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

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

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Kate Heightmeyer walked through the infirmary, her eyes drifting over the empty beds, the tables set up alongside in preparation for the next crisis. And there was always another crisis on the horizon here. That was one fact that could not be ignored.

Atlantis was a unique posting. A civilian-run outpost on the front lines in a war they might never win. It was a surprise she wasn't busier than she already was. They'd sent another doctor to join her, but many of the original Atlantis personnel would only talk to her—when they had to.

Rodney McKay was one of them.

He was one of the more…unique cases. When Elizabeth Weir had come to her, showing her the note and explaining the situation, she hadn't been totally surprised. She'd sat on the sidelines, watching as things had developed, watching as he worked himself into the ground.

The note, though, had surprised her. Of all the things she thought him capable of, suicide was not one of them. He was far too concerned about his own self-preservation for that.

A few of the nurses and medics gave her a smile or a nod as she passed, heading first to Carson Beckett's office before she went to visit McKay. Carson had paged her earlier, letting her know Rodney was about ready to be released.

And that meant it was her turn.

Pausing in the doorway, she watched as Carson continued to write in a chart, his pen flowing over the pages spread before him. She waited until he paused before knocking on the frame, offering a smile when he glanced up, annoyance and exhaustion battling on his face.

"Kate," he said, dropping his pen to the top of the desk and rising to his feet. "Thanks for comin' so quickly. We've managed to get him on his feet and while he tires easily, he's more or less back to his normal self." He paused, pulling up a corner of his desk to lean on. "He's still quieter than he should be. Pensive might be a better word. Snappish when anyone tries to do anything. Not that it's new, but…a quiet Rodney is never a good thing."

"I agree," she said, nodding, her hands crossed over her chest. "Anything else I need to know about?"

Carson shook his head. "He was a might bit testy before, but seemed eager to go to his quarters. He wasn't exactly looking forward to your little chat, however."

"I can't imagine he is," she said, sighing. "Ordering someone to talk to me never turns out well. They get too defensive for it to do any real good, but sometimes it does give us a better insight as to what's going on in their heads and provides me with a foundation for the next appointment."

"Aye," he said, his eyes focused somewhere over her shoulder for a long moment before shaking off whatever thoughts were wandering through his mind. "Well, he's still in the critical care area waiting for you. It was easier to leave him there since everything was set up."

"Thanks," she said, offering a smile. "I'll give you an update when I'm done."

"Take all the time you need."

She nodded, moving off toward the section Carson had indicated, the half-lights in this area giving everything a much more subdued feel. Privacy screens set up at the far end caught her attention, and she moved toward them, pausing just outside to watch the scientist through the small opening.

He was leaning back against the pillows, the head of the bed raised so he could see. Dressed in white scrubs, the blue blanket was pulled onto his lap, his hand plucking the edge as he focused on the ceiling.

She stepped closer and he must have caught her movement out of the corner of his eyes because he turned his gaze on her, narrowing his eyes as she pulled the chair closer to the bed, settling down in it. "Rodney," she said by way of a greeting, trying to put him at ease, but from the tension radiating off him, that was going to be difficult, if not impossible.

"Kate." He paused, the word less than a greeting, more a statement. "I'd like to say it was good to see you, but I'd be lying."

Yep, testy was just about right. "Well, neither of us really has a choice at the moment, so why don't we just go with it and see what happens?"

"Sure," he said, shrugging, his eyes rolling toward the ceiling before he glanced at her again. "As soon as I talk to you, I get to go back to my quarters and actually get some peace and quiet," he said, this voice rising at the end as if he were trying to get someone else's attention.

"You don't like it here?"

"Are you kidding. The staff is obsessed about making sure you don't get any rest. Testing this, checking that, poking here and there. How can you get any sleep if they never leave you alone?"

"And you want to be left alone?"

"Right now? Yes. I swear their hovering is giving me hives," he said, scratching dramatically on his unblemished and unmarked arm.

"You know they mean well. They just want to make sure you're getting better," she said, her voice calm and level. Why did she always feel like she was talking him down off the edge every time she spoke to him? Maybe because it was always at the bitter end of a crisis, when everything was finally catching up with him—and everyone else. Just like it was now.

