3.
Sheppard was pissed. He wasn't exactly sure of the time because his memory of the trip to Hoff was gone, but by his reckoning, he'd been stuck in the infirmary for at least three days. Three days! Beckett had mentioned overnight observation, and he'd agreed, reluctantly, but not to three days, with no end in sight. Every time he brought up being released, Beckett had mentioned another test he needed to run.
Finally, when Sheppard had decided enough was enough, he was going to leave with or without permission, the guards showed up. He wasn't sure how Beckett knew, but Sheppard understood the message. He wasn't going anywhere. He alternated between playing space invaders, a game that wasn't exactly stimulating on a good day, and glaring ineffectively at the guards. McKay had stopped visiting because he didn't want to continue bearing the brunt of Sheppard's irritation. Beckett stopped in only long enough to order another test.
He was becoming convinced that a lot of these tests were repeats. He wasn't sick, so what was the hold up? He shoved the laptop off his thighs, caring only enough that it didn't fall off the bed. Damn, but he was bored, and irritated. He closed his eyes, and just thought. He was lying on the bed, and he could feel the weight of the computer against his right hip. The warmth from the machine bled into his skin. He was wearing the scrubs, albeit a fresh pair, and it reduced him to using a blanket. They always kept infirmaries cold. Still, a stubborn streak kept the blanket only to his waist, and the goose bumps on his arms betrayed his discomfort.
He folded his arms, refusing to draw the blanket higher. He was trying to fall asleep, hoping to pass the time faster. They couldn't keep him here forever, could they? A sound to his left drew his eyes open, and he saw Beckett walking in. Beckett, who saw Sheppard's eyes focus on him, and Sheppard could see the doctor fought against turning tail and running.
"Don't you dare," threatened Sheppard, forestalling his attempted retreat.
Beckett paused, barely past the threshold. "Dare what?"
"Leave," Sheppard said, knowing that Beckett knew full well what he meant. "I want out of here, now." He swung his legs, away from the computer on his right, and stood firmly. "I've waited. I've submitted to all the tests." He stalked closer to Beckett, who shrunk back. "Enough is enough, I want to go to my quarters, Beckett. My bed. My room."
Beckett winced. He knew the Colonel was losing his patience, but he thought he could put him off for another day. Teyla hadn't reported in since her confrontation with the Chancellor. She'd stayed on Hoff, wanting to do some questioning on her own, and Caldwell had agreed. She hoped to find a weak link to expose whatever the conspiracy was against Sheppard, or maybe the people of Atlantis. The problem with that was that it left Sheppard stuck here, and growing increasingly weary with being a lab rat.
Sheppard wasn't finished with his rant. Pent up frustration bled out into the shortening distance between them. "I've been poked, prodded, pinched, and other things I prefer not to think about ever again. I-want-out." He enunciated the last three words slowly.
Beckett figured the best defense was a good offense. He gritted his teeth, and begged his mother for forgiveness for any potential lies and exaggerations. "And do what, Colonel? Spread any unknown contagion to the rest of the city? Or maybe they've planted a little program in your mind, and as soon as you're alone, you'll set a bomb in the chariot room?" Beckett approached Sheppard, and grabbed a hold of the Colonel's arm while Sheppard remained stunned by Beckett's unusual harshness, guiding him back to his bed. "Son, I realize this is frustrating for you; it isn't any easier for the rest of us. Rodney won't visit you again until you promise to apologize for the boot incident. You've got to be patient," remonstrated Beckett.
Sheppard allowed himself to be led back to his bed, but there he pulled his arm free. "I have been patient," he gritted back. "If it were a contagion, Atlantis would quarantine me."
Beckett shook his head, losing a measure of the sternness. "Only if it were a contagion it recognized."
"You're not wearing a Haz-Mat suit," Sheppard continued logically.
Beckett was standing toe-to-toe with Sheppard, and he knew the man wasn't backing down. He sighed, slipping his hands in the pockets of his lab coat. He dipped his head, "All right. I see what I can do," he offered. "But, you stay put until I get back to you, understand?"
Sheppard nodded, and even hopped back on the bed as a gesture of his compliance. "Tell McKay I'm sorry for the boot," he added. He really did miss the company.
Beckett grunted something that resembled a yes, before he left. After he was gone, Sheppard wondered what Beckett had been on his way to do before he'd waylaid the Doctor.
"It's standard to apologize to the person you've offended, not relay it third party," lectured McKay, as he walked into the infirmary.
Sheppard grinned, and closed the laptop. "That only works when the offended has enough guts to return to the scene of the crime."
McKay shrugged, and dropped onto the bed near Sheppard. "Would you risk bodily harm again?" He was smiling slightly, letting Sheppard know there wasn't a grudge being kept.
"Please, it's your fault anyway."
"How do you figure?"
Sheppard looked innocently at his pair of combat boots on the floor, next to a chair by his bed. "I told you to duck," he stated.
"Right," McKay snapped a finger into his palm. "I walk innocently into the infirmary, wanting to check on my dear friend, hear someone shout duck, and next thing I know I'm flat on my ass," he grouched. "Carson said it was possibly a mild concussion, you know."
Sheppard put on his best commiserating look. "I heard," he whispered solemnly.
They fell into an awkward quiet, and McKay studied him.
"So, are you all…"
"Where's Teyla…"
They both started at the same time, stopping together. Sheppard chuckled, "You first."
"Just wondered if you'd spun your head three times, or projectile vomited over the guards yet," said McKay.
"Oh, that's funny," deadpanned Sheppard. "I take back my apology."
McKay's lips twitched into a grin. It had been a joke, and they both knew it, but the underlying tension was that everyone was worried something had been done to Sheppard. It was like waiting in the calm before the storm.
