Chapter 9

Hands resting on top of his head, Carson tipped back in his chair to stare at the ceiling. As ornamental as Atlantis was, with ancient patterns and designs decorating the walls and doors, apparently to the long-gone architects a ceiling was still a ceiling and held nothing for a weary viewer to ponder. Stifling a yawn, he moved his hands to his neck to work out a kink in his tired muscles. Would this day never end?

A second yawn, one of the jaw-cracking ear-popping variety, spilled before he had the chance to stop it. Heavily weighted lids drooped shut, arms and hands made of rubber slipped bonelessly down, the tired physician allowed himself a few moments to rest until…

Beep. Beep.

'Ah, bloody hell. Not yet,' he mentally grumbled. Ignoring the persistent little noise, he allowed himself another five minutes.

Beep. Beep.

He really wanted to ignore it. Every fiber of his being had reached the point of complete relaxation and he honestly believed that his muscles had achieved the consistency of jello. But, he knew that dreaded little tone and at least had to see who wanted his attention. Peeling open his left eye, he glared at the offending object that dared to disturb his slumber. There on his laptop screen, the mail message flashed. With a heavy sigh, he leaned forward, scrubbing his scruffy face and eyes in an attempt to bring the blurry letters back into formation.

A quick tap to the message box and the screen shifted to reveal the tox report on Grose. Carson leaned forward, his fatigue slipping away as he rapidly skimmed the pages. Flipping the screen back to Rodney's, he reread the Canadian's information. Abruptly standing up, his chair skidding backwards to hit the wall, he made his way out to the infirmary to check on his patients.

He got to Rodney's bedside first. The scientist lay asleep on his left side, facing the doctor's office. His left arm jutting out from under the covers to hang in midair was so still that it looked like it belonged to a dead man. Slipping his fingers around the exposed wrist to check Rodney's pulse, Carson nodded in satisfaction before moving the arm back under the blanket. He was totally unprepared for his friend's startled reaction.

Rodney jolted off the opposite side of the bed, his eyes wide open but unfocused as he glanced about in panic. "Stay away from me," he hissed as he tried to untangle himself from his blanket, never taking his eyes off Beckett.

The Scotsman slowly held his hands up in the air and stepped back from the bed. "Rodney, it's me, Carson. I'm not going to hurt you, lad." Watching his friend become more agitated, he continued to speak softly, hoping to break through the nightmare. "Come on now, settle down. You're safe here on Atlantis."

Catching movement out of the corner of his eye, Carson spotted Aiden coming silently across the room to step up behind McKay. Damnit, he'd forgotten about the Lieutenant being posted to guard Grose. Sensing what the young man was about to do, he held his hand out to stop him. "No!"

Rodney spun around in surprise just as Ford flipped on the light above the bed. Pain pierced through his skull as the beam cut through his eyes like a drill. Grasping his head in agony, he collapsed to the floor. "Turn it off," he begged in a harsh whisper.

The Lieutenant instantly realized his mistake, snapping the switch back off, but the damage had already been done. Dr. Beckett brusquely shoved him aside, dropping to his knees beside the moaning scientist. When he reached out to help, the fiery ice blue eyes of the Scotsman stopped him cold.

"Get the major," he ordered before tuning back to Rodney. The scientist had grown quiet, his arms wrapped tightly about his chest with his head resting on his knees. "It was just a dream, lad. You're safe now."

"God, Carson," he mumbled, his voice shaking from the after affects of the adrenalin rush. "What the hell is wrong with me?"

Taking a seat on the cool floor beside his friend, the physician laid his hand on the nape of the anguished mans neck. He could feel taut muscles stiffen further at the contact but left it there. Eventually, Rodney's breathing evened out, his shoulders sagged when his brain informed the rest of his body that it was safe to relax.

Sheppard's quiet voice from beside them startled both men. "What happened?" A quick glance to the major showed that at least someone had been sleeping peacefully. Dressed in a rumpled t-shirt, pajama pants, and socks, his hair in more disarray than usual, he took up a position on the floor on the opposite side of the scientist.

Carson met his questioning gaze with a serious look of his own, "I accidentally spooked Rodney while he was dreamin'."

Shifting on the floor so that he could stretch out his legs, the major bumped shoulders with Rodney, trying to elicit some sort of response. "You must have been having one helluva dream, McKay, for the doc to send someone to come get me. What was Major Carter wearing this time?"

A soft chuckle escaped before Rodney could stop it, followed by a moan. "Don't make me laugh," he complained, untangling his arms so that he could rub his temples.

Carson pulled himself up to his feet, knowing he could briefly step out of the room since Sheppard was there to help keep an eye on their friend. "I'll get you somethin' for the headache. Don't go anywhere."

"Oh, like I suddenly had plans," came the muffled reply.

Silence settled over the dimly lit room as Sheppard glanced over his shoulder to Grose's still sleeping form. Whatever Beckett had slipped him earlier, really worked. "So, you want to tell me what the dream was about and why you don't want the lights on?"

Rodney drew in a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he sat up straight and cautiously dared to look about. Meeting Sheppard's inquisitive gaze, he quickly shifted his attention to the bottom of the bed, "Iwasbackinthewhiteroom."

