Summary: Tag to "The Hive". What happened after everyone got back?

"I'm sick and tired of everyone treating me like an addict!"

After Carson had released him, Rodney McKay had jumped right back into the fray of work. Lab reports, experiments, and conjectures--they had kept him going through many struggles in life, and they would keep him going today. He still felt tired, but relatively normal. His men kept skirting around him as though sure he might explode or hurt them. Other technicians begged him for stories on how he had escaped and what it felt like to prove victorious in a battle. It was every geeks dream, but even those that showed interest were aghast at his audacity of taking the drugs in the first place.

It was after Zelenka had cast him another worried glance that McKay had had enough. He shouted the words before he knew he was going to say them. The lab went quiet in an instant, every eye locked on the chief scientist.

He had to leave, get away from people. He didn't need their worry. Taking action, he bolted into the corridor, fists tightly clenched.

"Hello, Rodney." Lt. Colonel John Sheppard matched strides with the physicist.

"Colonel," came McKay's curt reply. "If you don't mind, I really need..."

"... to talk to me about what happened on that planet."

"I have no need to explain myself to you."

"Is that so?"

When Rodney didn't answer, concentrating on the floor instead, Sheppard spoke again. "Now, Rodney." His tone left no room for argument. As they passed by the nearest empty room, Sheppard held the door open by stepping in its path. Reluctantly, Rodney followed. As Sheppard settled himself across from a table, the scientist noticed the bag Sheppard must have been carrying with him the whole time.

"I hear you didn't give Elizabeth any trouble about the suspension."

"That's right. It's utterly ridiculous and impractical, but if it will make you all feel better, I'm willing to accept being restricted to on base duty for a while."

"You think you're okay."

"I think I'd be better if people would stop treating me like a junkie. Speaking of which, is there a point to this conversation?"

"When I was told what you did, which I think was incredibly insane by the way, I was horrified. I was all ready to come in here and yell at you for putting yourself into danger like that. But part of me is also thankful that you were willing to go through that just to help us. The fact is, you've changed for the better," he paused and McKay offered him a weak smile.

"Despite all these feelings, however, there is one fact I cannot get around. The second that enzyme touched your system, you became a security risk."

"Is that so?" McKay hugged his arms to his chest, glaring daggers at his friend.

"You say your fine. Maybe you are; maybe you are not. Truth is, I don't know."

McKay watched with interest as Sheppard pulled out three glasses from the duffle.

"You've heard of the Monte Hall problem?"

McKay gave a loud snort, "Please, Colonel, of course I have. It's a probability question." As Sheppard motioned for him to go on, McKay raced into a super speed explanation. "You have three doors. Two of them have nothing behind them and one of them has a prize. You choose one door and than the announcer opens one of the doors that has nothing and asks if you want to switch to the remaining door. The idea being that you should always switch."

"Why?" Sheppard filled each container with three separate flasks as McKay took the cue to continue.

"It's basic math, hardly worth my time. Okay, okay... You had a 2/3 probability of choosing the wrong door the first time but if you switch you have 2/3 probability of getting the prize. It's quite the conundrum for some of the lesser minds, but far beyond our abilities if you ask me."

While he spoke at a mile a minute, his brain worked at twice the speed trying to understand where Sheppard was going with this. Eventually his friend gazed at him with a malicious smile.

"I have three glasses in front of me, McKay. Two of them have ordinary water in it, the other has some lemon. Choose one."

All someone had to do was mention the word lemon for the physicist's face to pale. "And the point of trying to poison me would be..." His voice quivered as he looked with fear upon the glasses.

"Pretend there are two very large, armed men here making you decide. Now answer the question."

"I fail to see how..." but glancing at the team leader's determined face, he knew he would have to answer eventually. "Fine... Um... The middle one."

Sheppard secured one of the glasses in his fingers, gulping down the liquid in one try.

"Well?"

"Well what, Colonel?"

"Do you stay with your choice or switch to the other one, knowing that I did not drink a glass with lemon in it."

"I stay, but I'm not about to actually drink that. I'm not about to poison myself over a game."

"Fair enough. You stayed because you had a higher chance of choosing a glass without lemon to begin with. Am I right?"

"Yes, I'm so glad your limited intellect was able to grasp this simple concept." He didn't know why he always had to insult people, constantly bragging about his superior mind. It was less true when talking with Sheppard, however. The man had passed the MENSA test and had an advanced grasp of mathematics. Leave it to a mathematician to try to poison him with probability.

