Of
Duty, Atonement, and Redemption—Chapter Five
By
SGC Gategirl
For warnings, comments, summary, etc, please see part one.
Day Seven
Trying to hold back a yawn, John Sheppard shifted where he sat at Teyla's side only to be rewarded by a sidelong glance from the Athosian. He'd been through this now for the better part of four days. He knew the routine. It just didn't make it any more pleasant.
"Yes," Teyla was saying, "I believe we can provide medical training as well as some medicines. I will have to confirm this with both Doctor Beckett and Doctor Weir, of course."
"Of course," Soony replied, inclining his head toward her, a half-smile plastered on his face. After a moment more, he glanced between the aids stationed at his sides and continued, his voice formal his stature regal. "Teyla Emmagen of Atlantis, Colonel Sheppard of Atlantis, and Ronon Dex of Atlantis, I wish to thank you for agreeing to abide by our customs although they are not your own. I believe this arrangement will bring much harmony to both of our peoples."
He rose swiftly, his hands gesturing widely.
John tensed. This was not part of the morning routine.
Several forms entered from all sides, swarming into the room. He moved as if to rise, his hand immediately reaching for the sidearm nestled in his thigh holster, but Teyla's hand on his arm stilled his movements.
He glanced sharply at her and she shook her head, her eyes fixed on the people filling the room, calmness and satisfaction radiating off her in waves.
Suddenly the table before him filled. Sacks of grain appeared along with baskets and bushels of fruit and vegetables. Wineskins full of liquor rested against loaves of freshly baked breads. Other goods also piled on top until he thought the table would break under the weight. And through it all, Sonny stood, his arms held out wide, a smile firmly fixed on his face.
When all the movement finally stopped, John continued to stare.
Sonny's voice, while quiet, reached every corner of the room. "And so let this demonstrate our commitment to this treaty. May it continue until times long-lasting, in plenty and in friendship."
Sonny clapped his hands together and the room burst once again into chatter. John found himself pulled to his feet, arms wrapping around him in hugs before they passed him off to others. He wasn't sure how to react and fought the urge to shove himself away from the obvious well-wishers. He lost Teyla and Ronon in the crowd, but as the minutes passed by the throngs thinned out, leaving only the negotiating parties behind.
Teyla, standing nearly in the same place she'd started while John was on the other side of the room, looked flushed but immensely happy. "Thank you for your trust and your friendship. I look forward to further visits, but we must—"
"Return," Soony finished, a sad smile on his face. "I know. I have enjoyed your company once again. May the time not be as prolonged as once before."
"I agree," she said. "Be well, my friend, and thank you."
Soony bowed at the waist before turning and walking from the room, his aides following closely behind. A few minutes later both Beckett and Lorne entered, surprise and worry on their faces.
"We saw all these people lining up outside and weren't sure what was happening." Lorne admitted, his eyes drifting over the pile of goods on the low table. "Teyla had assured us that there wasn't going to be any strange rituals that required blood to be spilled or sacrifices to be made, so we waited outside."
"Aye," Carson added. "If you all had started screaming we'd have come running."
John's eyebrow rose at the comment, but he let it go when he saw the amusement on Lorne's face. "You knew about this?"
The major nodded. "We spoke to Teyla this morning before you headed over here. She told us what to expect."
"I wish someone had thought to include me in that conversation," Sheppard growled, aiming a particularly scathing look at the woman standing beside Ronon.
She merely returned the glance. "You did not ask."
Before John could utter a reply, Ronon moved, hefting a large bag of grain over his shoulder. "We need to get this to the jumper." A few seconds later and he was already out the door.
Everyone responded, picking up whatever they could carry before they headed outside, following Ronon to the puddlejumper. When he was the last one in the room, he sighed and bent down, lifting one of the larger sacks to his shoulder. Huffing under the weight, he headed out. There was a lot to move, and if he wanted to get home in time for dinner he had better hustle.
Clutching his tablet and assorted papers and folders in his arms, Radek Zelenka tried to shift just enough to free his hand to shove his glasses back into place as he hurried up the stairs to the control room. He was nearly late and he had no desire to make Elizabeth wait longer than she had to—especially for the painful meeting they were about to have.
Rounding the corner, he glanced ahead, his eyes skating over the area, noting the personnel manning the various stations. The sergeant at the gate controls offered a brief smile and a nod as Radek walked past, and he returned the gesture with a slight tilt of his head.
As he got closer to Elizabeth's office, he noticed she was concentrating on the screen in front of her, her elbows propped up on the edge of the desk, her brow furrowed. Slowing down as he reached the door, he shifted his pile enough to get his hand free once again so he could knock lightly on the doorframe. As soon as his knuckles made contact, though, he felt the papers begin to slide and only his quick movement stopped everything from hitting the floor. The scrape of metal against the floor indicated that he'd made a grand entrance.
"Are you okay?"
"Yes, yes, fine," he muttered, daring a glance at the woman now standing to the side of her desk as if she'd stopped mid-stride. He moved a few steps into her office, setting the errant documents on a nearby chair. "I did not intend to make such an entrance as this," he apologized, waving his hand absently toward the door.
"That's fine, Radek. As long as everything is safe and sound. I know how pesky all that paperwork can be. Tends to get away from us sometimes."
He looked up half in surprise, not expecting her words. The curl of her mouth into a smile indicated that she was indeed joking.
"Ah, yes," he said, turning back to his reports, straightening them. "I must admit that I do not enjoy this aspect of Rodney's job, actually most of his job. I will be most happy to give it all back to him."
"Really?" she asked, her voice holding a curious tone. "I thought this would be an opportunity all scientists would want, the ability to run an entire department, to be the one with all the answers."
"As much as it helps my ego," Radek said, sinking down into a nearby chair as Elizabeth returned to her own seat, "I find it far too complicated. I prefer my experiments, my research. Much more orderly. It does not require me to baby-sit scientists who should know better."
"Who is it this time?"
"Kavanaugh, of course. Doctor Biro believes the dye will wear off in a few days. The lab, however, will need extensive decontamination before he will be able to continue his work. He has already begun demanding a new location."
Elizabeth chuckled. "Do I want to know what he was doing?"
