A/N: Once again, I'd like to thank everyone who took the time to review this. Also, because I keep forgetting (smacks forehead), most of the plot of this was inspired by something Hans asked. The purple dress is all the fault of LT, thanks to a little discussion we had, several weeks before this fic was started.

M.A.

Chapter Three: Physical Impossibilities

"Zelenka, why are you wearing a purple dress?"

As conversations go, it was the last thing I had expected to hear, even coming from Major Sheppard. However, as we all looked at the little Czech, he sure enough was sporting a lovely strapless purple evening gown, with a slit up the sides. My mouth fell open in shock as Squishy looked down at himself, then back up at the major, a hopelessly lost look on his face.

"He wasn't wearing that before," Rodney immediately said, raising his hand and pointing directly at me as he spoke, "She had to have done this."

Once again, all attention was on me, and Radek, who had seemed to be on my side—all question of my humanity aside—was glaring, his arms folded over his chest. It was a very nice chest, with hair poking out over the top of the bodice and I had to quickly look down at the floor to hide both the flush on my face and the silly grin that wouldn't go away, no matter how much I asked it to.

"Right…" Sheppard muttered, "You," he pointed at me, "are coming with me. And the two of you as well."

"What!" Rodney exclaimed, "you cannot be serious…"

"I am not going out vearing this," Radek said at the same time.

"I have PIE on my face," Rodney continued, "Do you have any idea what kind of things…"

"…people vill say about this? Not be able to hold my head up for…"

"…days at the very least, I mean come on, Major, surely you can see that…"

There was a very loud and very piercing whistle, which caused the two men to fall silent, glaring at John as though he'd committed some major crime. The pilot just glared right back, completely immune to the affects of such deadly stares. At least they weren't directed at me, that was something. Maybe, just maybe, that purple non-object thing would come back and I would be allowed to leave in peace, with the memory of pie covered Rodney and purple-dressed Zelenka.

"Now," John said after the silence had lengthened, "that we've calmed down a little. You need to come exactly as you are, because we need to know what, if anything has been done to you."

"Is practical joke," Squishy muttered, eyeing me with distaste, "nothing more."

"If she can change your clothes, who knows what else she's capable of?" John pointed out logically.

'Thanks a lot,' I thought to myself, as I once more became the object of their stares. I then, belatedly, realized that I hadn't once moved from the spot, even though I had been ordered to. Heat suffusing my cheeks, I quickly stood up, and would have been amused by the two scientists jumping backwards at my alacrity, had I not been so embarrassed over the whole matter.

As we walked out of the lab, with Rodney and Radek both doing the best they could to keep from being seen, I wondered what was going on. Sure, it was impossible and impracticable, but there was no denying I was on Atlantis. However, the pie incident and then the purple dress made me rethink the situation I was in. I had, even if very briefly, wanted to toss a pie at McKay, and it had happened. The dress thing though, that had just been something a friend and I had discussed as a joke, and I certainly hadn't consciously been wishing to see him in a dress.

Nevertheless, I had thought about it before, and so perhaps I was doing something, perhaps my being in this universe was in itself wrong and tearing the fabric of reality at the seams…or maybe I was thinking too much again.

"At least they aren't covered in chocolate," I said aloud, to nobody in particular, and jumped when a shout came from beside me.

I had been keeping my eyes on the backs of Sheppard's shoes, not daring to look up because I felt like a cheap criminal being led to my execution. Melodramatic, but it made me feel a little better about the whole thing. Anyway, I automatically brought my gaze up to the source of the sound and then closed my eyes and groaned.

To compliment the crème pie, Dr. Rodney McKay was covered in chocolate. And he was wearing a Darkwing Duck tee shirt with matching boxers.

"As far as I can tell," Carson Beckett was saying as I sat on an infirmary bed, legs swinging back in forth in my nervous state, "there's absolutely nothin' wrong with tha two o' ya."

The identical scowls on the two scientists' faces said that they didn't like hearing that, and from the direction of their scowls, it was clear that they totally blamed Major Sheppard for the wolf whistles, snickers and stares each had received as we made our way to the Scot's domain. Which, I was glad for, because I had been scowled at way too much recently. I don't like people being angry, much less angry at me. Well, people being angry when I'm around. I love seeing the tension and angst on screen or in a book. But that's, as I've mentioned before, fictional, and I can distance myself from it.

"What about the girl?" John asked, ignoring the hateful looks being sent his way, "Anything unusual about her?"

"Aside from the fact that she should'na be here?" Carson shook his head, "She's a normal human bein' with the normal problems someone her size is like to encounter."

"Well, how did she do what she did?" Rodney asked, voice dripping with saracasm, "I suppose she's actually a witch and can conjure things like pies and purple dresses out of thin air with just a thought, hm?"

"Perhaps vhatever brought her here has done this?" Radek suggested, "and she is merely distraction?"

"But who, or what, would want to go to such elaborate lengths?" Rodney wanted to know, "I mean, what purpose has me being covered in banana crème pie served?"

"Don't forget chocolate syrup," John couldn't resist adding.

"And Darkwing Duck," Carson chimed in, grinning, "Never knew you were a fan o' cartoons, Rodney."

I kept as quiet as I could, so as not to draw attention to myself, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to hold back the laughter I could feel bubbling in my chest. Whether or not Squishy was right about something else being responsible, these things had come from me, from my imagination. And I very definitely doubted they would be pleased to find that out, though I suspected Sheppard already knew, from the way he kept looking at me.

He had heard me saying that stuff about the chocolate.

'Major Sheppard, please report to the gateroom.'

The voice startled everyone, including myself, and I wondered what else could have happened to cause Dr. Weir to have that anxious edge to her voice.

"On my way," Sheppard said, giving the rest of us a look. To Carson he said, "Bates and Stackhouse are outside, call them in if you need them."

Before he could move towards the door however, something very strange happened. A spacious office with a large oak paneling desk suddenly replaced the infirmary; and I found myself once more sitting on the floor.

"This is impossible," Rodney muttered, "Completely defies the laws of physics."

(tbc….)