"You did what?" Sheppard couldn't believe what he was seeing. There was no way. . . .

Carson was in no mood to be ridiculed. "It was for his own good, Major, just look at his hand!" Sheppard could see, plainly, the red seeping through the white gauze. "Both nurses McCall and Myers are suffering from minor head injuries. He was like an animal backed into a corner, Major. I can't describe it any other way, and for the moment, this is the only way I can restrain him."

When one looked at Rodney McKay, one could picture a bad temper. But not violence. The straps that held his wrists to the bed were tight. He wouldn't be able to move if he tried. "For how long?"

"Just until he proves he's in his right mind." Beckett sighed. "I don't mind telling you, Major, there's more going on here than just a lack of sleep." He pulled an EEG scan. "Look at this brainwave activity. This isn't normal for someone who is sleeping. This is the scan of someone who is in the throes of work, or an adrenaline rush."

Sheppard examined the active lines. "That explains the sleepwalking."

"There's more." Carson produced a different chart. "It has to do with the parts of the brain being used. Now this lobe is usually associated with REM sleep, which he isn't getting. But here," he pointed to a small spot, "this should almost shut down completely. However, it is the most active."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning not only is he not getting sleep, he is being pushed to the limits of reasonable human endurance during his down time. This is the reading of someone well on their way to a total mental collapse."

"Oh. . ." Sheppard suddenly sank, and Carson guided him to a chair.

"Are you alright, son?"

John had to smile. It amused him the way the Scotsman insisted on calling people 'son' whether they were of an age, or older. The situation caused him to sober quickly. "He gonna be okay, right?"

"I don't know. I can't figure out what's triggering this." A distressed moan pulled the doctor's attention from Sheppard to the bed. Rodney was slowly moving his head, wincing.

"Rodney?" Carson walked to him, placing a steady, firm hand on his chest. "How do you feel?"

Rodney just looked at him for a moment, and both men could see his gaze shift into recognition. He cocked his head for a better view. "Carson?" His voice was very soft. "What's going on?" His hands pulled at the restraints. Rodney looked down, then met Carson's eyes with a panicked expression.

"Easy, Rodney. Hang on a moment." He started to loosen the straps. "What do you remember?"

"Uh. . .nothing. I-I don't remember anything."

"Do you feel better, then?"

"I, uh. . .yeah, I guess so. Not rested really, but better? Maybe."

"That's not much of an answer, Rodney." Sheppard walked to the other side of the bed. "You realize you put two nurses on the floor, and not for the reasons you may hope."

"What are you talking about?" His voice was distracted as he concentrated on Carson releasing the straps.

"You had a dream. Looks like the sedatives aren't getting the job done."

"Oh." Rodney let his head fall back onto his pillow. Empty eyes gazed at nothing, setting Sheppard's nerves on edge. He carefully pulled the doctor aside.

"Isn't there anything else you can do?"

"I can increase the dosage. But that will knock him out for a very long time, and quite frankly, I'm not sure Dr. Weir would approve."

"It's better than him losing his mind!"

"It is, yes. And should it come to that, I'll do it. Right now I want to keep him under observation, he's plainly exhausted. With any luck this last burst of energy will do him in."

"You don't seriously think that." Sheppard allowed himself a smirk of disbelief.

"No, I don't. However, that is what I'm going to do, until I have a better answer. Rest assured, if he does not sleep on his own by this evening, I'll have no choice."

"Rest assured, huh?" Sheppard winced. It sounded so scheming, really. Plotting to keep Rodney out of the loop, when he was the two ends that held the loop together. One end being that brilliant mind, the other being his boundless energy and dogged enthusiasm. This time both seemed to be doing him in.

Carson left Sheppard, going back to his small office. The major watched Rodney, who hadn't moved. His eyes did seem to be drooping, and his body was relaxing. And at that moment, the power blinked. Sheppard's shoulders sagged, and he hurried from the infirmary.

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"Can you trace it?" Weir asked, taking the stairs two at a time. This was getting old.

"The power spike was near the arboretum. That is an odd place for one, isn't it?" Lt. Chen frowned and looked up, her perfectly articulated English overlaid with puzzlement.