Radek shook his head. "No. I did not want to know myself, however…"
"You had no choice in the matter," she said, her smile fading. She paused, her eyes holding his gaze steadily. "Are you comfortable with Rodney going back to work tomorrow?"
"Why do you ask this? Is his time not up?" Radek could feel his eyes widening behind his glasses. He wasn't sure he could take another week of this madness.
"His week of confinement will be complete by the end of today, but before I allowed him to return to his duties and turned everything back over to him I wanted to make sure you were comfortable with the situation."
"Of course. Why would I not be? This is Rodney's department, yes? I'm merely keeping his chair warm, metaphorically speaking. His chair gives me backaches."
Her face showed her confusion that her words only emphasized. "Then you don't have a problem with him resuming his duties as head of the science department?"
"No. Should I?" He waved his hand absently in the air. "Did he make a mistake? Yes. Did he insult me in public? Yes, but that was not the first time and it will not be last." Radek shrugged. "He is a genius when it comes to Ancient technology, but do not tell him I say so. He is where he needs to be."
Elizabeth nodded, pursing her lips. "Very well. I still need to discuss this with Colonel Sheppard when he returns, but it seems that Doctor McKay will probably be reporting for work tomorrow morning. I would appreciate it if you could be here when we meet with him later today."
"Are you certain?" Radek asked, his eyebrow drawing in close.
"Yes. You are the head of the science department until tomorrow morning and I believe you should be present."
"Then I shall be here as you request."
"Now," she began, glancing down at her computer screen, "I believe we have to go over some of the daily reports and also take a look at what you've discovered in the Ancient database."
Radek nodded. There was still a lot of work to be done before he could go back to the peace and quiet of his own lab and his own research. At least there was a light at the end of the proverbial tunnel—at least until Rodney pissed someone off or screwed something up big time again.
The yelling and the shouting and the whining he could stand. It was normal.
"And then when they finished filling the table with food and grain and anything else that would fit, Soony gave a speech and then we ended up in the middle of the sixties. Peace, love, and happiness," Major Sheppard commented, leaning back, his hands resting on the arm of his chair. Lorne swore that if it didn't have wheels, the major would have had it up on two legs right now, threatening to careen back into the wall behind him. One day, Lorne was certain, Sheppard would try it with the wheeled office chairs. It was more a matter of when than if.
"The sixties, John?"
"You know," he replied to Weir, picking up one of his hands to wave as if that would somehow explain everything. Apparently, the major wasn't sure how to word it exactly, settling for simple. "Hugging. They started hugging everyone in sight."
"Hugging is part of the traditional Mazurkian customs especially when closing a trade agreement," Teyla replied, her voice level, but Lorne could see the tension in the Athosian's shoulders. A few months ago he couldn't read most of the personnel on Atlantis, let alone those who were born in another galaxy. Sometimes that was still a hard idea to wrap his mind around. But now, with a just a single glance he could get a general sense of everyone. Being military and part of the security force, it was his job, but this was something he'd always been able to do. For some reason, the sense was just heightened here.
"Well," Sheppard replied as he shifted once again, his elbows coming to rest on the table as he glared across at Teyla, "I would have appreciated some warning."
Lorne raised an eyebrow at Sheppard's tone and his argumentative posture, but remained silent. Lorne sure as hell wasn't going to argue with his commanding officer in public, even though he was wrong. Teyla had informed them of what was going to happen. Sheppard just wasn't there at the time, deciding to take an early morning walk back to the jumper.
"I apologize, Colonel," Teyla replied calmly, her voice strangely subdued and even although Lorne knew she was annoyed at him. "I shall endeavor to be more cognizant in the future of such information. Please forgive my lapse in this instance."
Sheppard shifted in his chair and Lorne saw a look of guilt briefly cross his face before he shut down again, his unemotional mask snapping back in place. He nodded once, briskly. "It's okay. I just wasn't expecting it, that's all."
"Anything else I should know about?" Weir asked, looking around the conference room. "Carson?"
The doctor shook his head, the weariness from the past several days wearing heavily on him. "They're all relatively healthy and their doctors are interested in learning more from us. Some courses on basic first aid procedures might be a good thing."
Weir nodded, jotting some notes down on her PDA. "I think that can be arranged easily enough." She paused for a moment before turning to Lorne. "The supplies?"
"Are being checked over to make sure nothing extra was added. I didn't think we wanted any surprises or pests of the four-legged kind. Then they'll be placed in the appropriate storage facilities."
"Good, good." A few more scribbles and scratches on the electronic pad and she raised her head again, scanning the room, her eyes narrowed, her lips thin. There was something else going on behind her hazel eyes, but he was almost certain it wasn't about the briefing. His supposition was confirmed with her next words. "If that's all, you're dismissed. Good work. Colonel Sheppard, if you can remain, we have a few more things to go over."
"Of course," he replied, remaining in his chair, his arms resting heavily on the table as everyone else rose, striding out through the conference room doors accompanied by low conversation.
"Major," Weir called out before he crossed the threshold into the control room, making him turn back toward her.
"Yes, ma'am?"
"Can you ask Doctor Zelenka to join us in a few minutes?"
Lorne nodded. "Of course. Anything else?"
"Give us about thirty minutes and then please escort Doctor McKay here."
He felt his eyes widen, and tried to school his features. "Yes, ma'am. He'll be here."
"Thank you, Major," Weir replied, her tone dismissing him as she turned her gaze back to Sheppard sitting across the table. As he left, the doors closed behind him. While he wished he could be a fly on the wall for the conversation going on in there, he knew one thing for certain—he did not want to be in McKay's shoes in thirty minutes.
Elizabeth turned back to her PDA, making a few more notes on the small screen as she waited for the doors to the conference room to close completely. They could have done this in her office she knew, but there was something off about John. It might be better here, behind closed and opaque doors.
Looking up, she narrowed her eyes as she openly studied him, watching as he shifted and moved in his chair, his dark eyes holding hers easily, daring her to say something, to provoke him. She was surprised to see the anger still in their depths even after all this time had passed. Her own ire had cooled, not entirely, but a week without Rodney beating down her door for one thing or another had been pleasant. She'd even enjoyed her meetings with Doctor Zelenka. He was so very different than the egotistical scientist she normally dealt with. While he wasn't as smooth or polished as McKay, he was just as detailed, and his tone and temperament was much more subdued.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing," he replied quickly, the words coming too fast.
She raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips, tapping the stylus against her chin. "Let's try that again, shall we? What's wrong?"
He shook his head, the muscles along his jaw tightening. "Nothing, really." He offered a weak shrug. "Been a long week."
"Yes, but compared to most, somewhat quiet, apart from the mass hugging you recently experienced, of course," she said with a gentle smile.
"Apart from that, yes, I guess," he said, glancing down, a smile threatening to find a home on his lips. It was short-lived however, because when he raised his head any ghost of a smile that she'd thought she'd seen was gone. "That was unsettling. You would have thought it was downright odd if you'd been there too."
"I'm not even going to try to imagine what you went through," Elizabeth said, finding it hard to picture the event in her mind especially with the military commander was in his current mood. "But, that's not why I asked you to stay."
"McKay." The name came out quickly, the tone disdainful. It seemed the scientist was still the source of his mood.
"McKay," she repeated, nodding her head. "I spoke with Doctor Zelenka earlier today and he seemed amenable to having Doctor McKay begin working again tomorrow morning."
"And?"
"And I wanted to discuss this with you before we meet with him."
"It's really not my decision, Elizabeth. I'm sure my guys have better things to do than stand outside his door, so they'll be happy it's over. But isn't he still grounded?"
"Yes," she nodded, "for the next three weeks."
"So let him work. That's what he's here to do."
"It means he'll resume all of his normal duties, including staff meetings."
"And?"
"And I wanted to make sure you were going to be comfortable with the situation."
John shifted in his seat, his arms crossing over his chest. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"Well," she said, gesturing to him, the stylus pointing toward Sheppard. "I can tell just from your body language that you still have some issues with him and you're probably angry. I hope this won't interfere with the operations on this base."
"Of course not. I know how to act in a professional capacity." If possible his tone got even frostier than it had been.
"I didn't mean to imply that you don't know how to act appropriately. I just wanted to make sure you were going to be comfortable working with him. He will be recommending planets and assigning scientists to your missions. I need to make sure you'll abide by his decisions."
"Shouldn't be a problem."
She raised an eyebrow in question, his tone belying his words, but a knock on the conference room door interrupted her. She nodded to John, silently asking him to 'think' the door open. She was still frustrated by his ability to connect to the city, how Atlantis just opened up at his command. One of the panels of the conference room opened and Doctor Zelenka stepped inside, his expression hesitant.
"Major Lorne said you wished to see me."
She offered a smile and gestured for him to take a seat as the door closed once again at John's request. "Yes. Doctor McKay will be joining us shortly and I wanted to make sure we all were in agreement before he arrived."
"Yes, you mentioned it when we spoke earlier," he replied, obviously on edge as he shifted in the chair he'd taken, his hands fluttering about, refusing to remain still. "Should not all of the senior staff be present?"
"No," she replied, shaking her head slowly. "I don't think this concerns the entire senior staff. Because both of you were directly affected by his actions and you will be working with him closely over the next several weeks, your opinions are the ones that should be considered."
He nodded after a brief pause, her words obviously making some kind of sense to the scientist. "Very well. What did you wish to discuss?"
As he stopped outside Doctor McKay's door Major Lorne nodded briskly to Captain Andrews who was standing guard, puzzlement flashing through his mind. "I thought you were on the morning shift."
Andrews shrugged slightly. "Clark asked to swap with me. He said something about a training session he needed to attend. Since I didn't have any other pressing assignments I didn't mind changing shifts." He eyed Lorne carefully, a slightly sheepish expression crossing his face. "I hope that was okay. You weren't around to ask, sir."
Lorne nodded slowly. "It's fine. Just run it by me the next time before you change things."
"Yes, sir."
"So, how's the doctor been?"
"Quiet. Grabbed breakfast and lunch in the mess already today. He should be ready for dinner in about two hours."
"Good." Lorne turned to the door, waving his hand in front of the panel to signal the door chime. Andrews shifted uneasily on his feet. Raising an eyebrow, Lorne glanced to the side. "There a problem, Captain?"
"The door chime seems to have stopped working."
"Stopped working?"
"I believe Doctor McKay didn't want to be disturbed at one point a day or so ago and he…seems to have dismantled it from the other side."
Lorne's eyebrows rose. "And why might he have done that?"
"You know how he gets. Claimed he was working on some important project and he didn't want to be interrupted." Andrews shrugged. "We were only trying to make sure he ate regularly. Hyperglycemia and all."
"Is he answering knocks?"
"Generally. When he's in the mood."
Lorne sighed, moving his hand to knock loudly on the door. Waiting a few beats, he knocked again. "McKay, open up."
When an answer wasn't forthcoming, Lorne closed his eyes briefly, forcing a security override on the system and thinking the door to unlock and open. It accommodated his request a moment later.
Stepping into the semi-lit room once the door slid open fully, Lorne glanced around, trying to locate the scientist. When at first glance he didn't see him, Lorne moved to the open balcony door. For someone who spent years inside in one lab or another, McKay certainly made use of every chance to spend time outside on Atlantis—not that he blamed him.
He spotted the casually-dressed scientist sitting with his back to the wall, his legs stretched out in front of him, his laptop perched easily on his thighs, his fingers typing with both speed and fierceness as if he were beating the keys into submission.
Lorne leaned against the doorframe watching the engrossed scientist for several minutes before clearing his throat. "McKay?"
"It's about time you announced yourself, Major," McKay replied without looking up, his fingers never hesitating. "I was wondering how long you planned on standing there staring at me. I was starting to think you might have a strange fascination with my bare feet or something, but then that would lead into other areas I really have no desire to wander through."
Crossing his arms over his chest, Lorne shook his head, his lips cracking a smile. "I didn't know you cared, Doc."
"I don't." He hit a few more keys, saving whatever it was he was working on before glancing up, squinting his eyes a little. Lorne was surprised at what he saw. It was obvious that the scientist had lost weight over the past several days, his face thinner, the circles under his eyes darker. The eyes themselves, though, were hard and cold, the whites redder than normal.
"You wanted something?"
Lorne shook himself slightly, dragging himself back to the conversation at hand and the man glaring up at him. "Doctor Weir wants to see you."
