Triptych

by liketheriver

Genetic manipulation, Smurf loogies, nudity, Freudian analysis, and ravenous frogs. Complete

2. Couples Therapy

A/N Thanks for the reviews for Reflections, and hope I didn't drive anyone to seek counseling! LOL! I decided to give us all an emotional break with Part 2. Special thanks to Koschka for double checking me on a few things and the term "preshrunk." In return I offer you a blatant plug for her work as she continues to linger under the impression that there are actually readers of this fandom that do not know of her greatness. That being said, if you haven't read her stuff, crawl out from the rock you have been gestating under and read it. The links are under my favorites and you will be thanking me for the recommendation.

Triptych (triptik) noun 1. a picture or carving on three panels, typically hinged together vertically and used as an altarpiece. 2. a set of three associated artistic, literary, or musical works.

Panel 2: Couples Therapy

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap… I slouch in my chair and listen to Rodney's foot beat out an insanely repetitive rhythm on the floor. It's as if he is trying to drive me nuts, on purpose, and finally out in the open instead of covertly as I've always suspected. The irony that I've come to this conclusion now, given where we are sitting and who we are waiting to see is not lost on me. Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap...

"McKay!" I grind the word between my teeth, secretly wishing it was more than just his name.

He stops, looks at me with a flick of his eyebrows and smiles. "Sorry."

I swear to God, his eyes are actually twinkling. Twinkling! I know Heightmeyer is a babe, but no one should be this excited to be sent to a shrink. "What is the deal with you?"

"I'm sorry, I just can't help it. I'm just so excited." He shivers in giddy delight. Shivers! Giddy! McKay! "Do you know how long it's been since I was sent for a psych eval? I mean one that wasn't a pre-employment screening but because someone thought I might have an actual mental disorder?"

I scoot a few inches away from him. "Evidently much too long."

"Exactly! I haven't had to do this since I was a teenager."

"Yeah, I can see where being considered mentally stable for the past two decades could be a real bummer."

"You don't get it. Do you know how many psychiatrists I saw as a child?"

"I'm beginning to think not enough."

"Fifteen." He tells me with smug pride. "In thirty-six months."

"Fifteen? You were sent to fifteen shrinks? What the hell was wrong with you?" I suddenly have images of young Rodney shaving cats and carrying on conversations with Einstein at the breakfast table.

"Nothing." I regard him blankly, and he shakes his head in exasperation. "I swear, you make one bomb, one, and your parents brand you for life. It's not like I even used the plutonium. And I did not 'plant' it under Jeanie's bed. I was just storing it there because my parents kept raiding my room."

Suddenly cat shaving doesn't sound so bad. "Sure, Rodney, I believe you." I scooch my chair away a few more inches and make a mental note to check under my own bed when I get back to my quarters. "But fifteen?"

"That's psychiatrists, mind you. That doesn't count the half dozen or so psychologists that were mixed in between."

"You differentiate between the two because…?"

"Prescriptions." He leans in as if revealing a trade secret. "Psychologists can't write you a 'script at the end of the session, so it takes some of the challenge out of it."

"Uh-huh." Just don't make any sudden moves, John, and you'll be fine.

"I had a stack of twenty-three during that same thirty-six month period."

"Jesus! Your parents let you take twenty-three different drugs?"

"Please! I didn't take any of them."

"Well, maybe you should have taken some. I admit twenty-three sounds like overkill, but one or two of the lithium based drugs might have actually been a little bit helpful. Might still, even."

He rolls his eyes. "Like I said, nothing was wrong with me. I was exceptionally bright as a child, I was also exceptionally bored. My parents didn't know how to handle that combination, nor were they really interested in trying to themselves. It was just much easier for them to push me off on someone else to fix. Problem was, seeing a psychiatrist really did little to keep me from being bright and bored; it just provided an outlet for me to…express myself. Ends up most of them decided they weren't that interested in helping me either."

"Holy crap, this is all a game to you."

"Not so much a game as a diversion." And he smiles again, that goddamned devil-on-the-shoulder, twinkley-eyed smile. And I suddenly know what he is up to.

"Oh, ho, ho, no. No, no, no, no. You are not going to pull anything during this session." He crosses his arms and leans back in a pout. I ignore him. "I'm serious, McKay, the only thing standing between us and freedom is this session and Beckett's final okay. I've almost got him convinced; you are not going to do anything to keep Heightmeyer from releasing us."

We are grounded. Weir in her caring and infinitely paranoid wisdom has decided that McKay and I have suffered enough trauma from our experience of being put in slime storage for three weeks that she refuses to release us to full duty until we have been deemed medically and mentally fit. The fact of the matter is, that regardless of how freaked we may have been to discover we had been cloned… and believe me, we were plenty freaked… we have adjusted just fine. It's the rest of the expeditionary force, the ones that watched those same clones die thinking they were us; they're the ones that really need the psychological help.

When I piloted the Jumper back to Atlantis a week and a half ago, I was doing my damnedest not to think about what we had just seen down in the hallway of that underground complex. Not that I was succeeding, mind you, but I sure as hell was trying.

"Atlantis, this is Sheppard, do you copy?"

"John! Thank God," Weir exclaimed across the frequency. "We were worried you had done something rash after we found Rodney…" She paused, as if she had said too much. I exchanged confused looks with McKay, noting the way the drying goop was causing his hair to spike in a very disturbing, very Billy Idol fashion. "Just come back and we can talk about it."