He glanced at her, his eyes narrowing, his lips drawn in a thin line, the corner of his mouth slanting downward. "Yeah, fine. I know they are. It doesn't make them any less annoying."

"So, do you think it's a good idea for you to finish recuperating in your quarters? If something were to go wrong, or if you needed something, you'd be on your own."

His eyebrow rose at her comment, but he didn't say anything immediately, his blue eyes intense in their examination of her. Something flashed across his face—acceptance, resignation maybe—before he finally spoke again, anger tinting his words. "Look. Let's cut the crap. Okay? You're obviously here to talk to me about a little note I left on my computer. Once we talk about it, I get my 'Get Out of Jail Free' card." His fingers offered air quotations around the phrase.

"Fine," she said, nodding, leaning against the back of the hard, plastic visitor's chair, willing to see where Rodney was going to take this. He was never the one to offer an offensive approach to anything, so this was new. Although, in a way, it worried her. What was he hiding? What was he protecting?

"What were you thinking when you wrote it?"

"That I wasn't going to make it back, of course." He waved his hand absently.

"So…you decided to write a note to Doctor Zelenka." She tried to make her tone neutral, but she could hear her disbelief tinting the statement

He rolled his eyes. "I figured he was going to be the one poking around my computer. Not like anyone else was going to be invading my quarters. And besides, it's not anything new when you get right down to it. This time everyone just happened to get their hands on it and draw all the wrong conclusions."

"They did?" Her eyebrow rose. "So you've written this kind of…note more than once?"

"Of course…" he said immediately before closing his mouth. His eyes shifted to the side. "Well, no. Not really."

She waited.

Sighing, he finally continued after a long pause. "It makes perfect sense, you know. Missions don't always go well and sometimes, when I think it's going to particularly bad, I write notes. If Radek, or someone else had to step in, it only makes sense that I can provide them with the best insight into current projects and other ongoing research. It's not like they pay attention to all the details. That's my job."

"So this time…?"

"Yes. Wraith bearing down on a planet is never a good thing."

"So, this is a…courtesy for the person who has to replace you and everyone just blew it out of proportion."

"Exactly," he replied, snapping his fingers and pointing toward her as he smiled smugly. He crossed his hands over his chest and leaned back into the pillows. "And honestly," he continued, dragging out his right hand to gesture, fluttering back and forth, "if you need to talk to anyone about suicidal tendencies, I think you should consider Colonel Sheppard. Maybe he's not writing notes, but his actions are certainly screaming that he needs some serious help."

Kate nodded, trying to smile. His explanation did make some kind of sense. She knew many soldiers who were on the front lines would write letters to their families…just in case something happened. Maybe this was just Rodney's version.

And maybe horses could fly in the Pegasus Galaxy.

And this was Rodney McKay they were talking about.

"So, you're writing this note has nothing to do with your long-term…plans that Doctor Zelenka discovered when he was looking through your computer?"

"Long-term plans?" He huffed, rolling his eyes. "Long-term and suicidal do not exactly belong in the same sentence, let alone the same conversation."

"Okay," she said, inclining her head toward him. "So maybe they were the wrong choice of words." She paused, watching him twitch under her gaze. "What were you really trying to say? That you didn't think you had any other options? That this was the only way you could prove yourself?" He continued to tense and she broke off, her eyes sliding away for a moment, allowing them both to get a modicum of their composure back.

"Rodney, I'm not your enemy."

He chuckled once, harshly, bitterly.

She raised an eyebrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He shrugged, his eyes fixed on the corner of the privacy curtain. "It can mean anything you need it to."

She waited for him to continue, but his mouth was set, the muscles along his jaw tight and unmoving. There was something about this entire situation that had been puzzling her from the beginning and sitting here, watching him as he twitched and shifted under her gaze was more telling than any other conversation she'd had with the man.

"You didn't expect to come back to Atlantis again, did you?"

He turned to her, surprise showing on his face for a moment before he pushed it away once again, a scowl replacing it. "What do you expect me to say?"

"I expect you to answer me."

"Fine. No, I didn't think I'd be here again."

"Why?"

"Why what?" Defensive and combative. She'd struck a nerve.

"Why didn't you think you were going to come back to Atlantis?"

He turned away from her, tension radiating off his frame. She wasn't going to let this go, not now.

