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

xxx

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

xxx

Elizabeth Weir moved through the nearly silent halls of Atlantis, the reduced lighting only emphasizing her own dark thoughts. It was nearly 0200 and most of the city was still awake, recovering from the accident in the science labs.

She'd waited in her office, reading reports, helping to organize teams for rescue and clean-up, thinking about the three letters she'd have to write.

This shouldn't have happened.

She'd finally ventured into the labs to see the damage for herself and she couldn't help but be amazed at how much destruction the one device had caused. She spotted John and Ronon dismantling a section of cabinets that had taken the brunt of the blast, using both bare hands and hack saws. Lorne was sweeping another section, the clinking of glass and metal echoing through the room with every swipe of the broom. Several scientists were huddled in a corner wading through whatever equipment looked halfway salvageable.

It would take days before this section was back to anything close to normal, and the smell—she wasn't sure that would ever go away. In all actuality, she wouldn't be surprised if the science department moved out altogether. Although, there weren't many interconnected rooms like this left in this area.

Leaving the crews to their work, she'd turned and headed directly to the infirmary. By now thing should have quieted down dramatically. She should be able to get an update from Carson without receiving his wrath.

Stepping inside, she was unsurprised to see the majority of the infirmary beds full. Doctor Biro was hovering at the end of the nearest bed, writing notes down in the chart. She glanced very briefly over her shoulder as Weir entered, throwing her words over her shoulder as she continued to write.

"Lemons are in the shower. You'll want to start there if you're not bleeding."

"Lemons?"

Biro turned abruptly, her lips forming an "o" as she realized what she'd just said. "Sorry. We're still getting some of the cleaning crew stumbling down here with cuts and bruises. The lemon helps to get out the smell. If they're not bleeding, it's easier to have them shower first."

Weir smile was brittle. "I understand. Is Carson around?"

"Sure. I think I saw him last in his office. If he's not there, he's in one of the private rooms. Anne should know exactly where he is if you find her."

Elizabeth nodded and quietly moved deeper into the infirmary, offering gentle smiles and nods to those who were awake and caught her eye as she passed through. Turning a corner, she spotted Beckett seated at his desk, his elbows on the surface, his head in his hands.

Tapping lightly on the doorframe, she tried not to startle him. "Carson?"

"Elizabeth," he replied as he lifted his head, his bloodshot blue eyes glassy with fatigue. He gestured for her to enter and have a seat. "Come in. I was just gettin' ready to make my report, but ye beat me to it. Sorry about the mess," he added, as she moved a pile of paperwork that had accumulated on one of his guest chairs.

Depositing it on the floor, she chuckled lightly. "Don't worry, I've seen worse. So," she began, pausing slightly as she settled into the seat, not sure how to begin exactly. Where did you start? He obviously noticed her dilemma and just began speaking.

"I'll start with the accident report," he said, shuffling several pages on his desk before he picked up the one he wanted. "We treated twenty-two people, two of which were critical care cases, which I'll talk about in more detail in a moment. Out of the twenty then, most were treated for cuts and bruises and some smoke inhalation, but thankfully that was minor. The fire suppression system helped there."

Squinting at the sheet, he continued a beat later, rubbing his hand over one of his eyes. "A few of the rescue personnel were injured as well—mostly not paying attention to where they were stepping, but those were all minor. Overall, I'm keeping about ten overnight, just in case of any complications, but I'm not expecting any."

"Rodney and Miko?"

"I'll get there in a moment," he replied, shifting to another folder and another report. "We're making some slow progress with this disease, but after tonight, we're going to have to make up some time. Shelly's symptoms are progressing, but the cocktail I have her on seems to slow things down. I've started the other patients on a similar program and it seems to be helping—at least early on. We're keeping our fingers crossed."

"That sounds great, Carson," Weir complimented. She knew he'd be able to figure the illness out. It was just taking a little more time.

"Now for Rodney and Miko," he said, sighing a little as he shuffled more papers. "Doctor Nakayama had a minor concussion and a few cuts and bruises. It seems that Rodney managed to shield her from the majority of the flying debris. She regained consciousness not long after she arrived here, but because of the concussion we're keeping a close eye on her."