"Not when you consider the fact that there's a generator and several power relays outlets on that level," Johnson said, peering over her shoulder. "Plus the climate has to be perfectly maintained, if we have any hopes of maintaining proper function. I know Lindsay would piss if her ferns died."

Weir joined them. "Is there a reason for the spike? Where did we lose power this time?"

"Looks to have been routed from the jumper bays." Johnson shook his head. "This makes no damn sense."

"At least this one was inconsequential." She looked up as Radek flew up the stairs to join them. "Dr. Zelenka, have you found something?"

"No, not as such. But. . .I think I can predict the next one. I want to be certain."

"How?" Weir followed him to a set of large control units.

"I checked all of the relays during the last spike, and compared them with the previous five." He nodded and straightened, pointing to the screen. "There, see? There is a pattern, not much, but it's there."

Weir leaned in, wincing at the points on the screen, but it made no sense to her. "I'm sorry, I don't follow."

"Very difficult to explain right now, but if I am right, the next spike will hit in about three hours," he pointed, "here."

"The infirmary?"

"Yes."

"How can you be sure?"

Radek gave a half-hearted shrug. "I cannot. But is best I have, and if I am right, we can predict it and stop it. We are working on a blocker that will hopefully diffuse the extra energy that is being transmitted from one point to another."

"Have we ruled out human involvement?"

"I am hoping if we can block this source, whomever is responsible will be exposed while trying to reroute the power." Again, he shrugged an apology. "It will be more difficult, and take time."

"I see. Any idea why the last few spikes have been minor transfers? The earlier spikes were something to be concerned about, now this is nothing more than a nuisance."

"Which confirms the idea that someone is involved," Radek pointed out. "They are hiding."

Elizabeth shook her head. "No, I'm sorry, I don't buy that. It doesn't make sense."

"Dr. Weir, none of this makes sense. The way the power itself is being transferred shouldn't be able to happen. But it is, and this is what I have."

"Of course." She nodded and turned as Sheppard approached. "How's our patient?"

"Sleeping, hopefully. What's going on here?"

Weir sighed. "More the same, only on a smaller scale."

"No clues?"

"You like mysteries?" She gestured to the panels before her. "Here's one for you."

"I take it that's a 'no'."

Weir's frustration was obvious. "Major, as far as I've been told, there is no logical reason for these spike to happen. Now they started small, became dangerous, and they've died down. That tells me that the only way to go is up, and I'm afraid the results could be disastrous." She pulled him aside. "Listen, I need for you to do some heavy searching. If someone is responsible for this, we need to apprehend them before someone gets hurt."

Sheppard studied the seriousness in her face. "You know something we don't?"

"Call it intuition. There's something not right about this, something we're missing."

Sheppard knew how she felt. It was like a jigsaw puzzle with huge pieces that should be so easy to assemble, yet those last few pieces didn't fit. "Well, I wasn't going to say anything. . ."

"You feel it too."

Her voice was confidential. This was his friend, Elizabeth, talking, not Dr. Weir. Sheppard nodded. "Yeah. This definitely isn't right." He glanced at Zelenka, bent over the console. "I don't think we're looking in the right place. Tracing these spikes is putting us behind the person doing this, not in front. We're tagging him. Even if we can start to predict them, we're one step behind."

"What I want to know it, why do this? Why cause a minor nuisance?"

Sheppard was staring at the gate. She recognized that look, and caught his arm. "Major?"

But he was headed to Zelenka, shrugging off her grip. "Radek, every time there is a spike, it's because the power is being transferred from one part of the station to another. Right?"

"In a large quantity that levels out, yes."

"But there's no sign of a power loss."

"There is a slight drain, almost undetectable. Anytime you transfer power from one source to another, you will lose minute amounts in that transfer. It is not enough to cause concern."

"Unless those minute bits of power are being stored elsewhere." Radek looked up sharply. "No, no, stay with me here." Sheppard stared talking more quickly. "Would it be possible to set of a series of transfers with the sole intent of draining power from the station, or from one generator to another, just enough to run a piece of machinery or jumper or something?"

