The Puppet Master

Chapter Four - He's Not the Messiah

They were half an hour through the movie and McKay was still conspicuous only through his absence. Sheppard had saved him a spot on the couch, but the room was unusually crowded and he was now being squeezed out by Carson and Ford. Teyla sat upright on a beanbag, Zen-esque, whilst Zelenka and a couple of scientists whose names Sheppard couldn't place had pulled up a bench from the mess hall and were now lounging against the wall. Elizabeth had joined them several minutes in and had failed to find a seat – even after attempting to order Sheppard to give up his. She now sat on the floor beside Teyla, her face lit by the screen above her.

"I do not understand," Teyla professed, for the sixth or seventh time that night. "Is he not a god in your religion?"

"Yes."

"Sort of."

"Not to me."

"Son of, actually."

Teyla frowned deeply. "He is not your god?"

There was a splutter from one of the scientists. "Not by a long way. Now Cleese, maybe."

"Ignore them," Carson said, the only one with the patience to continue explaining the plot. "They're being deliberately pedantic, the idiots."

"Ah." She nodded, but did not seem particularly enlightened. "Then this character is not your Messiah?"

"No," the same scientists spluttered, "He's a very naughty –"

"It's a parody," Elizabeth explained, interrupting. "The humour comes from people thinking he is."

"Then your people find blasphemy funny?"

"Some of us," said Ford, who had had no say in the choice of movie.

"Where is McKay?" Zelenka broke in, in an ill-disguised attempt to change the subject. "I would think he would not want to miss this."

"I thought you'd be able to tell me," Sheppard replied, shifting in his chair to look back at the Czech. "He wasn't in the lab?"

Zelenka shook his head. "I have barely seen him. We were supposed to be working on the items retrieved from M4P-278 but instead he had me repairing one of the outlying transporters for the afternoon."

"No talking of work during movie night," Elizabeth scolded, caught up in the film.

"Sorry." Sheppard pushed himself up off the couch, Carson and Aiden quickly spreading out into the space. "I'll see if I can find him."

"Don't be long," Elizabeth advised from her position on the floor, "or you'll miss the best bit."

He waved at her, "I've seen it," then slipped out of the door.

The corridors of Atlantis were unusually empty. The night had been dubbed Saturday, despite the lack of reference. Bates had organized a regular poker tournament, now in its second round in the mess hall. There was an informal bar set up by a couple of scientists which moved location in an attempt to avoid Weir's eye, though Sheppard knew the effort was pointless, since Elizabeth had already chosen to ignore the transgression. Then there were the increasing number of couples using the night to know each other better – a habit Sheppard encouraged, whilst restraining his own simmering jealousy. That left the skeleton crew manning the control room, and the few who continued to work.

Sheppard reached the lab, considered knocking, then decided against it and opened the door. A small Japanese woman almost toppled from her chair in shock, grabbing the bench in time to stop her backward descent.

"Sorry," he said quickly, raising his hands and looking around the otherwise empty lab. "Didn't mean to startle you. Is Doctor McKay here?"

The woman blinked owlishly at him from behind bottle sized glasses, then shook her head rapidly without saying a word.

"Oh. Seen him?"

Another violent shake of her head as she flushed, the tips of her ears turning scarlet.

"Right." He hesitated, caught off guard by the big brown eyes staring at him intently. He suddenly knew what it felt like to be a lion startling a young antelope. "Ah," he gestured at the bench, "good work, carry on."

She bobbed her head several times then turned back to the bench, seemingly to their mutual relief. He left her behind, heading back out into the corridor and wondering whether any of the scientists came stranger than her.

The door to McKay's quarters was locked, failing to open as Sheppard approached. He knocked on the surface then with one thought flipped the switch. It slid open soundlessly.

"Holy crap."

The room was empty of life – although it was hard to be certain given the volume of material scattered across the small room. Clothes and papers were strewn across all available surfaces, including the floor. A t-shirt hung over a chair, a pile of mismatched socks at its base. The sheets were torn from the bed, save the bottom which clung to the mattress despite dishevelled creases. The contents of the trash can – a half eaten power bar, some empty wrappers, several screwed up balls of paper – lay in a heap beside the overturned container. The room's appearance suggested it had been personally trashed but, disarmingly, in the centre of the unmade bed sat McKay's laptop. Its screen flickered, casting shadows onto the mattress.

Picking his way across the floor carefully, Sheppard reached the bed and turned the laptop towards him. On its monitor was displayed a schematic of the control room, and to the side a list of files and folders relating to the layout of Atlantis. There was nothing to explain the state of the room, or its owner's disappearance.

Sheppard straightened, working out the kinks in his neck. "Jeez, McKay. I knew you lived in a sty but this is taking it to new levels."

He paused, lingering indecisively. Thought for a moment and tapped into the city's communication system. "Grodin, this is Sheppard."

There was a slight pause before he heard a British accent. "Major Sheppard. What can I do for you?"

"Working late?"

"For the next hour. Then I might take in the poker game. I believe Sergeant Bates is playing Lieutenant Forman tonight."

"So I hear." He lifted his hand to work at the muscles in his shoulders. "McKay hasn't been past you, has he?"

"Not during my shift, no."

"Oh." His shoulders slumped, hand dropping to his side. "Never mind. Thanks." He mentally toggled the off switch, then considered the room. Tried to think of other places the scientist could be and came up empty.

After several more moments he decided to give up the chase. Grabbing a pen from the desk and a sheet of clean paper, he scrawled a quick note: 'Watching MP in sofa room. Drop by. Bring snacks.' Then placed it atop the computer keyboard in the knowledge that it would be the first thing McKay would see upon returning to the room.

Three hours deeper into the evening, and two films later there was still no sign of the scientist.