth was shaking!   Alvin would not hurry!  That is reason to shout!”  He glared at the three scientists by his feet, and went on,  “The earthquake stopped.  Dr. McKay called me back.  I went.  Rodney was disconnecting the device while Alvin held it.  Alvin could not hold it alone and Rodney’s hands were busy.”  Zelenka held up his own hands as if to demonstrate.  “He would not leave Alvin, and Alvin would not leave the device. It was the only way to save him.”

“We removed it… all three of us,” Zelenka added, his eyes closing a moment and he winced against his headache.  “We tried to go, but again, Alvin would not leave.  He wanted to stay and look for further devices.  Rodney was angry, yes.  He pushed Alvin from the room.” Shaking his head in disbelief, Radek continued. “Alvin needed to be pushed to safety!  The fool!  Blbec!  Anyone could see we were in danger, but Alvin would not go!”

Burnaby and Powell straightened, ready to spill out a stream of what they thought about Zelenka’s remarks.  Sheppard began to stand, wanting to finally get his hands around their necks, but paused when Ford leaned toward the scientists and said in a low voice, “You interrupt him again, and you’ll be the next ones in these beds.  You understand me?”

Powell looked shocked.  Burnaby opened his mouth a moment and turned toward Weir.  The expedition leader reacted as if she hadn’t heard the threat.  Burnaby slammed his mouth shut in consternation.  Kavanagh, at first looked stung, but that expression was replaced with his usually confident, smug expression as he decided that it was the others that were bawled out – he, again, came out smelling like a rose.  Until he glanced at Sheppard.

Zelenka’s voice became softer, as squinted and continued, “The shaking returned. Alvin, he stopped moving.  Rodney tried to make him move, but he would not go.  Rodney shoved him, yes.  Shoved him to the exit.  We had to get out or die.”  He stopped, his eyes wide behind his glasses as he looked to Weir.  “It was horrible!  Strašný!  The ceiling came down on poor Alvin.  Boom!”

“There was nothing you could do?” Weir asked as kindly as she could.

Radek looked distraught.  “Nothing.  It was so fast.  Horrible. I could not move.  Rodney, he grabbed my arm and pulled me back.  There was a room that was fortified.  Rodney brought us there.  I could barely see.  My glasses…” and he touched the frames as he spoke.  “Were obscured.  Rodney led the way.  He found the alcove and he put me into it, and he went away.  I didn’t know where he had gone.”  Radek’s voice had grown faster as he related the whole incident.  “Everything was shaking.  Rocks were falling.  I was calling ‘Rodney! Rodney!’ and he said, ‘keep your head down’ and I did.  I was so afraid!”

Zelenka glanced to Rodney’s bed, but the Canadian had closed his eyes, his brow furrowed as he listened.

“Everything shook.  Dust came down.  Tiles, rocks, it all fell.  The sound was tremendous!  My heart, it was racing so hard.  I heard Rodney shout out in pain, but I couldn’t move.  I covered my head.  And then shaking stopped and it was quiet, so I called again, ‘Rodney!  Rodney!’ and there was no answer.  Where could he have gone?  I was afraid… for him… so I looked out to find him and that was the last thing I remember.”

Zelenka was quiet then, blinking up at the others.  “That is all true,” he added in case anyone denied him.

“And so where was McKay?” Sheppard asked, wanting to hear everything correctly.

Ford turned to the Major.  “He was in another alcove, sir.  It was much smaller.  Probably why Dr. McKay got so banged up while Dr. Zelenka only got hit when he stuck his head out.  Something must have fallen loose just then.”

Radek laid a hand on his achy head.  “I had to find him,” Zelenka insisted.

Weir, smiling gratefully, leaned over Zelenka and took his free hand.  “Thank you, Radek.”

“Now, now!” Beckett chimed, “Let’s let him rest.   Radek has had a busy day.”  And he gave the Czech a smile.  “Relax and get your strength up.  And the rest of you… shoo!”

Burnaby and Powell snorted unhappily, still preferring to believe their previous version of events, but they knew enough about Zelenka to trust his word.  The Czech was almost pathologically honest.  Kavanagh rolled his eyes and grumbled, knowing that, once again, his hopes had been thwarted.   Sheppard crossed his arms over his chest, watching their frustrated movements.  When they glanced at him, they came to the instant consensus that it was time to go.  They left, slinking and silent.

