AFTERMATH – PART TWO
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CHAPTER THREE: VEHEMENCE
At some point, Sheppard fell asleep again. He didn't really know when, but it had to be soon after taking off, because the next thing he knew, he was blinking up at the ceiling of the jumper and the sun was streaking it…meaning they were back near the center of the solar system and not far from Atlantis.
As quietly as possible, he shifted up on his right arm again, taking in the three very quiet people with him. All three had their heads turned away from him, watching the tail of the jumper in front of them.
Teyla sat in her usual seat behind the co-pilot, and Ford sat in his normal seat as well. McKay sat in the pilot's seat. Oddly, he looked very relaxed at the controls, very different from the trip out to the satellite. Probably because he wasn't thinking so much about what he was doing as what he had left behind…and what was coming ahead.
Ford, the major could tell, was half watching McKay, pretending not to. There was a strange tension in the air, and it made Sheppard incredibly unhappy.
"Teyla," he called softly, his voice a croak.
Ford and Teyla both turned, but McKay only half glanced over his shoulder, before focusing once more on the ship leading them home. Ford smiled, but the major didn't smile back, he just nodded. Ford's smile fell, and he turned around again.
Teyla, meanwhile, grabbed a canteen propped by her chair and moved into the rear of the jumper. Sheppard asked her quietly to help him sit up, and soon he was lying against the back hatch, drinking from the canteen, and watching her as she deftly checked the bandage on his arm.
"What's been going on," he whispered, deliberately trying to keep the conversation from those in front.
"Very little," she replied, just as quietly. " I am afraid that Lieutenant Ford..." she trailed off, then sighed, "that the lieutenant is not entirely comfortable with Doctor McKay right now. He has not taken the news of Doctor Gall's suicide well." Her eyes looked questioning, "I understand that the idea of suicide is one that is very repugnant to your culture. You consider it both dishonorable and, from what I have gleaned, a sin under many of the belief systems of your world."
"Well," Sheppard shifted up a little more, a hand pressed on his ribs to keep them from moving as well, "in most of the religions on earth, yes. Many think suicide is a form of cowardice, of giving up." He shook his head.
"Do you?" she asked.
"In ninety-nine percent of cases, yes," he stated. "But there are always exceptions. There is one particularly horrible disease on our planet called Lou Gherig's disease…," he shook his head, "but, other than that…yes."
"I see," she looked away, "my people feel the same, although, to give your life so others may live…that is another matter. There is honor in that." She shook her head, "But the line is fine."
Sheppard nodded, wondering exactly what had happened back on that Wraith ship. Teyla was implying something, and he was curious what exactly she knew.
"To be honest," she said that as if it would be something new to her, "I thought your people felt the same way. When Doctor McKay walked into that energy being to save all of us, for example, even knowing it could kill him, he was praised."
Sheppard blinked at her, "What are you saying?"
"I do not know, exactly." She shook her head, "But I am afraid that, if an investigation occurs as the lieutenant and the other soldiers have said, that it may be forgotten that Doctor Gall had a reason for what he did…and it may not have been because he wanted to die."
She stared at Sheppard, and, after a moment, he nodded at her.
"On the other hand," she drew the canteen back from his hands and screwed the cap back on, "there is…also talk…that Doctor McKay may have had a role in Doctor Gall's death."
Sheppard frowned, "Talk?"
"Sergeant Markham and Corporal Johnson, in the other jumper, were discussing the possibility." She shook her head.
He watched her face, reading her eyes as she focused on him again.
"I do not believe they are correct to say such things. Doctor McKay would never harm anyone purposefully. With the exception of a life and death situation," she said, her eyes meeting his steadily, "I do not think he could, as I've heard you say, harm a fly."
It was delivered with her full conviction, the voice that said she was right and there was nothing short of an apocalypse that would prove her wrong.
Sheppard smiled.
"I agree," he said.