Ooo-kay. Didn't know what we needed to talk about, but returning home had been the plan all along. All I wanted was to shower, shower again, and shower once more until the dried snot coating my body and filling way too many orifices was just a memory and then even the memory of the dried snot was washed down the drain. "We're on our way, Sheppard out."

"We?" I heard her ask just as we entered the wormhole, then we were back in Atlantis. I piloted the ship up into the Jumper bay, landed, and McKay and I exited out the hatch. We were met by the sound of running feet, lots of running feet. Bates' security force entered first, followed closely by Weir, Grodin and Zelenka.

Elizabeth pushed her way through the security team. "Major, we were so…Rodney?" Relief was replaced by confusion then was replaced by relief and back to confusion. Everyone else's reaction was just as jumbled.

Grodin let out a breathy, "My God, Rodney."

A wide-eyed, "Do prdele!" came from Zelenka, followed by slack jawed wonder.

After the initial exclamations of surprise, everyone just stood and stared at us, obviously unsure what to do.

Rodney smiled nervously at all the eyes on him and waved a feeble greeting with a "Hey."

From behind our initial welcome party I heard a winded Beckett come rushing into the bay. "Elizabeth, where is he? Is he all right? Did he…" Carson came to a screeching stop next to Weir, looked with relief at me then wide-eyed, open-mouthed shock at Rodney. His knees wobbled and he sat down hard on the floor. "Bloody hell."

McKay and I both moved toward him then with concern. The motion seemed to snap Bates out of his stupor and he raised his P90 causing the rest of the security force to do the same. We stopped in our tracks, raising our hands as he demanded, "Drop the weapon!"

It took me a second to realize he was talking to me and I lowered by own gun to the ground. "What the hell is going on here?"

Elizabeth turned to Bates, "Sergeant?"

Like the good little security officer that he is, Bates never took his eyes or his sights off of us. "We don't know who these two are."

"Well, let me introduce us. This is Dr. Rodney McKay, lead science officer here on Atlantis, and I'm Major John Sheppard, your damned CO. And I don't appreciate being held at gunpoint by my own men."

"Sergeant, I think you can lower your weapon," Elizabeth told him.

"No offense, ma'am, but I don't think that is a good idea. Because if that is Dr. McKay, then who's body did I just help move to the morgue?"

Then it all clicked together; we had found my dead body double on the planet, but Rodney's had been here on Atlantis all along.

I saw McKay swallow and lick his lips. "M..morgue?"

And I could feel the tables were being turned and I knew I was going to be the one watching McKay freak out this time.

But not right away. First we were ushered off to the infirmary, complete with armed escort. The reaction of personnel in the hall as we passed was similar to the one we had arrived to; googling eyes, dangling mouths, dropped coffee cups and clip boards. One tech even dropped her laptop in shock and I thought Bates was going to shoot McKay when he suddenly stopped to berate the woman for damaging valuable computer equipment. As he continued on his rampage, the woman began crying, not that Rodney hadn't seen that before, but I don't think he had ever seen tears of joy streaming down the face of one of his subordinates as he gave them a verbal dressing down. Finally unable to contain herself any longer, she threw her arms around McKay's neck.

Rodney flushed red under the blue tint of dried slime that still coated him, giving him a distinct purple hue. His arms flailed in a futile attempt to redefine his personal space. "Uhm...yes…well…as long as you see the error in your ways. Okay… uh… you can let go, now…you can…all right, enough…get…get off. Sergeant, do something."

Bates peeled the woman away from McKay and she stood there smiling through her tears at him. Rodney cleared his throat, stepped back in line beside me and shooed the security team toward the infirmary, anxious to make his escape. He shot a glare in my direction as we continued down the corridor. "Not a word. Not a goddamned word."

I tried my best to remove the smirk from my face, but finally could no longer hold in my sputtering snicker.

"Asshole."

"What? I didn't say anything."

"You were thinking it and I know it's just a matter of time before you say it. Not that I really expect anything else from a man whose personal character development stopped abruptly at the age of twelve."

Fine, he wanted it, he got it. "Rodney has a girlfriend," I sang nasally.

He hung his head, "You know, Sheppard, whole issues of the Journal of Psychology could be devoted to studying your childish desire for self gratification."

"Oooh, I love it when you get all Freudian on me. Please tell me you're going to explain the phallic symbolism of walking through the stargate."

He flipped his hand in dismissal. "Freud was a hack, whose inner fratboy, much like your own, believed everything in the world revolved around sexual satisfaction."

"You mean it doesn't?" I asked him in mock surprise.

He shook his head. "Major, sometimes a wormhole is just a wormhole." He scrubbed his hands through his hair in frustration, causing blue flakes to flutter to the floor. "God, I need a shower. I just want to get this over with and get back to my quarters for a nice long soak."

"Amen to that, brother." I scratched at my own head that was starting to itch from the desiccated slime. "I may not come out of my own shower for a good day and a half."

Sgt. Smith cleared his throat behind me. "That may not be possible, sir."

I addressed him over my shoulder. "Why, did something happen to my shower while I was gone?"

"No, sir, it's just, your quarters…" he hesitated and Bates stepped in.