Radek was already falling asleep, having exhausted himself with his speech.  Weir stepped back, to talk to Beckett.  Ford was grinning like a loon, obviously happy with the events as Radek presented them.  A weight seemed to have lifted from Teyla as well.    They both turned to John to see his reaction, but the Major was looking down at McKay.

“So,” Sheppard stated, “That make more sense?”

McKay blinked, still worn out.  He gave John a chagrinned expression as he said, “That might be closer to right.”

“Glad to hear you say it,” Sheppard responded, and gave him another pinch on the arm.

Huffily, McKay flexed the spot, reaching toward it with the cast-encumbered arm.  He glared at the Major.  “Did you have to keeping doing that?” he griped.  “I bruise easily.”

I can see that, Sheppard thought, taking in his friend’s black-and-blue appearance.  Still, he answered, “Figured it was appropriate.”

“Hell of a way to treat a sick man,” McKay complained, but his annoyed expression smoothed out as he gazed across at the other bed.  “He’s going to be okay,” he stated and this time there was no question in his statement.

“Yeah,” Sheppard agreed.  “You will be, too.”  You’d better be, he added silently.  John stood, stretched and said to the others, “What do you say about hitting the mess?  I hear that they’re serving up some of the pastries from the Capilanos for breakfast.”

“You would not want to miss that, Lieutenant,” Teyla encouraged.

Ford nodded, smiling broadly at the thought, looking like he needed something to smile about.

“Hey, what about me?” McKay put in.  “A little something sweet would be nice.”

“Sweet?  For you?  Somehow ‘sweet’ and ‘McKay’ just don’t go together,” John jibed.

“Come on…”

“You gotta eat what Beckett brings you.  I still see that Jell-O waiting.”

“But it’s yellow…”

“I’ll make sure he gets you some red.”

“Not just red!”

“Cherry!  Okay, I got it.  God you’re particular.”  But John smiled as he added, “I’ll grab a doughnut or two, see if I can smuggle them in.  Maybe he’ll let you have something else later, tomorrow maybe, if you behave.”  They said their goodbyes to McKay and left the room.

McKay watched them go, seeing the Major drape an arm over Ford’s shoulder.  He smiled at the gesture, thinking that the lieutenant needed that, deserved it.

Once they were gone, he breathed a sigh of relief.  For a moment, he stared at the ceiling, feeling, finally, as if he might be okay.  The aches didn’t seem so bad and he seemed to be breathing easier in any case.  Thank God, he thought, thank God… I didn’t kill them.

“Rodney,” a voice called softly from beside him.

McKay turned.  “Ah, Zeloynka,” he returned.  “You’re still awake.”

The greeting made the Czech shake his head. “The device…” he started, his voice soft.  “Did they discover its use?”

After blowing out a breath, McKay stated, “They have no answers.  You think they’d have it by now, but they keep following misguided theories.  They have all the wrong ideas. They really are worthless without me, you know?”

“So, it is still there?” Zelenka asked.  “Waiting to be figured out?”

McKay raised an eyebrow and smiled.  “Yeah, I’ll check it out when I get out of here.  If you’re up and around, I guess you can join me.”

“Two heads are better than one,” Zelenka reminded.

“That’s a fallacy,” McKay returned with a sniff, turning his head and relaxing into his pillow.  “Still, assistance wouldn’t hurt.”

“Naturally,” Zelenka returned.  “But, the others have already claimed it as their project, no?”

“Well,” McKay returned.  “I am the head of the science department.  That should account for something.”


CHAPTER  26:  MAN ON A MISSION

Sheppard was a man on a mission… two missions.  First he’d been called to the infirmary and told that there had been an escape during the night shift.  Two days after Radek’s recovery there’d been a jailbreak.  Both incarcerated scientists had disappeared from beneath the nose of Doctor No-Name.   He’d been rather upset by their shenanigans, snapping at Sheppard, saying that he shouldn’t have to put up with that sort of behavior from grown men – they were about to be released to their quarters in any case, pending an examination in the morning.

Radek had spent the days resting, and had recovered marvelously.  McKay had been eating like a horse, talking nonstop to anyone who walked by, complaining to the nurses, so Beckett was done with him.  In a few more hours they would have been released, so why the hell did they take off in the night?