McKay raised an eyebrow, but didn't move. "She could have called and requested my presence, but it is apparent that she doesn't trust me to find my own way to her office. So am I to be marched there? Is it time for my final trial before a jury of my peers? Oh, wait. I don't have any of those here, so I guess I'll have to settle for you then."
"I'm just doing what Doctor Weir requested. I'm not here to give you a hard time."
"Sure." Rodney put his laptop next to him on the deck and slowly rose to his feet, bending down once he was fully upright to grab his computer before pushing past Lorne into his quarters. "And I thought I had locked the door."
"You did," he replied, watching as McKay bounded around the clean room. "You weren't answering."
"Oh, I wonder why," McKay replied, gesturing toward the open wall panel as he ducked into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. The cover had been removed and there were several crystals missing. Lorne vaguely remembered seeing them on the desk when he'd walked in.
"I knocked several times," Lorne replied, raising his voice to be heard in the other room.
McKay appeared a moment later. "And I was apparently busy and did not want to be disturbed. It seems that my forced confinement also meant that I gave up all my rights of privacy as well. Are you reading my emails too?"
"I wouldn't even know how to get into your system and besides, I have no intention of reading your emails."
"Well, it's good to know that some of the military failed their computer systems hacking courses." McKay sat down on the edge of his bed, pulling on socks and sneakers, obviously not changing out of his jeans and T-shirt.
"And you know that you need to meet with Doctor Weir?"
"Yes, you did mention that several minutes ago." He speared Lorne with a condescending glance. "Are you having problems with your short-term memory? I know mine is working just fine, but perhaps you need to stop and see Carson. He might be able to give you something for that. He's into all that voodoo." McKay wiggled his fingers as if that helped to explain the terminology.
Lorne tried not to sigh, but it was hard. McKay was in one of his more exasperating moods. "I was merely pointing it out."
"I've been locked in my quarters for a week and denied any chance to do real work, something that might help save the city from certain doom when the Wraith come next. Every minute I'm away from my lab is another minute when there's no life-altering discovery. If Elizabeth wants to talk to me, she can do so whether or not I'm in uniform. It's not as if the very clothing on my body will stop her from forming complete sentences. She, unlike most people on this base, knows how to speak in compound sentences."
"Look," Lorne said, taking a few steps toward the bed, forcing McKay to raise his head at an awkward angle in order to keep eye contact. "I've been on base for less than twelve hours and in addition to escorting you to the main conference room I wanted to see how you were doing. This whole situation, in my opinion, has gotten out of hand, but I have no say as to what goes on here. I'd recommend making nice with Doctor Weir, Colonel Sheppard, and Doctor Zelenka in there. But since you're the genius, I guess you can figure things out all by yourself."
Lorne turned to leave, only to be stopped by McKay's voice when he was a foot from the door.
"Major, wait."
He turned, his arms folded over his chest, standing in silence.
McKay looked away, finding his feet and hands far more interesting for several seconds before standing up and moving toward him, his eyes finally meeting Lorne's once again. "I appreciate your concern, Major. I do."
Lorne eyed him for a moment before nodding slightly. "Nervous?"
The scientist bobbed his head. "I don't think I can do this for another week."
"I don't have any advice for you, Doc, since I don't know what they want."
"Blood?" McKay chuckled humorlessly. "Although I think I give Carson more than enough for his fiendish experiments."
"There weren't any needles in the room when I left if that's any consolation."
"A little, Major, a little." Rodney gestured to the door as it slid open with his silent command. "Should we get going?"
Lorne nodded, moving into the hallway with the scientist trailing behind. "Andrews," he said pausing, "you're off of guard duty for the rest of the day and I think this should be it. If anything changes, I'll let you know."
"Yes, sir," Andrews replied, turning to walk down the corridor in the other direction as the door to McKay's quarters slid shut.
"You're awfully confident," McKay said a moment later as they approached the nearest transporter.
Lorne shrugged. "Why not? You've done everything they asked of you, right? You haven't made a menace of yourself all week and you haven't complained. Am I right?"
They stepped inside the small transporter and Lorne tapped the image of the central tower.
"I guess."
"So, why would they add more time onto your so-called sentence?"
"Because they hate me?"
"They don't hate you, McKay."
"Okay, then. They don't trust me."
Lorne shook his head a little as the transporter door opened. "Maybe," he said conceding the scientist's point, watching as McKay's wrung his hands together. "But making you miserable won't make things any better for the city in the long run. And I think they trust you more than you trust yourself right now. Give yourself time. You're grounded for three more weeks, right?"
McKay nodded, his face a misery. "If I don't screw this up."
"You're a genius, how can you do that?"
"Trust me, Major, my ego and I have screwed up times more than you know."
McKay pushed ahead as he hurried up the stairs to the main conference room, leaving Lorne to trail behind. As the scientist reached the door, he took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. Raising his hand, he knocked loudly, the door parting before him a moment later.
Offering a prayer to whatever god was listening, Lorne settled down to wait until the yelling and screaming was over.
Elizabeth Weir watched Doctor McKay carefully as he strode into the room, his body a miss-mash of signals. With his head held high, a smug expression firmly in place, he settled himself into one of the open chairs as the door closed behind him, for all intents and purposes the confident and arrogant scientist they all knew.
But, Elizabeth saw something different.
It was more than his casual clothes. She'd seen him many times in jeans and t-shirts or sweatshirts. No matter what he wore, the man underneath always remained the same to her, a constant even in the most complicated and convoluted times.
He looked worn out, his face more pale than she remembered seeing a week ago. The starkness of his skin made the dark circles stand out all the more. If possible, he even looked thinner though she knew he'd been eating regularly since she'd been reading the daily reports. Something had changed.
But now, she saw his slight hesitations, his shaking hand as he pulled the chair back. Near his hairline, a small line of sweat had appeared. His eyes refused to remain steady. It was obvious that he didn't want to meet anyone's gaze, his eyes jumping around the room continually, refusing to settle on any one thing. If she looked closely enough, she thought she could see the beginnings of a ring of sweat forming near his armpits. All of his actions were carefully controlled, but the signals were all there—if you paid attention.
He was nervous as hell and trying not to show it.
It was an interesting observation. Apparently this past week of confinement had helped the scientist find some kind of perspective on the whole situation. So much for Beckett's concerns about McKay's fragile nature.