She waited, watching, her eyes fixed on the man before her even as anger and resentment and fear flowed off him in ever-increasing waves. When he finally did begin speaking, however, his words were quiet, reserved.

"I always thought my brains would be able to make the difference wherever I went, offset everything else." He paused, a long sign punctuating his comment. "I was wrong."

"What did you need to offset"?

He shrugged, face still turned away. "Everything." He paused again, longer this time, obviously lassoing his thoughts. She waited.

"But now it seems that my brains, my genius, isn't what it was cracked up to be. I'm making stupid mistakes that are costing people their lives. How can anyone trust a genius who screws things up all the time?"

"What are you going to do?" Her voice was quiet, trying not to spook the scientist.

"I don't know," he said, the half-chuckle bitter, tired, weary. "I hadn't considered this possibility."

"But, it happened."

"I know."

She paused, hating herself for having to ask. "Should we be worried about you if we release you from the infirmary?"

He turned toward her this time, his eyes clear and focused. "No. I do have other decisions to make, though."

"Rodney?"

"Kate, I need some time to think away from here. Can you give me that?"

"I'll see what I can do."

"That's all I ask." He turned away from her again, slumping down into the pillows.

Kate rose to her feet, exhausted. "I'm always available if you want to talk anything through, if you want another opinion."

He didn't respond and she didn't push. Moving silently out of his area and into the dimly lit infirmary, she walked toward Carson's office. She needed to talk to him, but Elizabeth also needed to know that her CSO might not be coming back to work.

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Elizabeth Weir glanced across her desk toward Kate and Carson seated in her guest chairs. Both looked uncomfortable, but Carson more so as he perched on the edge as if the little leverage would get him out of her office that much quicker once she gave the word.

Had it really come down to this…unease, mistrust among those who had once been more than simply colleagues, friends even? If she could go back in time and change the way she'd done things, had listened to the advice she'd freely been given by the man across from her would any of this had transpired?

Shaking the thoughts out of her mind, she focused on the matters at hand. "So, what's the prognosis?"

"Medically, I'm prepared to release him tonight. I'm going to insist that he remain off-duty for the next two days, but then he should be ready to get back to work. Light duty first, but I don't even think it will be necessary," Carson replied, his elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped before him.

"Kate?" she asked the pensive blonde.

"Rodney's an interesting case," she began, her words slow, obviously picking each one carefully. "After reading the note he'd left on his computer and speaking with Doctor Beckett about his possible state of mind prior to the incident I was…concerned. But after speaking with him this afternoon, I'm not so sure I have reason to be."

"You don't?"

"No," she said, shaking her head. "He seems to have come through this entire experience well. And in regards to the note, specifically, he did have a very good analogy which I hadn't considered previously. While we don't think of ourselves as being on the front lines, this base is. And, in like conditions on Earth, it is very common for soldiers to write notes such as the one Rodney penned—to loved ones or others."

"Rodney is not a soldier," Carson said, his blue eyes narrowed at the doctor beside him.

"No," she said, inclining her head toward the doctor. "But we've all become people that we might never have bee if we'd stayed home. We've all changed in different ways. Rodney has become a solider in his own way."

"So you think that this is just a normal response due to the stress of the situation?" Weir asked, trying to make sure she was hearing the doctor correctly. "This doesn't have anything to do with the whole incident—"

"Actually, it does," Kate said, cutting off her question. "If it weren't for that specific situation and his subsequent treatment, I don't think he would ever resorted to the actions he took and there would have been no need for the note." She paused, glancing down at her hands before she spoke again, the words coming even slower than before.

"For as…brash and loud and opinionated he is, Rodney thrives in situations where he can make himself useful, solve problems, make a difference."

Weir nodded. John always said Rodney worked best under the threat of death.

"Partially because he craves the attention, but also because of the sense of accomplishment it gives him. Also, because Atlantis has finally given him a place to stretch his wings. We've all heard him talk—or not talk—about his past, about his time spent in Area 51 and Siberia. For the first time in his life, Rodney's found a home, a place where he's respected for who he is and what he brings to the table."

"And?" Carson asked, his forehead furrowing. This was somewhat similar to what he'd said to her a few days ago.