Sheppard had nodded, letting the normally calm MD rant, and slunk away as quickly as possible.  He knew that McKay had been getting restless since Zelenka had recovered, and he realized it was only a matter of time before the Canadian was demanding to return to his over-stuffed work schedule – and of course, he’d drag Zelenka along with him.  He wasn’t one for leaving friends behind.

Sheppard's second mission was a bit of detective work.  There had been a theft from Dr. Merritt’s lab.  Someone, during the night, had managed to get through his security system and remove a piece of Ancient technology that had been under scrutiny.  Doctors Burnaby and Powell were upset – especially since their office chairs disappeared at the same time.  Funny, but Burnaby and Powell didn't seem to want to make their complaints directly to him.  

In any case, Sheppard had a pretty strong feeling that the incidents were related.

The device, the chairs and the two doctors had been missing in action ever since – and Sheppard had gone in search of them.  He’d managed to draft Teyla into assisting him, but Ford had made himself scarce and Sheppard had yet to find him.

They checked the most likely places first -- McKay’s lab with its attached living quarters, the lab that Zelenka usually used when he wasn’t under McKay’s thumb, then Zelenka’s quarters.  They proved empty.  From there all of Atlantis was a possibility… until Sheppard recalled a lab they’d found during a recent exploration.

It was high in one of the towers, far off by a pier, near a transporter, and affording a lovely view of the ocean and the rest of Atlantis.  McKay had expressed a certain fondness for the location, but Sheppard had told him that unless he wanted to live as a hermit, he’d better stay closer to the center of the city.

It would be the perfect hideout for a couple of errant scientists.

So, when the transporter doors whooshed open on that uninhabited portion of Atlantis, neither Teyla nor Sheppard were surprised to hear voices, but the intensity was what astounded them.  They didn’t need the Life Signs Detector to lead them.

“Look, would it kill you to pay attention to what I’m saying?” They heard McKay’s voice carrying through the corridors.  “Because I’m explaining how this device works and your cockamamie theories are … cockamamie!  No, that’s not right.  Keep your mitts out of there.”

Someone answered in a softer voice, and McKay continued, “That would be wrong.”

There was some mucking about, a clatter and the sound of something being moved, and McKay spoke again,  “It’s because I know what I am doing and you do not.  Let’s get it done.”

God, Sheppard thought, who the hell is he fighting with now?  Did Burnaby and Powell figure this out already?  And then something started buzzing.  Sheppard threw Teyla a concerned look and both hurried along the corridor.

Suddenly the buzz stopped, a yelp sounded, followed by a crash, a clatter, a thud and a concerned shout.  Don’t tell me they’re throwing punches now!  Son of a bitch!

Teyla and Sheppard broke out into a run.  They rounded a corner to reach the lab in time to find Zelenka righting a chair, McKay fussing with the microwave-shaped device, and Aiden Ford unsteadily getting to his feet.

“Ford?” Sheppard stated the name in surprise.

The young soldier looked embarrassed as he dusted at his trousers.

“Major!” McKay responded brightly. He still appeared rather unhealthy, propping himself against the counter with one hand, and the other arm in a sling, but he looked definitely better than before.

Zelenka leaned on the chair once it was settled and nodded happily in their direction.  “Good morning, Major,” he greeted.

Ford shook his head woefully and muttered, “Glad you showed up.”

“What the hell’s going on here?”  Sheppard asked as he entered the space, looking from the two sick men to Ford.

“I…” Ford started, holding up his hands.  “Honestly, sir, I was trying to stop them.  I caught them wheeling this chair down the corridor with that thing on it and…” He dropped his hands in frustration.  “They shanghaied me.”

McKay was humming happily as he poked about at the machine with his one good hand, testing one crystal and then another.  “I think we almost got this licked,” he commented.

Teyla approached the closer man.  “Doctor Zelenka, should you be standing?  Doctor Beckett would want you resting.”  And she gestured to the chair.

Zelenka gave her a prudent grin and shook her head.  “No, this is not for me.  We have enlisted Lt. Ford to assist us.  Lieutenant?”   He moved away from the chair to give Ford full access.

