A/N: A shipper found ship in my fic! That's a first. I don't do ship, because it simply doesn't interest me. But if people find shippyness in this then hey, let me know! Maybe I'm missing out! (also... Porthos... just scroll to the end of this chapter. I was writing this and thinking: "I don't mean for this to be ship. But she's going to LOVE this bit.)

The Puppet Master

Chapter Thirty - The Only Choice

Beckett gave a smile he quite clearly didn't believe, and said with false brightness: "Third time's the charm, eh?"

The joke was ill-received, sinking deep into an atmosphere crackling with tension. Stood about the bed was a familiar crowd: Sheppard hovering at its head, shifting from foot to foot with nervous energy; Elizabeth positioned at McKay's feet, her fingers curled into her palm; Heightmeyer sitting on a stool beside the wall, wearing an expression of professional calm. Zelenka stood in a protective hunch over the finished alien device.

Beckett eyed it cautiously. "Is it done, then?"

The Czech nodded, though there was doubt in his expression, his face haggard and tired. "Yes. I believe so."

"You believe so?"

"There were," he tilted his head from side to side, "several spare parts. But not important, I think."

"You think?" Sheppard asked.

Radek shot a bloodshot gaze at him. "Redundant pieces. The device will work."

"Right." The Major held his hands up in protest. "I have complete faith in you." He received a weak, thankful smile for his trouble.

Beckett took a breath. "Then we should begin." He turned to the monitors, checking them for a fourth time despite having ordered Celia to do the same less than ten minutes previously.

Elizabeth looked down at the unconscious McKay, slumped loosely in the bed. She reached out and brushed his arm briefly with her fingers. "Is there anything we can do?"

Beckett shook his head. "I'm afraid not. But it will help to have familiar faces around him. There may be a period of confusion when he initially comes to."

Sheppard glanced at her pointedly and she inwardly flinched, repeating her words from the briefing before.

"I know what this costs, Major, but I need confirmation."

"He may have had a change of heart," Kate said, quietly. "He may only have spoken out of panic."

"You don't really believe –"

"Or he may have thought of another way," Elizabeth continued regardless, watching Sheppard glower.

He looked across at Zelenka. "Is there another?"

The Czech flushed. "Not that I can see, but –"

"Then we go ahead."

Elizabeth took a step towards John, lifting her eyes to meet his. "We've spoken already, Major, and you agreed to this."

He grimaced. "I know."

"It's a mild dose," Beckett interrupted. "Not as strong as the last two. It should give Rodney a couple of minutes of control at the most."

"I want to ask him," she told Sheppard, meeting his gaze. "I consider it only fair."

His expression didn't soften but he did turn away, returning his attention to the bed.

Elizabeth watched Carson place stickered electrodes on McKay's forehead, double checking the IV line of sedative and the monitors stood behind him. The Scot seemed nervous, frown lines creasing his forehead, though his fingers moved with clinical efficiency, rearranging the sheets and testing the strength of the cuffs.

"If he resists," he said simply, to her unspoken question.

Celia stood beside a tray of equipment, syringes and needles and items Elizabeth couldn't identify. The appearance of a crash cart in the corner of the room had not gone unnoticed, and she felt a prickle of fear at the base of her spine.

An impossible decision, Sheppard had said. His words had changed her mind only for her to realise that, all along, there had been no real decision at all.

"McKay asked."

She watched Carson move to the machine she knew controlled the amount of power travelling down to the electrodes. Confirmation, she told herself. To hear the request from McKay's mouth one more time, to be assured that he had no other plan, no remote theory.

To feel a fraction of the pressure lifted from her own shoulders, and to feel more certain of the path she had already chosen.

"After three. One, two –"

McKay trembled, a wave of motion running from his shoulders downwards. His fingers quivered as though according to some strange, unconscious bidding of their own, then curled round into fists. His eyelids flickered, his mouth opened, and he gasped, his head knocking against the pillow, his body fighting the restraints. He was saying something, the words an incomprehensible slur, his breath coming in quick, short gulps.

Sheppard moved towards the bed but a hand from Carson stopped him from reaching down to its occupant.