"Come again? A little slower this time, McKay. It's still early and I haven't had my coffee yet."

"I said, I was back in the white room. The lights kept getting brighter…" Rodney's voice grew quieter as he closed his eyes, reliving the events. "He kept asking questions, over and over. Never the same."

"Who did? Noda? What did he want to know?"

Rodney felt his mouth begin to water as the pounding inside his head increased. Swallowing, he fought back the urge to throw up. "He kept asking questions about…about…" Scrunching his face tightly, he mentally tried to grasp the fleeting images of the dream.

Sheppard reached out and gripped the scientists arm, pulling him out of his reverie. "It's all right, McKay, it was just a dream."

"No, no it wasn't." Rodney licked his lips as flashes of memories tugged at his consciousness. Tipping his head sideways, he shifted to meet the major's gaze, a look of disbelief covering his features, "He knew."

"What did he know, Rodney?"

Rodney's blue eyes darted back and forth; staring into Sheppard's concerned green ones, "He knew I didn't kill her."

The major let out a small breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Son of a …. The overwhelming desire to physically remove the little bastard's head from his shoulders flooded every fiber of Sheppard's being. "Then what did he want?"

"Major," Beckett interrupted, placing several items on a side table. "Could you help me get Rodney back up on the bed?"

"I can do it," Rodney protested, although secretly appreciative of the man's assistance.

"Sit," the doctor ordered, not giving the scientist the opportunity to balk while he swabbed Rodney's upper arm before plunging a needle into the soft tissue. "This is only Imitrex; it'll help your headache." Completed, he stood back and surveyed his patient. "Once that kicks in, I want you to take a long shower."

Slumped on the uncomfortable mattress, he grew wary at the doctor's request, "Why?"

Knowing the Canadian's overreaction to bad news, Carson tried to downplay his news by attempting to appear casual, resting against the side of the bed. "When I came in earlier to check on you and Grose, I had just gotten the lab results from your blood and urine tests. You both were exposed to inorganic arsenic."

What little color had remained in Rodney's face drained, leaving him pasty white. "Arsenic?" he whispered. "How badly were we exposed?"

Sheppard hopped onto the bed beside him, offering moral and physical support. "Take it easy, McKay. Give Beckett a chance to finish."

"Rodney, you're goin' to be fine. The IV fluids flushed whatever you may have come in contact with internally, out of your system, and the shower will wash off any remnants from your skin." Recognizing the telltale sign of quicksilver fear in his friend's eyes, he continued cautiously, "Going back on what you told us earlier, I investigated some of the samples that Teyla brought back. It's in their water, lad."

Rodney finally blinked, "I had a shower and drank a couple of glasses at the security building."

"I know. But like I said, you weren't exposed for a prolonged period of time, and you're goin' to be fine." Sighing, Carson rubbed his face. "Your headaches are most likely from a combination of your exposure along with the stress of your incarceration and interrogation."

"Doc," Sheppard asked as he picked up the set of scrubs off the bottom of the bed, "what about Gross and the rest of the Pennatrocans?"

"Mr. Grose's exposure appears to be longer than Rodney's. He'll need to see a doctor. As for the others," Carson shrugged, shaking his head, "I don't know. Unless they change some of their practices, I can't imagine that their prognosis would be good."

Sheppard grimaced. He really didn't care for the Pennatrocans, but he didn't want to have to live with the knowledge that he knew they were poisoning themselves to death and he could have helped them. Taking a hold of Rodney's arm, he tugged, "Come on, you've got an appointment with a shower."

Sliding off the mattress to land on his feet, Rodney scowled, grabbing the scrubs, "Thank you, Major, but I think I can do this on my own." Turing to head out, he was stopped by Carson's arm on his.

"How's the headache?"

Closing his eyes, he took inventory, pleasantly surprised to discover that the pain was diminishing quickly. "Almost gone."

"Good. Major, when he's finished, make sure he finds his way back here."

"Hey, I said I could take a shower on my own. I've been doing it for a long time."

"I heard you the first time, Rodney." Stepping towards the open door, he nodded, "I'm tired and I want to go to bed, so hurry up."

Sheppard ushered McKay towards the infirmary shower. "Taking showers by yourself for a long time, huh? Well, that explains a lot," he ribbed.

Rodney stopped and glared, "What are you talking about?"

Shoving the scientist into the cubicle, the major pulled the curtain closed and waited outside. "Well you know," he said loudly over the sound of running water, "sometimes when you share a shower, you're a lot less stressed. If you know what I mean."

Rodney's dirty clothes sailed over the curtain to hit the major right on the head. "You know, Captain Kirk," he called out as he soaped up his wash cloth, "someday some little space nymph is going to leave you in a lot more than hot water."

Sheppard grinned as he leaned back against the wall to wait. Yep, their mad scientist was on his way back to being his normal snippy self.

TBC

A/N Thanks for the reviews and for Gaffer's beta help on this chapter. I know this story is trudging along, but I think it's time to go back to the planet and kick Noda's butt. Don't you? Little weasel… Oh, and take care of Grose… And, uh, fix the planet… And, well yeah, whump on the boys just a little! Guess I have a ways to go! ;)