When he paused again, something in the pit of her stomach dropped. "Rodney was by far the one in the worst shape—apart from the dead bodies of course. He had multiple lacerations on his back, his arms and lower extremities as well as numerous cuts and bruises." Shaking his head he continued. "We managed to clean and debride all of his wounds, stitching a few, others we could close with a few butterfly bandages. I have him on pain meds because he's very uncomfortable."

"He was unconscious, I thought? The initial reports—"

"Yes, he was. He woke up mid-way through treatment screaming bloody murder, claiming we were ripping his skin off. The meds were for his comfort and safety."

He paused again, taking a few moments to rub at his eyes. "Once we were done and he settled down, I was able to get a better idea of how he was doing. Apart from the pain, he was coherent; knew where he was and what happened. Even though I didn't tell him about the deaths of the scientists, he knew already."

"Can I see him?"

Beckett shrugged. "If you want, but he was sleeping when I was in there a few minutes ago."

"I'd like to see him if I may," she replied, her words more of an order than a request. Hearing her tone, he nodded and slowly rose to his feet.

"Come on, but I'm going to insist that you do not wake him. The longer he sleeps, the less pain he'll feel."

She nodded, following Beckett as he led her toward the private rooms in the rear of the infirmary, he paused outside one, exchanging a few hushed words with his head nurse, Anne Matthews, before entering.

McKay was lying more or less on his stomach, a pillow half supporting him so he wasn't lying totally flat. Wires tracked from the machines surrounding him under the blankets that had been adjusted and folded perfectly so there wasn't a rumple. His face was pale and drawn, a few butterfly bandages on his temple and on the skin she could see above the sheet.

An IV ran into his arm and Beckett stepped to the side, adjusting the flow, She raised an eyebrow toward him and he moved back toward her, whispering a reply to her unvoiced question. "He was dehydrated and his electrolytes were all out of whack, so I'm trying to replace them while he's here. It doesn't look like he's been eating as regularly as he should."

"Does he have what's going around?"

"No, there's no sign of it. This is just Rodney being stubborn."

Gesturing for her to follow him, they stopped just outside the room where they could talk in something more than a whisper. "He should be right as rain in a few days. Depending on how uncomfortable he is, I may keep him here the entire time. Might be easier than listening to him complain. You may want to re-assign some of his current projects until he's back on his feet."

"How long?"

"It all depends on him. If he follows my instructions and takes it easy, a few days. If he doesn't…" Carson shrugged. "I'd say four days tops and he can return to light duty. Three if he behaves."

Elizabeth nodded. "I'll make the arrangements for Doctor Zelenka to take over some of his projects. Although, I imagine most of his time was going to the Ancient devices."

"I imagine you're correct," he replied, moving with her as they walked back toward the main section of the infirmary.

"You're going to get some rest, right?" she asked when they reached his office. He nodded wearily.

"Aye. Anne's been after me for a few hours now, so I'm going to crash in on of the rooms in the back that's empty. I want to be around in case Rodney wakes up cranky. Anne can handle him, but there's no need to subject her to him when he's in pain."

"And it's okay that you do it to yourself?"

Carson shrugged, a wry smile touching his lips. "I'm used to it. Besides, if I don't he'll swear he's dying."

"Get some rest, Carson."

"Aye. You too."

"Have a good night, and good work."

He nodded, offering her a half smile that she took with her as she walked out of the infirmary and to her quarters, deciding to take her own advice to heart. She could finish everything up tomorrow.

xxx

He was tired of lying down. He was tired of blinking only to find several hours had passed and it was time for someone to poke at his wounds. Then, he grew tired of staring at the same walls for hours on end, keeping as still as possible because every movement hurt like the dickens. He was tired of drifting in and out when the pain got to be too much and he couldn't sleep, allowing him to hover somewhere between sleep and wakefulness.

Apart from Carson and that Anne girl, oh, and an occasional visit from Radek, he'd been left to his own devices, allowed to stew and think of everything that had gone wrong and what he might have done to fix it.

Rodney was tired of playing the 'what if' game. He never won and it always made him depressed.

"Rodney?"

The voice came from the door, hesitant and with a lilt. Carson. What did he want now? Hadn't he just been in here to bother him a few minutes ago, or was that a few hours. He hated not knowing where the time went.

