Of Duty, Atonement, and Redemption—Chapter Two
By SGC Gategirl

For warnings, comments, summary, etc, please see part one.


Day One

Shifting for the tenth time on slightly numb feet, Major Thomas Lorne shoved back his sleeve and glanced at his watch. It was 0910 and there had been no sign of Doctor McKay in about fourteen hours. After his exam in the infirmary, Lorne had tried to convince the doctor to get some dinner, but he'd refused, claiming not to be hungry. They'd argued for a while, standing in the middle of the hallway, until McKay finally relented, agreeing to let Lorne procure a handful of PowerBars and a few bottles of water.

Having the doctor die on him because he hadn't eaten anything wouldn't look good on his record. He was supposed to make sure he didn't sneak out to the labs, not starve him to death.

When Lorne relieved Captain Andrews at 0700 the man reported that it had been a quiet night, the ten hours passing easily.

It was odd that McKay hadn't surfaced.

When another twenty minutes passed without the doctor poking his head out the door, Lorne thought it might be time to get a bed check. There was a balcony attached to the room and he doubted McKay was desperate enough to try to escape via that route. Although, a part of his brain could picture McKay tying the sheets together, securing one end to a girder before throwing the free end over the railing so he could sneak into the lower level.

He was a genius after all—or so he told everyone.

A check might be a good thing.

Turning to the door, he waved his hand in front of the door panel, hearing the answering chime inside the room. A minute or so later he tried again, following it up with a knock.

With visions of the scientist dangling from one of Atlantis' balconies in his mind, he knocked again—harder—when no answer was forthcoming.

Crap.

With a sigh, he triggered the door to open with a quick mental command, the panel sliding upon to reveal the dimly lit room beyond. There was no sign of McKay and the door leading to the balcony was open.

Double crap.

Entering slowly, Lorne glanced around, his eyes trying to see into the shadows. "Doctor McKay?" He resisted the urge to add 'come out, come out, wherever you are' in a singsong voice. His mind, though, had no such compunction.

His eyes slid past the open door of the attached bathroom and, finding it clear, continued on. Moving past the rumpled bed—sheets still in place, but obviously slept in—he crossed to the balcony door.

Slumped in the corner, Lorne found McKay—his back against the wall, his knees pulled up to his chest with his arms curled around them, tugging them close to his body, his eyes fixed on the horizon beyond.

"Doctor McKay?" Lorne asked, his eyebrows drawing together. When he didn't get a response, he moved closer, noticing that the doctor was still dressed in his clothes from the night before, minus his sneakers and socks. Kneeling beside the scientist, he reached out slowly, resting his hand lightly on McKay's cool arm. "Doctor McKay?"

It took a few seconds before the physicist responded, slowly coming back to the here and now. He turned his head, his blue eyes bloodshot and clearly confused. "Major?" he began, his voice low and gravelly. He cleared his throat, but it didn't help much. "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you, obviously," Lorne replied, feeling the man shiver slightly. "How long have you been out here?"

McKay shrugged, turning back to the ocean and the city below. "I watched the sun come up. I was having problems sleeping. Nothing new."

A few beats passed before Lorne spoke up again. "Did you have breakfast?"

"Why?" he asked, turning back to face Lorne, an expression of exasperation firmly etched on his face. "Are you trying to ask me out or something? Cause if that's the case, I don't want to know anything and I suggest you get out of my room."

"McKay," Lorne replied, sighing as he rose to his feet. "You look like shit and I know you didn't eat a real dinner yesterday. Andrews said you didn't ask him for anything during the night. Now, I didn't see a camp stove in your quarters or the remnants of anything that resembled breakfast and I know what happens when your blood sugar drops too low. I have no intention of telling Colonel Sheppard or Doctor Weir that you accidentally passed out because you didn't eat. Now," he continued, reaching down to grab the other man's arm and hoist him to his feet. "I recommend that you get in the shower and get some clean clothes on so you can go and get yourself something to eat."

The scientist grumbled to himself and Lorne decided to ignore the few choice words he caught. "Shower. Now," he said, steering McKay into his quarters. The scientist shook him off, heading to the closet where he retrieved some new clothes before moving to the bathroom where he shut the door behind him. A few seconds later, Lorne could hear the water running.