Her gaze slid to Radek, sitting uncomfortably in his chair, his shoulders rounded as if he were trying to hunch over, to make himself as small as possible, to hide himself in the middle of the room. His eyes were wide behind his glasses, his chin resting on one hand, while the fingers on his other hand tapped soundlessly against the tabletop.
John had straightened when McKay entered, no longer slouching in the chair as he'd been before. His eyes followed the scientist's walk through the room, narrowing as McKay settled into his seat. What John was waiting for, Elizabeth didn't know. Was he waiting for him to twitch, to say something, do something? He continued to study him, his eyes fixed on the physicist.
"Thank you for joining us, Doctor McKay," Weir finally said as her gaze slid back to Rodney, his eyes barely connecting with hers before they were moving again, this time concentrating on a spot somewhere over her left shoulder.
"Major Lorne didn't give me much of a choice."
Her jaw tightened at his tone. It was pure Rodney that much was sure. "He was under orders to escort you here, so yes, he did not have much choice in the matter, nor did you."
McKay ducked his head, acknowledging her comment, but did not make one of his own. She continued a few beats later.
"We're here to discuss how we're going to proceed with the next several weeks. Both Doctor Zelenka and Colonel Sheppard have suggested that we continue as we'd already planned, which means that you will be returning to perform your duties as chief science officer beginning tomorrow morning." McKay's eyes widened at her statement, his eyes flicking toward the other two men in the room as surprise shifted across his face before it settled down into something less smug and more hopeful.
"I am in agreement with their recommendation in this matter."
She waited, letting the words settle over him. This time his eyes slowed down, meeting hers hesitatingly, as if the faintest of movement on her part would send them flying off again.
"Is that it?"
Weir inclined her head to the side a little, breaking their gaze as she glanced down at her PDA. "Almost."
A single "oh" fell from his lips, the word breathy and filled with weight.
"As discussed," she continued a moment later, her eyes taking in John and Radek with a single glance, "you will resume all of your duties as Atlantis CSO, however, you will remain restricted to the base for the next three weeks. Also, Doctor Zelenka has agreed to provide weekly reports on your projects. He will be acting as my eyes and ears during this period. Please treat him with the respect you accord me. Am I understood?"
McKay swallowed, his mouth tightening, his lips forming a thin line. "Clearly."
"Do you have any questions for any of us?"
McKay's eyes moved slowly around the room, meeting the other men's eyes briefly before continuing on.
"Just so I have this straight," he began, leaning forward, his forearms resting on the table, his hands gesturing while he spoke. "Radek, here, is going to be looking over my shoulder while I go about doing my job. A job, I might add, that was given to me nearly two years ago. Do I have to ask his permission every step along the way? And will Colonel Sheppard's friends be shadowing me as well?"
The muscles in Weir's back tightened at his tone, but she let it go. "Doctor Zelenka will merely be providing a weekly report. You are to go about your duties normally. And no, there will be no need for guards unless, of course, you would prefer to have them."
"No, a week of close contact with the Marines is plenty for me." McKay paused again, glancing at Sheppard whose eyes hadn't budged. "Am I also to attend senior staff meetings during this time?"
"Yes," Weir nodded. "Apart from your off-base restrictions, nothing has changed in your job description."
"Fine." McKay slid his hands back, holding onto the edge of the table, as if he were preparing to shove his chair back. "Anything else?"
"One other thing," Weir replied, noticing Radek's raised eyebrow. This she'd added as soon as McKay had walked in the door. "I want Carson to examine you before you begin work tomorrow. Have Major Lorne escort you there before you return to your quarters."
"I'm still under guard?"
"Until tomorrow, yes. I'd recommend not giving the Major a hard time."
"Fine." This time Rodney pushed back away from the table, rising to his feet. "If there's nothing else…"
"You're dismissed," she nodded, watching as he strode out the door, pausing at Lorne's side apparently to tell him what was next on their agenda. The Major glanced toward her in question and she nodded once, confirming Rodney's instructions.
As they headed through the control room, Weir turned her attention to the two men still seated in the conference room with her. "Well, I think that about does it."
"Weir to Beckett."
Carson jumped a little as the voice rang out in his ear. Even after nearly two years of wearing the stupid earpieces, he got startled whenever he was paged—especially if he was in the middle of something. Like now.
The techs in the lab had finally finished their analysis of the virus that some of the Athosians on the mainland had come down with and he'd spent the better part of the day wading through the reports and lab results. It wasn't anything deadly. Nothing life threatening, but it could end up crippling the Atlantean population if it got lose on the base.
So, he'd ended up chained to his desk as soon as he had stepped back through the wormhole and received his post-mission check from Doctor Biro. It was still odd to be on the receiving end of one of those.
Taking a deep breath to steady his frantically beating heart, Carson lifted his hand to click his radio on while he began pulling the pages that had spilled out of his fingers back together. He hoped he didn't sound like he'd just run a race.
"Beckett."
"Sorry to bother you, Carson, but I just sent Doctor McKay down. He's looking a little peaked and I want to make sure he's up to start working tomorrow morning."
"Peaked?" he asked, sitting up straighter as his brows drew together. He knew he should have made the time to stop there the other day.
"Paler. Dark circles. Might be nothing." He could see her shrug in his mind's eye.
"Paler than he normally is? That's not good although he hasn't been getting out much lately come to think of it. Aye. I'll give him a thorough going over. Anything else?"
"Let me know what you find."
"I will. Beckett out."
Dropping the papers onto the top of his report-covered desk, he rubbed his hands briskly across his face, trying to wipe the weariness away. Checking his watch, he realized it was nearly time for dinner. Where had the day gone?
Pushing himself up from his desk, his chair sliding back to hit the wall behind, he moved slowly into the main part of the infirmary just as the doors opened to reveal a sour-looking—and pale—Rodney McKay along with his ever-present shadow, Major Lorne.
Carson flashed the Major a quick nod before he set his sights fully on the scientist. "Well, Rodney, what brings you here?"
He came to a stop and his arms crossed over his chest. Tilting his chin up, he looked down at Carson. "Elizabeth sent me. I'm surprised she didn't call ahead. I would have if I were in her position, just to make sure I'd followed her instructions to the letter and also to warn you about the foul-tempered scientist was on his way. Can't ever be too careful."