"What?" he mumbled into the pillow, tired of not being able to see who was coming in the room.

"Are you up for a visitor?"

"Not like I'm doing anything else," he replied, rolling his eyes as he shifted a little, hissing in pain, but realizing it wasn't as bad as he remembered.

"Okay, then, I'll leave you two alone," he said; the swoosh of fabric the only indication that Beckett had left. When no one came into view immediately, Rodney's jaw tightened in annoyance.

"If you're just going to stand there and stare I'm sure there are much more interesting things to look at somewhere else."

A shuffle of feet followed a beat later and John Sheppard came into view. Rodney's scowl darkened.

"Did you get lost?"

Sheppard returned the scowl as he leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. "You up to answering a few questions?"

"Talking I can do."

"I noticed," he said dryly. "So what happened to the damn lab, McKay?"

"Oh, did you miss the whole event? I thought an Ancient device exploding within a confined space would be pretty obvious."

"Brady was working on it?"

"Yes yes yes. Brady was working on it," he replied, his arm itching to gesture and move, but he knew he'd end up paying the price. "He was having some issues so he called me into the lab he was working on. Kusangi, Zelenka, and I were floaters, helping anyone they needed it—which was most everyone, but that's another story entirely."

"The device?"

"Everything was fine until he decided to poke at the insides. He must have hit something because we started getting a power reading, one that was increasing steadily."

"Booby trap?"

"Maybe. In any case, we needed to turn it off, but Brady—the brilliant man that he was—decided he knew what the problem was and that he could fix it. That wasn't the case. So while he blundered along, I ordered everyone out as a precaution."

"How did the device end up in the main lab?"

"When it became painfully obvious to all of us that he didn't have any idea what he was doing, he started to panic. We had a safe box in the lab. I suggested we place it in there and let the damn thing explode. It would have been contained. I didn't want it going off in the small lab because god only knows what it would have done to the pipes and systems running through that back wall. Then Brady had an epiphany."

McKay shifted, trying to alleviate some of the tension growing in his back shoulder muscles. Just thinking about it made him angry. "There was some tool in the main lab that he knew would fix the problem, so he took it into the lab and the rest, as you say, is history."

"That's it?"

"That's it. What, were you expecting 'War and Peace'? It was a stupid accident."

"And three men are dead."

"I know."

"So, how did Brady end up with the device in the first place?"

Rodney rolled his eyes. "He got it from me."

"I see," Sheppard said, his tone condescending.

"What do you want from me?" Rodney asked, shoving himself a few inches upward so he could look at John a little closer. He hissed in pain, but didn't stop until he was poised on his elbows, his body lifted farther than it had been in nearly two days. "They knew what they were working with, knew it was dangerous. We were taking all the appropriate precautions."

Sheppard shoved himself away from the wall, taking a few steps forward before stopping, still more than an arm's length from the bed. "I thought you and Zelenka were going to go over every single entry in that database before handing out the devices like candy to babies."

"That would have taken weeks to go through everything. They knew what they were doing," McKay replied, pushing out the response through gritted teeth.

"Apparently not."

"What do you want from me? An apology?" McKay asked, his voice rising along with the noise from the monitors. "Well, you can have that. I'm sorry they're dead, but it was Brady's damn fault. If he'd only listened in the first place—"

"Listened to who? You?"

"Yes, me. Who else?"

"Well, if you'd only taken your time and examined everything before handing it out we wouldn't be having this conversation now, would we?"

"Gentlemen!"

Carson stormed into the room, rounding the bed so both John and Rodney could see the anger on his face. "I did not let you in here to agitate my patient, Colonel, so unless you can continue this conversation in a normal tone and volume, I suggest you leave."

"I'm done." Sheppard said, his expression locking down. He turned a moment later, walking out the door, his back so rigid it looked painful. He didn't glance back.

Rodney glared at the wall, refusing to meet Carson's eyes even when he felt a hand rest lightly on his shoulder, trying to help ease him back down onto the bed. His arms were shaking and it didn't take much before he was once again resting against the pillows, the pain in his back only fueling his anger, his frustration, his own guilt. He shouldn't have listened to Kusangi, but the decision had been made and he wasn't one to point fingers. He was the boss and the buck stopped with him.

