A/N: Every person who guessed what was really going ongets a cookie and my eternal admiration. Now you've all worked it out, there's just Weir, Beckett, and the others to convince...
The Puppet Master
Chapter Seventeen - Did You Touch Anything?
Beckett had appeared at the head of the team of medics rushing to the prison cell. Sheppard wasn't surprised at the doctor's appearance, but he did wonder whether the Scotsman took his own advice, and ever slept in his own bed.
McKay didn't move. Not while Zelenka was shouting at the guards – in panicked Czech – to open the cell door, not while Sheppard was kneeling beside him, checking his pulse, or tapping on his cheek gently. He didn't move when Carson arrived, snapping orders and bundling the scientist onto the stretcher Didn't move during the journey to the infirmary, Sheppard keeping heel every step of the way.
John now sat on the edge of a bed, having been waved off to a safe distance by Carson. He swung his legs impatiently, and watched the scientist not move.
He blocked out the sounds of hushed voices, of the scratch of Heightmeyer's pen against her ever present notebook, of a soft beeping from the machines monitoring McKay's heart rate. The presence of the guards, shadows from the cell to the infirmary, was unimportant. Zelenka had stood beside him for a while, wringing his hands in consternation, but after Beckett had assured them both that McKay had done himself no permanent damage, and that the infirmary was becoming too crowded, he'd made his clearly reluctant exit.
Beckett had tried the same trick with Sheppard, but with one look at his hard eyes and tightly pressed mouth, Carson had evidently decided it wasn't worth the hassle, and now left him alone. Busied himself giving orders and checking vitals and speaking in low tones with Weir.
Which left Sheppard free to watch McKay.
He was the first to see the Canadian's fingers twitch, and was off the bed immediately. Carson was only just behind, flashing a penlight into Rodney's eyes and asking him with a professional detachment that belied his eagerness: "Rodney, can you hear me?"
McKay groaned. One hand lifted shakily in a clear attempt to swat at the penlight, only to find itself halted by a restraint. Slowly, the physicist cracked open one eye, and winced.
"Care to turn the lights down before you blind me?"
Carson clucked at a nurse, and several seconds later the light in the room had fallen to an early dusk. Sheppard, now hovering beside the ECG machine, balanced his weight on the balls of his feet, leaning forward to see both blue eyes open.
McKay gave a small gasp, and another wince, then turned his head towards Sheppard. A number of emotions passed across his face; confusion, then relief, then fear.
"Oh crap." He twitched his legs, his fear turning to horror when they also made the bed restraints chink.
"Take it easy," Beckett said, in a soothing voice. "You gave us all quite the scare."
The blue eyes turned to look at the doctor, and Sheppard recognised a plea: "Any chance you could untie me?"
Sheppard saw Beckett glance towards Weir, than back at the bed. Felt sorry for the Scotsman, and put in: "I'm not sure that'd be such a great idea, McKay. Just relax for the minute, okay?"
Rodney pushed his head back into the pillow, tilting his chin to the ceiling to peer upwards. "Major. Good to see you."
He grinned, despite himself. "You too, Rodney."
McKay returned the smile, then winced again. Sheppard saw the injured hand twitch against the bed.
Weir took a step closer. She had appeared in the infirmary only minutes after Beckett had roused her, apparently from sleep. Her uniform was rumpled, her jacket undone. The bruise on her neck was slowly turning an ugly shade of purple, Sheppard noticed. Her voice was still painfully hoarse. "Do you remember what happened, Rodney?"
McKay closed his eyes, spoke in a rush of words: "I'm so sorry, Elizabeth. God, if I had - I didn't, I mean, it wasn't me, I tried to stop him, I tried –"
The beeping noise from the ECG suddenly increased in speed, and Sheppard saw Beckett shift his feet, turning to mouth an order to one of the nurses. He wasn't the only one who saw, for McKay was bucking against the bed in a panic, his gaze fixed on the doctor. "Carson, no, just wait, please –"
Sheppard reached out to touch McKay's shoulder firmly. Heard himself say: "Take it easy. The doc's here to help."
McKay shook his head quickly, shrugging off the touch. "No, you don't understand, you don't…" Then he broke off, taking a deep breath and dropping back into the bed. "Please," he finished, weakly.
Beckett, one hand resting on the ECG machine, hesitated, worry etching his features as he studied his friend. "Alright," he soothed, uncertainly, "but I want you to rest." He set the needle down, and Sheppard saw McKay relax a fraction. "Can you tell us what happened?"
