McKay stared through the glass front of the cabinet, ignoring his own reflection. Ignoring the wide, white-rimmed eyes, the crooked mouth open, gasping, the trembling hand reaching for the latch. Then the panic rushed up, filling his head, roaring in his ears and he spun away from the face he saw in the glass.
"Are you an idiot?" he muttered, wringing his hands, sweat cold and prickling between his shoulders. He knew what would happen. He knew it would be bad. He remembered after he'd eaten the dose Ford had laced their food with. He could feel it skittering along his nerves, his skin, muscles twitching randomly. Time was sliding away and he forced himself once more to turn and face the image in the glass.
"Desperate times, desperate measures." It didn't lessen the terror fizzing and sparking in his head, but he reached to open the door, his hand hovering only for a moment before reaching for one of the large vials of enzyme. "That's one hell of a karate chop," he whispered to himself.
It had taken him a moment to fumble the protective cover from the syringe needle, and when he twisted the cork from the bottle, a little had splashed out onto his hand. Without thinking he had licked the drops from his fingers. It had tasted bitter, like gall. He spluttered violently, almost retching, and then froze, terrified Ford's goons had heard.
He stripped off his jacket, scrubbing the sweat from his face with it, and dropped it to the floor. Taking a deep breath, the cold, dusty musty dank of the cave filled his head. The fear clenched at his gut but he picked up the syringe, carefully inserted the needle into the pinkish-red fluid and filled the hypo. The first injection was a thin ribbon of fire tracing up his arm. The second one became a band, blazing and twisting up his shoulder, squeezing his heart in a fiery fist. He could hardly see to inject the third, a rush of heat flooding through his body, his brain on fire, his eyes burning from the heat. After an endless moment he could see again but his vision seemed to flicker around the edges. He felt too large to be encompassed in his own skin. It was exhilarating; it was terrifying.
"Lock and load."
He was surprised the two goons couldn't hear him coming. He almost felt sorry for them, but at the same time felt a fierce joy. In the back of his mind he could hear a terrified keening from the part of him that still had not succumbed to the rush from the enzyme. He giggled a little and stepping around the corner, flung himself at the guards. Everything seemed to slow down and speed up at the same time. He watched the first guard fly away, floating on the air. As he threw a roundhouse punch at the second, the slick fabric of his shirt slid across his shoulders like sandpaper. Snatching the bottle from the box they'd been using as a table, he broke it over the guard's head, then smashed his fist into the man's face, sending him crashing into the crate.
"And that's what happens when you back a brilliant scientist into a corner!" he shouted over the white noise in his head.
He never felt the second guard coming, and the fear gripped him tightly when the man punched him, snapping his head back. He groped frantically at the guard's face, trying to break the grip the man had on his throat, and then the rage was back and he broke free, aiming a clumsy but powerful kick that dropped the guard. He watched with satisfaction as the guard collapsed and didn't get back up. It was getting harder to think. His blood was roaring in his ears and the keening was getting louder again.
"Re..re-focus," he slurred, and staggered unevenly toward the part of the cavern that Ford used as an office. Rummaging through the desk, he found the crystals and gasping for air, headed for the DHD.
The world spun around him and the grass of the meadow was slippery under his feet. He collapsed against the DHD and with fumbling fingers inserted the crystals.
"Big dose, big big dose," he singsonged to himself. "But you needed it to lay out the guards" He knew he was babbling; his lips were numb. "'You want the crystals, you're gonna have to go through us,'" he mimicked the guards. "Well, I went through you all right, didn't I? Like a knife through jello – no – er, butter? Knife through butter? Oh man…Rodney, focus, must finish dialing." His heart was beating so fast it was making him shake. He was talking but it wasn't making any sense as he dialed Atlantis. "Please work, please work, please work," he chanted before pressing down with both shaking hands and lifting his head to stare at the gate through blurred eyes. The gate bloomed to life and only one thought kept him on his feet. "Okay, go home."
The cold of the wormhole barely touched the flames burning him up from within. He strode through the event horizon, hand raised triumphantly.
he'ddoneithe'dmadeithewasheretheywouldlistentheywouldsavehisteam
He saw Weir rushing towards him down the stairs and her image wavered like a sun dream.
"I know what I need to do."
"Rodney? What's happened? Where are the rest –"
"There's no time, no time. They're on a planet. Not Ford's, the one the ships are headed towards, we need to get there and we don't have much time. I was barely able to escape myself but I managed to take out the guards. Oh, you should have seen me, I was amazing. I wish we got it on camera. That's not the point."