"Are you in a lot of pain? I should look at the stitches and make sure you didn't pull anything."

"I'm fine."

"Rodney, it'll just take a minute—"

"I said I'm fine. Now if you don't mind, I'm tired and I'd like to sleep." Closing his eyes, he shifted slightly, trying to make himself comfortable, trying to move without hissing.

A moment later and he felt his muscles start to sag in relief. He appreciated the fact that Beckett had ignored him, giving him a little something through the IV to take the edge off. As he drifted off to sleep he realized Sheppard hadn't even bothered to ask him how he was feeling.

xxx

"I still do not understand why I am here," Zelenka said, sitting down in one of Elizabeth's office chairs as Colonel Sheppard lounged near the closed door.

"We wanted to speak to you about what transpired the other night in the lab," Weir replied, her tone even, clearly intent on keeping and holding her composure. That night had scared many—her included—he thought as his gaze rested on her pale face.

"Did you not talk to Rodney? He gave me report when asked."

Weir's eyes slid sideways toward the Colonel. "John spoke with him."

"So, what seems to be issue?"

Her glaze moved again, this time resting on her clasped hands before she finally responded. "Colonel Sheppard and I think that it would be in the best interests of Atlantis for you to take over the project involving the Ancient devices the four off-world teams brought back."

Zelenka felt his forehead wrinkling a little as he glanced back and forth between the two people before him. "I'm afraid I still do not understand."

"It's simple." Sheppard said, forcibly removing himself from the wall. "We want you to make sure we don't have any more accidents like the one we had."

"But," Radek said, "I'm already in charge of that project. I spoke with Rodney yesterday when I got his full report. He informed me that I was to take over any further research regarding the Ancient devices, that he had other projects he needed to do that were more important." Zelenka shrugged. "Did he not speak to you about it?"

Sheppard and Weir actually looked shocked at his words. Elizabeth finally managed to pull her thoughts together. "No," she said, pausing to glance at the other man whose own gaze was fixed on the opposite wall. "He was sleeping when I was there last."

Radek, though, knew the truth of her statement. She'd been there once on the night of the accident and had yet to return. Sheppard, likewise, had visited once and had left as if the devil was nipping at his heels—according to the rumors that is. And Zelenka knew who to trust when it came to information like this.

"Then, if there is nothing more," he said rising to his feet and adjusting the glasses on his nose.

"No. No, I think we're done," Weir said, her lips a thin line.

Nodding, he walked to the door, palming the release on the side, waiting as the panel opened to allow him to exit. "Colonel," he added, before the door was completely open, "before you file your final report, you may wish to speak with Doctor Kusangi. She may have some additional information."

"Thanks," he replied, his voice distant. "I'll do that."

Walking through the control room he ignored the curious glances and the furtive looks. Sometimes he swore he worked in a high school instead of a highly classified alien outpost in another galaxy. At this point, he was not sure there was much of a difference.

xxx

John Sheppard wandered though the main science lab, the late hour making the trek a nearly silent one. Wisinski had confirmed that Kusangi was in the lab, 'somewhere in the back', which left quite a number of small offices and laboratories for him to search. He offered quick smiles to the scientists who looked up when he poked his head in the door, but mostly the few remaining ones ignored him. That was normal, though.

He finally found her in the back of the lab, apparently exactly where Wisinski said she'd be. Knocking lightly on the door frame, she glanced up from her computer workstation, pausing in her typing only long enough to wave him in.

"Colonel, what can I do for you?"

As he stepped inside, his eyes immediately scanned the room, noting the clutter on the shelves and surfaces. He was sure that she had every single dust particle cataloged. She was the type that even amidst absolute chaos would know exactly where something was.

The clicking of her fingers on the keyboard was the only sound as he settled into the stool opposite from where she was working. There was still a bandage on her arm from the accident several nights ago, but she seemed more subdued than normal. He'd been down here before when she and McKay were going at it. She could give almost as good as the physicist.

"I was finishing up my report of the accident the other night and Zelenka mentioned that you might have something to add," he finally said, deciding not to beat around the bush. The Czech had already side-swiped them today. He wasn't looking for a head-on collision with another immovable scientist.