That was far easier than it should have been, Lorne realized as he leaned against the balcony door, his eyes drifting to the scenery outside. The fact that McKay had capitulated so quickly was odd, but then this whole situation was not exactly normal. Shaking his head, Lorne moved away from the wall and back to his post outside. He'd wait for the scientist there.


Stumbling out of the shower, McKay wrapped a towel around his middle and moved toward the sink, the floor cool against his wet feet. Leaning over the counter, he rubbed a hand over the mirror, trying to get some of the condensation off so he could get a look at himself.

Even blurry, Lorne was right. He looked like crap. He was pale, the dark circles under his eyes standing out more than usual. And his stubble gave him a certain unkempt look.

Deciding that he didn't have the energy to shave, he turned away from the mirror, reaching instead for his toothbrush and toothpaste. Moving through his morning routine quickly, he found himself reaching for the clothes he'd brought into the bathroom, his brain finally connecting to what his fingertips were telling him. In his haste he'd grabbed his uniform from the closet.

He sighed, rolling his eyes ceiling-ward as he debated whether it was worth the time and effort to get something else to wear. These were perfectly good clothes. There was nothing wrong with them. But after yesterday…

Screw it. If they had a problem with him wearing his uniform when he was off duty, they could take his clothes and shove them somewhere the sun didn't shine.

After sliding into his boxers, he shoved his legs into his pants, the shirt and jacket quickly following. Padding into his room in bare feet, Rodney dug through his closet finally locating a lone pair of socks, thankfully ones without holes. The Ancient version of the washer and dryer kept eating his good socks whole and giving him back the ones they nibbled on.

Glancing around as he dropped onto his unmade bed, he noticed that Major Lorne had snuck out. Best not to let them think he was conversing with the criminal. Pulling on his socks, he finally spotted his shoes lying in a heap on the other side of the room.

Dragging himself upright again, he slid in his sock-clad feet, almost ending up on his ass. That would have made one hell of a bruise. Moving a little slower, he picked up his boots and settled into his desk chair, his eyes flicking over his inbox, the unsent email in his "drafts" folder.

Turning, his shoes forgotten for the moment, he opened the email document, reading over the words he'd written in the middle of the night. Making a quick decision, he clicked 'send' before he could chicken out. He knew he had to start somewhere with the apologies and, honestly, this email to Colonel Caldwell was probably going to be the easiest one of the lot.

Swiveling in his chair, he grabbed his boots, pushing his feet into them and lacing them up tightly. Moving to the door, he paused, glancing around his room. He'd clean when he got back. It would give him something to do.


Major Lorne turned as the door opened behind him and watched as a hesitant McKay poked his head out.

"Am I allowed out?"

"For meals, yes."

"Oh," McKay replied, his face falling a little. "I wanted to make two quick stops before we went to the mess hall."

Lorne tried not to sigh. He knew this was going to come sooner or later. He was hoping it would be later rather than sooner. "Where?"

"The labs and the control room."

"McKay, you know that they're—"

Rodney raised his hands, stopping Lorne before he could continue. "Look, I know I'm not allowed out of my room until next week, but before I go stir crazy I'd like to talk to Zelenka, Elizabeth, and Sheppard for a few minutes." As Lorne opened his mouth to argue, Rodney continued. "It'll take five minutes, I swear. You can drag me out if I'm any longer. I just want the opportunity to apologize before any more time passes. And besides, I don't know if I'll have the nerve if I wait any longer."

Rodney paused, tilting his head to the side a little as he widened his blue eyes slightly. "Deal?"

Lorne looked away, trying not to sigh in the doctor's face. He tuned back a minute later, resignation in his voice. "Where to first?"


Typing quickly, Doctor Radek Zelenka finished an email before turning to one of the scientists hovering behind him. Between the staff meetings and all the currently projects, he couldn't get anything done. He had no idea how McKay could do everything and his own research projects and off-world missions. The man must never sleep—but then, he knew that already.