Beckett's eyebrow scooted upward, but he didn't rise to the bait. Rodney knew Elizabeth far too well it seemed. Gesturing toward one of the exam beds with one hand, he shot Lorne a quick 'you can leave now' look as Rodney huffed and moved past him. "So, what seems to be the problem?" He asked the question once the scientist settled on the bed and the infirmary door swooshed closed as Lorne went to go stand outside.
"You tell me, Carson, isn't that your job? I'm just following directions like a good little lemming."
Frowning, Beckett moved toward the side table. "Lemming, eh? Well, then push up your sleeve," he ordered. After another long-suffering sigh, Carson heard the rustle of clothing and turned, finding Rodney rolling his eyes and shoving his t-shirt sleeve somewhere north of this elbow. Wrapping the blood-pressure cuff around his upper arm, Carson quickly got to work, taking readings and drawing blood—under protest from Rodney.
Elizabeth had been correct. McKay didn't look right. The normally pale Canadian was a few shades lighter than usual, his eyes redder than they should have been for someone not on the clock. He was a few pounds lighter than the last time he'd been given a thorough check-up and his blood pressure was still borderline.
Carson stepped back, jotting down several things on Rodney's chart. Pursing his lips, he glanced up at the strangely silent man. Everything seemed normal, at least medically speaking for Rodney, but it didn't explain why his radar was tweeting at him. There was something else going on.
Tapping his stylus on his lips, Carson narrowed his eyes, finally getting a reaction from McKay.
"What?"
"I'm thinking."
"I can smell the furnace igniting in that head of yours. What voodoo spells are you going to curse me with this time?"
Carson shrugged, holding the chart closer to his chest.
Rodney's eyes widened. "Am I dying? Is that what this whole look is for? I can take it. Just tell me plainly. How long do I have?"
Rolling his eyes, Carson slapped the chart down on the adjacent bed and shook his head. "You're fine, Rodney. A little hypertensive, but that's normal for you. I have to wait for your blood to come back to get the rest of your results, but you seem fit as a fiddle." He paused, tilting his head to examine his friend's face again. "Are ye gettin' enough sleep? What have you been working on the past week that's been keeping you up to all hours of the night?"
McKay stiffened a little, his arms coming up to cross over his chest. Carson absently noted that several fingernails on Rodney's right hand were torn and ragged, but when the scientist opened his mouth, whatever thought Carson had had about them quickly fled looking for shelter somewhere else. "Believe it or not, Carson, I do have projects and papers that need to be completed. This whole situation just gave me time to make a decent amount of progress on them. Besides, what does it matter when I'm working on them, or for how long? It's my time. I can use it any way I want. It's not like I was given a whole lot of options."
"Okay, okay," he replied, waving his hands, trying to get Rodney to calm down. He really didn't want to argue with him. "No more projects tonight if you expect to go to work in the morning. Agreed?"
The muscles along the physicist's jaw tightened, but he nodded a moment later. "Fine. I can agree to that. Anything else?"
"Are you sure you're doing okay, otherwise? I know I haven't seen much of you the past few days."
"Look. I'm obviously tired and the longer you keep me here the less time I have to rest—as you've just informed me that I have to do before I can work in the morning. So, if there's nothing else…"
"Nae. That should be it. I'll make my report to Elizabeth in a little bit. Off ye go," Carson said, picking up the chart and moving away from the bed as McKay slid off, straightening his clothes and yanking down the sleeve of his t-shirt.
Rodney turned and walked quickly toward the infirmary doors, pausing only long enough to pick up his military escort. Carson shook his head part in exasperation, part in amusement. It was good to have a certain number of constants in this crazy galaxy and the physicist could definitely be considered a constant. Carson was also glad there was only one Rodney McKay on the base. He wasn't sure if he—or the base—could take two of them.
One was more than enough.
After stepping into the room, the door slid shut behind him and Rodney mentally locked it, letting his body slump back against the flat, cold surface. And, as an extra measure, he keyed it only to unlock under his direct command or in the case of a medical emergency. He didn't want any further contact with people today. He'd had his limit.
Only a few more hours and he was free—relatively speaking, of course, since Elizabeth seemed determined about going through with the rest of his sentence. At least now he could do something.
It had been a hellish day, starting before the sun actually rose. Since he'd managed to disable the door chime yesterday—several fingernails later—the terrors also known as upstanding Marines had taken to pounding on the door every now and then. The pounding was easier to ignore than the door chime, but it still tended to wake him at the most inconvenient times—like when he'd just fallen asleep.
There was no point in complaining. Not like anyone would do anything and it was a matter of his word against theirs. And at this point in time, he doubted anyone would believe him since it was something only a five-year-old would do. How'd they'd managed to make it this far was beyond McKay, but that wasn't the issue.
Andrews had forced him to get breakfast and lunch, not taking 'no' for an answer. How he'd managed to get in the room when Rodney swore he'd locked the door last night was a question he'd like answered, but nothing was forthcoming.
And, coming back from the infirmary, Lorne had dragged him to the mess hall—right in the middle of dinner. He'd been trying to go before the rush or after it, but tonight Lorne wasn't giving up. He'd taken his arm in hand and bodily moved him to the nearest transporter, hustling him into the room like some kind of errant, misbehaving ten-year-old.
He could imagine the entrance they'd made—Lorne tugging the resisting scientist along while Rodney continued to babble, words flowing from his mouth in an effort to make the Major stop, turn around, and leave him the hell alone.
He still remembered the silence than had fallen over the mess when they'd strode in. He could still hear Lorne's hushed words in his ear. "You sure do know how to make an entrance, McKay. Must be the genius in you."
Shaking off his hand, Rodney had moved to the food line, grabbing a tray and filling it with whatever his hand ran across. Lorne had stayed right behind him the entire time, chattering up a storm with one of the other Marines who had fallen in line behind them.
After getting splattered by the special of the night, Rodney had moved to the beverage area, snagging a full mug of coffee from a fresh-made pot. He'd nearly got two mugs, but he thought it might be pushing his luck. Aiming toward the door, Lorne's voice had stopped him in his tracks.
"Find a table, McKay."
Turning, he'd given the Major one of his more strident glances, but the other man had either ignored it or just shrugged it off. Lorne, instead, had nodded toward an empty table in the center of the room. "There's an open one there."
