AN:Thanks for taking the time to read and review. I'm hopelessly addicted (hopelessly totally addicted). Anyway, Dr. Dredd, the vacuum came from my idea for this fic, to give these two guys the most alien encounter ever. So, be watching for some oddball stuff to appear as the chapters show!

Chapter Three

The aliens were true to their word, and mere minutes later some boxes shimmered into the room. Once they solidified, Rodney and John approached them warily. There were four, and Sheppard was eyeing them uneasily.

"You open one first," he prodded McKay's elbow.

"Why me?"

Remembering the earlier shock when he tried to touch the vacuum like being, he rubbed a hand up his arm absently, "Because the last thing that appeared here shocked me when I tried to touch it."

"Because you were trying to kidnap it!"

"It didn't know that!" retorted Sheppard. "Besides, it's not like we could've taken it anywhere. I was only going to try and convince them of our need to leave."

McKay dropped his hands to his side, and hunched his shoulders at Sheppard. "Telepathic. They knew, Colonel, which is why I attempted to tell you it was a bad idea, but did you listen, no, and I got some of that shock because of it."

"I knew," defended Sheppard.

McKay made some kind of harrumphing sound that made it clear what his opinion was, but he did move towards one of the larger boxes. At Sheppard's surprise he only said, "I'm hungry, all right? If they meant to kill us, they would've done it already."

"If you say so."

Clearly, Sheppard didn't think so. Then again, he wouldn't have let the vacuum eat McKay, and he wasn't going to risk something in the box exploding or sucking Rodney away, or anything alien like that, because god knows, this place was just weird enough for it.

Shouldering Rodney aside, he pulled the intended box near his feet, and pulled the tabs open.

"Huh, guess they are telepathic."

Rodney shouldered him this time, squeezing Sheppard to the side enough so they could both look in the box. There was Rodney's equipment from the Jumper, some cards and blankets that had been there, and a notebook and paper that John recognized as from his back pack. His mission notes.

"Guess they didn't trust us enough to send our bags. Which begs the question, how did they manage to rifle through our gear without any arms?"

"Clearly they are advanced, Colonel. They are adapting to our needs and finding ways to manipulate in the environment our carbon-based bodies require."

Sheppard wasn't sure if McKay was impressed or annoyed with the aliens. Heck, for that matter, he wasn't sure which one he was either.

"Well, that's convenient," he said.

They were quiet as they opened the other boxes. One had something in it that looked like food, but it wasn't the food from the ship, which confused Sheppard. There had been at least a week's worth of MRE's and powerbars, why had the aliens not given those to them, when they'd taken the time to retrieve other items from the ship?

The blankets and pillows were nice-looking, and also alien-produced. The material was thin, and filmy, and didn't look at all like it'd keep someone warm, and the pillows were flat squares of a sponge-like matter. Not promising, and he found himself dreading the time when they'd crash from exhaustion.

Sheppard reached in for a package of food, and pulled it out, grabbing another and tossing it to McKay. Rodney caught it, and sniffed at the top wrapper.

"Can't smell anything," Rodney said, before peeling back the clear plastic film that sealed the food. He recoiled from the odor, and even John took a step back.

"God, what is that?" Sheppard had smelled some rancid things in his life, but this smelled like rotting flesh.

McKay had grown pale, and had set the container on the floor gingerly. He snapped a finger at Sheppard, still staring at the offensive food. "Quick, give me something to seal this with, or the smell will kill us long before the aliens do."

John couldn't argue with that. He started scrounging through the stuff in the food box, and found what resembled Ziploc baggies towards the bottom. He pulled one free and handed it to McKay, trying to not breathe in with his nose.

"If all of this smells like that, we're in trouble," John said watching McKay bag up the food.

Rodney froze, and stared at him, incredulous. "And we're not already?"

"There's trouble, and then there's trouble, Rodney."

"Right now, I think we're in a lot of trouble." McKay slapped the bag against John's chest, and slouched away dejectedly.

And that, John could whole heartedly agree with.

McKay had pulled out a pillow and blanket, such that they were, and got settled against a wall with his computer, doing what, Sheppard wasn't sure. From the sounds coming from the computer, he had the sneaking suspicion it was alien invaders.