Ford crossed his arms over his chest and muttered, “I’m not getting on that thing again until you guys know what the hell you’re doing!”

Zelenka rubbed a hand on his head as he shuffled over to McKay.  It was obvious that both were still hurting, but the task had taken over any sensibility they might have had.  “Have you perfected the sequence yet, hmmm?” Radek asked as he joined the other scientist.

Testily, McKay replied, “I nearly have it now.  This one, for certain, is it.”  He pressed a probe against another crystal, making a disgruntled face.  “Okay, the next one.”

Laying his arms along the counter, and squinting, Zelenka said, “Try the one above your last attempt.  That certainly is the one.”

“No it wouldn’t be,” McKay snapped back.

With a shrug, the Czech said, “I think it is correct.”

“Fine… fine.  See?  Not the right one!  Okay?  I proved you wrong… again.  Now…  okay, wait. Hang on…that’s interesting.”

Ford came to stand beside Teyla and Sheppard as the two scientists leaned into the opened side of the device.

“Ah,” Zelenka said, “If you were to wire this crystal to that one and cross over to…”

“I got it!  I got it!” McKay retorted.  “See?  There!  Yes! That’s it!  It has to be it.”

“Has to be,” Zelenka responded confidently.  “It’s easier to adhere the wiring if you have two working hands.  Let me.”  And he leaned closer to the machine.

Zelenka finished with messing about, and both men looked up at Ford.  They smiled like cats.

“No!” Ford responded.  “I will not be your guinea pig again!”

“But you know how to do it,” McKay responded.  “And I really don’t want to go through the training process again with one of these…” and he flipped his hand at Teyla and Sheppard.  “… others.”

“If you’re all so smart, one of you should do it!” Ford replied.

Zelenka and McKay exchanged a look.  Neither of them really appeared as if they should be even standing up.  They turned toward him.  “No,” Zelenka stated.

“I’m with him,” McKay agreed.  “Now, just sit down, lieutenant.  This won’t take long.”  He smiled again.  “It’ll be fun.”

“That’s what you said the first time,” Ford complained, stepping forward with an apparent limp.  He looked to Sheppard for support, but the Major just shrugged.  Disheartened, Aiden sat on the roll-around office chair, resting his feet over the wheels, and grasping onto the chair seat with his hands.

Sheppard moved through the room to join the scientists.  “So, what’s it do?”

“It has nothing to do with the production of ZPMs,” McKay haughtily responded.

“Okay,” Sheppard responded, “so I ask again, what does it do?”

McKay paused for dramatic effect.  “It produces an anti-gravitational field.”  And he held out his good hand, spreading his fingers in an open-palmed gesture of wonder.

“Uh-huh,” Zelenka added.  “One that can be directed to a single item.”  He picked up something that might have been a laser gun if this were a show on the Sci-Fi Channel.  The ‘gun’ had been wired into the newfound device, obviously a new addition.  “For instance, a heavy instrument that requires precise movement, on an extremely delicate machine that cannot handle being moved under most circumstances.”

“Or a man on an office chair?”  Sheppard added.

“Well, yeah,” McKay responded.  “The site, we believe, was used for construction of equipment that was used to construct ZPMs.”

“So it did have something to do with ZPMs,” Sheppard put in.

Annoyed, McKay responded, “Only in the most vague terms.  ZPMs were never created there.  The room with the fortified structure?” he paused seeing if they remembered.  “…was probably utilized to build the equipment that would be eventually used to build the containment units within the ZPMs.  Tricky business.”

“So… it still had something to do with ZPM construction.  The information we find there may still be useful,” Sheppard tried.

“No,” McKay returned succinctly.  "Now, Lieutenant, are you ready?”

“No!” Ford growled.

With a sigh, McKay fired it up anyway.

The whirr recommenced, and Teyla stepped back. Radek aimed the ‘gun’ at the base of the chair, and a beam emanated from the tip of the ‘weapon’.  McKay made adjustments.  Ford closed his eyes and looked miserable.  “Hang on, lieutenant,” McKay called.  And in a moment, he was airborne.

Sheppard broke out in a grin as the soldier rose into the air on the chair, like an angel floating on a cloud.  Ford’s expression did much to ruin that image though.  He bobbed a foot from the ceiling as McKay messed with the controls and Zelenka pointed. 

