AN: Wow - the reception for this story has been really great. It seems you guys really like this one. That makes me so happy!

I decided to post the second chapter a wee bit early for you guys. I hope you enjoy!

"What is it, Leslie?" he pressed the button on the intercom; making sure to keep the frustration reigned in as much as possible.

"Sorry, Mr. Woolsey, but Dr. McKay is here to see you again."

He sighed and lifted his glasses up to rub the bridge of his nose. "Send him in," he relented.

While he waited, Richard compared these frequent visits to a scab – as unattractive as that sounded. He had a wound, a very deep and horrendous one, and it was painful when he received it. But over time, the injury created a scab – and it was forgotten. But then came Rodney, to just peel that scab right off and the bleeding and pain would continue as though it had never even begun to heal.

The door opened and in walked – surprise, surprise – Dr. McKay. He smiled nervously. Woolsey merely glared at him. The last time he'd been in this office, the visit had not ended well and the raving mad scientist had been quickly escorted out with a request not to return unless invited.

He had not been invited.

"Richard," he stuck out his hand over the desk, "how've you been?"

"I've been better," Richard declined the hand and leaned back in his chair, eyeing Dr. McKay with intense skepticism. "If I weren't so frequently interrupted with –

"Yes, yes, sorry about all that," Rodney interrupted, waving his hand as though he was waving away gnats. He quickly took one of the black leather chairs in front of the desk and drew a briefcase on to his lap. "But, I don't think you're going to regret letting me in this time."

He rolled his eyes and rubbed his temples. "Let's just skip the formalities and get straight to the bottom line this time, doctor."

McKay paused in his rummaging of his briefcase and looked surprised. "Really? A-are you sure? 'Cause I prepared this presentation and I really think –

Woolsey closed his eyes and held out his hands. "Please."

"Right, okay. I understand. You're a…a busy man now. How's the uh, life of a lawyer treating you? Well I hope? Presume? Uh, I mean assume…well, you were a busy man before and life was treating you quite well but I was just –

He was only silenced by the death glare Richard was only able to produce in certain dire situations. And as a lawyer, this was about as dire as it got.

"Bottom line, right," Rodney clasped his hands together and rubbed them nervously. He turned his eyes toward Woolsey. "We need to go back to Atlantis."

He blinked. "What? Dr. McKay, I'm assuming you still remember that the city is in custody of the United States military and the IOA. They haven't let anyone in there since it arrived."

The scientist nodded, obviously frustrated with the fact that he couldn't make him understand right away. "Yes, yes I know. But…we need to get back there."

"Why?"

His eyes lit up when presented with that question. "You see, this is why I brought the presentation but I suppose I can just – well, look at it like this. Atlantis was like the…motherboard for ancient information – well besides the giant head-sucking wall décor that we seem to find all over this galaxy and the next – but what I mean is that –

"Doctor, the information databank of Atlantis is being overviewed by the best people in the world," Richard told him, in disbelief that this man could be quite so blinded by the truth of something he helped set up. "We wouldn't need to return to the actual city to find information."

McKay seemed slightly taken aback by Woolsey's immediate rejection but recovered quickly. "Well, that's not what I was suggesting, actually but I –

"Doctor McKay," Richard sighed and took off his glasses as he massaged the bridge of his nose, "do you have any idea how many countless people from the Atlantis expedition come into my office every day just to try and convince me of restarting the program?"

Rodney opened his mouth to reply but Woolsey held up a finger. "That was rhetorical."

The scientist clamped it shut and looked rather embarrassed.

Richard stood from his seat and began to move about the room. "Even if I thought that it was reasonable to do such a thing – which I wouldn't – it's not in my power to do. I've left the IOA and everything it stood for behind me."

"But we can still –

"Please," the aging man looked as though he were about to collapse from exhaustion – why did he get to be the one to deal with Dr. McKay's rampant and erratic ideas that he seemed to want to showcase to everyone? "Just leave. And next time, I won't let you in."

The discouragement was evident in the scientist's features and Woolsey felt a pang of guilt, but there was nothing he could do – no matter how much he wanted to go along with McKay's plans, reckless or not.

III

"My childhood?" John chuckled darkly. "You've got to be kidding me. I didn't come here for clichés."

"Neither did I, Mr. Sheppard," the woman stared back at him, folding her hands across the desk. "But here you are – a tough, former Air Force pilot refusing to help himself – you're being rather hypocritical about originality."

His jaw dropped but he shut it quickly. There would be no messing around with this quack – she could anticipate his every retort with an even better one. Heightmeyer he could handle – this one was different.

John sighed. "Look…um…"

"Dr. Deveaux," she finished for him.

"The only reason I'm here is because people I respect and care about sent me here – they think I need help."

"Do you think you need help?"

Sheppard narrowed his eyes. "I think they should all mind their own damn business."

"Yet you're here," Deveaux rested her chin in her hand. "Why is that?"