And then McKay had to go and do this, he thought, as his mind went through everything that still had to be done today. He didn't have time for the physicist's ego, but that's what got them both in this mess. It was because of him that Collins was dead and Radek had been insulted in front of the entire control room staff. Not that it didn't happen on a regular basis—the insults, that is. But this had been different. Radek knew he was right.

From that one moment it was obvious to him and the entire science staff that McKay didn't trust any of them. And that was the worst part of this whole situation—his apparent lack of trust for the entire science department. What were they doing then, if Rodney would only listen to Rodney? Radek had read all the files. He knew the entire department—probably even better than Rodney. These people were brilliant in their fields, but McKay refused to see that, to trust them.

Maybe now something would change.

Radek sighed to himself, shaking off the thought. He knew it was more wishful thinking than reality. McKay was not about to shed his skin and change. That was too much to hope for.

"And you are still standing here. Did you not understand instructions?" he griped, pushing his glasses back in place as he eyeballed the scientist beside him, clutching the pile of reports to his chest.

"I just was hoping you could help—"

Zelenka rose, waving his hand absently as he reached for his tablet. There were several experiments—and scientists—he had to check on before they accidentally blew up the lab again. "Ask Matthews. He's good with thermodynamics."

Not hearing any other protests, he started to move off but another voice stopped him dead in his tracks. One he had been assured he wouldn't hear for a week.

"Matthews is a good choice."

Zelenka turned, first catching the look of complete surprise on the other man's face, before discovering McKay and Major Lorne in the lab.

"Rodney," he said after a few beats had passed, trying unsuccessfully to remove his own surprised expression from his face. "Why are you here? Did not Doctor Weir…"

McKay nodded, waving his hand. "Yes, yes." He glanced over his shoulder and Lorne made a point of looking at his watch. "Look, I don't have much time. Can we talk somewhere a little less…public?"

Raising an eyebrow, Radek nodded, moving toward McKay's small office that was attached to the main lab. It was close and no one else would dare go in there.

"Actually," McKay said loudly, making Radek stop and turn around. He'd stopped in the middle of the lab, an uncertain expression on his face. "I came here to apologize to you," he continued, his voice carrying throughout the room. Several heads snapped up, their eyes focusing on McKay.

"Rodney?" Radek asked, his eyebrow on the rise.

"This is something you should all hear," Rodney said, his eyes flickering around the room, refusing to land anywhere for more than a second. "When it came to the incident on Doranda, I should have listened to you, Radek, but…well, if you honestly want to know, I wanted that Nobel Prize and this would have made me a shoo in. I'm sorry if I was condescending and arrogant. It was uncalled for."

Silence echoed throughout the main lab, lasting for several seconds before Rodney cleared his throat, his face beginning to turn red. "Radek," he said, gesturing to the room Zelenka had been heading to before he'd decided to make his apology public.

"Of course," Radek replied, turning back to the office, his mind refusing to believe what he just heard. This could not have come from the man who threw out insults as a matter of course.

"Two minutes," Lorne commented, making Radek glance over his shoulder to the other man. Rodney nodded to the major, but didn't stop moving. In fact, it seemed like he was speeding up.

Once they entered the small office, Zelenka turned, leaning back against the desk. "You did not have to do that," he said, watching as the other man refused to stand still, shifting from one foot to the other, his eyes darting around the room.

"Yes, I did. And it had to be in public."

"Why?" Radek asked, the first words that came to mind falling out of his mouth. "Did you need the entire staff to see that you aren't the arrogant bastard they say you are?" As Rodney's face paled, he realized how harsh that sounded—especially in light of the words McKay had spoken only moments before. He was astonished by his own anger toward the man, his own callousness. Sometimes he felt like he was becoming just like him—and he needed to stop that from happening. "I'm…" he began, only to be cut off by McKay.

"No, no. I deserved that," he said, finally coming to a stop, his arms resting quietly at his sides. "I wasn't grandstanding out there. I figured that since I insulted you in public it was the least I could do to apologize in public." McKay paused again, his eyes dropping to the floor, his shoulders forming a half shrug. "I can't guarantee that it won't happen again, but I wanted to say I was sorry."