The typing slowed before it finally trailed off entirely, her hands sliding off the keyboard to rest in her lap. She held his gaze evenly for a long moment before she nodded once, slowly, more, it seemed, in answer of her own internal question than anything else.

"What has Doctor McKay told you?"

"That Doctor Brady thought he could fix the device he accidentally turned on."

"No, not about that. We've all been through that," she said, rolling her eyes, her right hand lifting up enough to offer an absent wave. "Before that."

Sheppard raised an eyebrow, tilting his head to the side a little. "I'm not following."

"I think you should know that it wasn't McKay's decision to distribute the Ancient devices a few days ago. Well, it was, but…"

"But?"

"It was going to take him weeks to go through everything and a number of the scientists didn't think it was fair that he was going to be the one to go though all the new technology—especially after what happened. So, I was elected to talk to him since I was already working on the project with him."

"And you talked to him?"

"Yes."

"And what did he say?"

"At the time, I thought he was being selfish and overly cautious. Now…I'm not so sure." She glanced down toward her fingers, watching them as she clasped her hands together. "Part of me wonders if none of this would have happened if I hadn't been so insistent."

"You can't second-guess yourself. This might have happened in another week and more people could have been injured. You can't keep playing the 'what if' game. It doesn't change anything."

"I know," she said with a shrug. "Doesn't mean I'm going to stop."

John nodded, rising to his feet. "Thanks again for your time, Doc. Appreciate it."

"That's it? I figured I might have gotten myself into a whole mess of trouble."

"No," he said shaking his head. "I guess we'll just take this whole…situation as a hard-learned lesson. What do you think?"

"I think you're right. Good night, sir," she said, a relieved smile on her face.

As John made his way out of the science labs, he realized he had a lot to think about.

He'd been out of line, way out of line, when he'd talked to—yelled at, scolded, criticized, shouted at, take your pick—McKay. Not only was the man still recovering from an injury, he'd managed to protect the majority of his staff from major injuries when he ordered everyone to evacuate, and even make sure Miko was out of the direct line of fire when the debris were hurdling through the air, placing his body in the way instead.

And then, there was this whole project. Without batting an eye, McKay'd given responsibility to Radek as soon as the Czech showed his face in the infirmary. And he'd done it seemingly without a worry or concern about his ego, his chance to make a name for himself. For McKay to give something this big to someone else, especially something that involved Ancient technology, his specialty, he must have known what he and Elizabeth had been thinking, what they'd been planning. So instead of having it taken from him, he'd given it away to someone he trusted to do the job.

When had John lost the ability to know what McKay was thinking, to know what he was capable of?

That question bothered him more than he realized.

xxx

For the past four days Carson Beckett had watched Rodney.

In reality, there wasn't much more he could do. He gave the man medication when the pain got to be too much and he couldn't sleep. He checked and double-checked the wounds on his back, making sure they were healing correctly—but even that had become a battle. He even used one of the Ancient devices to help speed the healing process, watching as the wounds shrunk and the scars slowly faded.

He made sure Rodney was eating regularly, even if his appetite was barely existent. And then when he refused to eat, intravenous nutrients were given instead. Carson would not allow Rodney to win in that matter. He knew what could happen when his friend's blood sugar dropped too low. Although Carson knew spending most of your day sleeping didn't exactly build up a healthy appetite.

And between it all, Carson tried to talk to Rodney, but the man refused, feigning sleep or simply telling him he wasn't in the mood.

Damn, stubborn scientists.

So, instead, he watched from a distance, filling his professional role as a doctor and care-giver, but nothing more. Rodney wouldn't let him do anything else.

That simple refusal hurt.

Anne had dropped off Rodney's grey science uniform a little while ago, placing it on the small table adjacent to the bed. She'd spoken with him briefly, her tone quiet and calm, letting him know that he would be released in a few hours. Knowing how sore and stiff he still was, she'd offered to help him get dressed. Another set of hands would have been helpful, but of course, he'd refused as they both knew he would.