"I just told you!" he said in frustration. "Because I respect and care –

"If you respect and care about them, shouldn't that mean you should respect their opinions and believe they are doing what is best?"

"Stop doing that."

"Doing what?" she asked innocently, her brown eyes widening in mock confusion.

"Using my own words against me," he crossed his arms and leaned back against the couch.

She surveyed his stance. "Are you feeling insecure? Attacked, perhaps?"

"Why would you think that?" he rolled his eyes and looked at the ceiling.

"Well," she glanced at his arms. "You're crossing your arms – a universal sign of defense – I didn't just fall off the turnip truck, Mr. Sheppard, this is my profession."

He unlinked his arms and leaned forward. "I'm done here."

Sheppard stood up to leave but just as he grabbed a hold of the door knob, Deveaux spoke again. "Have you come to terms with Teyla's death yet?"

The ex-colonel froze and closed his eyes as he spoke through his teeth. "How did you know about that?"

"I specialize in classified personnel," she explained, "I read your file that Dr. Keller wrote up. Apparently, she believes you're suffering from a simple case of denial with your friend's death as well as some abandonment issues…"

"She's not dead." John couldn't count how many times he had spoken those words.

"You were a seasoned Air Force officer – you've lost plenty of comrades in your time with the military – why did this one push you over the edge?"

"Teyla's different," he relented, astonished at himself for opening up to this woman. "Besides – I've already lost so many; I don't think I could handle losing another."

"Lieutenant Aiden Ford for example."

Sheppard winced. She hit him below the belt.

"That wasn't my fault," he defended himself.

"No," she agreed, "how about Elizabeth Weir?"

John clenched his jaw so tight he could have sworn he heard popping. "I did what I had to –

"So you killed her?"

"I didn't kill her!" he yelled, spinning around to face her. She was staring right back at him, her expression unreadable. "I did what I thought was best for the people I was responsible for! Elizabeth understood!"

"Did she? Or are you only kidding yourself?"

He clenched and unclenched his fists, feeling more furious than he had since the day they'd booted all the expedition members out of Atlantis without so much as an eviction notice. "I thought you were supposed to helpme –

"I can only help you if you help yourself," the woman interrupted, looking into his eyes pointedly. "And right now, you are so stuck on beating yourself up over every individual person you've ever lost that you can't even begin to heal from this loss –

"She's not –

"And therefore creating a delusional fantasy in which you believe Teyla Emmagen is still alive."

"I'm not delusional," he growled. "You and everyone else just don't believe me."

"I believe that you believe she's still alive, Sheppard," she narrowed her eyes and stood. "But that doesn't do you or anyone else, especially your friends, any good. They've all tried to move on, but you are so stuck in the past that you can't see past your own selfish needs. You have a drinking problem, you've secluded yourself from all of society save for a weekly chess game, and I've even been told that you've even punched your brother no more than two months ago."

"He sued me for it."

"He was probably trying to give you a wake up call."

"No," John corrected. "It's probably because he's a greedy, egotistical bastard."

Deveaux sighed and crossed her arms, looking at him dubiously. "I won't give up on you. But you need to be able to be willing to change."

"If by change you mean accept that my friend, who may possibly be still out there, needing our help, then I'm afraid you're going to have to find yourself a new hobby."

With that, he stormed out of the office, not failing to slam the door behind him.

III

"This is weird."

"You have iterated that same statement many times over."

Ronon looked at him in disbelief. "Two men living in the same apartment – It's just weird."

"Quite the contrary," Teal'c corrected. "If we wish to live outside of the designated area at the SGC, we must live together."

"Stop saying it like that," Ronon wrinkled his brow. "I'd be fine on my own."

Teal'c raised a brow. "I have attempted such a feat before. It did not go well."

Ronon failed at hiding his amused expression. "Did you kill someone?"

"Not directly, no," the Jaffa replied. "But I was hunted down by an agency bent on using people like you and I for morally gray experimentation."

Dex stood and smiled. "I say let them try."

"We have made this deal for our own safety," Teal'c told him, avoiding the subject in hopes that the Satedan would drop it.

He laughed darkly and then threw his fist at the wall, denting the plaster. "Like I believe that. They just don't want us trying to get to the Stargate and they don't want to have to put security cameras in two different places, so..." he nodded towards the attempted inconspicuous cameras bolted over every doorway.

The Jaffa looked at the ruined wall and then at Ronon, who shrugged. "I can't stay on one planet for too long. It makes me anxious."

"That would be expected from one with a background such as yourself."

"I need to go see Sheppard," Dex changed the subject, looking out the window of the living area. "He's going nuts."

"O'Neill has informed me that he went to see someone who specializes in such characters."

"A psychologist, right? Yeah, he told me that too. I'll bet he didn't go."

"That would be most unwise of him."

"Sheppard doesn't need a shrink," the Satedan defended his friend. "He just needs to get his old life back."