"Major—" he'd begun, fully intent on arguing, but Lorne's eyes had hardened, stopping him even before the rant began.
"McKay, I'm tired and hungry and I plan on eating in the mess like a normal human. Now, sit down and eat. You can get back to being a hermit in a while."
His shoulder muscles tightening, Rodney had choked off a reply, nodding his head once, sharply, as he turned and stalked to the table Lorne had pointed to. Slamming his tray on the surface, he'd yanked back the chair and dropped into it, pointedly ignoring the stares he knew were turned his way. He could already feel them.
Getting down to business, McKay had picked up his utensils and began eating, the food both too bland and too spicy. How the cooks managed to get that strange flavoring was something he didn't even want to consider. Lorne and the chattering airman joined him a few minutes later, their conversation going full throttle. He'd listened, refusing to interject anything even though Lorne had obviously left room for him to reply. Instead, he kept his head down, focusing on the pile of food still in his plate, watching as his fork moved it around, mixing it together until it became even more non-descript and unrecognizable.
"Hey, McKay."
Jerking his head up, he'd realized Lorne had probably called him several times, but he'd managed to zone out. The babbling airman was also gone, leaving just him and the Major, who was staring at him strangely.
"What?" McKay had grumbled, letting his fork drop with a clank to the tray.
"You okay?"
"Peachy, Major. Are we done with today's social experiment of 'make a fool out of the scientist'? It's your last chance before tomorrow rolls around."
"Would you just knock it off, McKay?" Lorne had hissed, leaning forward on his arms as he pushed his tray to the unoccupied side of the table. "Why is it that you insist on making things harder than they need to be?"
"I'm a genius. What you consider hard and what I consider hard are two very different things."
"When it comes to science, I'd have to agree, but we're talking about social interaction here, not nuclear fission."
"Oh, nice example there, Major. Taking lessons from Colonel Sheppard now? Or is it Doctor Weir? I'm getting them all confused."
Lorne had shaken his head then, glancing away. Rodney had taken the opportunity to scan the mess, finding it much more deserted than it had been when they'd walked in. Thankfully, no one in their immediate vicinity had been paying much attention to their conversation. However, he did notice Carson sitting with his team on the other side of the room. A twinge of hurt had flashed through his mind, but he quickly shoved it to the side, pushing it away.
"Are you done?" Lorne had finally asked several minutes later, drawing Rodney's attention back to the other man. Turning, his eyes dropped to his mostly-full plate.
"Yeah. I'm not very hungry. I'll just grab a few PowerBars for later."
"Fine," Lorne had said, rising to his feet. "Since you obviously don't want to be here, we should probably get moving."
Rodney nodded, following the Major's lead. He'd felt everyone's eyes on him as he had moved through the mess, dropping his tray in the appropriate place, picking up a handful of snacks for later along with a bottle of water.
Lorne had been standing at the entrance, waiting patiently. When he'd approached, Lorne gestured for Rodney to go first, quickly falling in beside him. The walk to his quarters had been completed in silence.
When the doors finally slid open, Lorne's hand had come up, resting on the frame, stopping McKay from shutting him out—literally and figuratively.
Turning, Rodney had offered the man one of his more condescending expressions. "You wanted something, Major?"
"I'll be out here until the clock officially clicks over into tomorrow. If you want to talk, you know where to find me."
Rodney had nodded once, unsure what to say, but it was apparently enough since Lorne had stepped back, his hand dropping to his side. He'd stepped inside then, the feeling of relief washing over him so strongly that he needed the strength and the silence of Atlantis to keep him upright. The coolness of the door seeped through the clothing covering his back, giving him a measure of the relief he sought.
Opening his eyes, he glanced around the dimly lit room. How long had he been standing there, leaning against the door, going through the events of the day in his mind? He wasn't sure if he wanted to know or if he really cared.
Pushing himself away, he stumbled toward his bed, his legs feeling like they wouldn't hold him upright. Tumbling onto the soft surface, one arm pinned beneath his own weight, his legs hanging half off the edge, he groaned. Dragging his left arm up toward his face, he squinted at his watch-face.
Twenty hundred hours, give or take a few minutes.
That meant he had been standing there, leaning against the wall for… He tried to do the math, but his brain wasn't having it and settled for an approximation—far too long.
Shifting his weight he yanked his arm from beneath his body before all the feeling absconded from it and crawled up toward his pillow. He could see his laptop sitting on his desk, its siren song calling his name. He'd given Carson a promise and even though there was no real way for the doctor to enforce it, he felt like he owed him that much just because of their working relationship and their friendship.
He scoffed at the last thought, his breath leaving in a disgusted huff. Who was he kidding? It was plainly obvious who his friends were now, wasn't it?
Teyla had at least visited him once, so he needed to give her points for trying, at least a little, even though she'd probably lost some kind of bet or something. Why else had she not come back when she'd promised?
Lorne was forced to spend time with him. Hard to call someone a friend who was ordered to keep you company.
He really hadn't expected to see Sheppard or Radek, although it would have been nice for them to drop in and say hello. Sheppard used to do that when he was in the lab working late, but now everything was different. Radek had probably been up to his eyeballs with work. Rodney knew he hadn't been keeping up with things the way he normally did once that whole Arcturus project had caught his attention. But, knowing how Radek worked, everything would probably be in order when he walked in.
He let his thoughts wander, drifting through the upper reaches of his mind, settling on everything and nothing all at once. People and places all blended together—familiar faces in unfamiliar settings. It sometimes felt like he was running simulation after simulation, the situation resetting with different people and variables. Sometimes it looked like he was back on Duranda. Other times he was on the mainland or a planet that was vaguely mainland-like. Once he swore he was on the planet where the Guardian of Forever sat for all time, waiting for that single question. The Guardian would certainly be helpful in his case, giving him the ability to go back in time and change things, make things right, make him stop before he blew up an entire solar system. He could almost hear himself pleading with the Guardian, begging to be allowed to step through, to set things right, to make sure Collins didn't die.
Collins.
In the early morning hours, he swore he could hear him, see him, pleading with Rodney to give his death meaning and purpose. His blackened hands would reach out to him, clasping the front of his shirt in a grip that Rodney couldn't shake, forcing him to look into his eyes, to see the pain and the anguish he'd experienced even in that short time.