Radek nodded slowly, words refusing to cooperate. He knew he should say something, thank him at the very least, but part of him couldn't. He wasn't ready to forgive and forget. It was going to take time, more than McKay probably realized.

"I think your time is up," he said instead, seeing a shadow grow into the form of Major Lorne.

McKay glanced over his shoulder, letting out a long breath. "And so it is." He moved slowly toward the door, his shoulders more rounded than they'd been when he'd entered. McKay and Lorne silently meandered their way through the maze of desks and scientific instruments to the corridor, vanishing through the door a moment later.

Standing alone in the small office for several moments, Radek sighed and pulled off his glasses, rubbing his face. After delicately placing them back on his nose, he shoved himself off the desk and entered the main lab where most of the scientists were still standing around, their jaws still slack with shock.

Clapping his hands, he glared at them. "There is work to be done, is there not? This is not time for day dreaming," he said as the science staff scurried to get back to work.

Zelenka aimed toward the wing of smaller labs. He had rounds to make, experiments to check, scientists to coddle. Apologies and second thoughts would have to wait.


Walking silently through the corridors on the way to the control room, Major Lorne couldn't help but keep glancing at the subdued physicist beside him. Of all the things he expected, the public apology hadn't been anywhere near the top of his list.

That took guts.

Generally, McKay avoided anything that could make him look bad, that showed any kind of weakness, and showed him to be human. While it hadn't been perfect—a little too much honestly thrown in there for that—it had been heartfelt. But then there were some people who would argue about him having a heart in the first place.

While McKay knew how to get the job done, guts were not something that Lorne thought the man had in abundance. In fact, given the opportunity to weigh in on the subject, guts would never even come to mind. Whining, complaining, arrogant, condescending, and stubborn were closer to the truth.

Today, Lorne had seen a different side of the doctor and he wasn't sure what to make of it.

"I'd like to talk to Colonel Sheppard if I can find him," McKay said quietly, pulling Lorne back to the present.

He nodded. "If he's not in the control room, I'll try to find him for you."

"Thank you."

Lorne nodded again, letting the silence stretch between them. What else could he say?


Taking a sip of her lukewarm coffee, Elizabeth Weir tapped her stylus against her tablet PC. She'd not gotten much sleep last night, refusing to take one of the little pills Carson had prescribed a few months ago. She hated having to rely on drugs for a good night's sleep.

And honestly, she didn't think they would have helped. She was too wound up, her mind moving in a million directions at the same time, threatening to pull her along.

Sleep had come, sparingly and slowly, but it had been welcome when it finally arrived, the darkness smothering her thoughts, her anger, her hurt.

A letter had to be written, one more to add to the pile. One more of her expedition gone. One more person who would never go home. One more family missing a loved one.

She raised her head as she heard the knock on her door, fully expecting to see the lead botanist standing in the doorway. They had a meeting scheduled to go over some of the reports from the past few weeks.

Instead, it was Rodney McKay.

A flash of surprise followed by anger crossed her face before she could control her features once again. "Doctor McKay, I thought I been clear about your status this week."

His features faltered, his eyes dropping to his hands. "You were." He paused, raising his head to meet her gaze. "I wanted to apologize in person. My actions were both unprofessional and uncalled for. Because of my…shortsightedness we lost a very good scientist. I know there's nothing I can do to bring him back, but I guarantee that I will do everything within my power to never let anything like this happen again."

Placing her mug carefully on her desk, away from her computer and any paperwork, Elizabeth leaned her elbows on the surface, her hands clasped together before her. "While I appreciate the obvious effort it has taken you to come here, I honestly find it…difficult to believe that you can guarantee anything like this from occurring again."

McKay nodded, his eyes still fixed on her. "I understand how you must feel. But you also have to realize that I am…painfully aware of the lives that were lost, or that might have been lost, if it were not for Colonel Caldwell's appearance."

"That's when hindsight comes into play, isn't it?"

"Yes," he replied, his feet becoming more interesting once again. "I know you have other things to do and I shouldn't be here, but thank you for not throwing me out on sight. Again, I'm sorry, Elizabeth."

