The Puppet Master
Chapter Thirty Five - Honesty
Zelenka had been the one to find the device missing.
He had arrived in her office with a strange expression on his face, and said simply: "It's gone." When asked, Radek assured her he had not spoken of the empty shelf to anyone other than herself. As far as he could judge it had been missing for little over twenty minutes. She waited in her office for another twenty before rising and seeking out McKay.
Now, with the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across Atlantis, Elizabeth waited for Sheppard to find her. She stood on the balcony and enjoyed the sensation of cold metal beneath her arms, and thought of a hundred lifetimes spent trapped, abandoned, and alone.
"Elizabeth."
She pressed her lips together and turned. Sheppard stood in the doorway, looking a little grim-faced but determined, giving her a boyish smile that didn't meet his eyes.
"Fancy meeting you out here."
She gave a sigh. "I was beginning to wonder whether to expect you."
"Yeah, well…" He stopped, and looked briefly down the floor. "I guess you know –"
"What you've done?" she finished. "Yes John, I know."
"Have you spoken to McKay?"
"Yes."
She had found Rodney in his quarters. He had greeted her with a guilty flush and a defiant: "I'd do it again."
Elizabeth had explained that she agreed, that she understood. And she wanted him to know that, she needed him to know that. She had apologised for him going through it alone, and he had looked at her, and replied that he hadn't.
"Ah." Sheppard flushed guiltily, then lifted his head. "It was the right thing to do," he said, jaw firm. "And don't blame McKay. I made the decision."
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. "Did you do it?"
"Well…" he floundered, "science isn't my speciality."
"No."
"But I made it possible."
"Yes," she replied, allowing a note of reproach to enter her voice. "You did."
"I couldn't let him do it alone."
"I wasn't suggesting you should," she said, deliberately. Because Rodney was her friend too, friend and family member, and she hated feeling helpless.
So she had done the only thing she could think of.
"They're files of Major Carter's. I found them when we were looking for explanations of what was happening to you."
He had taken the folder from her with a confused expression. "I don't understand."
"She's a friend of yours, isn't she?"
"Comrades."
She had smiled, and closed her hand over his briefly. "Just read the file, Rodney. You might find it… interesting."
"Elizabeth –"
She turned back to Sheppard, and challenged him: "You lied to me."
"Well," Sheppard ducked his head sheepishly, "I never actually –"
She wasn't so easily dissuaded. "We talked about Kezan's future, about trying to help him, and all the time you were planning this. I wanted advice, John, and you deceived me."
He lifted his chin, abandoning his attempt at charm. "Not entirely. I told you I wanted to help him. It was just in a different way."
She shook her head quickly. "Help him?"
"It was what he asked for."
"John, he was ill, delusional –"
"He knew what he wanted," he shot back. "Nine hundred years trapped in that, that nothing, his original body six feet under? It was a decision any one of us would make." He took a step towards her, softening his voice. "Elizabeth, treat this like it is."
"A mercy killing," she said, suddenly feeling very, very tired.
"He should have died nine hundred years ago."
"I'm not sure that he didn't." She leant back a fraction, allowing the bars to take some of her weight. "You did this the wrong way, John. You went behind my back and negotiated with a person whilst Rodney was held hostage."
"It was hardly that –" he began to object, then stopped, and corrected: "Well, maybe it seems like that but –"
"You should have told me."
He dropped his head. "I couldn't let you make that decision."
"Why?" she asked, clenching the rail. "If you think that my position –"
"No," he interrupted quickly. "That wasn't it. Look, Elizabeth, you heard Heightmeyer. Talking of Kezan's past, his emotions. I don't know whether you could call him a person or – or what word you'd use. But I had to make a choice between his existence and McKay's and I made that decision because…" Sheppard faltered, then finished: "because you shouldn't have to."
Elizabeth turned her head to look at him. "What if it was the wrong choice?"
"It wasn't," he replied, firmly. "Kate can debate the moral implications if she likes, but I know – it wasn't wrong."
She took a deep breath and released it slowly, nodding. "No. You're right. I just wish you and Rodney had come to me before taking action."
He winced, but explained: "You'd have to tell Zelenka, and probably that Doctor Kusanagi, and Carson, and then Heightmeyer, and she'd be questioning McKay on his actions –"
"That's not necessarily a negative thing," she objected.
"McKay knows how Kezan felt. If you want proof that we did the right thing then just ask him."
"I don't need to," she said, quietly. "I would have agreed with you. But you still should have come to me."
Sheppard lifted his eyes to look at her, and nodded slowly. "Maybe we should have."
It wasn't quite an apology, but Elizabeth realised that she wasn't searching for one. She turned back to the sea, waiting for him to join her. He followed a second later, resting his elbows alongside hers on the rail.
There was a long silence as Elizabeth watched the waves lap the base of the city she now called home. She could hear birds circling above them, the white headed, big black gulls, cawing eagerly at each other.
"How does he seem to you?"
"McKay?" He shrugged. "He's okay. Needs some time to sort some stuff out, but he'll be alright."
"Carson's worried Rodney won't talk to him."
"I'm working on that."
"Good." She looked down at her hands, and thought of the way McKay's gaze had drifted down to her neck. She visualised the bruises in the mirror, yellow and green mottled smudges in the shape of a familiar hand.
"I'm sorry, Elizabeth – I tried -"
"He seems…" she paused, "he needs to know that this wasn't his fault."
"I know." He pushed himself to lean heavily on the rail. "He'll get there." He glanced at her. "I'd like him back on the team. Since there's nothing wrong with him –"
"Understood," she replied, understanding. "But John – moving on from this, it's a noble idea but possibly not the best one. I don't just want him to have to cope –"
"Elizabeth," he interrupted, firmly, "you don't have to worry."
She considered him for a long moment, then allowed herself a small smile. "Is this more of that Athosian faith Teyla has been teaching you?"
He gave another shrug, but this one was carefree and loose limbed. "Maybe. Some of that. Plus, it's McKay. He's more than he gives himself credit for."
"Not in all respects," she needled, gently.
"True. When he starts yelling at Zelenka and referring to his staff as monkeys with typewriters, then we'll know its business as usual." He took a breath, and looked up towards the sky. "Sun's out," he remarked, casually.
She turned to look at the city vista spreading out to her left, high towers and crystal sparkling in the light. "It's beautiful."
He followed her gaze upwards. "Yes it is."