With nothing better to do, he grabbed his notebook and pen, and headed over to a spot near by, but far enough away to give the physicist some space. He could tell McKay was trying to get some kind of control. They were both waiting for the aliens to return.

The waiting. Now that was the hardest part. They didn't know what the aliens had meant by the 'study' comment. McKay was right. If the aliens wanted them dead, they'd probably be dead, but lab animals were studied and then killed. Just because they didn't want him and McKay dead now, didn't guarantee anything for later.

Sheppard started working on notes for everything that had transpired from the time the energy pulse had disabled the Jumper's systems, to the present time. Somewhere along the way, he started to get sleepy, and felt his head bobbing towards his lap.

He jerked up, trying to stay awake, not wanting anything to happen if he were to fall asleep. What if they came when he was out, and decided to take McKay because he was sleeping?

Thinking of Rodney, he took a lazy look at the man, and found himself startled to see McKay's head draped over the laptop.

"Rodney?" John called. He wanted to see if McKay was all right, but he was so tired, he didn't think he could even move. He tried to call again, but his words came out slurred, "M'kay -" Just as the thought came to him that the tiredness wasn't natural, he had already lost the battle to stay conscious.

OoO

Sheppard came awake to the painful noises he remembered from the contact in the Jumper. He opened his eyes and tried to cover his ears, but found his wrists unable to move. Panicked, he began to realize he was strapped to a table, similar to the platform he'd woken on in the other room. He also realized he was naked.

Breathe, he whispered to himself. Calm down. It's okay. He repeated it at least five times, but it didn't help. No matter how many times he said it, it wasn't going to help, because there wasn't anything about this that was okay.

"Sheppard!"

The hissed name came from his left, and John twisted his head in the direction, only to see Rodney in a similar condition. There was a flash of embarrassment, relief, worry: embarrassment at lying here naked next to McKay because this wasn't exactly the standard locker-room situation, and relief because Rodney was okay, and worry that the end result of this predicament was going to be that neither one of them was okay.

"It's cold in here," John hissed back.

"I'm sure that's what you say to all the men you're strapped to examination tables with."

Sheppard's attempt at humor and distracting Rodney from the real things to be concerned about worked, at least for the time being, judging from the fact that Rodney managed a comeback instead of a whine full of their ultimate death and demise.

We have said we mean no harm. There is no reason for fear.

Yeah, buddy, and you're the ones sitting here naked and unable to move, thought Sheppard angrily.

It is necessary. We must study. We must learn. We have never encountered your kind before. We are afraid the process would cause injury.

"You getting this, McKay?"

"Unfortunately, yes. Especially the injury part."

Sheppard had to admire Rodney. He was staring stoically up at the ceiling. The room they were in was just like the other, except a little bigger. It was all white, and free of gel material. But, how did they get here? He remembered being very sleepy, and McKay…

"You drugged us!" accused Sheppard.

It was for your comfort. The trip through our environment would have been uncomfortable. We wish no harm.

"This is harm." John tried to lift his arms to get his point across. "When we wish to learn from others in our culture, we ask."

You ask the rat if you can cage it, and test it? You ask the cattle and the sheep?

John looked over at McKay again, and saw him staring at him with a stark fear. Rat, cattle, sheep – all animals that were used on Earth. And seeing how these aliens were reading their minds, that meant they knew about Earth.

"We're not animals!" snapped Rodney. "We're human beings, and if you know so much, you ought to know the difference. For higher evolved beings, you're showing yourselves to be fairly unintelligent."

"Rodney," hissed Sheppard.

"What?" he retorted angrily. "They can read our minds, Colonel. If I'm thinking it, I might as well say it."

We are aware of many things from your minds. You are not animals, however, the analogy is correct. To us, you are these rats. We do not wish harm. We will not experiment on you. We wish to learn. You are – intriguing. You humans. Fragile. Alone. Yet, you are here. How have you progressed so much when you are singular vessels? We seek to learn.

"You say you've never encountered our kind before, where do you come from?" asked Sheppard.

The aliens' speech did give him some small measure of comfort, and, for all intents and purposes, the aliens had never harmed them directly. But there were a lot of unknowns.