"Give him a moment," Beckett ordered, urgently. He looked down to McKay. "It's alright, Rodney. You'll remember where you are in a second. Just a little confusion, nothing to be worried about, it will pass soon, just lie still –"

"No!" came a gargled rasp, the word desperately clawing its way from McKay's throat. He rolled his head back against the pillows then lifted it, staring at Sheppard. "You – I –" another gasp, "You said –"

"McKay," John responded, his words strangely stilted, "I'm here. Relax. We just want to talk to you."

"Do you remember what's happening?" Elizabeth asked, cautiously, her stomach in knots.

He tore his gaze away from Sheppard with obvious effort, looking at her with a terrible darkness in his eyes. "Y-yes. Kezan. You –"

"We're trying to remove him," she supplied quickly. "Doctor Zelenka has fixed the device. You remember that?"

He stared at her for several seconds and then nodded, his breath still stuttered.

"You said a burst of electricity should split you and Kezan, forcing him back into the device. You remember me asking?"

He gasped, and nodded. "Yes. I remember."

"I need to know," she said urgently, reaching out to wrap her fingers around his, "whether you're certain."

"I remember," he repeated, his hand squeezing hers weakly. His chin lifted and he stared at her, looking deep into her eyes. "Elizabeth –"

"I want to be sure," she told him.

He blinked over unshed tears. "Do it. Please."

"You're aware of the risks –"

"It will work," he told her, the grip on her fingers tightening. "It will work."

"Kezan hasn't tried –"

"No," he shook his head, "he hasn't tried anything. But he – he's scared. Desperate. Elizabeth, do it. Please. Now. P-please –" He cut off with another gasp.

Beckett glanced at the monitors. "Careful," he said, "EEG trace rising,"

McKay had closed his eyes tightly, gulping air, holding onto Elizabeth's hand with such strength it hurt her bones. She ignored the pain, placing her other hand over his firmly.

"McKay asked."

"Alright," she said, softly. "If you're sure."

His eyes shot open, locking onto hers with ferocity. "I –" gasp, "would rather die –" gasp, "than stay like this."

Her breath caught in the back of her throat and she nodded, feeling heat behind her eyes. "We won't let that happen."

He nodded, apparently satisfied, and then closed his eyes. His body began to relax, his grip unlocking from around Elizabeth's hands. She pulled away from the bed and watched him slump against the mattress.

Celia fiddled once more with the IV and then nodded at Carson. "He's under."

The Scot nodded. "A light dose," he told the crowd. Reaching down to the bed he started to rearrange McKay, checking the stickers and wiping sweat from his friend's brow with a cloth.

Sheppard had moved to stand beside Elizabeth. She could feel his light touch on her arm, beneath her elbow. "You've decided."

She felt her insides shiver, her gaze fixed on the slumped form of her friend. "Yes. You were right."

"Despite the risks," Kate said, from her corner.

"Did he seem in his right mind?" Elizabeth asked, looking over at the blonde. "Did Rodney know what he was asking?"

The woman nodded, as Elizabeth knew she would. "Yes."

"We do not wait?" Zelenka asked.

Sheppard shook his head. "We don't know what Kezan could do in the meantime."

"I don't like this," Beckett said, the fear plain on his face. "It's too dangerous."

"You've made your concerns clear," she told him.

"If it goes wrong –"

"It's a risk I'm willing to take."

"If this doesn't work…" The Scot laid his hand flat against the surface of the table. "There won't be a second chance. To do it once carries serious risks, but to do it again will kill him."

"And by leaving Kezan in there we risk the same thing."

"We don't know that –"

"Carson," Sheppard interrupted. "We made one mistake when we labelled him insane. Let's not make another."

Elizabeth was grateful for the 'we', but she still saw the look of shame wash across the physician's face, his arms crossing over his chest defensively. She felt pained for him, and offered in support:

"You did what you thought was best, Carson. Now, so am I."

He gave a heavy sigh. "Aye. I suppose so." He turned to Zelenka. "Are you ready for this?"

Radek nodded, picking up a thick pair of latex gloves from his trolley and pulling them onto his hands. "Yes. You will prepare him?"

