sgafan33- I think you're right about the 'coat/jacket' thing… and because of you, I've changed it in later chapters. :P
Miran Anders- wow- that's so nice of you to say, and as soon as I get some extra time- guess what I'm reading? (:
Greywolf Lupous- thanks, I was kind've worried about that, because I didn't really have much to work off of for the McKay/Teyla interaction. I'm glad you thought it was good!
nebbyJ- will do. (:

Thanks everyone for the reviews! They make me very, very happy.

-Here's the next part.

(6)

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I bit down on my lip almost painfully as Beckett wrapped the last of the bandages around my hand and wrist.

He'd been dismayed at the amount of injured skin, saying it was almost as if I'd dipped my hand into a bowl of low-dose acid, which was pretty much what the coffee tasted like… anyway, Carson agreed that it was quite the serious burn.

Hesitating for only a moment, I decided to tell him about the memory flashes I'd been having-- determining that it had to be more then just lack of sleep causing them. I mean, if I'd just been lost in thoughts of the past, I wouldn't have left my hand under a stream of blistering hot coffee for so long!

But, Beckett disagreed.

He peeled off his gloves with a sharp snap, tossing them into a nearby trash can. "Rodney, there's nothing wrong with you."

"What are you talking about?" I said, though it went against every fiber of my being to admit this. "I'm telling you, right now, that something is seriously wrong!"

"All the tests say otherwise." Carson pointed out in an infuriatingly calm voice.

I pushed two fingers against each side of my temple, asking the world in general, "Is this real? Is this actually happening? I mean, the Carson I know would be trying to help me."

With a sigh, he spun around on his stool, standing and walking towards his desk. "Actually, I amend my las' statement." Carson said, lifting up a chart that I assumed was mine, flipping the pages up. "There is something wrong."

"I know that."

"Ah here it is." He walked back towards me, gesturing at a specific part of the paper and lowering the clipboard so it was in front of my face.

His finger was pointing to some messily scrawled words. Typical. I glanced up at his determined face, asking, "You don't expect me to be able to read that, do you?"

Beckett grimaced. "Is it really that bad?" I just raised an eyebrow as he took it away. Clearing his throat, he read aloud, "Diagnosis: slight dip of blood sugar, slight exhaustion , slightly elevated blood pressure--"

"Yes, yes." I waved an impatient hand, I knew all that. But there must be something else too. Why wasn't he listening to me?

He glanced over the clipboard at me, "What you need is a good rest, a large breakfast-- something other then those dreadful power bars ya' seem to love so much, perhaps a bit of exercise--"

Watching him drone on and on, I let my thoughts wander, and as it usually happened; I had an idea. Granted, it wasn't a very good idea, but at least it was something. "Carson!" I interrupted him harshly, snapping my fingers.

Startled, he glanced down, seeing me begin to rise from my seat on the bed, "What is it?"

"Those head scans you took earlier. Let me see them."

He let the papers fall shut, holding the clipboard against his chest. "Why? I've already checked 'em."

"Because you obviously missed something."

Frowning, he told me indignantly, "I 'ave not 'missed something' Rodney. You're scans were clean."

"I'm having flashes of random memories for no reason! Extremely vivid memories!" I reminded him, quickly moving from 'irritated' and landing in 'angry'. "It is exceptionally obvious that you missed something!"

"And you think seeing your PET scans will cure you?" he asked blandly. "Do ya' even know what to look for?"

"It doesn't matter!" I scowled, ignoring his attack on my lack of medical knowledge. It's all voodoo anyway. "Just go get them." I ordered, emphasizing my request by pointing over towards his file cabinets.

"Rodney, I'm not going to get 'em." he said exasperatedly. "There's no reason for it. Jus'… you're tired. Why don't you go take a nap, an' later we'll discuss--"

A nap. I stalked away from him as he continued to talk, heading for said filing cabinets. If he wasn't going to show them to me willingly, then damn it, I was going to tear apart his office to find them myself. Pulling open a drawer, I started tossing useless files to the floor, searching for my own scans.