"That's enough, Smith."

I really could understand that Bates was just doing his job, but there was something that wasn't being said that definitely needed to be said. By the scowl on Rodney's face, I could see that he was thinking the same thing. "Bates, what is the problem with my quarters?"

"Dr. Beckett is waiting for you," was his only response and we walked the remaining short distance to the infirmary in silence.

Outside the infirmary door, we found Ford and Teyla waiting for us. Ford bounded up to us with a bright smile, "Sirs!"

Teyla was right beside him. "It is true," she whispered in awe as she reached out and grabbed a hand from each of us, as if to convince herself that the rumors she had heard were correct.

I returned the smile, feeling a twang of guilt that I hadn't asked about them upon our arrival, although given our welcome, I think I was justified in letting it slip my mind. Still, when we had left the planet, we didn't know if they had returned to Atlantis or been captured just like we had.

However, that reunion was cut short by the arrival of Carson out the door. "All right, off with you." He efficiently extracted us from Teyla's grip and pushed us unceremoniously into the medbay. I managed one quick glance back at our teammates before the doors shut behind us. "We've lots of work to do so best to get started."

He ushered us gruffly to two beds calling orders to the flurry of nurses and technicians in the room. I honestly had no idea the medical staff was so large, but there seemed to be people coming out of the proverbial woodwork, which is no small feat considering there is no wood on Atlantis. "As soon as you finish the blood samples on Sheppard, I want him in the MRI, McKay to follow immediately after." He walked up behind the nurse taking my blood pressure, frowning at the blue residue on my arms. "What's this then?"

I started to pull out the thermometer that had just been shoved in my mouth, but Rodney answered him. "Dried ectoplasmic goo." Beckett gave him a shocked look.

"We've been slimed," I told him around the thermometer.

Rodney shook his head. "My God, Carson, how the hell should we know what it is? We woke up in tanks coated with the stuff."

"You were in tanks?"

"Yes, big glass ones and evidently this stuff was filling all the ancillary space in and around us."

"You ingested it then?"

"Ingested, inhaled, God it seemed to be coming out of everywhere." Rodney shuddered. "I don't even want to think about what's going to happen when I have to pee."

Beckett frowned then called out, "Michaels, samples, now." A technician appeared with tiny glass jars and tweezers and started pulling flakes from our arms and hair. "And I'll want samples of the other, as well, when the time comes," he told us flatly.

Several hours later, we were still unshowered and still under guard. Beckett sat at his desk, studying the images from our medical scans. He reached for something and for the third time in the past hour knocked over his coffee cup. "Bloody hell!" There was no denying it, the man and his entire staff were on pins and needles.

The effect was rubbing off on me and McKay, as well, and we both jumped with the exclamation. "Carson, I am about to crawl out of my skin both literally and figuratively," Rodney told him. "I look like a damned Smurf with the mange and my nerves have reached their last synapse. Now either tell us what is going on with us so we can take a shower or sedate me into oblivion so I don't have to listen to you scream 'bloody hell' again."

Carson picked up his laptop and stormed over to where we sat on the beds. "I'm going to show you something, you cheeky little bastard. Do you see this?" He showed us an image of what appeared to be a scan of internal organs covered by bulbous growths.

"Are those…?" I started with a grimace but he cut me off.

"Tumors, lots and lots of tumors growing all over Rodney's insides. And this one, Major, is yours." He pushed a button and the image changed to one a little less disturbing, but just barely.

"Those are in us, now?" I felt nauseas as I asked the question.

"No, this was from two days ago. So far, the scans I've run on you today are clear." McKay and I both let out sighs of relief.

"Carson, we weren't here two days ago." I told him.

He drew in a deep breath and pointed a shaking finger in my face. "I honestly don't know who was or wasn't in here two days ago. All I do know is that for the past three weeks all I have done is run tests and more tests on one John Sheppard and one Rodney McKay. I have had to deal with the fact that both John and Rodney were dying and there was nothing as a physician or friend that I could do except give pain killers and compassion, and in the process deplete my personal reserve of energy and the mission's reserve of morphine. Then, this morning I had to wake up to find that Rodney had gone and blown his brains out and John had skulked off to die like a wounded dog. Now, you will forgive me if I don't give a flying fuck about your desire to shower. You will sit there and submit to every test I can dream up until I'm convinced you are who you say you are and are not going to repeat history on me. Do I make myself clear?"

"Blew his brains out?" Rodney had paled to a weak shade of sky blue.

"I guess that makes two of us," I mumbled.

Carson's eyes widened as he realized he had just told us how the other McKay had ended up in the morgue and that I had just told him how the other Sheppard had come to his end. He sighed and shook his head. "I'm sorry, lads, that was uncalled for. It's just been a little stressful around here lately and I don't see it changing any time soon. I don't want you leaving the infirmary, but you can use the showers in the back."

He turned to return to his office and Rodney stopped him with what was to become his mantra for the next week. "Carson, those two, they weren't us."

He regarded us with weary, sad eyes. "Well, they sure had me fooled."

The door to her office opens and Kate Heightmeyer welcomes us in with a smile. "Doctor, Major, thank you for coming."

I smile back. "Not like we had much choice."

She motions to two chairs then takes her own. "I can understand your hesitance, Major, but I think that if you give this a chance it could be very beneficial."