Turning quickly, he moved off, Major Lorne offering her a sharp nod before he followed McKay through the control room and down the stairs. Her eyes caught sight of Carolyn Edwards, her ten o'clock appointment. Time to get back to business.


Major Lorne leaned against one of the railings in the control room as Doctor McKay slowly made his way to Weir's office. He figured the other man would prefer a little privacy for his apology. He had five minutes, just like he'd had with Doctor Zelenka, and Lorne didn't think it would take that long. From the word on the street, she was still pretty ticked off about the whole situation.

The technician had said that Colonel Sheppard had been up here this morning for the department heads briefing, but that had been a few hours ago. He'd asked the man to pass along a message if the Colonel stopped by and the Sergeant had agreed. Lorne, though, decided to locate Sheppard over the radio. He had to report in anyway.

"Lorne to Sheppard."

Gazing down over the gateroom, he let his eyes wander over everything, still amazed by what was here. People moved briskly through the wide-open space, papers or computers in hand, but when they reached the center of the room, they all looked up, their eyes caressing the gate and the room. There was just something about this place, about being here, that was still so unbelievable.

"Lorne, this is Sheppard. There a problem?"

"No, sir. Reporting in to let you know that things are quiet. Also, Doctor McKay would like to speak with you when you have a moment."

Silence filled the link for a moment and Lorne nearly clicked the radio to check the connection, but Sheppard's voice came back, the tone colder than it had been only a moment ago. "I'll keep that in mind, Major. I have a number of things to take care of today."

"I understand, but I told the Doctor I would try to get hold of you."

"Consider your promise fulfilled. I'll see if I can stop by later today."

"Yes, sir," Lorne replied, turning back to glance at Weir's office. McKay was turning to walk out. Less than five minutes. "I'll let him know now."

"Good. Anything else?"

"No, sir."

"Okay. Sheppard out."

Lorne shook his head, holding back a sigh. Apparently, no one was going to make it easy for McKay today. God only knows what the rumor mill had dug up and spit out since yesterday. A minute later McKay was at his side, his mouth pulled down in a frown, his face white. "All done?"

The other man nodded sharply, refusing to meet his gaze. "Could you get Sheppard?"

Lorne shook his head. "He's in meetings most of the day. He said he'd try to stop by later."

McKay snorted, rolling his eyes as he rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. "That's the nice way of saying he doesn't want to talk to me. Fine. Can we get breakfast?"

"Of course. Isn't that where we started going this morning before you pulled us off on our little field trip?" Lorne asked, acknowledging Weir's gaze with a quick nod before they started down the stairs.

"Honestly, I think I probably got you in trouble for letting me go on our 'little field trip'," McKay commented, his words clipped but without the usual venom.

Lorne shrugged. "I can deal with it. And, besides, I wasn't told you couldn't apologize to anyone. But, I think if it had taken any longer we both would have gotten our asses in a sling."

"Oh, and isn't that an image to remember," McKay said, shaking his head. "I think I might be blind for life."

Chuckling, Lorne glanced sideways but the scientist refused to look up, his eyes fixed firmly on the floor in front of his feet. They settled into an uneasy silence as they made their way through the busier hallways leading to the mess hall. As soon as they turned inside, Lorne paused, finally making McKay look up at the other man.

"You invite me to breakfast and now you won't come in?"

"I ate earlier. Go and get some food. I'll wait here. Or would you rather have me hovering over your shoulder?"

"God forbid," McKay sighed. Looking a little uncertain, he wiggled his fingers and continued, "So, when I'm done should I….you know, just meet you…here? I've never had to do this before."

Lorne nodded, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the wall. "I'm not going anywhere and if you try to sneak away I'll be sure to find you, so don't get any ideas."

McKay's bloodshot eyes widened and he took a step back. "I wasn't…"

Lorne reached out to grab him before he backed into a nearby chair. "I was kidding, McKay. Go and get some food before you pass out."

"Funny," he scowled, shaking off the Major's hand. "This shouldn't take long."

