The Puppet Master

Chapter Fifteen - Lonely Pudding

The mess hall was almost empty. Its patrons had long since departed, the food eaten, plates cleaned away. The cooks had cleaned down the tables, washed their hands, and left with only a mild reprimand to the over-stayers.

It had been a half-hearted plea. A dark, thunderous cloud rested over the table and both cooks and fellow diners had given them a wide berth. Now the three team members sat in the shadows, amidst uneaten food on forgotten plates, in silence.

Aiden had seen the looks, mixes of pity and confusion. Word had evidently travelled fast, even on a basis of half truths and guesses. He had done his best to follow Teyla and Major Sheppard's example and ignored it, but he'd found it difficult, particularly since he was still struggling to believe the news himself.

"You think there's anyone on Atlantis who doesn't know?"

"They don't know anything," Sheppard retorted shortly. "All they have are whispers and guesses."

"Which may be an improvement on the truth," Teyla said softly.

Aiden sighed, pushing a solitary green vegetable around his plate with his fork. "The Doc's always seemed a little out there but," and he paused, added doubtfully: "I guess you really never know."

"Yes, you do," Sheppard said, fiercely. The Major had been snapping at everyone all evening, even frightening one of the female cooks when all she had done was offer him more rice. "Heightmeyer's jumping to conclusions. She likes to give people labels, which might have worked fine for her on Earth, in her safe hospital office, but not here. People operate outside the rules, that's how things are done. McKay is still McKay, always has been."

"I do not understand her diagnosis," Teyla admitted. "Dr Beckett told me it was both a physical and an emotional disease, but I do not see how one can have a disease of emotions."

"It's a physical problem," Ford said, hesitantly. After Weir's brief, uncomfortable briefing he had gone to an empty lab and called up a number of papers on the subject of schizophrenia, but had given up after a few paragraphs. He'd picked up phrases, here and there, enough to confirm what he already thought he knew, but he was still no clearer as to the mechanics. "Something about chemicals in the brain, I think. But it can be triggered by emotion. I think," he added, lamely.

"And until the physical problem is treated, there is a danger that other events may lead to extreme responses?"

"Basically." He stared glumly at the lonely vegetable and stabbed it ruthlessly with his fork. "But there isn't a cure. There are pills, I think, but they're not really a solution." He looked up at the troubled Athosian. "Don't your people have anything similar, Teyla? Anyone, with, uh, the same illness, anyone –"

"Wacko," Sheppard interrupted, not looking up from his intense glare at the tabletop.

Teyla frowned. Admitted, after a thoughtful pause: "It is not common, but it is known. Some are born seeing the world differently, and others are effected after a culling. The Wraith are always upon us, giving us no time to stop and grieve our dead, and some become trapped in that moment. It is as though the connection between their body and spirit is lost."

"What happens to them?" Ford asked.

She shook her head. "We have no medicines to help, no cures. There is little we can do, except care for them, protect them as best we can. But it is difficult. The Wraith prey on the weakest and many are lost." Her gaze fell to her hands, folded on the table top. "They are mourned." Then asked: "What of your own people?"

He grimaced. "Not so great."

"Depends on how rich you are," Sheppard said. He was leaning back on his chair, resting on the back two legs. "There are hospitals. Some nice ones, big gardens, pretty nurses – kind of like holiday camp, but with padded cells. Some aren't so nice. The military have some."

"And lots of people are fine," Aiden interrupted, worried by the level of despondency in his CO's voice.

"Take a couple of pills and everything goes away?" Sheppard shook his head. "You think Weir can keep him on active duty, even if that were true?"

"He will be taken off the team," Teyla said, and it wasn't a question.

"There's lab work," Aiden put in, hopefully.

The Major looked miserable. "Working with alien technology? Researching power supplies and weapons?"

He started to feel as wretched as Sheppard looked. "There's got to be something," he protested, feeling foolish. "It's McKay."

Teyla sighed. "It did not seem like Dr McKay when I last spoke with him. He was different. I fear –" And she hesitated, changed her mind. "I tried to speak to him of the virus that killed his colleagues. It is this that Dr Heightmeyer believes triggered his attack on Dr Weir?"

"Amongst other things," Sheppard muttered.

"He did not seem to remember at all," she continued, softly. "There was no recognition in his eyes, no sense that he knew of what I spoke. It was as though I was talking to someone else."

"He wasn't himself the other night," Ford agreed, slumping in his chair. "Maybe Heightmeyer's right. She's the expert, I guess. And, well," he faltered, "the doc's a civilian. He's not lost people before and that –" and he shuddered, "that wasn't combat."

Teyla shot a dark look at him. "You believe because Dr McKay is not part of your military that he was always more likely to react in this way?"

"No," he replied, quickly. "But… the civilians have spent their lives in a lab, they've never experienced anything like that before."

"And you have," she rebuked, anger flitting across her face.

"No, it's just –" And he faltered, lapsing into vague hand gestures. Struggled to find the words. "The doc's got a lot weighing on him. All the scientists do. I never really understood that before the virus but I do now. They're the ones who have to figure out how to make the city work and how to build weapons against the Wraith."

"And we protect them?" Sheppard said, dully.

"I guess, yeah. And McKay, he's the head of all of them. If it wasn't for him this city would be back at the bottom of the ocean. All I'm saying is…" And again he paused, thinking of the fresh graves dug on the mainland. "He figured out how to shut down the nanovirus. But people died. It'd affect anybody, that's all I'm saying."

Teyla's expression softened in apology. "I'm sorry, Lieutenant. You experienced the nanovirus as well."

He shivered, remembering the screams of Tomei, and the anguish in the eyes of the other scientists. "I wish I didn't remember."

"I told Dr Heightmeyer what I saw," she said, quietly. "I am not sure I did the right thing."

Sheppard shrugged. "McKay almost killed Weir. I think the cat's out of the bag."

Aiden didn't even smile at the look of confusion that passed across Teyla's face. "It just doesn't seem right. There should be a different explanation."

"Like?" Sheppard challenged. The Major scowled, shifting forward so his chair dropped back onto its four legs. "It's all sewn up, Lieutenant. If we were on Earth we'd be signing McKay into the nearest nuthouse and throwing away the key."

Ford opened his mouth to protest, but Sheppard was already on his feet, and a hand on his arm warned him not to say anything.

"You should both get some sleep," Sheppard declared, moving away from the table. "Elizabeth wants us to find a replacement for McKay as soon as possible."

Again, Aiden felt compelled to say something, but the grip on his arm squeezed gently, and he stayed silent. Watched as Sheppard left the room, the man's shoulders bowed under a heavy weight.

"He is not handling this well," Teyla said quietly, removing her hand from Ford's arm.

"I don't blame him." He sighed. "I know McKay's never made himself the most popular guy in the city, but he doesn't deserve this."

"No one does."

"Wish we could do something." He stared at the plate before him. "We've got an entire galaxy to explore and we're living in the city of the Ancients, you'd think there'd be something we could do."

Teyla offered him a sad smile. "He needs us, Lieutenant. As does Major Sheppard. Dr McKay will always be part of this team, regardless of whether he continues to go through the Stargate with us."

He returned the smile, but it felt hollow and fake. "You going to finish that?" he asked, using his spoon to point at the half eaten pudding languishing on Teyla's tray.

She stared at the desert in confusion, then looked up at him. "No. I'm not hungry."

"Yeah." He dropped the spoon. It clattered against the tray, the sound echoing around the empty mess hall. "Me neither."