“That is so cool,” Sheppard remarked.

“The landings aren’t!” Aiden grumbled, already tense and ready for what would come next.

“We have that fixed, Lieutenant,” McKay told him.  “There were some loose connections, that’s all.”

“It is all fixed,” Zelenka put in, glancing to their handiwork.  “Except maybe this here…”  And he reached in a finger.

“Don’t!”  McKay shouted, but it was too late.  The beam interrupted and the floating chair suddenly wasn’t floating any longer.   Ford, already prepared, did his best to leap away from the falling chair and to land in a tuck-n-roll.  The chair crashed to the ground, clattering and spinning its wheels.

The scientists looked disappointed, and McKay turned to Zelenka saying, “Don’t do that.”

“No, you see here?” Zelenka poked at the innards of the device.  “This piece was not fully connected.  The failure was due to your inability to finish what you started.  Only one hand…”

“I was working just fine with one hand until you started messing with it!” McKay snipped back.

Sheppard offered Ford a hand.  “You okay?” he asked, getting the young man on his feet.

“Yeah, yeah…” Ford replied, brushing at his pants.  “I’m used to it.”  He lowered his voice as he stated excitedly, “It’s really kinda cool… if they can ever get it working right.”  And Ford grinned like a kid.

They watched as McKay and Zelenka griped at each other, poking and messing about with the device.  “Oh,” Sheppard stated, “They will.”  It was good to see Ford smiling again, Sheppard decided.  He looked more like himself.  “Thanks for watching out for them,” Sheppard stated, indicating McKay and Zelenka.

Ford shrugged.  “Someone’s got to,” he responded.

“Definitely,” Sheppard replied.

Teyla had walked over to the unwell scientists, found a pair of lab stools that had been in the corner and brought them over.  She got the pair sitting without much fuss – in fact, they hardly seemed to notice her movements around them.

Sheppard appraised Ford a moment, then added quietly, “He really appreciated that you sat with him.”

“I know,” Ford responded quickly.

“He tell you that?”

With a small laugh, Ford responded, “Well, he didn’t come right out and say it, but he has his ways.”  He shrugged. “And I just know it.”

"You been staying away from Burnaby and Powell?"

With a snort, Ford just smiled at his CO, saying nothing.

“Now, I think we have it adjusted correctly,” McKay stated from his perch.  He paused and looked about, as if startled to find himself sitting.  But he continued on nonetheless.  “Lieutenant, are you ready?”

“I’ll give it a try,” Sheppard decided, stepping in.  “Guess I could use a few new bruises.  Haven’t had a chance to do any of that stick fighting with Teyla recently.”

“I will be next,” Teyla decided.  “It looks… interesting.”  And she smiled, obviously intrigued with the idea.

Annoyed with the sudden interest, Ford added, “Wait a minute… I thought I was the test subject!”

“Someone, please get in the chair!” McKay groused.

Sheppard grinned, grabbing the chair first and setting it on its wheels. “Why’s it gotta be a chair?” he asked.

“Because,” Zelenka started, “This way, we can direct the beam at something other than living flesh.”

“Always a good idea,” Sheppard decided.

“And the wheels assist in the take off and landing,” Zelenka continued.  “It allows for some manipulation at low levels.”  He got a wicked gleam in his eye as he added, “And, if we can perfect the landing, one might be able to …zoom…” and he smacked his hands together, “… down the hallway.”

“Why do you need someone in it?” Sheppard continued questioning.

Looking put upon, McKay responded, “Because, until we can fine-tune the regulator, you will need to aid in the steering… lean to the left, the right… Ford can explain it.”

“I think I got it,” Sheppard replied.  “Do we need to use helmets?”

“No, no… we’re good,” McKay responded assuredly.

Ford ducked his head in memory of an earlier collision with the ceiling.

Letting out a breath, Sheppard nodded.  “Okay, fine… let’s go.”  He settled his feet over the wheels of the chair and gripped the seat tightly.

McKay leaned into the device as if he was about to set it off, but he pulled back suddenly.  “You said that you were going to bring me some of those pastries… you know… from the Capilanos’ home world.”

“Ah yes, you did,” Radek included.  “I heard you.”

“Yeah, well,” Sheppard started, “I did…I got you a couple of their doughnutty things.”

