A/N: Thank you for all the feedback on the last few chapters, it's really appreciated and very nice of you! I realise many people will notice medical inaccuracies with my use of jargon and diagnosis, so please let me know of any major screw-ups! It's the only way I'll learn ... (...that Google is not omniscient... bad Google...)

The Puppet Master

Chapter Twenty Two - Chilli Sauce

Sheppard sat outside the cell, his back to the wall, butt slowly numbing on the cold floor. McKay lay on the cot, his arm draped across his face, chest rising and falling peacefully, oblivious to being an object of study. If John hadn't known better, he might presume it was just another night, just another mission.

The bars of the cell soon cut that daydream short.

It had been Rodney in the bed. That familiar spark, that same snark. Dripping with prickly sarcasm, even when strapped to a cot and drugged.

He could trust that moment, he could put his faith in it more than he could ever have in Heightmeyer's diagnosis.

"We keep McKay in the dark…"

Now there was proof – proof of McKay's sanity, and of Kate's mistake, and yet his hands were just as tied as they had been before. When John had pulled Zelenka out from under the collapsing cliff face, and first seen the alien device clutched in the Czech's arms he had thought things would get easier.

Weren't they supposed to?

He thought of Kezan, and the face staring out from the projector screen, and wondered which of them was dreaming. Or whether either could.

"McKay?"

There was no reply. Sheppard muttered, 'typical,' under his breath and shifted his thighs, trying to stifle the pins and needles creeping down his shins and feet.

He had stopped Elizabeth in the lab, after the others had left. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

She had sighed, hands smoothing creases in her uniform carefully. "No, Major, I'm not sure. But it's not a decision I'm about to take lightly."

"You heard what Beckett said –"

She bristled, straightening her back and setting her shoulders. "Yes, I did. I was in the room with you, John. I don't know what you think I'm going to do but it isn't to play rock paper scissors." Then she had turned, ready to leave Sheppard with his anger.

He immediately regretted his words. "Elizabeth, I'm sorry. It's just –"

His touch on her shoulder caused her to turn back. "This is Rodney," she had finished for him, with a sigh. "I know. Aside from his importance and value to the future of Atlantis – he's a friend." Her eyes shone for a second, wetly, then disappeared with a firm blink. "That's why we have to do all we can to help him."

"Zelenka's not going to come up with a plan B," he told her.

"No, probably not." She took a breath, and squared her shoulders. "In which case the decision has been made for me."

"I know. It's just –"

He felt a gentle hand on his arm. "If it were you, what would you want me to do?"

"Rhetorical question," he replied, simply.

"Exactly." And she had smiled, sadly. "Get some sleep, John."

It wasn't that easy. Elizabeth knew it, just as he did, and he knew the decision would haunt her. Despite his attempts at playing Zelenka's 'old maid,' advising Elizabeth to take her own advice, he knew she would spend the night awake and alone at her office desk. Or stood at the balcony, looking out across the waves, as though the ocean could give up the answers.

And he couldn't protest, because here he was, freezing his bones in the basement of Atlantis when he should have been sleeping, wrapped snugly in warm blankets and in a room that smelt of something other than stale dust and death.

But he couldn't bring himself to leave.

A rhetorical question. He recalled the list of side-effects Beckett had reeled off, and rubbing fingers beneath his eyes he felt shadows that echoed the doctor's own.

"Ironic, huh? The one guy who could make sense of all this and you can't even talk to me." Then, softly: "We need you, McKay."

Dropping his head, Sheppard eased one hand up to the back of his neck and massaged the skin, wincing. "If you were sat here, and I was in that cell, I'd want you to do it." Whispered: "Except you're not sat here."

"Major?"

Teyla stood in the doorway, her hand resting on the wall, looking down on him with an expression of concern. "You should be sleeping."

"So should you," he pointed out.

Dropping to the floor, Teyla took up a position beside Sheppard, folding her legs beneath her. She followed his gaze into the cell, and onto its sleeping occupant. "You worry for him."

"Someone's got to." Gave her a smile he didn't feel. "He's the best person to fix the city every time something goes wrong."

"And he is our friend."

He glanced at her, seeing fine lines where there was normally smoothness. "Yeah." He moved slightly towards her, their shoulders bumping gently, and was rewarded with a smile.

"We have been through worse."

"When?" he prompted.

She lifted one hand and started raising her fingers. One,"When the energy cloud escaped into the city," two, "when you were deceived by an alien race into believing you had returned to Earth," three, "when the Genii tried to take Atlantis…"

"Fair point –"

Four: "When Lieutenant Kershaw introduced us to his family chilli recipe…"

"Ouch." He gave an exaggerated wince. "I'd rather forget that one."

"And yet we survived," she said, with a warm smile.

"The chilli sauce? Barely." He sank back against the wall, and flexed his toes within his boots. "You're right. We've been through worse."

"Doctor Heightmeyer initially feared Dr McKay's condition would be permanent. We now have a way to aid him." She turned her head to look at him with deep brown eyes. "There is always hope. That is how my people continue to escape the Wraith, and it is how we will help our friend."

He considered her thoughtfully for a moment, studying her face and the way the dim light cast shadows across her cheeks.

"Hey."

Two heads looked up simultaneously to see Ford, stood awkwardly above them, looking at McKay. "Couldn't sleep," he said, shrugging, dropping down to sit next to Teyla's other side.

"It's going around." Sheppard shifted up a couple of inches to give Aiden room, and waited for Teyla to follow. After several moments more of uncomfortable shuffling the three found suitable positions and sat, watching the cell.

"You think this is going to work?" Ford asked, in a low voice.

"Yup," Sheppard said, with fake bravado. "It's not like McKay to be out of action for long."

"Still…" His face twisted, obviously thinking about Carson's words. "It's pretty risky."

"And we're not the sort to take risks," Sheppard joked. It felt feeble. He glanced at Aiden, and asked him the same question as Elizabeth had posed to him. "What if it was you?"

Ford pursed his lips, then admitted: "I guess I'd want you to do everything you could."

"Right." He nodded, firmly. "Then that's what we do."

Teyla jostled Aiden gently with one elbow. "We have been through worse."

"So she keeps reminding me," Sheppard added, warmly. "Remember the chilli sauce?"

"Ouch." Ford clutched at his stomach and gave an exaggerated groan. "I still have nightmares."

"If we can survive that," Teyla said meaningfully…

"We can survive anything," Sheppard finished.

The three sat in companiable silence for a minute.

Ford broke the silence. "You know, if Doctor McKay wakes up and sees us here, he's going to be seriously wigged out."