"I keep trying to tell him the same thing, Doctor," McKay informs her, although he has done no such thing. The only thing he has told me is that he gets his kicks trying to head shrink the shrink and seeing as he was preshrunk as a kid that probably won't be too hard in this case. The man most likely has logged more clinical session time than Heightmeyer herself.

"Please, call me Kate, I prefer to keep things a little more informal."

"Well, then, Kate, call me Rodney." She smiles with a nod then turns to me expectantly.

"I'm kind of partial to Major, myself."

The smile never fades, "Very well, Major, whatever makes you comfortable."

Watching her, I can't help but wonder if someone opened a hair salon on Atlantis while I wasn't looking. If not, it's pretty obvious that she managed to smuggle in more than one personal item, including a Mary Kay makeover kit like my Aunt Audrey used to haul around in that pink caddy of hers and a curling iron with one hell of a universal adaptor. Seeing as I had never seen an electrical outlet in the city, that was down right impressive.

Now, I know a lot of people would say I'm being hypocritical when I complain about what others managed to smuggle through the gate. I would counter that they are just jealous that they weren't as resourceful as I was. I can justify everything I brought and state with complete confidence that the only true personal item I have is my copy of 'War and Peace', which, after struggling to stay awake through the first three chapters, is quickly on its way to becoming the most critically acclaimed paperweight that has ever existed. Still, everything else falls into two other categories of Non-items; consumables, such as candy bars and booze, which are technically only temporarily 'items' as they weren't meant to last indefinitely, and two-dimensional matter that technically shouldn't be considered an 'item' if it is less than one quarter inch thick. This covers my Johnny Cash poster and my Hail Mary DVD. Then of course, there are things like condoms and chocolate frosted pop-tarts, which fall under both categories.

She took out a pen and notebook bound in leather; must have justified that one with 'job related'. "So, I can only imagine how strange it has been for the two of you since your return."

"Yeah, strange is a good word to describe it."

Rodney sighs dramatically and rolls his eyes heavenward, as if looking for guidance. "You have no idea, Kate. It really gives you a sense of your own mortality and the impact you have on people. Although, the outpouring of emotions has been a little overwhelming at times."

I snort in my seat beside him and he glowers at me. "What?"

"Face it, McKay, you are eating it up."

And he was. That little cuddlefest with the butterfingered technician on the way to the infirmary may have been the first PDA Rodney experienced upon his return, but it sure as hell wasn't the last. Everywhere we went, people were coming up to us and welcoming us back. Sure I was included, as well, but in their mind's eyes I had never really died. My clone had just disappeared for a few hours then returned in the form of me. But Rodney's clone they had watched get sicker and sicker, then they had watched as the body bag with his remains had been carried out of my room.

When he had walked out of that Jumper it was, in essence, the second coming of McKay and yea, verily, all his glory spilled forth on the people and they considered it good. He would walk the halls smiling benevolently at his disciples, like a Geek god descended from some Newtonian version of heaven, to grace the masses with his presence and in effect provide living proof of a new law of dynamics: the head of a physicist will swell exponentially relative to the amount of kissing taking place on his ass. It's actually a logarithmic relationship; I can graph it for you if you like.

The only exception to this had been Zelenka, who after his initial shock wore off, realized he was no longer at the top of the scientific food chain. Evidently, the little Czech's taste of power had revived memories of his totalitarian-governed youth and he had set to ruling the science staff with an iron fist that would have had the Politburo taking notes. Rumor had it that he had actually pulled off his shoe and with Kruschevian-gusto banged it on the table at the last staff meeting, before promptly throwing it at Kavanagh. This could explain why Kavanagh was the second PDA in the hallway for Rodney. I personally had pulled the sobbing scientist off McKay by the ponytail while he chanted "Thank God!" at Rodney's quickly retreating form.

"I'm just trying to be appreciative, Major." The response is directed at me, although he is looking at Kate the entire time. "There is nothing sanctimonious in my actions."

"Rodney, I'm about a day away from commissioning the engineers to build you a goddamned Pope-mobile if you keep it up."

"You're just jealous because people obviously liked my clone better than yours."

"Your clone only got the sympathy vote because it was too inferior to last as long as mine."

Kate steps in before we can descend into an all out screaming match. "Let's talk about the clones. Major, how did you feel when you found your clone?"

Alex, I'll take 'topics I want to avoid like a screaming case of the clap' for one thousand, please. I feel the blood drain from my face but manage to mumble, "It was a little disturbing."

Now it's Rodney's turn to snort. "I would classify passing out on the floor more than being a little disturbed." He encloses the last words with air quotes then folds his arms.

That son of a bitch! That lying son of a bitch! "You lying son of a bitch!"

"So now you're denying passing out?"

"That's not what I mean and you know it."

We had left the rooms with the tanks, leaving behind as much of the blue snot as we could scrape off our bodies and a couple of pairs of socks and underwear coated in the stuff. We had only gone around one corner, searching for our way out, when we saw him.

I held up a fisted hand, effectively stopping McKay in his tracks. I raised the P90 and slowly crept down the hall toward the still form. He was sitting against the wall, eyes thankfully closed, the 9mm still held loosely in one limp hand by his side, the splatter still wet on the walls. I recognized the expedition clothing immediately and I remember thinking, damn he looks familiar why can't I remember his name. Funny thing, it was the watch, my watch, on his wrist that finally made it all come crashing home for me, and crash it did.

