A/N: Sorry about the unintentional cliffy in the last chapter. Technical error! Which was fixed, but not before a few people got very confused... sorry!
The Puppet Master
Chapter Ten - Breaking
Her short term as commander of Stargate Command had left Elizabeth with a new found respect for General Hammond. She had needed all her diplomatic skills to negotiate the minefield of a relationship between the SGC and the civilian government funding it, and had invented new ones to handle the Russians, the Chinese, and the Tok'ra. She had signed mandates, authorized transfers, read mission briefings and even picked out the exact shade of gray with which to repaint the weapons storage lockers. Even the lunch menu needed her approval.
She had hoped that in the Pegasus galaxy, light years from a single bureaucrat or filing cabinet, there would be less paperwork.
If anything there seemed to be more. Any trivial matter could become a problem. Now the lunch menus needed not only approving, but also several months of planning, diplomacy, fake smiles, trade agreements, and even an array of cultural dances before the main course was detailed. Bureaucracy found its way into the most backward of societies and if dealing with alien politics wasn't enough of a problem, she then had the internal strife of a city divided between civilian and military.
There was always too much work. Too many people demanding her attention, and too many items on her populated 'to do' list.
And yet, for the past twenty minutes, she had done little but sit and stare at the report open on her desk. Kate's report on McKay's psychological development from his first day stationed at Antarctica to her last meeting with him. His medical files. Recently scrawled notes from Kavanagh and a neatly typed memo from Carson detailing a prescription for sleeping pills.
And an e-mail from Dr Zelenka on her computer screen, only minutes old. He'd detailed, briefly, an accident that had occurred during a routine repair job, promising her a full report once all injuries had been dealt with, and admitting that he feared McKay was 'behaving not as himself.'
Her hand hovered over her keyboard, torn between a response and a message of her own to Kate.
"Why did you ground me?"
He stood in the doorway, pale and apparently wet through, his uniform covered in large dark patches, his hair plastered to his head.
Elizabeth dropped her hand from the keyboard and looked at McKay in shock. "What happened?"
"It's raining. Why did you ground me?"
She winced, and gestured at the spare chair. "Come in, and shut the door."
McKay stepped forward, closing the door behind him but refusing to take a seat. He started to pace the short distance from one wall to the other, rubbing at a wound on his hand and moving his head in short, jerky shakes.
"You l-lied to me. You and Sheppard. Beckett too. And Teyla and Ford? They must know. The whole city. Nuts, that's what you've told them."
"Rodney." She tried not to sound as alarmed as she felt, watching him move with violent energy around her office. The reports from Kate, the warning from Zelenka, the signs in his files – nothing had prepared her for the stranger before her. Shambling, pale faced, trembling, looking at her with paranoia and fear. "It's not like that."
"No? The truth. That's what I want. You have to be straight with me."
"Alright," she agreed, soothingly. "We're worried about you, Rodney. You've not been acting like yourself lately and we decided it would be better if you not go on the mission."
"Who?" McKay glanced at her. "You and who?"
"Myself and Major Sheppard. We decided it would be better to delay the mission for another couple of days. You need some rest."
"Rest?" He gave a gurgled laugh. "Like I can."
"I could speak to Dr. Zelenka," she suggested, gently. "I'm sure he could –"
He shook his head, quickly. "That would make things easy for you. Get them all in, take over, get rid of me. And who else, hmm? Who else is in this cover-up?"
"No one," she insisted. "Rodney, there's no conspiracy."
"You lied," he challenged, raising his voice to a sharp yell.
She flinched, and hated herself for it. Had to force herself to lean forward. "Perhaps we didn't choose the right way to go about it, but we were trying to help you. I'm sorry if you feel –"
"Sorry? Help?" McKay shook his head more violently. "Right. Eyes on me, everywhere I go. You and Sheppard, Heightmeyer, Zelenka, Teyla, lying and plotting."
Elizabeth rose from her seat, struggling to find the words with which to placate him. "You wouldn't normally say things like this, Rodney. Surely you can see that. You know we're only concerned because of your recent behavior –"
"I can't keep it straight," he snapped, ignoring her movement towards him. "All this stuff in my head. You say you're helping me and he says it's true, that you wouldn't lie to us but I don't believe him –"
"Who, Rodney?" she asked, confused.
He ignored her, muttering to himself as he paced. "Not like I can trust him. Can't remember what's mine and what's not. It's confusing," and he looked at her with sudden resentment, "and you all want to lock me up, just like before, just like they did, and I know he's afraid of that, afraid you'll lock him up and forget and," his voice raised to a shout: "So am I!"
"We won't." She reached out with one hand, hesitantly. "We wouldn't forget."
Her touch on his arm seemed to ground him and the pacing finally ceased. McKay stood still for a moment, breathing heavily, and Elizabeth could feel him shaking under the wet cloth of the uniform.
She took a step forward, closing the distance between them, and said, softly: "Rodney –"
His hand shot up and latched around her throat, whilst the other pressed against her chest and forced her to stagger backwards, pressing her against the wall. She choked, struggling to breathe as the weight on her neck increased, crushing her windpipe painfully.
Managed one word, a desperate plea as she pushed out all the air she had in a whisper: "Rodney –"
The grip on her throat tightened and she gagged. Could hear the pitiful gasps uttered from her mouth as she gulped, her chest heaving. He ignored her, oblivious to the hands which scratched and clawed at his own, or the hideous sound of wheezing as she struggled for oxygen. Then, slowly, the noise was drowned out by a buzzing in her ears, the color draining from the world around her, and as her vision darkened to a narrow circle of light she could see only the image of a stranger, expressionless, watching her die.