"Rodney. Slow down. Are you all right?"
"Yes, yes. I mean, um, I don't know. I did take out the guards and they were huge, dumb and stupid – "
"What guards?"
"Ford's guards! I didn't mention Ford?"
"No, you didn't. You haven't mentioned Sheppard, Teyla or Ronon either!"
"Yes! They were there too! And there were the two guards! They were huge and massive and I had to take them out so I had to inject the enzyme."
"You took some of the enzyme?"
"No, no, no, no, no! I didn't take some of the enzyme, I took a LOT of the enzyme. Because I had to take out the guards. Which I did. And you should have seen me, I was amazing."
"Are you insane?"
"Yes, yes, now that I've taken the enzyme, yes."
"Rodney, focus. Where is Colonel Sheppard?"
He had to make her understand what he'd done, how amazing and heroic and idiotic and insane it was. It was important that she understand, his team, the ship…
"No, no, no, I had to take the enzyme because I had to take out the guards! But that's not the point. The point is, we don't have enough time! We need to stop the ship from getting to where the ship is going."
"Come on, come on, let's take a walk down to the infirmary."
If she'd just listen, if he could just explain… he twisted away from her hands.
"Wwww, where are we going, what are you doing? No, no, no, no, no, I don't want to go to the infirmary. I want to go to the –"
He could hear the wailing again now, getting louder…there was something he had to tell her, had to tell all of them, and the heat came spilling out of him, red, and then black.
oOo
Zelenka stood at the end of the corridor absorbed in the piece of copy paper on his clipboard, taking quick furtive glances as McKay was wheeled in on a gurney. Idly he fingered the old, ugly computer chip he habitually carried in his pocket, tracing the Cyrillic letters. The smallest of smiles twisted his lips, thinking of his old comrades, back when this was all he had to work with. The smile faded as he remembered losing them, the old pain familiar and sour in the back of his throat. It could be very useful to have a listening device handy to tap into communication systems. Not that Elizabeth would ever… He turned away from the thought.
He could see the dark patches of sweat marking McKay's grey shirt. Already the word had run before McKay throughout Atlantis; and the rumor was confirmed by the sight of marines taking up watchful positions around the infirmary. No one was willing to repeat what had happened with Lieutenant Ford. Zelenka resisted the urge to rush down the hall, demand information from one of Beckett's nurses. Maybe the one with the long, dark hair and the nice ass who looked like his cousin's Croatian friend… He bit his lip. McKay would hate knowing everyone was talking about him.
At the same time he was unwilling to just go quietly back to his lab. He took a deep breath and blew it out through pursed lips. As he stood debating internally, Dr. Simpson came around the corner. She looked relieved when she spotted him.
"Radek, I heard that McKay is back?"
"Yes, he is back," Zelenka admitted unwillingly.
"Is he all right? I could really use help dislodging Morgan from the electron microscope." She tapped a finger on the touchpad she held. "He's been monopolizing it since the Daedalus brought it and some of the rest of us have deadlines to meet!"
"He is," and Zelenka paused. "He is in the infirmary. I do not believe he will be available for some time."
Simpson's mouth tightened and Zelenka forced a grin.
"It is nothing. You know how protective of him Dr. Beckett is since the little incident with Lieutenant Cadman," and he smirked. Simpson rolled her eyes.
"Yes, yes, the kiss." She sounded bored. "Honestly, Radek, I didn't think you were that childish."
He held up his hands. "Guilty as charged." It was foolish. She would find out the truth soon enough. But he couldn't bring himself to betray McKay's secret. "It is, perhaps, something I could assist you with?"
She waved a hand dismissively. "It's all right. It's just handy having McKay available to bluster." Zelenka grinned again, this time without thinking. For all that they complained about the Canadian's acidic personality, when handled adroitly it was certainly useful. "Let me know just how long it's gonna be before Beckett turns him loose," she added casually over her shoulder without looking at him.
Zelenka realized it was not so casual after all. Nothing so clumsy as sexual interest, but something much more rare and valuable. McKay seemed to inspire a dogged loyalty in those smart enough and savvy enough to look past the horse's ass exterior he wore so determinedly. Zelenka stood still a moment, considering his options. A voice through the com in his ear made the decision for him.
When he met Dr. Weir in her office a few moments later, he was surprised, and then not at her calm expression.