Carson had nodded to Anne when she'd stepped outside the private room shrugging apologetically, her lab coat-covered shoulders dropping. Usually Anne was one of the few nurses Rodney didn't terrorize. There was something he'd seen in her at one point that allowed him to treat her as another human being—at least as near as it was with him. Anne could cajole him to behave, to submit to some test or another, or on the rare occasion stop his rambling and ranting.

She'd told Carson last night when they were both standing at the door that the cold shoulder she'd received just brought her back to how it was when she'd first arrived; it was almost like she was starting over again with him.

He'd patted her shoulder, letting her know it was alright. One thing he'd learned when it came to patients is that sometimes you could only truly aid the ones who wanted to be helped.

So here he was, nearly an hour later, hovering outside the door to Rodney's room, McKay's chart tucked under his arm, his hands thrust deep into his pockets, watching as his friend struggled to get his uniform shirt over his head and tugged into place. It took several tries and many muttered curses, but it finally complied, the battle won. The jacket quickly followed and he tentatively settled back on the bed, the white scrubs in a pile next to him, his feet swinging as he sat and waited.

Steeling himself, he walked in, plastering a smile on his face. "Rodney, sorry it took me so long to get down here. I was caught up with some other things." Setting the chart down, he narrowed his eyes to examine his friend carefully. The clothes were a little big, hanging awkwardly in some places and Carson resisted the urge to tug them into their rightful places. The physicist was still pale, the dark grey only emphasizing the whiteness of his skin. Sweat beaded a little along his hairline—spoils from the battle with his clothes—dampening a few light brown hairs, turning them dark. His blue eyes still held the hint of pain, the recent movement taking its toll. Overall, though, McKay was a lot better than he'd been a few days ago.

"How are you feeling this morning?"

"Fine," he replied curtly, his crooked mouth turned down in a frown, his chin lifted slightly in the air. "Can I go?"

"In a minute. Before I release you I want to go over a few things," Carson said, dragging the visitor's chair so he could face the scientist.

"I know the routine." For a moment, Carson thought Rodney was going to straighten up and cross his hands over his chest in his usual gesture of stubbornness, but the physicist stilled, the tips of his fingers twitching a little, annoyance sliding over his features. Apparently, Rodney was learning the meaning of the words "take it easy".

"You probably do, but I want to make sure," Carson replied, tapping his hand against his the tan fabric of his thigh. "You're on light duty for the next few days."

"I said I'm fine." If possible, Rodney's frown deepened.

"Let me rephrase this for ye then," Carson said, narrowing his eyes at the stubborn scientist. "I don't want ye doin' anything strenuous until you're no longer wincing from every little movement because of the sore muscles in your back. And yes, I know it still hurts. It's written all over your face." When Rodney didn't protest, he continued. "After a few days, you'll be back on the active duty list, and if I'm not mistaken, that's just in time for you to go back on the off-world duty roster as well."

Rodney huffed but didn't comment.

"If you don't feel right for any reason, I want you to come and see me immediately. Do you understand?"

"Yes, yes," Rodney glanced up, his blue eyes piercing. "You'll be the second person to know if anything is wrong with me after I finish having a panic attack. Can I go?"

"And light duty means no long hours in the lab and getting at least eight hours of sleep a night."

"Yes, yes, yes. I know the routine. Do I need to come back for a follow-up?"

"I'd like to see you in three days for a quick look at your back. Otherwise, you're free to go."

"Thank you," he said, sliding off the bed, his booted feet hitting the floor with a thump. A few seconds later and he had already vanished from sight.

Shaking his head, Carson rose, shoving the plastic chair back to where it had gone unused the past several days, only occupied once when Rodney insisted Zelenka sit because the Czech was giving him pains in his neck when he tried to follow his pacing movements.

Things had certainly changed.

xxx

Elizabeth Weir glanced up, a smile growing on her face when she saw Carson Beckett at her door. "You said you had good news. I could use some of that right now," she said, gesturing for him to take a seat. She leaned back in her chair, stretching some of the kinks out of her frame.

"Aye, I think it is," he said, settling in with a sigh, arranging his lab coat, the stethoscope still hanging around his neck, the ends banging slightly against his yellow-shirted chest. "We've finally narrowed this disease down."