"I knew you would," she nodded. She settled next to him, looking forward to Ford and McKay again for a moment, before looking back at him. "When my people and I were suspected of being in contact with the Wraith, I was told, afterwards, how vehemently both you and Doctor McKay argued for us." She smiled a little at that before continuing, "I know Lieutenant Ford agreed with your assessment, but, apparently, it was you and Doctor McKay who were the most vocal in our…my…defense, even after we were attacked that last time." She smiled, "That is something I greatly appreciated." She looked forward, watching lieutenant Ford, "I do not, however, understand why Lieutenant Ford is now not as certain as I am about Doctor McKay, in this situation."
"Hm," Sheppard grunted, then sighed, rubbing a little at the tightness in his chest, "I'm afraid that's pretty easy to answer, Teyla. You exude honesty and strength. McKay…is more flawed. People just can't see him as strong, no matter how many times he may have come through for them, and consequently," he looked at Ford, "some wonder if…he might eventually crack."
She frowned at the assessment, then shook her head, "I do not. He has a tendency to panic, yes, but he overcomes it. And the attacks come fewer and fewer. Besides," she looked askance at the major, "I do not believe you would have picked him for our team if you truly thought him capable of, as you say, cracking."
Sheppard gave a half smile, "No," he stated firmly, "I wouldn't have."
That was enough for her. Then she shifted, reaching for something. When she came back, she was holding up a chocolate bar.
"Hungry?"
He grinned, "You read my mind."
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CHAPTER FOUR: HOMECOMING
When they arrived home, the major found himself suddenly swarmed by Beckett's medical team, checking his arm, inserting an IV into his other arm, talking to him like he was two years old. He finally yelled that he hadn't been hit on the head, just his arm, but the pain in his chest from the cracked ribs betrayed him when he tried to catch his breath again, and he was bustled off to the infirmary without further ado.
His only contact with Weir was her face, smiling down at him, telling him to get better. He tried to tell Beckett he needed to talk to her first, before Ford or anyone else did, but they had injected something into his IV and the next thing he knew….
He was lying in a quiet infirmary, with nothing but sleeping people around him. To his right, he saw Kavanagh, sleeping off a mishap with a volatile Ancient device that blew up in his face, and across the way he saw Stackhouse, with his leg elevated in a sling, a dark grimace on the sergeant's sleeping face.
The major's fingers gripped the fabric of the sheet covering him. What was happening out there? What were they saying…doing….what was Rodney telling them?
Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn….
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"Major?" Beckett's voice was quiet, but insistent. Sheppard frowned, but blinked his eyes open, trying to work through the dryness of them.
"Beckett?" he replied softly.
"Yes, Major. How're you feeling?" The doctor's smiling face basked the major; it was the face Beckett put on that promised that everything was fine.
He tried to breathe in deeply before answering, but pinpricks of pain shot across his chest and down his sides, and he knew he shouldn't have done that.
"Ow," he muttered.
"Yeah, sorry 'bout that," Beckett sighed. "But other than that?"
He took a more careful breath then, and decided that, in fact, he didn't hurt that much. His left arm felt pretty good—a little numb, but there. He could move his fingers. Otherwise, he was waking up more and more.
"Um," he looked around a little, "I think…not bad?"
Beckett smiled, "Good, good. Figured as much, but you never know. You lost a bit of blood, there, made you a bit wonky, but you've recovered it by now. Your arm's clear of infection and, other than the ribs, which shouldn't take too long to heal, I think you'll be fine fairly quickly." He smiled some more, "Just don't strain yourself too much."
"Mmmm," Sheppard reached over for the button, and raised the bed up so that he was sitting. Beckett stepped back, giving him some room. The major looked at him, opening his mouth to ask how long he would have to stay here, but Beckett was ahead of him.
"You can sleep in your own bed tonight, if that's your question, major. In fact, you're free to go, provided you promise to take it easy."