Beckett nodded, beckoning Celia to his side. Together the pair increased the height of the bed head and lifted McKay into a half seated position, pulling back the sheets and untangling the wires spilling from his skin. Then Celia picked up a metal contraption from the table beside the bed. A square frame looped onto a bed rail, lifting up and over into an angular arch several inches above McKay's thighs. Elizabeth stared at it for a moment before realising what it was – a tray stand, normally used for holding meals for patients, with its top missing. With the frame in place, Beckett carefully unbuckled the restraints from the bedrails and lifted McKay's wrists up and onto the frame, locking his hands in place. The scientist never moved, his body limp in Carson's hold.

It seemed odd. A man consumed by genius, reading theorems in his sleep, driven by boundless excitement for the universe now so utterly still. Deathlike, she thought, and shivered.

"Doctor Weir, if you please."

She started, gathering her thoughts before stepping back, allowing Zelenka access to the bed. Radek's pale face bore a look of intense concentration, his gloved hands lifting the ball from the trolley and carrying it slowly across to the bed.

"Gloves?" Sheppard asked, raising an eyebrow.

"A precaution, only." Zelenka lifted his eyes above his glasses. "Carson?"

Beckett carefully prised apart McKay's fingers, the physicist's hands supported entirely by the metal frame and the restraints into an upwards position. Inch by inch Zelenka lowered the silver ball into McKay's open palms, until its weight was born by the fingers below. Then he released his own grip and stood back, exhaling a small breath.

"There. It will hold for the moment."

Beckett examined the restraints again, then nodded. "It'll do." He took a step back from the bed and sighed, deeply. "I want it to be noted," he said, looking up at Weir, "that I'm not happy with this."

"You've made it clear."

He nodded, and gave another sigh. "For Rodney's sake, I hope we're right. Ready?" and even the mask of physician couldn't hide the look of guilt and grief mixed there.

Elizabeth curled her toes into the floor and pressed her hand against her hip hard to stop it from shaking. She looked across at John and saw his pale face close over, his eyes dark and unreadable.

Carson rested his finger on a small switch. Elizabeth held her breath.

There was a very slight pause.

A tremor ran through McKay's body, from his shoulders to his fingertips and toes, while his head lay heavily against the pillow. Then a second tremor, and a third, fine movements pulsating his muscles and the lines around his eyes. Elizabeth's eyes were drawn to the EEG machine, and the wave of green against the black. Carson shifted restlessly, torn between the figure in the bed and the machines he controlled.

The green suddenly spiked, alarms wailing loudly. McKay's body arced violently, bucking against the sheets. Sheppard moved to hold him down but a sharp yell from Carson held him in his place.

"No – don't touch him, Major, just wait it out –"

McKay's wrists tugged sharply against the restraints, muscles in his forearms quivering. There was a sharp crackle and as Elizabeth looked down she saw fine blue light forking between the scientist's hands and the surface of the silver ball.

"Doctor Beckett!"

Celia was pointing at the ECG machine. McKay's heart rate had increased dramatically, stuttering against the black.

Carson's fingers moved back towards the switch, but a cry from Zelenka stopped him.

"No, wait! Not to interrupt the process halfway!"

"If we wait any longer –" Carson protested.

"We wait," Sheppard urged.

Elizabeth pulled her gaze from Carson to McKay, writhing in the bed, his facial features pulled tight in pain, his eyes moving frantically beneath thin lids.

"Carson –"

"I'm stopping this now!"

Before Carson's hand could reach the switch the blue lightening suddenly died away. The device slipped from McKay's fingers, rolling onto the bed, scooped up by Zelenka before it could fall to the floor. Immediately McKay slumped, collapsing onto the mattress, his lips tinged with blue and his skin grey and translucent.

I made the wrong choice, Elizabeth heard herself, wanting to cry out. I've killed him. Oh god, don't let me have –

Beckett had his hand splayed across McKay's, then moved it upwards towards his mouth, pressing his fingers against the scientist's lips. Behind him the alarms continued to wail, but Elizabeth ignored them, her attention fixed on McKay's face.

She couldn't think through the tightness in her chest.

