A.N: Please don't be upset with me about this chapter. I don't know what came over me. I promise you'll learn what Sheppard and McKay have been up to in Part 8.
Caldwell waited…and waited…and waited, but nothing from McKay arrived by the end of the day. Departure of the Daedalus for Earth was scheduled for the following morning, at 0900 Atlantis time, which didn't leave much leeway. He debated with himself over dinner as to whether he should approach McKay again or remain patient. His biggest worry was that the scientist would tell Sheppard or Weir about their conversation. If that happened, Caldwell was sunk. He had taken things much too far, mentioning an investigative panel.
His sleep that night was restless and filled with images of Sheppard smirking at him, McKay making awkward and suggestive innuendoes about Caldwell's own sexuality. The worst was a surreal dream in which Elizabeth Weir informed him, while hugging a sobbing McKay, that Sheppard was dead and it was Caldwell's fault, and that McKay was threatening to blow up the Daedalus if Caldwell didn't publicly confess his guilt in full view of all personnel on Atlantis.
The nightmare left him sweating and shaking, and feeling oddly ashamed of himself. He had to admit that his actions had been less than admirable or professional, and in the face of no concrete evidence he had told lies to a man still vulnerable and grieving over the loss of the only family he had. His obsession had even led him to put himself in an extremely precarious position that might threaten his career.
He thought about losing command of the Daedalus. He liked commanding the ship, liked the personnel and the daily routine. It was nice to be back on Earth every few months, nice to be on the move. He'd never liked sitting still, and after only a week on Atlantis found himself ready to set off again. If he commanded Atlantis, he'd have to deal with Air Force, Marines, and civilians, who comprised over half the population of the city. He didn't particularly care for the civilians; although there was a small contingent of non-military scientists on the Daedalus, the vast majority of its crew were military. He would be able to lead missions through the Stargate, but after reading the mission reports, it seemed like it consisted of a great deal of trudging through various landscapes and waiting around while the scientists did their thing.
What he liked was commanding, delegating, organizing, making plans and decisions and seeing them carried out. He wanted command of Atlantis for the prestige of it, and because Sheppard's – how had Kavanagh put it? – 'laissez-faire style' made him itch to take charge. But the very fact that Sheppard had the loyalty of so many people, both military and civilian, showed that his method was effective. He'd seen some minor issues involving integrating the new arrivals into the existing population, difficulties Sheppard seemed to solve with a smile and smart-ass remark, but nothing that he could point to as a major problem. The man rubbed Caldwell the wrong way, had made some poor decisions along the way, ran a command so loose and informal he couldn't figure out how anyone knew what they were supposed to do – but it worked. It had worked for the year Atlantis had been cut off from Earth, and it continued to work, no matter how much Caldwell disliked it.
And while any affair between McKay and Sheppard was indeed against military regulations, the whole 'don't ask, don't tell' situation was so delicate that there was no telling quite how Air Force brass would react to his accusation. Add to that the fact that this was all taking place in another galaxy on a hugely top secret, joint military/civilian, multi-national expedition…any such aberrations in personal relationships might well be deliberately overlooked, and Caldwell himself might come out smelling rather distinctly of sour grapes.
By the time he rose and dressed for breakfast, Stephen Caldwell had made his decision. He would search out McKay and tell him to forget their conversation. He would say the situation was not nearly as bad as he had painted it, and that he just wanted to make sure McKay understood how serious it could be.
When he found the scientist, McKay was in Weir's office, waving his hands frantically as he spoke. Judging by the look on Elizabeth's face, easily visible through the transparent walls, he was in a great deal of trouble, and Caldwell broke into a cold sweat as he realized just how much trouble he, too, might be in.