Rodney swallowed, a slight grimace of pain passing across his face. Reaching out to the table, Sheppard picked up a beaker of ice chips and spooned one into his friend's mouth, saying nothing at the flush of scarlet across McKay's cheeks, and only giving a tight nod at the mumbled, grateful: "Thanks."
"Take your time," Heightmeyer soothed, and the whole room saw McKay shoot daggers at her.
"I don't have time," he snapped, before tearing his gaze away and back to Beckett. "The forcefield."
Beckett dropped his gaze. "You could have done yourself some real damage, Rodney."
"It was the only way I could get him to stop."
There was a sudden flurry of looks exchanged between the two professionals, scepticism and fear. Sheppard tensed, readying himself for further disappointment.
"This voice in your head?" he asked, keeping his tone neutral.
"Kezan." McKay swallowed again. "He told me his name."
"Kezan." That same neutral tone. His shoulders knotted with painful intensity.
A look of dark anger flashed across McKay's face. Snapped: "Don't condescend to me, Major."
If I didn't know better…
Sheppard blinked, a slight smile creeping to the edges of his mouth. "Sorry," he apologised, returning to a normal tone. Patted McKay on the shoulder. "Go on."
McKay shot him another glare, but it softened after a second. He took a breath. "His name is Kezan. He's an alien from the planet M4P-278."
Weir again, her voice scraping over each consonant. "There were no aliens on M4P-278. The planet was dead."
McKay shook his head, impatiently, and Sheppard felt another piece of himself relax ever so slightly. "Obviously. But not their minds. Not all of them, anyway." His brows knitted together in pain, his hand twitching again against the sheets.
Beckett was again checking the ECG monitor. "What hurts?"
"My head. Migraine." Rodney hesitated for a second, then turned to gaze up at the doctor. "Carson, please. I'm alright. Hold off on the drugs."
Carson frowned, but turned back to the bed, crossing his arms. "Go on."
"There's something – someone – in my head. Has been for days, ever since M4P-278. At first I thought it was just strange dreams, but now –" One hand stretched out and jerked against the restraints. Sheppard watched him clench his fist in apparent frustration. "He's in my head," McKay said, stressing each syllable.
"This Kezan?"
"Yes." McKay's eyes turned up towards Weir. "Believe me, I know how crazy I sound and," and he cut off with a short, gurgled laugh, "that would seem to fit right about now."
"So," and Elizabeth cleared her throat awkwardly, "it is Kezan who has been making you –"
"I'm sorry," he repeated, his eyes darting away from her. Sheppard saw a muscle twitching in McKay's left arm, fine tremors running down to his wrist. "Can't you stop that?"
Carson pulled an apologetic face. "Side effect of the shock of the forcefield, I'm afraid. It will pass."
McKay sighed, sounding decidedly exasperated. "It was the only thing I could think of. Not like I could just stick a finger in a plug socket."
"A good thing," Sheppard commented.
"Yes, well. I had a theory. I needed to see if it worked. I needed," and he broke off, clenching the fist of his left arm in an apparent attempt to stop the tremors. "I needed to shut him up. It won't be permanent. I think it's something to do with energy – but that's your voodoo, Carson, not mine. All I know is that for the past week I," and he stopped, pulling at the restraints on his arm. "Look, just let me out of this thing for five minutes, alright? I'm not about to go for a repeat performance, trust me."
Trust him. Sheppard glanced from McKay to Carson, who was already half-way through his refusal.
"I'm sorry, Rodney, but –"
"One arm," he interrupted, receiving a grateful look from McKay. "He's not going to go anywhere, and even if McKay could do a Houdini, there are guards on the door."
"I have an itch," McKay added, offering: "Unless you'd like to do the honours, Carson?"
Beckett's face pulled into a look of disgust, but the expression was softened by a warmth and sense of relief. "Fine," he muttered, reaching over to untie the strap around McKay's left wrist.
Rodney sighed happily, lifting his free hand to scratch at the side of his nose. "You have no idea how much that's been bugging me," he said, tilting his head backwards.
Sheppard returned the grin. "I can imagine."
"Rodney," Kate interrupted, "tell us about Kezan."
"Right. Sorry." McKay shook his head. "I keep getting distracted. I think it's him, trying to get back." He scratched his nose a final time, then dropped his hand to lie on his chest. "I don't know much about him. I know he can look through my thoughts but I can't get the same grip on his. They're cluttered, disorganised. They make Zelenka look tidy. He wasn't born on M4P-278, I know that. And he's not an Ancient. He's too scared, for a start."