“…and…” McKay led on, looking suspicious.

“You were asleep when I got back.”  John raised his eyebrows, smugly.  “Both of you were asleep.  And Beckett wouldn’t let me leave them.  Something about you not being up to solid foods at the time.”

“But I am now!” McKay whined.  “So what did you do?  You didn’t just eat them?”

“No, I didn’t just eat them.  I’d already had a couple and was full.”

“Then what did you do?  Don’t tell me you threw them out?” McKay asked, his face bleak.  “I checked and they’re all gone in the mess.  I mean, I can finally eat decent food and they’re gone.”

“Neither of us got any,” Zelenka added.

Both scientists tried to look angry, but the effect was wasted because by their appearance; neither would be able to do much of anything in combat.

“I got them stashed in my room,” John told them.  “Sealed them in a bag to keep them fresh, in fact.”

“Hmmm,” McKay returned, lowering his gaze to futz about with the device.  “To be devoured during one of your midnight snack attacks,” he grumbled.

“Hey, I’ll give them to you.”

“Maybe you should go get them before we do this thing.”

“McKay, I thought I was doing you a favor by being a test subject?” John returned.  “Now turn on that beam and make me fly around the room.”  And he wobbled back and forth on the wheels, impatient for his chance.

“I was rather looking forward to the pastries.  Like doughnuts, you said?”

“A little bready for doughnuts,” Ford joined in.  “Kinda like a mix between that and a bagel, more like a Danish, with a sweet filling – tasted a bit like apricots.”

“Kolache?” Zelenka asked.  “Oh, I’d kill for a kolache.”

McKay nodded toward Zelenka.  “See, he’d kill for one.  Me, I’d just maim.  And personally, I’d prefer the cheese-filled, but definitely not the poppy-seed.  Now, please.  If you don’t go along and fetch us our kolaches, my one good hand may slip on the controls due to fatigue brought on by manly hunger.  Who knows what would happen?”  He flicked his hand about to demonstrate.

“Could be messy,” Zelenka added.

Sheppard scowled.

“It is true, Major,” Teyla put in, grabbing Sheppard by the wrist and prying his hand from the chair.  “You would not want them to be incapacitated any more than their current state.”

Sheppard glared at the Athosian, feeling she was horning in on his chance to hover like Aladdin on his magic carpet, but she tipped her head toward McKay and Zelenka.  Radek’s head was bowed and he squinted against a growing headache.  McKay was holding his good arm over the sling and was looking rather peaked.

“Okay then,” Sheppard revised as he stood.  “Why don’t we all head down there and I can split them between the two of you.”

“Excellent idea!” Zelenka interjected.

“Excellent for you,” McKay grumbled.  “They were originally both for me.”

“You misunderstood me,” Sheppard responded.  “They were to share.  You shouldn’t make assumptions, McKay.  Come on, let’s go.” 

“Oh, the thing…” Ford said, pointing to the box.  “We should bring it with us.”

“Hmmm…” McKay touched his lips as he thought.  “Burnaby and Powell might get their hands on it.”

“Ah, but we’ve already discovered the secret of it,” Zelenka reminded.  “We’ve beaten them to the solution.”

“Ah yes,” McKay returned, and then nodded, okay with that situation. “Very well then, Lt. Ford?  Might you pick it up for us?  You seem capable of carrying it.  Me, you know, the arm.” And he tugged at his sling.

“And I am a bit… dizzy,” Zelenka declared with a grin, but as he stepped down from the stool, he tottered and blinked in surprise.

McKay jumped down immediately, as if he could offer some help, but his own weariness had caught up to him, and he had to grip the counter to keep from plummeting to the ground.

“You need to sit,” Teyla proclaimed as she grabbed the roll-around chair and brought it around to the other side of the counter.  “It is unfortunate that there is only one chair,” she stated, “otherwise, we would be able to bring both of you back in this manner.”

“Oh,” McKay stated, looking about ready to pass out.  “There’s another one is over by the transporter.”  He waved his hand to demonstrate the direction.

“Yeah,” Ford concurred.  “I’ll go get it. What were you doing with two chairs anyway?  We only used the one to move the device and to do the tests.”

Zelenka and McKay exchanged a glance.  Radek answered, “We couldn’t take just Dr. Burnaby’s and leave Powell’s.”