Lorne sighed and shook his head as the scientist headed for the line. It was strange to observe like this, watching the person he was in charge of and how everyone else reacted. He'd been trying to get McKay to lighten up a little, but he must have felt the weird shift in the air as soon as they'd walked in. These people were not happy to have the physicist here. The hovering military escort would just make matters worse. It was bad enough that he had to stand at the door.

The rumor mill was apparently working very well these days.

He watched as people's eyes followed McKay, as the whispers began anew when he passed by. Outwardly, it looked like the physicist didn't notice, but Lorne could tell he did. It was the little things that gave it away. The muscles in McKay's back tightened with each step, his posture straightened minutely, his hands shaking a little as he reached for the tray.

You'd miss these signs if you weren't looking for them.

Concentrating on the people in the room, Lorne saw them staring, ducking their heads to converse quietly, their rushed, hushed voices carrying further than they thought. The Airman on KP duty tried to school his features, but the contempt was there in the way he looked at McKay, in the tone of his voice, in the way he slapped the food on the plate McKay held out, letting it splatter against the scientist's sleeve.

Instead of complaining like he normally would, McKay moved away without a word, his mouth a thin line as he made his way to the coffeepot, finding only the barest remains of liquid. Glancing toward the airman, McKay visibly sighed before putting the glass pot back and grabbing a bottle of water.

He moved to a table in the far corner, slumping into the chair. McKay began to eat, his head down, the act mainly mechanical without the enjoyment Lorne normally associated with the scientist.

It seemed as if a few of the louder whispers reached McKay's ears and he froze, obviously hearing something Lorne could not. He didn't think it possible, but the doctor's head dropped even further and he began pushing the eggs and bacon around on his plate.

Everything about this made Lorne's blood boil. If it continued, he was going to have to say something to Colonel Sheppard and Doctor Weir. This was uncalled for. This was unprofessional. Whatever issues they had with McKay were just that—between them and the doctor. There was no need for the entire base to get involved.

There had to be a better way than this to get a point across.


Apparently, "humiliate McKay" was on Lorne's "to do" list for today.

Pushing the food around on his plate, pretending like he actually felt like eating, that he could get the cold food past the lump in his throat, Rodney McKay tried not to listen to the words flying around the mess hall.

They were hard to ignore.

"…arrogant…"

"…the gall he had yelling at Doctor Weir…"

"…deserves everything he gets…"

"…about time they did something about the bastard…"

"…Doctor Zelenka has the labs running so smoothly…"

"…so much easier without him there, yelling and ranting…"

He knew this was a bad idea as soon as Lorne had mentioned it. He should have said no immediately instead of agreeing to be dragged to this farce masquerading as breakfast. But he'd been tired and hungry and he'd agreed, thinking Atlantis would be different from every other place he'd been.

He'd been wrong.

It was all the same. Every time he got comfortable, every time he felt like he belonged, he did something to screw it up. Why was it that when he finally found a place where he felt like he belonged, he had to go and ruin it? He'd turned the people he'd trusted, even become friends with, against him. It would be a very long time before things got back to normal—if they ever did.

There had to be a way to make things right, to make things better. He didn't want to leave Atlantis, but he knew when push came to shove, and if Elizabeth and Sheppard thought he was a liability, they'd be sure he was part of the next group of people transferred back to the SGC—out of their hair and their lives.

He liked Atlantis.

And he cared about what happened to her and the people in the city.

That was what it all boiled down to, why this punishment hurt so much. Atlantis and its inhabitants had gotten under his skin. He wanted things to go well. He wanted to be a part of bringing this awesome city back to life. Everything he learned made him want to learn more, do more. And the more he grew in tune with the city, the easier the mental commands came to him, the easier it was to interface with the controls, to make them do what he needed them to. It was addictive. Just the thought of losing that…it was more devastating than he wanted to consider.

Here, he made a difference, he was useful—at least he thought he was.

He was good at fixing things, always had been. His sister, while generally avoiding him at all costs when they were growing up, always brought stuff to him to repair—and he did so, easily and with little complaint.

He could fix this; he knew he could. It would take time, but right now, he had all the time in the world.