"That is good news." She leaned forward, elbows on her desk, truly attentive for the first time in hours. There was only so much enthusiasm she could manifest for some of these reports. She had to read them all, but it didn't necessarily mean that they were exciting. Usually, the exact opposite.

"It seems that those with the ATA gene, either naturally or through gene therapy, are immune to this little bugger, which got me thinking why only some of the Athosians have contracted the disease. From what we can tell, it's triggered by the absence of a certain genetic marker. If you don't have the marker, you get the disease."

"So, as soon as you give everyone the marker we'll all be fine and this will be over?"

Carson shrugged. "Simply, aye, that's the answer, but it's a wee bit more complicated. We still need to isolate the marker and then create a vaccine. And we need to know how it got here in the first place."

"I agree. I have Sergeant Whitmore working on the off-world reports, matching team members with some of the places we've visited. He's going back about a month, month and a half. There's a lot to go through, but we'll get there. But in terms of the genetic marker, do you know what you're looking for?"

"Aye. I think we do. Now, I need to send Anne to the mainland with a pilot to get some blood samples from the uninfected Athosians. So far Teyla doesn't have it, but she's still within the incubation period. Once I get those samples I can be certain."

"We can get a jumper over there today."

Carson offered a weary smile as he rose to his feet, brushing a piece of lint or something away from the leg of his tan pants. "Good. That would be great. Let Anne know as soon as a pilot is available."

"I'm sure Major Lorne or Colonel Sheppard would be willing to make a quick run. Maybe even within the hour." He nodded in reply, his mouth settling into a thin line. When he didn't turn to leave immediately, she raised an eyebrow. "Is there something else?"

"I released Rodney this morning. He's on light duty for the next few days, but should be right as rain by the end of the week."

"That's good news, Carson. I'm sure he's happy to be back on his feet."

"About that…" he began, clearly unsure of what to say, his eyes focused on his boots. "I know you told me to stay out of your decision, but what's going to happen at the end of the week? Rodney should be finished with his on-base confinement by then."

Weir shrugged lightly. "I haven't had the opportunity to speak with Colonel Sheppard about the matter, but I don't see any issues with him returning to full active duty. It'll be up to him as to how he decides to fulfill those duties."

"He'd be permitted to join the off-world missions?"

"If he chooses to, yes. Of course, that's once we can get this virus cleared up."

"You don't think he will?"

Weir glanced down briefly before meeting Carson's gaze. "He's always complaining that he never gets to finish any of his projects; that he hates having to face death the way they do on such a regular basis. He might take this opportunity to change some things, to spend his time in the lab instead of in the field. You've heard him I'm sure."

Carson nodded. "Aye, of course, but that's just Rodney's way of blowing off steam. Ye can't take him too serious when he's in full rant mode." When the doctor paused she swore she could see the condemnation in his eyes, reminding her that she used to know Rodney very well, and that she could see though his bluster, but then his eyes softened and an emotion she couldn't identify replaced it. His words, while quietly uttered, held a note of steel, as if daring her to say no. "I'd hope that you'd talk him out of it if he decided to stay on base."

"Why?" she asked, more out of rote than anything. It wasn't like she had much influence over what the scientist decided to do once he made up his mind.

"For one thing, we'd be at a severe disadvantage. How many times has one of Rodney's crazy, panic-induced ideas saved our arses? And, while Atlantis gives Rodney a home, the Pegasus Galaxy lets him fly. Take that away and you might be surprised at the man that would be left behind." He moved, the fabric of his lab coat shifting with him. "Don't let him become something less than what he can be. Give Rodney the benefit of the doubt. That's all I ask."

xxx

After he'd finally left the suffocating clutches of Beckett and his minions in the infirmary, Rodney McKay wasn't sure what to do with himself. Normally, he would have headed straight to his lab, involving himself in one of his many current projects, but he'd managed to finish a few of them over his confinement to his quarters and in the week following, leaving only his final report to complete. But, that could wait. The others he didn't feel like working on.

He could have wandered to the office where Radek had set up shop to study the Ancient devices, but he wasn't in the mood to deal with them right now, and besides, if he wanted to fiddle with them, he had his own device safely stashed in his quarters—partially dismantled from his tinkering before the lab exploded.

And what a mess that had been.