"A jumper requires much more, but something small, if done enough times. . .maybe." Radek was confused. "You're saying someone is stealing the residual energy?"

"Exactly! It provides the perfect cover; we're busy trying to get this under control," he tapped the screen, "and not even worried about the 'minute' source being drained away."

Radek bent over his console, tapping at the screen. "The first loss was two percent, and it was irreplaceable. Now I can calculate the loss for the other spikes, give me just a moment. . ." they waited patiently, ". . .there. So far total loss is four point eight percent."

"That doesn't sound like much," Weir said.

"In the grand scheme of things, it isn't," Radek agreed, "but we don't yet know what may happen."

"And you think the next spike will occur in the infirmary?" she asked.

"If what the major says is true," Radek responded, "it is possible that who ever is responsible is getting precise measurements of power at precise times." He was studying the screen again. "It is possible that a large enough surge directed towards the infirmary will provide a three percent loss if not more."

"And a three percent gain for them."

"What would that kind of spike do to the infirmary?" Weir asked.

Radek's lips drew in a tight line. "It would knock out their supply. It would cripple them for some time. If anyone was near the mechanics. . ."

"We can't evacuate the infirmary, it would let whoever is responsible know what's going on."

Sheppard was lightly pounding his fist on the console as he thought. "I'll talk to Carson. Maybe we can shut down as much as necessary, call it recovery maintenance. That'll save their equipment, and prevent the three percent loss."

"That is if I can accurately predict the spike," Radek reminded them, "and all I have to go on are the estimates from former readings. I cannot get into the mind of person doing this."

"Do what you can." Weir said, nodding at them both as she responded to a call in the distance. She walked across the room to bend over another screen.

Radek stared at the screen, motionless for a moment, then looked up at Sheppard. He looked tired. "How is Rodney?"

Sheppard slowly took the seat next to him. "Oh, you know. Cranky. Irritable. Pissed."

"Good, then."

"Getting there."

Radek nodded, his gaze still far off. When he spoke, his voice was low. "I worry. He takes too much on himself, like he is only person to get things done. The arrogance I don't mind so much. I mind that he will run himself down, then where are we?" He sighed. "He is a friend."

Sheppard crossed his arms as he leaned back in the chair. The easy admission came almost as a shock to him. What the hell was wrong with it, with him? He understood the concern, but wasn't sure how to respond to it. "Don't underestimate yourself. You're at least as smart as he is, and a hell of a lot easier to work with."

Radek gestured helplessly. "I cannot solve this. He would have solved this, said 'Radek, you are blind fool. Here is the answer'."

"You have a theory. We'll see what happens, and if it isn't right, you'll come up with another theory."

"I need proof!" He slammed his fist onto the console in a rare show of anger, distracting his co-workers. He sighed and covered his face. "I am sorry. I am. . . very tired."

Sheppard had leaned forward at his outburst. He winced in sympathy, and patted Radek's shoulder. "Look, take it easy," he said quietly. "Why don't you go get some air. Clear your head."

Radek sniffed and straightened. "No, I am fine. Thank you. There is much to be done here, I will rest once I prove my theory."

"And I thought McKay was stubborn." Sheppard gave a small grin in response to Radek's silent laugh, and left the man to his work.

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Rodney opened his eyes. Good god. . .he slept. He actually slept, the kind of full, intense sleep usually accompanied by open windows and crisp, clean sheets. His sigh was deep and relaxed, and a smile formed on his face, turning into a grin as Carson walked over to him. "Well then, I see you feel much better!" His own smile mirrored his friend's.

"Better isn't the word for it! Whatever you put in that happy juice you gave me, you should market it as the perfect sleep aid."

Carson shook his head. "You did this on your own, Rodney. It wasn't my medicine."

"Really?" He generated something that good? "I should sleep more often."

Carson laughed. "Aye, that you should! Now let me check your blood pressure and such, and if you are up to it, we can sign you out of here." He picked up the blue cuff. "Nice flowers, by the way."

"Flowers?"

Carson gestured to the small table against the wall. "They're from the arboretum, I do believe. No idea who brought them, but your name is on the card."

Rodney frowned and stared at the petals. The chill that covered his body wouldn't go away.