We come from outside your realm. There is no position of reference in your minds. We are similar in that we explore. We are – curious. We wish to learn.

"You used singular in referring to us," spoke Rodney. "Does that mean your kind is a collective intelligence? The gel substance, does that contain your bodies?"

Sheppard recognized the scientist in McKay returning to the front. He found himself just as interested in the answers, but for a more pressing need, he wanted them released from the restraints, and given their clothes back.

We are many. We are one. The gel is our essence.

"We were swimming in brains?" Sheppard was dumbfounded, and slightly repulsed. "That was – your actual -" he couldn't finish. He didn't even know the word to verbalize, but seeing how they were telepathic anyway…

CB1, do not be distressed. It is not as you believe. It is – our home. Like these jelly fish in the sea. It is the oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere of your world to us.

Sheppard tried to appear unruffled after his outburst. "I'm not distressed," he denied.

This is the lying that we've seen in your minds?

McKay chuckled openly. "And that would be a yes."

Telepathy sucks, thought Sheppard.

Out loud he asked, "So, do you have a name for yourselves. Calling you aliens is getting a little old. And, speaking of names, we prefer McKay and Sheppard, CB1 and CB2 is so seventies."

Our language does not translate. You may call us Protectors. It is an appropriate description.

"So, we get our names back?"

We've been taught that specimens must adjust to their new surroundings. Leaving all connections to their past lives helps this process. Your names are who you were, but now you are here. This is where you will live. We wish you to – adjust.

"Then why'd you give us our things from the ship? That's a contradiction, and besides, taking our names away won't help us adjust, it'll just piss us off." McKay finished ranting, and tried to scratch a spot on his nose.

It is a contradiction, but we saw the need to ease subjects into their new lives. We will confer on the matter. The physical exams will commence. Please be still.

"Translation, shut-up," muttered McKay.

No kidding. Sheppard hoped to heck that physical exams would be a scan, because the physical exams that required nudity on Earth went in places he wasn't prepared for these aliens to go.

Before he could voice his worry, he felt a heat begin at his toes, and move up his body. If he'd ever had a reason to imagine a thick line of energy moving slowly up the length of the bed, that'd pretty much hit the nail on the head for what he was experiencing now. It wasn't painful; in fact, the warmth was pleasant, and he felt himself lulled into a drowsy state.

The return of the grating sounds pulled his mind unwillingly back awake. It sounded like broken bagpipes and pounding bad movie organ music mixed in with a little bit of an off-tune piano.

CB2, you are ill.

John snorted. "I always knew something was a little off with you, Rodney."

"Ha ha ha, and for the aliens in the room, the ones without a bad sense of humor and infinite bad hair day, what do you mean, ill? I haven't felt good since you slimed us, what's changed?"

That brought Sheppard up short. Well, up short in the mental state, because he was still unable to move much at all. "You weren't feeling good, and you didn't tell me?" he spluttered. He'd thought McKay looked flushed, but chalked it up to the situation.

Rodney rolled his head towards Sheppard. "And your point being that it would've done what? Made you worry more? Right…"

"You forgot."

"Actually, yes. In between getting electrocuted by vacuum beings, gagged by foul food recreations, and gassed into unconsciousness -"

"I get it, Rodney." Ask for a spoon and you get a ladle.

We fear it is a complication from being immersed in our environment. We tried to ensure all material was removed from your lungs. Humans are fragile. Some must have remained, and regardless of how small, illness has begun. We will treat illness.

Protectors, remember Sheppard. That's what they called themselves. Good, they could protect McKay and make him better. "Will it work?" he asked, just to make sure. Wouldn't want Rodney to go and die on him, leaving him alone in freaky 'The Borg Meets the Blob' world.

The restraints released suddenly on both men, and Sheppard jumped to his feet so fast his head spun. But then that left him in the awkward situation of standing naked in a room.

"Could we get some clothes, possibly?" He tried hard not to move his hands over his crotch and cover up like some self-conscious idiot. It was really really hard.

Clothing is not necessary.

"Oh, believe me, they're necessary," Sheppard retorted quickly.

Why?

"Just give the man some pants. You know why we wear clothes. Don't pull that selective telepathy crap on us."