“Figured we had to piss ‘em both off, equally,” McKay filled in with a grin.

Sheppard shook his head, and gave Ford a nod to get the other chair and bring it back to the room.  Soon they were headed back to the inner hub of Atlantis, with Ford carrying the device, and Teyla and Sheppard wheeling the done-in scientists back in the ungainly chairs of Burnaby and Powell.

“Think we should dump them in the ocean?” Sheppard asked as they passed an open balcony, revealing the still-dark sea.

“What?” McKay cried, dropping his feet to brake their movement and turning to the Major.  He grimaced as his ribs pulled.

“The chairs… the chairs!” Sheppard enlightened.

“Oh,” McKay rejoined.  “Hmmm, no.  It would be more fun hiding them.”

“We hide them on that ledge near the ceiling,” Zelenka added, half-a-hall’s length ahead of them.

“Come on,” Sheppard grumbled.  “Get your feet up.  Let’s go.”

McKay lifted his feet, putting them over the wheels again and letting the Major shove him onward.  “Yes, yes…there’s enough room, and they won’t see them up there.  They’re not the kind to think outside the box… or off floor level,” Rodney muttered. “Of course the anti-grav should help a lot.  Might need cables to keep them in place.”  He grinned at that idea, and moved his good hand, as if already fiddling with cables.  “Highly possible.  We would need help though. Not sure if Radek and I will be up to it for a while.”

“You look for trouble, don’t you?” Sheppard responded.  He moved his hands from the chair back and rested them on McKay’s shoulders.  “And you look for ways to get me in trouble.”

“Well, of course,” McKay responded, turning his head to look at the Major, curious about the gesture.  “What else would I do with my free time?”

“Should take up a hobby,” Sheppard told him.  “I was thinking, maybe we could rig up some sort of a boat – go sailing sometime.”

Pausing a moment, McKay told him, “That would be nice.  Lt. Ford, how does that sound?”

Looking over his shoulder, Sheppard caught sight of Ford, easily carrying the device and smiling broadly.  He responded, “Sounds like a great time.”

Sheppard nodded at the young man, glad to see him feeling better.  Yeah, it had been a piss-poor week for all of them, and there was some yet retribution to be doled out.  Powell and Burnaby would probably have more than a couple missing chairs to deal with.  And the look Ford gave him told Sheppard that Aiden would be right there with him.  The best part about it was that they hardly had to do anything to get the scientists in a tizzy.    He only had to fix them with a glare and let them assume the worst.

Assholes.  They wouldn't be going through the Gate again anytime soon.  Let them stay in their little labs for a while and worry about the retribution if it were ever to fall on them.  They were already shuddering like scared rabbits.

Sheppard shoved the scientist onward on Powell’s office chair.  He kept his hands on McKay’s shoulders, happy that he still had the ability to do so.  It was good to have things back to normal.  In spite of how things turned, it looked like everything was going to be okay.  The misunderstandings had been cleared up.

Stupid son of a bitch, he thought as he regarded the physicist.  Believing the shit they were slinging around.  Didn’t have the common sense to figure they were wrong.  Wouldn’t have happened if I were here, he decided.  Won’t happen again, he pledged as they moved along. 

Ahead of them, Zelenka signaled a right turn, and Sheppard shook his head in amusement as Teyla didn’t understand.  “Right!” the Major helpfully shouted.

And they were back in the more familiar passageways of Atlantis, arriving before the morning crowds. They had plenty of time to put things back where they belonged (or didn’t belong) before the other scientists were up and around.

“Ah,” Rodney stated as he was rolled along.  “It’s good to be home.”  He half-turned to see Sheppard. “Think you could speed it up a bit, Jeeves?  They’re getting ahead of us,” he commented.

Sheppard considered what he might do to the scientist, but thought better of it.  Tomorrow was another day, and maybe once the physicist healed up a bit, he’d feel better about shoving the chair and its occupant down a stairwell.

“Yes, it’s good to be home,” John commented, stepping one foot onto a rear wheel, and digging in with the other.  Forcefully, he shoved off.  He smiled when McKay let out a girlish scream and they careened toward Zelenka and Teyla, and behind them, Ford laughed. “Yup… good to be home.”
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THE END -  There you go.
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