Abruptly rising to his feet, he brought his tray back to the counter, dumping most of its contents into the trash. Spying a small stack of paper bags in the corner, he grabbed one and opened it as he moved to the counter where the non-perishable and take-away foods were kept. He shoved in several PowerBars, followed by two Granny Smith apples. There were some granola bars, of which he grabbed two, and a few packages of cookies.

After snagging another bottle of water, he headed for the door where Lorne was lounging. McKay could feel all the eyes on him, watching him, but he ignored them. Not like he could do anything to make them go away, and any kind of comment would just make it twice as bad when he came back—as if he was. Meals in his room were looking like a better option.

Lorne eyed him as he approached, raising an eyebrow as he got to his feet. "Done already?"

"Yes, you could say that. And, if it's not too much trouble, I'd like to go back to my quarters now."

The major nodded, gesturing for McKay to lead the way. At least then he'd be away from everyone's prying eyes. There he'd be able to plan what he'd do next, once his imprisonment was over. There had to be some way he could make it up to everyone.

He was a genius. He'd find one.


Moving gracefully, Ronon circled Sheppard on the exercise mat, his hands held up, his eyes watching for any twitch, any subtle movement that would indicate the other man was about to strike.

They'd been sparring for the past thirty minutes and a light sheen had grown on the exposed skin of both men, the sweat sometimes dripping into their eyes, stinging, but not enough for either to take their mind off the fight.

Sheppard was hitting harder than normal, more aggressive, which Ronon didn't mind. There weren't many people on the base he could really fight with except Teyla and Sheppard, but he still tended to hold back. Accidentally damaging your teammates was generally not good.

Today, though, there was a distance in Sheppard's eyes and Ronon knew that the other man was fighting something other than the Satedan.

"What did McKay do?" he asked abruptly, the other man's eyes widening, his step faltering a little before he quickly recovered.

"What makes you think he did something?" Sheppard asked, throwing several punches that Ronon blocked, countering with several of his own.

"They way you're acting."

Sheppard raised an eyebrow, but didn't answer, continuing to move forward as he balanced on the balls of his feet.

"Everyone's talking about it."

"Then, if everyone's talking, you don't need to hear it again from me," Sheppard replied, sounding winded. "And we talked about the mission at breakfast."

"But you still didn't answer my question." Ronon lowered his hands and took a step back, indicating a pause to their match. "What did McKay do?"

"Why are you so damn insistent?" Sheppard asked, moving to the bench on the side of the room, grabbing a plastic bottle from his pack and taking a long pull of the cool water. Digging inside the bag again, he dragged out a towel, rubbing his face briskly before throwing it around his shoulders.

Ronon moved to his own supplies, nearly finishing his bottle of water in one long gulp. Toweling off his face and upper body, he turned back to the other man. "You're different."

"Different?"

"Strange."

"Strange?"

"You're not acting like yourself."

"So, you're the expert on how I'm acting these days?"

"No. I'm just commenting," Ronon said, looking at the visibly agitated man before him. He gestured to the exercise mat with his chin. "You weren't fighting me out there."

"Who do you think I was sparring with? I didn't see anyone else in here. Did you?" Sheppard snapped, refusing to meet Ronon's eyes.

The Satedan shook his head. "I don't get it, Sheppard. Something obviously happened yesterday."

"Maybe it's none of your damn business," he said, shoving his water bottle back in his bag as he headed for the door.

"If you have a problem with McKay it is my business."

"Might not be for long. I'm fine. Just leave it alone."

Sheppard stormed out the door, leaving Ronon standing in the exercise room. He shook his head, still confused by the man's behavior and his loss of a sparring partner. Sheppard never left in the middle of one of their sessions unless there was an emergency. Seemed like he'd hit a nerve.


Major Lorne can be a bastard when he wants to, Rodney thought, as he stormed back from the mess hall for the third time today. As if breakfast wasn't enough, Lorne had dragged him back down in the middle of the afternoon just when he'd been up to one hundred and forty-two wins at solitaire.

Then the man had insisted on going again now, before his shift was over. What, did the Major think it was fun to watch everyone skewer him with evil, hate-filled glances? Did he like hearing all the derogatory things everyone couldn't keep to themselves?