And once he grabbed on, it always seemed like he would never let go, as if by that very touch he could drag Rodney right over the edge, never waking in this world again.
With his breath catching in his throat, Rodney jerked awake, his hands waving desperately to rid himself of the visitor his mind had created. With his eyes wide open, his panting gasps were loud in the silence of the room.
As he eased himself back down into his bed, he tried to calm himself, gradually slowing down his breathing and his heart rate, convincing his over-active mind that it was just another nightmare.
Once he settled down, he lifted his wrist, squinting through the darkness to try and make out the small number on the dial. When it was obvious that they wouldn't magically appear, he grumbled reaching to press the button that would illuminate it for a few seconds. The light, while low, still managed to blind him, forcing him to glare at the watch in order to read the time.
0430
Damn. His hands dropped to lie on the bed beside him. Why did he have to be awake and alert this early? Knowing that getting any sleep at this point was severely doubtful, Rodney groaned and rolled to a sitting position, his bare feet hitting the cold floor with a thud. Scratching his stomach, he pushed himself upright, stumbling to the bathroom.
He might as well get moving. There was probably plenty of work to be done anyway.
Dragging his unwilling body through the motions, he was ready to go in less than half an hour, but standing in the middle of his room, the lights on barely enough to illuminate the furniture and his overly organized belongings, he realized he didn't want to go to the lab right now. There were probably scientists already working, some of them still there from the night before.
Glancing down, he realized he'd dressed in the charcoal grey uniform he normally wore on missions. Habit, he guessed. But even with the uniform in place, he still wasn't ready to pull on all of his responsibilities just yet.
Taking a deep breath, he quickly made up his mind. Grabbing a PowerBar and shoving it into the pocket of his jacket, he unlocked the door to his quarters, disengaging the security program he'd placed on it the night before.
Peering into the hall, only silence greeted him. Lorne was nowhere to be seen. Neither were any of his guards.
He was free.
Turning toward the transporter at the end of the hall, he stepped inside, stabbing his finger at one of the locations as far outside the main areas of the city as he could get without ending up in the water—not that the system would allow him to beam himself into the ocean. He'd tried. Not for himself, but for another loud-mouthed scientist. For some reason that was one of the safety measures the city wouldn't allow him to override.
Elizabeth had been quietly amused, but had been officially disapproving of his side project. But that had been months ago when they'd been friends as well as colleagues.
Shrugging off the thought, he plodded on, not paying much attention to where he was going as long as he was walking.
A few minutes later he found himself on the East side of the city, on the East Pier, the night quickly giving way to the sunrise. Without conscious thought he walked, enjoying the feel of wind against his face, the freedom to go and do what he wanted.
He soon found himself outside and he pulled his jacket around him tighter, zipping it up to his neck and burying his hands in his armpits. The wind was chilly, colder than he expected, but he didn't care. His feet continued to move him forward, until he was standing at the edge of the pier. His eyes quickly scanned the area, finding a small alcove he could settle into that blocked most of the wind, but gave him a great view of the horizon.
Sitting, he curled himself into as small a ball as he could manage, trying to keep the heat from his body close to him. Hugging his knees against his chest, his arms locked around his bent legs, he kept his eyes fixed on the sea and the glow beginning far in the distance.
He let his mind drift, enjoying not having to think about anything. He knew the science behind the colors of the sunrise, but he didn't dwell on it, instead choosing to simply watch and wait for the show to conclude.
It didn't take long.
With the sky mostly clear except for a few high clouds, the rays of the sun shone out brilliantly, spreading across the dark sky like a firestorm. The day was born anew in a hue of reds and oranges and golds, the dark midnight blue quickly relenting under the onslaught of color.
Sometimes he wished he didn't know so much, wished he could simply enjoy the things others took at face value.
"Pretty, isn't it?"
The words, although spoken softly, were unexpected. As was the sweaty, dreadlocked figure towering over him.
"What?" he said, his body twitching as he tried to recover.
"The sunrise," Ronon said, his chin gesturing toward the brightening horizon, perspiration glistening on his face, a bead of it running down his jaw to drop on his shirt.
"Oh, yeah," McKay nodded, turning his eyes back, trying not to be disappointed at the company. But it was as if Ronon's words had interrupted a great symphony and now, there was no going back. The mood was past. "What are you doing out here anyway?" he asked, turning back toward the Satedan.
"Running. I try to time my run so I can see the sunrise. I saw you come out here before."
"Oh."
"You okay?"
"Fine, fine. Why wouldn't I be?"
Ronon shrugged, using his should to wipe some of the sweat from the side of his face. "Didn't take you for a sunrise watcher."
"Just because I know the scientific principles behind a sunrise doesn't mean I can't enjoy it for beauty's sake alone."
Ronon raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, I guess."
A few moments passed when neither man said anything, their eyes drifting back to the dying remains of the sunrise.
"I should keep moving," Ronon said finally, his gaze meeting Rodney's.
"Yes, yes. Don't want to get cold, tighten up all those muscles of yours."
Ronon nodded, his eyes drifting back to the water and the sun's rays as they danced on its surface. "See you around, McKay," he said finally, loping off along the outer edge of the pier, obviously circling back to the main section of Atlantis.
"Yeah," he replied, nodding absently as he watched the warrior's figure quickly fade away.
Taking a few more deep breaths, Rodney climbed to his feet, his limbs stiff from the cold and the awkward position he'd been sitting in, and slowly made his way back to the warmer hallways of Atlantis. Pulling out a PowerBar, he gnawed on it during his walk back, enjoying the solitude of the city, letting it embrace him slowly, corridor by corridor. As he reached the more populated sections, more and more people were also walking the hallways. They didn't say a word, but he could feel their stares, see their startled glances.
It was as if they didn't think he had the right to walk the same corridors they used, as if he should be relegated to using the catwalks, hiding in the shadows, never seen or heard, just appearing when there was a crisis or something to be fixed. He was the smartest man in two galaxies, but the very people he worked with and protected on a regular basis wanted nothing to do with him.
Putting his head down, he started walking faster, his feet taking him to the mess for coffee and then to the labs where he'd get to work. Knowing Zelenka, he'd be there already and Rodney was sure there was a lot to do.
TBC