"Wait! Rodney, all right! You nasty little bugger! I will get 'em."

Stopping in the middle of throwing… Mmm… ah, Stackhouse's files out of the way, I looked over my shoulder and saw Beckett heading for his office. "You keep mine separated from the others?" I asked, sort of pleased.

He rolled his eyes, disappearing behind the door and calling, "Don't sound so happy. It's not just you."

Ah, well.

"Your whole team has their own special spots in my office. Ya' come in here often enough, right? Okay… here we are."

I crossed my arms, expecting him to come out then.

But he didn't.

"Carson!" I called with irritation.

"Just a moment!" he yelled back, and I could hear his patience wearing thin. I fell silent, deciding not to push my luck any farther then I'd done already. My own patience paid off though: the door banging open a second later with Carson striding out and flipping open a large folder.

He walked past me and over to one of the light boards situated on the walls; sticking an x-ray against it and switching on the light. "Well, get over here then." he said to me in a clipped tone, putting up another x-ray as I stepped over the strewn about papers to take a spot across from him.

"See this?" Carson asked, his finger hovering over the first scan he'd put up, tracing large white marks all along the inside of the brain image.

"Yes." I said, twisting the fingers on my good hand nervously. Was white good or bad?

"That is Major Sheppard's brain. Perfectly normal." he said, watching me. "Now…" The finger traveled over to the second scan. The white parts on this scan were brighter and larger then the first one. "Your brain."

"It's different." I said, shoulders slumping and feeling defeated. I knew it. Something was wrong with me. Here was the proof.

Carson nodded, looking over at the scan as he went on, "Yes. While the Major's brain is functioning quite predictably-- your brain shows slight traces of ADHD."

My eyebrows furrowed. "Right." This was old news to me. I'd learned it right after high school-- even taking pills for a while; though that hadn't lasted long as they didn't really do anything for me. "And…?"

Carson sighed, dropping his hand, "That's it, Rodney."

"What?" I said, not believing. "That's it?"

He nodded.

"No tumors?" I asked anxiously; wanting there to be a reason for the sudden visions that plagued me. "Strange growths? Hemorrhaging, perhaps?"

Beckett turned away, pulling the x-rays off the board, saying, "No, no, and no."

"But, I--"

"Rodney, there is nothing wrong with you!" Carson insisted, already putting the x-rays back in the folder. "You're just tired."

My mouth worked noiselessly as Beckett flipped off the board's light. Could he be right? The memories appearing because of fatigue? He'd never been wrong before… and I really hadn't slept much in the last couple of days, due to the constant work Atlantis always seemed to need…

"Carson! A little help here!"

I spun around to see Major Sheppard helping a limping Ford through the door, arm around his waist. They both shined with sweat, and the Lieutenant's face screwed up in pain every time he stepped down on his left leg.

Beckett ran past me, working with John to get Ford situated on a bed. "What happened?" the doctor asked, pulling up Aiden's pant leg and setting the folder down on the floor.

"We were… training." Sheppard explained simply, straightening up, and I noticed he was sporting a bloody lip. His eyes traveled over the med lab as Carson started his exam on Ford's leg, finally settling on me. "McKay." he said in slight surprise, wiping away some blood away from his lip. "What are you doing here?"

Rather hard-core training, I couldn't help but think, lifting an eyebrow. "Just leaving." I finally told him, straightening my jacket and striding towards the door. Carson was much too preoccupied to be talking to me now, and I needed to think.

Time to get to the lab. I'd come back later when he wasn't busy.

Sheppard glanced down at Carson for an explanation, but he was in the middle of poking and prodding the poor Lieutenant-- something not to disturb.

"Had a coffee accident." I decided to tell him, holding up my bandaged hand as the door slid open. "Now, if you'll excuse me." I stepped through, saying over my shoulder, "I have a MALP to fix."

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tbc- next one's longer and more intriguing, don't worry.