"Shit!" I stumbled back, trying to get as far away from him as I could and ended up against the opposite wall.

"Major?"

McKay jogged up beside me, not looking at the body until I pointed a shaking finger with a, "Holy fucking shit, that's me!"

"What?" Then he looked at the body and jumped back beside me, "Oh, my God!"

That was the wrong reaction on his part, the absolute wrong reaction, because the short, sharp breaths I had been taking only got shorter and sharper with his concurrence to my conclusion. Spots were starting to form before my eyes and I staggered into McKay.

I could feel his hands trying to grab my arms, heard him calling my name, but every time he touched me it seemed too crowded, horribly claustrophobic, like it was actually making it harder to breathe so I pushed him away and staggered back into the wall, gasping for breath.

He managed to get a hold on my shoulders and held on for dear life, even though I swatted weakly at him behind me.

"Sheppard, listen to me. That is not you. Do you hear me? That is not you. John? Oh, for Christ's sake!" He dragged me to the ground, my back to the wall, so that I was sitting opposite the body. God, if he could have made it any worse, he just had. He was sitting beside me and pushed my head between my knees. I could feel his fingers kneading into the back of my neck, working to try and calm me down. "Sheppard, you have to calm down. Breathe with me, slowly. In…..out….in….out." But it was too late, the view I had of McKay's boots blurred and the last thing I heard as I slumped unconsciously into Rodney was "Oh, hell."

I awoke for the second time that day with McKay hovering over me; he was still somewhat blue but thankfully dressed. I looked at him in confusion and started to sit up but he pushed me back down. "Major, don't move."

"Why? Is there a bee on me?" I honestly didn't remember what had happened but when people tell you not to move, it usually involves a bee. Then I realized McKay was behaving much too calmly for a bee to be anywhere in the picture. "Rodney, what's going on?"

"Do you remember anything? Where we are, what we were doing, what else might have been nearby, when you passed out?"

"I passed out?"

"Technically, you hyperventilated but the results were the same."

"What? Why in the hell would I hyperventilate?" I pushed myself up so that I was sitting and McKay placed himself directly in front of me, obviously blocking something he didn't want me to see. "Rodney, move." I pushed him to the side and saw why I had hyperventilated.

I instantly started scrambling backwards so that Rodney actually tackled me then straddled my chest, leaned forward and used his weight to pin my shoulders to the ground with his hands. "John, listen very carefully, that is not you."

"Then who the hell is it?" There was a rational part of my brain that was saying McKay was right, that there was no way that I could be lying on the floor with him sitting on my chest and at the same time be leaning against the wall with a bullet in my head. But I will be the first to tell you rational thought tends to go out the window when faced with a situation like that.

"I don't know," he admitted, "and it is creeping me out to no end. But right now, we just need to get out of here and back to Atlantis. Okay?"

I took a few deep breathes then nodded my head. "Let me up." He stood and offered a hand. I tried my best not to look at the body, but there was just something magnetic about it. For some reason, I couldn't help thinking, I really liked that watch.

Evidently I said it out loud because McKay shook his head, "You want it, then you get it."

"Oh, no, I'm not touching him."

"Well, I'm not getting it."

I shook my head, "Fine, just leave it."

We turned to leave, but I hesitated, looking back at the body. Rodney stopped a few feet ahead of me. "Major, I will get you another watch; let's just get out of here."

"It just doesn't seem right, leaving him like this."

Rodney threw up his arms. "What, so you won't take a watch off his wrist but now you want to carry him out of here?"

Now that thought made my stomach do flips. "No. Maybe. I don't know."

He turned and looked at me in frustration. "Sheppard, that is not you."

"But he's somebody."

"Major, if he were just some stranger, some random body that didn't look like you or me or anyone else you knew, would you still feel this way?"

God damn but he could get right to the heart of the matter. "You are a heartless son of a bitch, McKay."

"Why? Because I struck a nerve? Because I'm right? Because I'm trying to get us out of here and home safe? Fine, if that's the case, then I'm a heartless son of a bitch. Just consider yourself lucky that I don't plan to flaunt the fact that you passed out on me all over Atlantis. Now, let's go home."

With a last look back I joined him. "You promise you won't tell anyone that I passed out?"

"Scout's honor."

"Where you even a scout?"

"Don't be so literal, Major, it's an expression."

I glare at him in Heightmeyer's office. "Does the term 'scout's honor' mean anything to you?"

He rolls his eyes. "Major, I was never a scout."

One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi… I grit my teeth until my jaw aches. "You said it was an expression!"

He stares at me in confusion then his eyes widen. "Oh!" At least he has the decency to look abashed. "Well, it's okay, I mean doctor/patient privilege and all. Right, Kate?"

"Major Sheppard," she assures me, "your reaction was completely understandable given the situation you were in and the strain you were under. There is absolutely nothing to be ashamed of. But, yes, Rodney is correct, anything you say in here is held in strict confidence."

"No offense, but were you a scout?"

She smiles that damned calm smile of hers and I can't help but wonder if McKay is wrong about the prescriptions and she isn't dipping into the coffers now and again. "Actually, Major, I was."

I lean back in my seat. "All right, then, I'll trust you." I point a finger at McKay. "That still doesn't get you off the hook."