Way to go, McKay, cheered Sheppard to himself.

Two sets of white outfits shimmered into the room. They almost resembled scrubs, but as Sheppard hastily pulled them on, sans underwear but he wasn't bitching, he noticed the material was thicker. He had to think the resemblance was intentional. The Protectors knew their stuff with subliminal messages. This one was that they were at the mercy of these beings.

As McKay yanked his top over his head, Sheppard noticed Rodney was sweating. Once his head was free, John placed a hand against McKay's forehead and winced at the heat.

McKay met his worried gaze and didn't say anything.

"We could use a bathroom!" Sheppard called, dropping his hand and turning away from Rodney.

Modifications to your quarters are taking place now. It will be when you return. For now, please take the medicine.

Another vacuum like being shimmered in the room, but this one was about twice as big as the other, and had robotic tube like appendages holding out cups.

Sheppard watched as McKay took one of the cups. Rodney sniffed it apprehensively, but didn't reel back in disgust so it must've been okay. He took a sip, and started spitting and gagging.

"That's awful, what is it, cleaning fluid? Alien chicken soup? What?" demanded McKay.

Medicine. You will drink this, or be immersed in a therapy gel. It is your choice, but we believed you would prefer this option.

Rodney swallowed hard, and looked queasily at the cup.

"Just hold your nose, McKay. Big baby."

McKay looked like he wanted to shove it down John's throat, but he pinched his nose and drank it in one huge gulp. He threw the cup away, and started coughing and choking.

Concerned, Sheppard started to slap Rodney on the back, then realized how stupid that was, and instead tried to hold him upright while snapping at the robotic representation of the Protectors, "Help him!"

"I'm – okay," wheezed Rodney, pushing Sheppard off his arm.

McKay straightened, finally, and wiped at his face and mouth. "That was disgusting. For all I know, you could've just had me drink your sewage."

We would not do that!

The alien words sounded almost mortified.

"This will make him better, right," Sheppard asked skeptically. Didn't seem to him that any medicine that could almost make you choke to death would be very helpful.

"And, for the record, that second cup, not gonna happen," snarled McKay. "Once had better be enough."

The second cup is for CB1.

"You will if you have to, Rodney." Sheppard had said that, but about the same time an evil grin was spreading across McKay's face, John's mind had processed the latest telepathic communication, and he took a step away from the robotic vacuum thing.

"Forget it," he said emphatically. "I'm not sick."

The illness in CB2 is serious. If we failed to protect him, then it is possible we failed to protect CB1. We do not wish to fail. You will take the medicine or be immersed in the therapy gel. It is your choice, as he was given.

"Take the medicine, Colonel. Don't be a 'big baby'," mocked McKay.

"This is ridiculous!" he swore. "I'm not sick. It's not safe to take medicine when you're not sick. You read minds, look. They always say it makes you more susceptible if you do, to all kinds of nasty bugs, like flesh-eating bacteria, and that kind of stuff." John didn't even know why he was arguing so much against it, but from McKay's reaction, that stuff was bad, and this coming from someone who liked MRE's!

We know of what you speak, but that is not the case with our medicine and this illness. You will take the medicine. Now.

McKay leaned in and whispered, "Look Colonel, I know you've got issues with being ordered to do something you don't want to do, but I strongly suggest you buck up and drink it. I'd really rather you didn't disappear for this 'therapy'."

Issues with following orders? That was a low blow. He winced, but grabbed the cup so hard some of the contents sloshed onto his hand. Great. Less to drink anyway.

He tossed it back in one gulp, and felt the liquid burning a trail down his throat into his stomach. Oh, shit. He started coughing and spluttering, and now understood all too well why Rodney had tossed the cup and bent over.

He wheezed, and tried to catch his breath. Rodney tried to offer a supportive hand, but for some weird reason, McKay was listing sideways. Sheppard tried to grab him before he fell down, but found to his surprise that they both wound up on their backs.

The Protectors whispered in their minds. Rest. When you wake, you will be in your quarters and feel better.

Dimly, Sheppard reached for McKay, and found Rodney's hand searching for his. They latched on, and watched as the ceiling blurred, and they lost their hold on consciousness.

TBC