A BEE IN THE BONNET
By NotTasha
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PART 5: PARADE FLOAT

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

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

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

"All of it, now," Beckett ordered. "You'll need every drop."

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

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

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

"Haven't found him," Ford responded, letting Sheppard lean on him. "You said he was missing?"

"Yeah, he's gone."

"How?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What's going on?" She looked perplexed. "Where's Rodney?"

Sheppard let out a low breath. "I don't know. I couldn't find him."

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

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

"It's the bee," Ford declared.

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

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

"Poof?" Ford asked.

"More like a 'shrumph'," John answered gamely.

"Where's Rodney?" Elizabeth repeated, her voice taking on a darker tone.

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

"Messing?" Elizabeth furrowed her brow at this description.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Major?" Weir's voice brought the Sheppard back to reality.

"It's not like the Wraith," Sheppard decided. "I'm just tired. Very tired."

"And Rodney?" she continued.

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

"There's a 30 foot limit?" Weir asked.

"10 meters," John clarified.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I don't think so," Sheppard responded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Zelenka," John called as he came to the room where he'd last seen the scientist.

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

"No," John returned, grabbing Zelenka's hand and dropping the bee into it. "Fix this."

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

"I don't know," Sheppard returned. "Do whatever McKay did. Get it going again."

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

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

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

"Look," Sheppard returned dissatisfiedly. "Just make it work."

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

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

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

"We will find him," she assured, slowing his pace.

"If he's hurt…" John stated.

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

"What?" Sheppard returned.

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

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

"It's possible," Teyla commented, her eyes flitting about at the uncomfortable line of questioning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The place was empty.

"Doctor McKay?" Ford called, itching to get around Sheppard, but letting the man lead at his stilted pace. "Doctor McKay, are you here?" But the corridor remained cold and quiet – only punctuated by Ford's voice and the sound of their feet upon the walkway.
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A/N: I stole Beckett's assistant from Tipper. I blame her for everything. Now, if I could just think up something new to fix on her...