Dinner had been no different, although this time the behemoth also known as Second Lieutenant Holden Clark insisted that he 'put his boots on and move' before he was 'dragged there in his bare feet'.

He hated the military mindset sometimes. Their little minds were only good when you needed them to follow directions.

Tell them to 'go shoot that Wraith drone so the scientist lives,' and they walk off happy to be able to do something useful and play with their toys. If it involves explosions, they comply even faster.

"Doctor McKay," Clark called to him, his muscle-clad body too heavy to drag after the quickly moving scientist. "Wait up."

"I know how to get back to my quarters, lieutenant," McKay yelled back, refusing to pause. Besides, he could have sworn he'd seen Sheppard up ahead.

Picking up the pace, he swore as the figure turned down another hallway, preventing him from making a positive identification. It certainly loped down the hallway like Sheppard and that nest on the top of his head was hard to mistake for anyone else.

And whether the Colonel wanted to or not, McKay was going to talk to him.


Swearing under his breath as he heard the lieutenant yelling for Doctor McKay to slow down, John Sheppard made a decision to duck down the nearest hallway in an effort to get away from the conversation he knew McKay was intent on having with him.

He wasn't in the mood and had no intention of talking to the man for a very long time.

Realizing he'd turned down a dead end, he quickly turned on his heel intending to slip back down the main corridor to the next intersection when he spotted McKay coming directly at him.

Turning back around, he realized that there was a transporter only a few steps away. If he could just get there…

"Oh, Colonel! Colonel, I've been looking all over for you."

Sighing, he turned to face the scientist, folding his arms over his chest as he let the other man come to him. He didn't disguise his current feelings. Why pretend to be nice when he wasn't in the mood? "I heard."

Disappointment and hurt flashed over McKay's face before being replaced by a mask of feigned disinterest. "I suppose I deserve that. Look," he continued, his words coming slower, more uncertain. "I just…um…I wanted to apologize about what happened. I was wrong. I'm sorry. And I wanted to assure you that…uh…I intend not being right again—about everything, effective immediately." He offered a hopeful smile and John resisted the urge to lash out and wipe it off the man's face. John smiled slightly, without humor, but kept his arms folded. McKay's grin faltered a moment later.

"That was a joke."

"Good one," John said, turning to the transporter alcove. He could hear the footfalls of the other man following behind him, so he turned again, fastening a look of impatience on McKay, who began to babble almost immediately.

"I've already apologized to Elizabeth...and Radek... and I thanked Colonel Caldwell for, uh, caring enough to spy on the experiment from orbit. I sent him a nice little email, actually. But I saved you 'til last 'cause, um, honestly, I would ... I would hate to think that recent events might have permanently dimmed your faith in my abilities, or your trust. At the very least, I hope I can earn that back."

John stood there, surprised at the words tumbling from McKay's mouth. Was he kidding? Trust? Faith? Those flew out the window as soon as he decided to use both of them to manipulate him into doing something that he thought was a bad idea from the beginning. He'd trusted McKay, believed him when he'd come to his door in the middle of the night, asking—begging him even—to trust him, to convince Elizabeth that it was a good idea to learn more about that power source.

Any more situations like that and they wouldn't have to worry about the Wraith anymore in the Pegasus galaxy—there wouldn't be any of it left if McKay kept blowing it up.

His eyes hard, he finally managed to mutter a reply before turning and stepping into the transporter alcove. "That may take a while."

"I see," McKay replied, his face a misery.

Sheppard could hear the sound of stomping feet fast approaching and used the time to position himself in the transporter. "But, I'm sure you can do it, if you really want to try." Poking a spot on the transporter map, somewhere near his quarters, he looked back at the other man, offering a smile as the visibly annoyed lieutenant turned the corner, the doors closing before he could hear the bellowing Sheppard knew was about ready to begin.

From the looks of things, McKay was in trouble and he deserved everything the lieutenant could throw at him. Something had to be able to get through to the arrogant man.

John sighed, stepping out of the transporter on the opposite end and heading toward his quarters. He'd change first and then head back to the gym. Maybe one of the Marines would be up to a little one-on-one.

TBC