"I'm not programmed, or brainwashed," Sheppard said. He knew what everyone was thinking. He had seen the furtive looks thrown his way by the guards, and the infirmary personnel.
"How would you know?" retorted McKay. "Seriously, isn't that the point?"
Sheppard didn't have a good answer, so he gave McKay the only one he could give. "I would know."
Before McKay could argue the validity of his claim, McKay's radio emitted a thick accented voice. "Rodney, you are needed in your lab. There is an annoying…" they both heard a burst of foreign swearing before Zelenka came back. "Come now," Radek said irritably.
McKay stared into the empty space above Sheppard's head, counting to ten. He took a deep breath, and stood up. "I've got to go," he said reluctantly.
"I heard, sounds like fun."
McKay grimaced. "Why do you think I came down here?"
Sheppard smiled at the look of suffering painted across McKay's features. "That bad?"
"You have no idea. Ever since Caldwell arrived, Kavanagh has been 'Colonel Caldwell' this and 'Colonel Caldwell' that. Half the people in the lab are ready to toss Kavanagh overboard, and the other half, Caldwell, just because of guilt by association." McKay frowned as he took in Sheppard's disappointment. Sheppard was trying to pretend it didn't matter, but wasn't doing a very convincing job of it. "I'll come back when I get this smoothed over, no throwing boots, though."
"Scout's honor," Sheppard promised, crossing his fingers against his chest.
McKay looked ready to make a smart-ass reply about him being a boy scout when Radek came back on the radio and started shouting that Kavanagh was going to inadvertently blow up Atlantis if McKay didn't get down there and stop the…well…some Czech swear word. "Go," Sheppard prodded.
McKay sighed, and left, but he offered a dirty look at the guards for Sheppard's sake. He didn't agree with the order to keep Sheppard penned up in the infirmary. He'd argued with Elizabeth, but the order had come from Caldwell, and the buck stopped there. Colonel Caldwell was about as yielding as the Trinium iris they'd had back in the SGC.
Sheppard watched him leave, and picked the laptop back up, and slid it across his lap, lifting the lid. His game of space invaders flashed GAME OVER. He clicked the drop down menu option for start new game, and began punching the buttons half-heartedly.
"It's been three days, how much longer do you want to keep him confined?" asked Elizabeth. She was staring down the Colonel in his new office. Beckett had been in to see her earlier, arguing Sheppard's case. Sheppard wanted out, and she agreed with Beckett; it was time. For three days he'd been confined, observed, tested, and everything had come back normal.
Colonel Caldwell was sitting in his chair, and returning Elizabeth's hard look right back at her. "Doctor Weir, what would happen if he was programmed? What happens if he leaves that infirmary, and slips loose, only to sabotage the computer system?" asked Caldwell harshly. "You told me yourself that Colonel Sheppard has the most advanced ability using the ATA tech in the city. It would seem to me, that letting him loose, poses a potential danger until we know for certain that nothing was done to him."
Elizabeth folded her arms in frustration, and continued to stand in front of the Colonel's desk. "That's just it, we don't know. You can't expect him to stay confined to the infirmary indefinitely!"
"Teyla is investigating…"
"And that could take days," she interrupted. "Please, let him go. We can keep guards on him."
Caldwell contemplated her offer. "I don't want him to know," he said.
She nodded, surprised at how easy had given in. "Done." It was only after she agreed that she realized it must have been what he wanted from the beginning. She'd been manipulated. She narrowed her eyes, and watched him.
He regarded her coolly, not giving an inch. "Is there anything else, Doctor Weir?"
"No, Colonel," she replied. But inwardly she thought he was a sneaky bastard, and knew she'd need to be careful in the future. Caldwell had his own agendas.
He was waiting for her to leave. She turned sharply, and left, unsettled despite getting what she wanted. At the very least, she'd managed to get Sheppard released. Beckett would be relieved. Now she could only hope that none of them regretted it.
"You can go," Beckett beamed as he announced the news to Sheppard.
Sheppard sat up groggily from the bed. "Go?" he repeated. He realized the computer was tilted off to the side, and the GAME OVER was flashing again. He propped himself up on his elbow, and rubbed a hand over his eyes, trying to wake up. He must have drifted off.
Beckett peered at him with a concerned look, and Sheppard shook off the last bits of sleep. "Go, right," he said hastily. He shoved himself up, shutting the computer off and closing the lid without doing the proper shutdown. He wasn't going to give Beckett time to make any other excuse for him to stay.
Beckett nodded slowly. "But," he held a finger up. "Make sure you are back here tomorrow morning, and Colonel, you are not released to duty yet."
He'd take it. Not perfect, but better than staying here. He shrugged out of the top, and noticed Beckett was still watching him. "Do you mind?"
Beckett rolled his eyes. "Like I haven't seen it before," he said dryly. He'd seen a lot more of Sheppard than probably Sheppard's own mother, especially after that incident with the tic-wraith.
"Probably, but all the same…"
Beckett shoved his hands into his pockets. "Fine, call if you need me," he said, leaving reluctantly. Now that he'd successfully wrangled Sheppard's release, he found himself oddly worried at seeing the Colonel go. What if he'd missed something? He shook his head; he'd gone over everything he could with a fine toothcomb. As far as any test they had, Sheppard was fine.
Sheppard finished shucking the scrubs, relieved to pull on his own clothes, even if he was only going to his quarters and changing into a clean uniform. He buckled his belt, and sat in the chair, pulling on his boots. As he tied off the last string and tucked it into the sides, he felt a lump against his leg.
His hand slipped into his pocket, and he palmed the vial. He stood up, and headed out of the infirmary, his change of uniform forgotten. He didn't notice the guards break away from the door and follow behind him.