"Yes," Sheppard gave a crooked smile, "Thanks, Carson." He looked over at his arm, at the bandage, then frowned. There was something else bothering him, now, what…?
"Well, I've other patients. I'll have Doctor Jackson take you to your room whenever you want." Beckett patted his leg, turning to walk away, "Just say when."
Sheppard hissed, and Beckett looked back, thinking it was because he was in pain, but Sheppard's eyes were not on himself. They were staring into the distance. Suddenly, they focused back on the doctor.
"McKay," he asked. "What's happening with McKay?"
"McKay?" Beckett replied innocently. Oh, the man was an abysmal liar.
"Yes, Carson, McKay. You know, arrogant genius about 5 foot 10, brown hair, mean sense of humor and less patience than a teenager on prom night?"
"Oh, McKay," Beckett said the name as if it had taken the major's description to trigger the connection. "He's fine. Nothing wrong with him at all. Not even a bruise."
Sheppard's eyes narrowed. "Not what I meant, Carson," he said darkly.
Beckett looked around, as if for an excuse to flee, but the room was quiet. Finally he sighed.
"Okay, okay, but I don't want you getting all worked up, a'right?" He pursed his lips, then stepped back to the side of the bed so that he could lower his voice. "I'm afraid Rodney's…in a bit of a pickle."
"A pickle."
"I…suppose you know that Doctor Gall," Carson swallowed, "killed himself?"
"Yup."
"Well, not everyone thinks he did, or that he did it without help. I'm afraid a rumor has circulated that…Rodney might have somehow had a hand in the actual…" Carson trailed off, unable to finish the thought. He sighed heavily, lowering his eyes from the major's piercing once, "Look, as you know, Rodney does not exactly, shall we say, get along with people? And, when you couple that with ego, which many among the scientists have in great abundance, you discover that many here…don't like him." He frowned, not looking at Sheppard still, "And…Doctor Gall and Rodney…clashed a great deal. I think he…like several others…resented Rodney being in charge."
"That's an understatement," a morose voice muttered from Sheppard's right. Both Beckett and the major turned, to see Kavanagh peering out at them with one eye. He had a bandage down one side of his face, covering his other eye. The doctor looked tired, but alert.
"What's an understatement?" Sheppard asked, though he regretted it the moment he asked. Kavanagh hated McKay, and was probably the last opinion he wanted to hear. But curiosity had gotten the better of him.
"McKay is smart, sure," Kavanagh gave a nasty smile, "but he's no Sam Carter. He's just another scientist with a big mouth and a fragile ego. Scientists like Gall and me are a threat. We're probably smarter than Rodney, younger, better looking…." Kavanagh grinned mercilessly at Sheppard's thunderous expression at the statement, then coughed, closing his one eye for a moment, as his body reacted to the convulsive action. Beckett looked up at the monitors, watching to make sure nothing spiked, as Kavanagh got his breathing back under control. When the scientist peered out again, the nastiness was back, "Anyway," he shrugged, "it's not a hard stretch of the imagination to think that McKay may have had something to do with what—"
"That's enough!" Sheppard barked, sitting up straighter. "You have no idea what happened out there!"
Kavanagh looked amused, even beneath the bandage, "Oh? And you do?"
"Yes," the major hissed.
Kavanagh nodded, "Okay then. Guess we'll see how true that is soon, won't we?"
Sheppard frowned, "What does that mean?" Kavanagh didn't reply, he just continued to smile, so the major turned his gaze to Carson. The doctor had his arms crossed over his chest, his expression sad. "Carson? What is he talking about?"
Beckett looked up, meeting his gaze softly, "There's going to be a hearing."
Sheppard stared at him a minute, then threw back the covers off his legs, "The hell there is. Where's Weir?"
Beckett shrugged, "In her office, I presume."
"And McKay?"
Beckett pursed his lips, then lowered his eyes again. "I'll have someone take you to Doctor Weir," he stated quietly, before turning away again.
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TBC