She turns her Prozac-laced grin to McKay. "Rodney, I understand that you also saw your clone."

He shifts uncomfortably but manages to raise his chin when he answers her. "That's right."

"Would you care to discuss it?"

Alex, same category for eight hundred, please. Seeing myself dead was bad enough, but seeing McKay on that slab the same day just about pushed me over the edge. At least we had forewarning as opposed to just stumbling on him in the hall.

After Beckett let us shower, Rodney convinced him that he should let us see the corpse. I'm not sure why. A sense of closure, a morbid sense of curiosity, a sense of being left out because I had seen my dead clone so he wanted to see his? Who knows? But Rodney persisted and against Carson's better judgment he took us and against our better judgment we followed.

Months back, we had discovered a refrigeration room on one of the lower levels. No one had figured out exactly what it had been used for. There were theories that it had been for food storage or a laboratory or even a morgue because even the Ancients had died. But regardless, we had fit the room to the purpose when we needed it, and unfortunately, we had needed it more than anyone had ever thought.

We were dressed in scrubs so that the cold air caused goose bumps to rise on my skin. Yeah, that was the reason. The body lay on a table off to one side of the room. Carson explained that he had the pathologist collecting samples so that hopefully he could better understand the disease that had been eating away at the man. McKay stopped just inside the door, seemingly unsure if he wanted to continue now that he was there. I stopped beside him, knowing I didn't want to go any further, but seeing as he had been there for me, I was intent on returning the favor.

Beckett, who was already at the table pulling back the sheet, turned to see us hanging back. "Rodney, you don't have to do this. We can go back to the infirmary right now if you like."

He shook his head, set his jaw and strided purposefully into the room, with me close on his heels. He reached the slab, turned a light shade of green and said two words. "Garbage can."

I looked at him dumbly, thinking that was an odd thing to say, but then he started repeating it and I understood. I looked frantically around the room, saw one in the corner and made a mad dash as Rodney continued to chant.

"Garbage can. Garbage can. Garbage can!"

The second the metal hit his hand, he turned and emptied his stomach of the only food he had had to eat so far that day. Damn waste of a good Snickers bar.

I placed a sympathetic hand on his back, but couldn't help and look at the corpse. Then something occurred to me. "Carson, you said he shot himself. But the entry is to the back of the head." At my words, Rodney heaved again. I patted in apology.

Beckett grimaced. "Yes, well, we think he had some help. We found him in your room, Major."

Another Snickers bar went to waste and seeing as McKay was using the only garbage can, mine went all over the floor.

Carson covered the body once more and stepped around the mess by his shoes. "Okay, then, that went about as well as I had expected. Now, let's get you two back up to the infirmary, get something more substantial in you than…hmmm Snickers, I'd say by the looks of it. And I'll get someone down here with a mop and disinfectant."

Kate reaches forward and pats McKay's knees in sympathy. "Again, a completely understandable reaction." She turns back at me. "And how did discovering that your clone had helped Rodney's clone with his suicide impact you?"

"Lost me Snickers and my quarters." She gives me a puzzled look, so I explain. "I had to move out of my room. Now, I'm two doors down from him." I hook my thumb toward McKay.

What is that dance thing that kids play? The Hokey Pokey, where you stick one foot in and one foot out? Well, that is exactly what happened when I tried to get some clothes from my room. I took one step in and immediately took one step back out. McKay didn't even make it that far; moral support my ass. Rank does have its privileges, though. A quick order to Bates and all my belongings were moved into my new digs within the hour. Ends up I could have moved in right next door to Rodney; for some reason he seems to have an entire wing of rooms to himself. But two doors down was close enough and far enough for comfort.

"Rodney, how did you feel about that revelation?"

"Well, I have to admit that it does make me a little uncomfortable to be around him sometimes; to know that he is capable of something like that."

"What!" He is absolutely unbelievable!

"Face it, Major, how would you feel if you found out your best friend was capable of shooting you in the back of the head?"

"About as comfortable as I feel practically living next door to a person with a history of planting bombs under beds."

Kate looks down at her leather notebook and jots down some notes. Rodney takes advantage of the distraction to flash me a quick smile and a wink. A wink! A goddamned wink! Okay, fine, he wants to play, then let's play.

"Especially one who can't seem to keep his hands off of me." Well, my little comment certainly gets Heightmeyer's attention.

"Would you care to elaborate, Major?" By the somewhat flushed look on her face, I suddenly fear that she might be a closet slash fanatic and I may have just dug myself a very deep hole.

The first time I woke up with Rodney hovering over me, he had been slimy, blue, and naked. Believe me, that was a first for me.

"Major, can you hear me?" He wiped at a drop of goop that was dripping down his chin and flung it away.

I tried to take a breath to answer him, but found I couldn't; breathe that was. My arms flailed out and he put a hand on my shoulder. "Give it a second. Evidently this stuff is in our lungs. It needs to desiccate some to make room for the air."

Not that it stopped the flailing, but he was right. A few seconds later I was able to pull in a small breath and cough up a gallon of what could only be described as Smurf loogies. After an eternity of emptying my lungs of the stuff, I sat and spit as much as I could out of my mouth. Let me tell you, it did not taste as blueberry as it looked. It was sweet and salty, like double strength Gatorade and was turning my stomach. Ends up my stomach was full of the stuff, as well, as I learned soon enough.