Carson's shoulders dropped, and he released a long whistle of air.

"He's breathing, just." He clicked his fingers at Celia, who wheeled across an oxygen cart. A plastic mouthpiece was quickly placed over McKay's face, Beckett gently lifting his friend's head from the pillow to slip the elastic around his head. "I'll want to see results from his EEG and ECG," he said, absently.

Celia nodded, her fingers carefully removing the electrodes from McKay's forehead. Taking a key from his pocket, Carson unlatched the cuffs and pushed the tray away from the bed.

"What happened?" Elizabeth asked, her voice rough.

"He was tachycardic." The cuffs were firmly attached back to the rails, Carson gently loosening McKay's fingers from the fists they had formed.

"Serious?"

"He has a normal rhythm now. Any longer…." He stopped.

"Is there any way of knowing whether it's worked?" Heightmeyer asked.

Carson looked up at her. "I wish there was. It's a matter of wait and see."

"If it hasn't…" Kate prompted.

"I don't know." The physician scrubbed a hand over his face, his shoulders slumping. "I just don't."

"There will be alternatives," Zelenka said, softly.

"There doesn't need to be. This will have worked." Sheppard placed a hand on McKay's pillow. "We just wait 'til he wakes up, that's all."

Elizabeth continued to watch the man in the bed, noting that the lines of pain were now smooth, that his muscles, so recently bound in pain, were relaxed and loose against the pillow. He was still as white as the sheets beneath him, his chest barely rising, the steaming of breath against the mask the only sign of comfort.

"Side-effects?" she asked, quietly.

"The same." The Scot looked towards the monitors. "I'll know more after we've done some tests."

She moved towards the bed, resting her hand on McKay's wrist gently. He felt cold to her touch. "How long?"

"Hard to tell. He could wake up after a couple of hours. It could be ten." He shrugged helplessly. "This is beyond my area of expertise, Elizabeth."

"But," Sheppard prompted.

"But." He stopped, his hand lingering on the bed rail. "Longer than twelve, and it will be a cause for concern."

There was a long silence, which Zelenka broke.

"A time limit is good, yes? Gives focus."

Elizabeth turned towards him. "The device?"

"I will take it to the lab. It is possible that I can interface it with the drive we retrieved from the planet."

"I thought it was damaged?" Sheppard asked.

"Yes. As I say, a possibility." He bobbed his head several times, then looked towards the bed. "He will survive this," he declared, with a strange confidence, then with a jerk of his arms pushed the trolley towards the infirmary exit.

"He will," Sheppard repeated, quietly.

Elizabeth dropped her head, closing her eyes for a moment.

"I should go to the waiting room," Celia said quietly, to Carson. "I imagine Dr McKay's team mates will be anxious to hear any news."

Beckett nodded. He again had a cloth in one hand, wiping slick sweat from his friend's face and neck.

In her corner Heightmeyer shifted awkwardly, looking towards Sheppard and Weir. "We should use this time to get some rest," she said, pointedly.

Sheppard ignored her, pulling up a chair and dropping his weight into it. Elizabeth glanced at her and offered her a cursory nod.

"Thank you, Kate. We'll contact you when he's awake."

The psychologist hesitated and then nodded reluctantly, turning towards the exit. Elizabeth looked away, trailing her hands across the mattress.

She was still shaking.

"Here." Sheppard rose, patting the chair. "I'll get another."

She looked up at him. "Thank you."

He shrugged, moving aside to let her sit down. Her legs folded weakly beneath her and she crumpled into it, hugging her chest with her arms and lowering her chin.

She felt his hand on her shoulder. "He'll be okay."

Her head lifted and for a moment Elizabeth was content to discard the mask she wore as leader, too exhausted to continue the façade. "You sound like Teyla."

His hand squeezed gently. "She's rubbing off on me." Then the touch was gone, and he turned away. "I'll get a chair. It could be a long night."

"I know." She leaned forward and rested her hand on the mattress, the back of her hand graced by McKay's fingertips as they dangled over the bedrail.

"Elizabeth? Whatever happens, when he wakes up – you made the right choice."

She closed her eyes, and didn't reply.