"Very good. Now, I have a new game for you. Just humor me. Lucky guess by the way. Although you did have a 100 percent chance of being right." He motioned for McKay to finish the glass he had chosen, while gulping down the reaming one.

McKay, knowing to trust his friend, took a tentaitive sip and then swigged the rest down. Just water.

Sheppard took the three glasses and placed them before him once more, filling them with a new yellowish orange liquid, again from three different flasks.

"Now, you're in a room with two muscular guards that pose the following problem to you. They've filled two glasses with apple juice and one with some drinkable enzyme. Choose a glass."

"Do you have a point to this?" He was surprised at the anger, the terror in his voice.

"Choose a glass, McKay."

He pointed to the middle one, his heart thumping. Sheppard once again gulped down one of the remaining glasses, a smug appearance to his face.

"Now do you stay or do you pass?"

"I don't find this the least bit entertaining. You are wasting my valuable work time."

"Why don't you answer the question, McKay. You claim your not an addict, right? Well, I'm not saying whether you are or you are not. But which decision you make here has everything to do with it. Is the enzyme a poison or a prize? Who knows what those guards will do when the game is over. Maybe your team is in danger and you need to help them. What do you do?"

A cold chill passed through the physicist's body as he fell back into the nearest chair. He spoke slowly, his harsh voice filled with resentment. "If you were in danger? I would choose as I did before and try to get some of the enzyme. Why? Not because I need that crap running through my system, but because I need to help you."

"And yet you took so much of that enzyme--you tried so hard to overcompensate for your own physical failings--that you couldn't help us until the very end. You were too busy being high, too busy with withdrawal. You overdosed, McKay, no if, ands, or buts about it. Now I'm not saying you were wrong to take the enzyme, but I am saying it scares me that that was the only solution you could come up with. That you would feel you would need so much..."

"It was my only solution, Colonel!"

"Really? Maybe so. I'm not so sure. But the fact remains that you would take it again if need be. Well what happens when we are fighting with the Wraith? What happens when you have that chance once more to take some of the enzyme, to play superman again. Would you take it? Would it tempt you not because you like the drug, but because you believe you need the drug to survive."

"You can't be serious. I'm scared of the stuff! I'm not going to go out and seek it." His breathing was growing shallow. Was the room tightening around him?

"Really? Now that you've had a taste of what it can do? Now that you successfully beat up two burly men? Doesn't it make you feel powerless to be off of it? I can see it in your eyes, McKay. You know the truth. The graver the situation the more likely you are to turn back to the enzyme. Why? Because you don't believe in yourself. Because you know you are weak."

In an instant, McKay stormed to his feet. He could feel fire burning in his eyes. "Is that what you think of me, Colonel? As weak? Well, what the hell did you expect when you brought a scientist on board your team. I told you I belonged in a laboratory, but you forced me out there. Excuse me if I suck at firing guns and if I'm clueless when it comes to throwing punches. I tried to save your life! And yes, the enzyme helped me to do that because it gave me the edge I needed. It doesn't mean I'm addicted; it means I did what had to be done."

Sheppard didn't flinch. He had lifted his legs unto the table, just watching as McKay continued with his rant. It infuriated the geek only that much more, but he drew back his voice and waited for his friend's reply.

"I don't say this because I think you are lacking. I think you have proven your strengths in many occasions. You've saved my life before and I'm not about to forget it. But you do see yourself as weak. I needed to know where you were at. Now I know."

McKay steadied his breath, falling back unto the recently vacated chair. "Now we know."

Sheppard left then, leaving McKay to his own quandaries. The physicist thought back to how wonderful it had been to be strong, even if only for a short moment. Although he felt no need to take the enzyme again, he knew it was only a matter of time before a dire situation would once again leave him desperate and in want of the hated chemical.

He looked down at his body, proud of how slim he had become over the time he had spent on Atlantis. But it wasn't enough to hold him in battle, only enough to help him runaway. Even now, the drugs after-affects made him feel weakened and pathetic. He wanted an edge.

He had to find another way. He had to make himself strong. He had to learn to fight, to shoot, and to do whatever it was that made all of his teammates hold there own. For he knew now, he had grown addicted. It was not a need for the enzyme itself that held him. No, it was much deeper than that. He had grown addicted to power, to control.