After finishing flushing my system as best my body was able, I turned to McKay gulping air. "What…the fuck…is going…on?"

"Absolutely no clue. Last thing I remember is searching for an entrance in the grass. Next thing I know I'm waking up in a tank covered in primordial ooze."

"You are nude and slimy," I told him matter-of-factly.

"Yes, so are you."

"You are nude and slimy and you are touching me while I am nude and slimy."

He jumped back in realization that his hand was still on my shoulder. "Sorry!" He pointed to a dark lump on the floor. "You're pack is over there, do you have anything in there we can, uh, cover ourselves with?"

I stood and almost slipped in the puddle of goop on the floor. He reached out a hand to catch me then pulled it away quickly when I stared pointedly at it on my arm. I made it to the pack and opened it. When I saw the contents, I looked at the outside more closely. Yep, it's mine, but this was not what I brought on the mission.

I pulled out my gun and extra clips and the GDO. Next I found two Snickers. I tossed one to Rodney who mumbled a quick "thank you," before tearing into the candy. I knew what he meant as I was starving myself and I ripped open the wrapper with my teeth before continuing to unpack. There were also MRE's and water and I put those aside; McKay needed the quick sugar fix first and I probably did as well. Finally, I came to two sets of clothes; one for me and one for Rodney. I handed his across and he frowned.

"Do you always carry an extra set of clothes for me in your pack?"

"No, I don't. Whoever packed this, and it wasn't me, knew we would them."

He looked back at the pack in longing. "I don't suppose they packed a towel as well."

I shook my head, wishing for the same thing. Something needed to be sacrificed in order to get the slime off before I put the clothes on. "Guess I can go without a shirt," I offered and started to unfold it and wipe down.

"My God, you really do have a Kirk complex; any excuse to walk around without a shirt on. No, I have no desire to hose down all the women and half the men on Atlantis. You can use mine, I'll go without."

"And traumatize everyone as they are blinded by the light reflecting off your Celticly pale self? I never knew white actually came in a Day-Glo shade. I don't think so."

He frowned at my comment. "I'm very sensitive to the sun. I burn like a dry twig. Which begs the question, how are you so tan, with no tan lines, mind you?"

So, I've found a nice little dock that nobody frequents? I'm entitled to some me time, too. But no need to let McKay know that. I glared at him. "You are still nude and slimy and you are looking at me way too closely while I am still nude and slimy."

He dropped his eyes to his pile of clothes. "Socks and underwear," he offered as a solution. "We can go…commando, so to speak."

I nodded my head in agreement, "Commando it is," and we proceeded to scrape as much ooze off our bodies as we could. Once we were dressed, I handed Rodney the 9mm and took up the P90 and we set off in search of an exit.

"Major?" I realize Kate is still looking at me expectantly. "I asked if you would care to elaborate."

I clear my throat and lean back in my seat. "No." She seems disappointed and I decide to throw her a bone. "Just suffice it to say that for someone who seems very possessive of his own personal space, he tends to spend a lot of time in mine."

McKay huffs beside me. "You wish."

"And just what is that supposed to mean?"

He turns and stares at me with a sneer. "Just what exactly did you do at Mardi Gras, Major?"

I feel the heat in my face. I open my mouth once, close it. "When?… How?…" I open and close my mouth once again. I turn to look at Heightmeyer who has her head tilted quizzically to the side. I swear to God I can see the excitement in her eyes. "That's it, I'm out of here." I stand and storm from the room.

Behind me, I can hear Kate calling, "Major, please, we're not finished yet."

I don't answer as I take long, purposeful steps down the corridor. I pass Weir and Zelenka outside the cafeteria. The scientist has her up against the wall and is giving her his opinion of Rodney's mental state. "He is still unstable, yes? Impossible to trust at this time. Could risk entire expedition if he is to continue as scientific lead. I understand your dilemma and am willing to step in to position for as long as there is need. It will be great burden on my own research, but I am willing to sacrifice for righteous cause. I understand it could take some time, month, years even, before he is fully recovered…"

Elizabeth gives me a pleading look as I pass and normally I might have helped her out. However, given that it is her fault that I was sent to see Heightmeyer in the first place, she's shit out of luck. If I'm not mentally competent enough to go on a mission, then I'll be damned if I'm mentally competent enough to rescue her from a power-grubbing Czech.

I continue on to my room, my new room, situated right down the damned hall from my former best friend. My weasley little no good piece of shit former best friend. I think the door open, think it slammed shut behind me, and plop down on my bed.

No more than two minutes passes before there is a knock. "Sheppard, let me in."

"Go away. I'm no longer speaking to you."

"For how long? Because if you think you'll be over this in a few hours, I may just go grab some lunch and come back."

"Forever."

"You know this is futile, Major. All I need to do is go down to my room, grab a penlight and some wire cutters and I'll be in there in about fifteen seconds."

"Try it," I threaten. "I dare you."

"You said it yourself; I have no problem invading your personal space, what's a door and empty threats compared to that?"

I lay there for a second, contemplating my options. He speaks again. "I have a present for you."

I sigh, knowing he isn't going to go away, and think the door open. He walks in and sits in the desk chair. "Greedy bastard. I knew that would get me in."

