Early evening found "Team Carson," as Rodney had dubbed them, back in the conference room. Kate Heightmeyer, who had spent several hours in the infirmary with Beckett, was the first to report.

"He's beginning to come to terms with what happened, but he insists he has no memory of being on the balcony or of jumping. I believe him, his distress is totally genuine."

"That's my impression, as well," Carmen agreed. "I know the man as well as anyone, and –"

"And he's a crap liar," Rodney finished. "He doesn't remember jumping, he doesn't have a death wish, can we all PLEASE agree on that and move on?"

"Agreed." Sheppard scrubbed a hand over his face and slouched in his chair. "And that means we're dealing with an attempted murder."

Elizabeth nodded. "We also have a suspect." Relating their conversation with Jeff Dunne, she added, "Both Carmen and I feel he's hiding something."

"Motive, means and opportunity," said Rodney, sucking in a great draught of coffee. "Isn't that what they always say in the movies?"

"Well, he had motive. Carson literally held Jeff's future in his hands."

Sheppard's face scrunched into a frown. "Can somebody explain this to me?"

"Dunne's an ABD," Rodney said, as though that explained everything. Radek, predictably, filled in the blanks.

"ABD means 'all but dissertation.' It means he's completed all the coursework for his doctorate but has not yet defended. We have several such candidates in Atlantis. I am advising one myself."

"Heaven help her," Rodney snarked. "The point is, a negative report from Carson could set this guy back years in his research, even send him packing back to Earth."

"And that's motive," said Sheppard.

"He had opportunity, as well," Carmen said. "As far as we can tell, Jeff was the last person to see Carson before Rodney found him on the balcony."

Elizabeth crossed her arms, tapping her fingers against one bicep. "It's the means that I can't figure out. We know he wasn't physically pushed."

"And we found no evidence of electronic devices," Radek recounted.

Sheppard scratched at his spiky hair and broke in reluctantly. "Ah, he may not be the only suspect."

"You turned up something in your interviews?"

"Nothing concrete," he admitted. "Just something that tweaked my Spidey-sense. I talked to all the refugees from TicTac –"

"Tetok," Weir corrected.

"Right. Anyway, everybody knows everybody in that group. They grew up together, the families go back for generations. Except one person." John cast an apologetic glance at Zelenka. "Apparently, Klia was found unconscious near the Stargate, with no memory of where she'd come from. She's only been with the group for about three months."

Radek's eyes had grown hard behind his glasses. "I knew this," he said, his voice strained. "She told me when we began…spending time together. I do not see why this is relevant. You said motive, means and opportunity. Klia had none of these."

"Doc, I'm not saying it means anything," Sheppard said. "It just sticks out, is all. I wouldn't want to miss anything important."

Zelenka nodded, appeased for the moment. "Of course, I understand. But Colonel, she has an alibi," he said meaningfully.

"You go, Doc," John said with a nudge, enjoying the way Radek blushed.

"This doesn't put us any closer to an answer," Rodney griped. "Hey, what about hypnosis?" The physicist cast a suspicious glare at Heightmeyer, who rolled her eyes.

"Generally speaking, you can't hypnotize people to do things against their nature, lounge acts not withstanding. In order to influence someone to that degree, you'd need months of conditioning, probably with the help of strong drugs."

"We found no evidence of mind-altering drugs in his bloodwork," Carmen reminded them. "And Doctor Biro has confirmed that none of the food we took from his room and office has been tampered with."

Weir resisted the urge to sigh in sheer frustration. "Any luck with Carson's case files?"

Carmen shook her head. "Rick and I have been going through the files of every patient Carson handled over the last two months. It's a massive project, he's very hands-on and sees as many patients personally as he can. So far we haven't found anything out of the ordinary, but we're only about halfway through. In fact, if we're done here, I need to get back and make sure Carson's settled for the night." At Weir's nod, the doctor stood and surveyed the weary gathering. "I suggest you all get some sleep."

SGA

In the quiet infirmary, Rick Baker moved to the curtained-off corner that held his boss. The Chief was asleep with the help of a light sedative. Rick checked the monitors and noted their readings on Carson's chart.

He stretched and yawned, giving himself a shake, and decided that he had officially gotten too old to function well on three hours' sleep. He poured himself another cup of coffee and returned to the duty desk, where stacks and stacks of patient files awaited him.

He couldn't help but feel that he was wasting his time. If the Chief had encountered anything major or unusual, he would have mentioned it at a staff meeting. Rick leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling for a while. Maybe, he mused, he shouldn't be looking for something major. Something small, routine, almost insignificant. But Carson Beckett was a researcher and kept meticulous records of everything…

"I wonder," Rick murmured. Rising, he crossed to the infirmary's far wall and pulled a clipboard from a hook. Flipping back a few pages, he found the entry he was looking for. "Bingo!"

A noise sounded behind him, a sort of shuffling thud, and he turned. "Hello?" Seeing nothing, he decided to check on Beckett again. He took three steps before something hard and heavy crashed down on his head, filling his vision with starbursts that quickly faded to black.