"How is he?" he blurted out before he could stop himself. Her face lost a little of it's objectivity and she tried to smile.
"Dr. Beckett is evaluating him right now," she answered, looking down at her desk. "He injected himself with the enzyme. Apparently it was the only option he saw open that would allow him to escape."
"From who? Where has he been? And where is Colonel Sheppard?"
"And Teyla and Ronon?" finished Weir, looking frustrated. "I'm hoping he'll be able to tell Dr. Beckett more, or at least that it'll make more sense to Carson than it did to me."
"So right now there is nothing to do?" asked Zelenka. He sank into one of the strange couch chairs in her office and closed his eyes. His head swam. He hadn't slept more than a couple hours since he'd tried to find the address of the last gate dialed from the planet of SGA-1's last mission.
He had tried to convince Weir to let them go back in the days that followed, but she had insisted he was more valuable here overseeing the science contingent. That if it were possible to retrieve the information he would have gotten it that first time. He scratched idly at the fabric of the couch with one broken fingernail, thinking about the gate address and idly calculating the thousands of possible permutations of the fifty addresses he'd managed to retrieve. What if they used fingerprint dust to check for which glyphs had been pressed by Sheppard's team? That would at least reduce the number of possible combinations from thousands to hundreds.
"…dek? Dr. Zelenka?"
Abruptly he became aware that Elizabeth had been calling his name for some time now. He struggled out of the death grip the couch had on his ass and stood up hastily.
"Of course. I would appreciate if you would keep me informed of Dr. McKay's condition?" he requested stiffly, and then realized from her expression she must have just assured him she would be doing that. Unexpectedly she reached across the desk and squeezed his arm gently.
"I know you're worried, Radek. Believe me, I'll let you know as soon as I have any news."
"I have heard Kavanagh is returning. I have no wish to deal with him in Rodney's place," he dissembled, fiddling with his glasses, feeling color climbing up his neck and prickling his ears.
"Of course," Weir agreed solemnly.
With more haste than dignity he left the office and headed to his lab.
oOo
Three times he carefully and incorrectly assembled and then disassembled the probe he was customizing to analyze gas giants before giving up. He was used to McKay's side of the lab being empty while the other scientist was on away missions, but it distracted him more today than usual. He decided to take a walk, try and clear his head, knowing exactly where he'd find himself. So when he came upon Beckett, standing rumpled and weary in the hallway, a cup of steaming coffee in his hands, he didn't pretend. Or at least, not for long.
Peering into Beckett's cup, he sniffed. "I thought the English only drank tea?"
Beckett regarded him sourly. "If you're looking for information, lad, that's not really the best way to go about getting it."
Zelenka adjusted his glasses looking slightly sheepish. Beckett snorted and sighed. "He's holding his own now. Not surprisingly he's giving us a blow-by-blow account of the horrors of withdrawal." Struggling to keep his face impassive and failing, Zelenka stared at Beckett, his eyes wide with shock.
"W-w-withdrawal?"
Beckett looked surprised. "Didn't Elizabeth tell you he'd injected himself with the enzyme?"
Zelenka nodded, shaken. "But she did not say anything about addiction. How much did he take?"
Sighing, Beckett ran his hands over his face, scrubbing at his eyes tiredly. "His levels were close to Lieutenant Ford's. It's been a long, miserable night and who knows how he'll be affected long-term. We've not exactly been able to monitor young Aiden."
"Well," Zelenka managed finally to croak through lips stiff with shock, "only thing Rodney is good at sharing is misery."
Beckett huffed a little and took a long swallow of the coffee, grimacing. "I'd best get back to him," and as he spoke, a nurse appeared at the doorway to the infirmary.
"Is there anything I can do?" asked Zelenka, reeling from the shock and worry still humming in his ears like radio static. He reached behind him without noticing, steadying himself against the cool smooth Ancient walls.
Beckett shook his head, running a hand through his hair, making bits of it stick out in several directions. He rubbed at his chin and Zelenka could hear the rasp of his unshaven jaw under his fingers.
"Just a matter of toughing through it, I'm afraid. Once he's safely on the other side, no doubt he'll need someone to talk to." He looked regretful. "Somehow I doubt I'll be his first choice." He reached up and squeezed Zelenka's shoulder as he walked past him into the infirmary.
Zelenka sighed. He was tired and hungry and his head hurt. "McKay, even when you are being hero you are pain in the ass," he said out loud to no one in particular.
oOo