Heightmeyer took a step towards the bed, and Sheppard noted with a sense of fury that she was taking notes down on her pad. "What other emotions does this Kezan have, Rodney?"
"He's confused, angry, mostly terrified." McKay's gaze fell on the notepad. Snapped, angrily: "I'm not a bloody lab mouse. Stop treating me like one."
"Sorry." She put away the pen, but Sheppard noticed she continued to hold the notebook to her chest.
"What else?" Elizabeth said, taking a step to stand in front of Heightmeyer.
Bitterly: "I know he doesn't want to leave."
"How did he get in?" Carson asked.
"Touch anything on the planet you didn't tell me about?" Sheppard asked, suddenly suspicious.
McKay rolled his eyes, such a familiar gesture that John could almost forget Heightmeyer's diagnosis, and block out the sound of the restraints against the bed. "Sure, anything I could. Of course not. But I brought something back, a device," And he shook his head again, closing his eyes for a moment. Opened them and swore. "Dammit."
"Concentrate," Elizabeth urged. "You're saying that this device is how Kezan was able to enter your mind?"
"Yes. I think he was trapped in it. The building was abandoned, forgotten, and he'd been stuck in that thing for all those years. That's why he's so scared, he's terrified he'll be trapped there again. I remember -" And again he cut off, and it was Sheppard who cursed, watching his friend tense in the bed.
"Rodney."
"Sorry. It's hard –" and he took a breath. "I keep feeling things. Bits and pieces of his memory, nothing substantial but…" and he shivered. "Kezan escaped the first chance he could get, and he's been in here ever since. I think it took him a while to realise where he was, how –" And he gasped, and suddenly the stutter was back, filling Sheppard with a sense of dread. "D-dammit! Not yet, n-not yet –"
"McKay!" He made it sound like an order, but belayed that by reaching out and gripping the man's free hand firmly with his own. He could feel the fine tremors wracking Rodney's arm travel up his own. "How do we get him out?"
McKay turned his head against the pillow to stare up at Sheppard with desperation. "I don't know. God, I don't –" And he screwed his eyes shut, gripping Sheppard's hand so tightly his knuckles were white. "I said not yet –"
Beckett had broken away from the bed, snapping orders at a nurse who promptly scurried away. He leant down over the bed, laying one hand over his friend's forehead.
"Just hold on a second, Rodney –"
"It hurts –" came back the response, from gritted teeth.
"I guessed that," Carson soothed, "but don't worry, in a second –"
Suddenly McKay tore his left hand out of Sheppard's grip, almost breaking John's fingers in the process. The fist curved a high, speedy arch across the bed and landed hard against Beckett's nose. The physician staggered backwards with a yell, clutching at his injured face and knocking into the medical equipment behind him. Elizabeth moved to grab Carson before he could do himself more damage, while Sheppard snatched at McKay's free hand, managing to grab his wrist and yank the arm downwards.
"I told you!" McKay howled, yanking his arm down with incredible strength, Sheppard barely managing to hold on. "You said you would help me, and you lied, you tricked me, and I won't let you send me back! No more, won't let you, I won't be –"
The petite nurse had returned, along with the two guards. One grabbed McKay's arm at the elbow, while the other, Cevallos, placed his hands on the physicist's chest, pressing him down into the mattress. The nurse bent over McKay's arm, now pinned between Sheppard and Cevallos, and plunged a needle into his flesh.
McKay snapped his head to the side to glare at Sheppard with thunderous eyes, and spat: "I hate you. Liar."
Then the drug started to take effect, the muscles in McKay's body relaxing, dropping him against the bed, his eyes rolling back up into his head, the lids closing.
For several seconds the only sound in the room was that of the breathless panting of its occupants.
Carson moved away from Elizabeth's support, probing his face gently with a hesitant finger. "Not broken, thank god," he said, though there was crimson on his fingertip.
"Get him restrained," Sheppard heard Elizabeth order, and it was only when Cevallos, stood beside him, said something that he realised he was still holding onto McKay's wrist. Slowly, he released his grip and took a step back, watching the guard strap the free hand back to the bed rail.
"Elizabeth –"
She turned to look at him, her face pale, expression tightly controlled. "I know." She glanced at Carson, who had apparently decided his face would survive, and was now rechecking the equipment around the bed. "As soon as he can be transferred back into the cell below, I want a staff meeting."