"Rodney, I am so incredibly pissed off at you right now that you could honestly be in physical danger right where you sit. And seeing as I have already been found mentally imbalanced following that little stunt you just pulled, I would have no problem pleading insanity as a defense."

"Here, I bring a peace offering." He tosses a watch at me. "Courtesy of Radek."

"You took Zelenka's watch?"

"God, no. Believe me; you wouldn't want it, anyway. I think he got it out of a Happy Meal. Hello Kitty or Power Puff Girls, something like that."

I chuckle, thinking of the iron fist of Comrade Zelenka slamming down with a kitten and pink bow on the wrist. "So, where did it come from?"

"Kavanagh, actually. I was raiding his lab looking for parts to build you one and when he found out what I was doing he was so grateful Radek isn't in charge anymore that he gave me his. It's nice, Swiss. I almost kept it for myself."

"You were really going to make me a watch?"

He shrugs. "If I didn't you would just be pestering me the entire time we are on missions to know what time it is."

"Yeah, like we're ever going to go on anymore missions after that session."

He flicks his hand. "Don't worry; I'll work it out with Kate. She owes me anyway. How do you think she got that curling iron of hers to synch up with the Atlantean power system?"

I knew it! Then it dawns on me, he wasn't playing mind games with the shrink, he was playing mind games with me. "You did that on purpose, didn't you? You don't want us to return to duty."

He sighs and leans forward in his chair. "Major, if we were given clearance today, where would be the first place you would want to go?"

I clasp the watch on my wrist… it really is nice… then let out my own sigh, knowing Rodney already knows the answer I'm about to give. "Back to the planet to recover his body."

"I've said it many times before, but it evidently bears repeating. That is not you in that hallway."

"I know, I know, I know, but he is too much like me, it feels like me."

"Oh, and you think you are the only one waking up in the middle of the night convinced it really is you? Do you know how many times I've actually broken out my life signs detector just to reassure myself that there is actually a blinking dot two doors down?"

"Can I get one of those permanently assigned to me?" After our little trip to the morgue, I wasn't just dreaming about being dead myself.

"Talk to Kavanagh, tell him I sent you. At this point, he would probably cut out a kidney with a soldering iron and hand it over if I asked him."

"Knowing that we're alive doesn't change the fact that he is still back there."

"John, if we really were talking about you being back on that planet and I had any say in the matter, I swear, you would be brought back."

"Then what's the difference?"

"Because now this is you we are talking about and I do have a say in the matter." I give him a puzzled look and he continues. "We don't know who took us or why or if they are still a risk. But one minute we were standing in a grass field and the next we were marinating in goo, and if it hadn't been for our clones, we would still be there. It is just too dangerous to go back."

"Doesn't he deserve to be brought back for saving us?"

"Yes, he does," he concedes then leans back. "And if you feel so strongly about it, send someone to bring him back. Anyone except yourself."

"Why not me?"

"Because for some unknown reason, General O'Neill only saw fit to send one Colonel and one Major on this expedition, and we've already lost the Colonel and I have no intention of losing the Major. We have this tiny smattering of officers while there are enlisted all over the place. You can't walk without stepping on a Sergeant, it's like someone spilled a bucket of plastic army men, for Pete's sake."

"They're marines, not army."

"Yes, yes, the few, the proud, the terrible dull and exhaustingly tedious. The point is, they would be lost without you, and so would I."

"McKay, I'm touched."

"Please, don't take it so personally, I just executed a bloodless coup to reassert my position as Head Science Advisor, I need strong military backing in case Radek decides to strike a counteroffensive. By the way, I would watch your own back; I saw he had Ford cornered on the way over here, telling him something about Captain Ford and how a second silver bar would set off his eyes."

"Ford wouldn't try anything. He's too scared of what Teyla would do to him if he did."

He leans forward in his seat again, fixing me with those eyes of his. "So, go on, tell me. Who are you going to send? Whose life are you going to risk to bring back a dead body?"

God damned smart ass. He's right; I wouldn't risk sending anyone else. "No one," I admit.

"And if I get us cleared to return to duty, you're not going to try and sneak off on your own?"

"No."

"Good, I'll talk to Kate and remove the alarm from your door after lunch."

"Liar. There's no alarm on my door and you know it."

He shrugs. "Not that you can hear anyway."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Sheppard, I just dumped a weeks worth of wet dream material in Heightmeyer's lap by suggesting that you have had to evoke the 'don't ask, don't tell' policy at some point in your past. I went to all that trouble just to keep you from leaving the city. Do you really think I'm beyond using a simple silent alarm to keep track of you?"

That reminds me and I lean over and peek under my bed, relieved to find no bombs. "Just checking," I tell him when he furrows his brow. I stand and look at the watch once more. "It's nice. Thanks."

He hitches his head toward the door, "Let's go, its lunch time. I need you to pre-taste my food in case Radek got his hands on some lemons."

I fall into step beside him and we make our way to the cafeteria. Ends up I had been right when I thought he had been playing head games with me, but I find that I really don't mind so much. If someone's going to go tip-toeing around my subconscious, it might as well be my best friend. After all, he has been preshrunk, like a comfortable pair of jeans, the type you're willing to pay a little extra for because they last forever, which is a good thing, because once you have them, you never want to give them up.

(A/N Part 3 to come!)