He should have known something like that was going to happen; things has been running much too smoothly. Between the three of them, they'd managed to help the teams figure out a few of the appliances and had even started a few scientists on their second round of toys. It seemed that everything was just a piece of a larger device, but some of them were designed to work together. They'd been making head-way until Brady called him in.

Why did that man have to get one of the volatile ones?

Pausing in his meanderings through Atlantis, he looked around, trying to figure out where he was. He didn't recognize the hallway or the area immediately, but then something slid into place. He was at the door to the secondary labs where they'd been conducting all of their research. The smell of smoke and something else was what brought all of the memories flooding back.

Stepping into the room, his eyes skittered around taking in the still-blackened walls and the voids where people or machinery used to lie. The room had been cleared of everything—garbage and intact equipment, the latter moved to Zelenka's newly-outfitted area for Ancient device research. He wouldn't be surprised if the Czech tried to claim that whole area as his once they were finished with the project—not that he'd let him, of course. At least not officially.

Absently scratching and itch on his chest, he slowly walked though the room, the smell of death in the form of Lemon Pine Sol swirling around him. It was light, but the fragrance was there. He wouldn't stay long in any case, but he needed to come here, to look at the damage his shortsightedness had caused.

If only he'd stuck to his initial decision, not caring what the scientists thought of him. Not that he really cared in any case, but after Doranda, he'd needed that acceptance from them—albeit misplaced and misguided as it was—since there was no where else to get it.

Whatever friends he'd made, bridges he'd built, had come crumbling down, but even though it all, he realized, he still…cared…worried about this place, about its people more than he wanted to. They'd broken through the walls and had taken up residence somewhere deep within. And it was for that reason, and that reason alone, that he was still here, still trying to make things better, make things right.

He sighed, his fingertips lightly skimming the surface of the nearest workbench, pausing at the edge, his eyes resting on the darkened surface of the containment vessel they'd discovered nearly a year ago, the same device that would have saved Brady's life—and the other two scientists—if he'd listened to Rodney and just placed it inside, sealing the cover over it.

Brady had gone the other way, instead, toward the selection of tools they'd set aside for group use. 'Trust me' he'd said even as McKay'd rushed after him, telling him that he was going to get them all killed.

And when the device started its shrill cry, McKay'd known it was too late, he'd turned and shoved Miko back in the small room and tried to think the door closed, but it was too late. He felt the hot blast as the device exploded, impaling his back with metal and debris as he tried to protect the diminutive woman from danger.

Instead, he'd managed to give her a concussion as they slammed to the floor, the door finally closing and locking, but far too late for either of them to care as their hold on consciousness faded.

So, what came next? To stay or to go, that was really what it all came down to. He was weary, tired of fighting with everyone, with everything that came their way. There had to be an easier way to do this, to live without the constant threat of death.

But then, he thought back and remembered that sometime during that first week, he'd briefly considered the possibility of going back to Earth, to just pick up and leave everything behind and something inside felt like it was going to crack, leaving him even more broken than he'd already found himself to be.

He couldn't imagine living anywhere but Atlantis. This was finally home—or as close to home as he was ever going to get. And even now, thinking about going back to Earth made him sick in a way Carson could never fix.

But there was another option.

It seemed like his mind might have made the decision without him. The life and times of a genius, he guessed, shrugging to himself as he stopped in the middle of the quiet lab, his arms pulled around him.

He stood there a few more minutes before shaking off his thoughts and moving toward the door, his steps confident, his head held high. He had work to do.

He'd watched McKay from the shadows of the lab, seen him pause throughout the room, seen the bare emotions on his face, watched as he seemed to shrink in on himself.

It was painful to see this normally loud and obnoxious scientist reduced to the same silence that surrounded him.

As soon as he'd seen the physicist walking toward this section of Atlantis, he'd known exactly where he was going and knew he shouldn't be alone—even if he thought he was. But then, after he slipped into the lab only a few seconds behind the scientist, he'd known he shouldn't be here, that this was a private moment between McKay and his inner demons.

Several minutes passed and then, without any advance warning, McKay was out the door, his long strides taking him away from here and to somewhere else.

But this time the physicist went alone.

For here, in this room, there were still demons to be battled.

xxx

TBC