"When he lost your trust, I'm sure it was about as devastating a blow he could have received. If this was his family," she said, gesturing to Atlantis as a whole, "in a way you kicked him out of his house, leaving him on the sidewalk with whatever he could carry out. How would someone react when placed in a similar situation?"

"They would get angry," Weir said.

"Yes, that's one response," Kate replied. "But there's another one. They'd try to fix what went wrong, set things right so that it was safe to come home once again. Rodney, I think, picked the second option."

"So this Ancient device?"

Kate nodded. "I think it was a way for him to fix things."

"But he had to have known that it was a suicide mission. He'd read the notes from the Ancient scientists," Carson said, sitting up straight, a frown on his face.

"Yes, which is why he wrote the note because he didn't think he'd be coming home."

"So everything he did…" Weir began, her words trailing off as her mind quickly cycled through everything.

Kate nodded, understanding in her eyes. "Everything he did was to make sure that Atlantis and everyone in her, would be safe." She paused, a tight smile finding its way to her face. "In a way, he's become a lot like Colonel Sheppard: willing to take risks for the benefit of others. Which, for Rodney, is a huge growth step for him. A year ago, he wouldn't have been able to."

"But that's not the kind of growth we need to see," Carson protested, indignation on his face as he rose to his feet.

Kate turned in her chair to face the pacing doctor. "Whether you want to see it or not, it seems to be what's happening. Like I said, we've all changed in probably more ways that we'd ever imagined. But now, we need to learn how to live with those changes—in everyone."

"So, what now?" Weir asked after nearly a full minute of silence, each of them buried in their own thoughts and feelings of guilt, remorse, and understanding.

"Now, we wait to see what Rodney wants to do—and support any decisions he has to make. He has to make up his mind. We can't do that for him."

"And if he wants to leave?" Carson asked, bitterness in his voice.

"Then, I suggest, you let him."

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John Sheppard paused just outside the main science lab, peering in. He spotted Zelenka at one of the larger workstations, positioned off to the side—the one normally occupied by Rodney when he decided to taunt and harass the department.

Moving cautiously through the room, he offered a tight smile to those who glanced up at him, but didn't stop. The conversation he'd had with Lorne still stuck in his mind and he had to check something out—hopefully with the assistance of one scientist. If anyone could get into the system it was Zelenka.

"Doctor Z?"

John stopped, waiting for the other man to give him permission to step closer. He'd seen the looks, the glares, over the past few days. He knew he wasn't high on Radek's list of favorite people right now. Hell, he wasn't on his own list.

The Czech looked up from the computer screen he'd been examining, his eyes narrowing. "Colonel, you wanted something?"

He nodded, moving to lean his hip against the side of the workstation, trying to adopt a non-threatening pose. He doubted his "aw-shucks" expression would do him much good. "I wanted your help."

Radek was already turning away. "With Rodney in the infirmary, I am busy. Perhaps—"

"It's about McKay," John cut in, hoping he hadn't lost the other man's attention.

Zelenka's eyes narrowed further, but he was still listening, his eyes drifting back and forth between the screen and John's face. His hand dug into the pocket of his white lab coat, pulling out a chocolate bar, ripping off a piece of the wrapper to take a bite. John took that as an opening to continue.

"Something Lorne said has got me thinking."

"Oh? I was not sure that was possible."

Sheppard winced, but the jibe was well deserved. He knew he'd been an ass.

"I can't seem to get into the older security camera feeds and I need to check the camera closest to McKay's quarters."

Radek raised an eyebrow, taking another bite of the Bounty bar, but didn't comment.

"I know you can probably find the information in the system and I have no idea where to start."

The scientist pulled the wrapper over the half-eaten bar, setting it on the far side of the table away from John. "Of course I can find camera feeds. Why do you want them?"

John sighed. "It was something Lorne said about the guards, about what I had ordered them to do. Whether you believe me or not, I didn't order them to do anything, but something happened and I want to know what."

Radek stared at him for a long moment before pursing his lips and nodding. Shoving his glasses back up the bridge of his nose with an unconscious gesture, he turned to the keyboard and began closing out windows before opening up another screen.

John moved around behind the scientist to look over his shoulder. The screen changed quickly, some even before Sheppard could see what was on them and then they were suddenly in a database of security footage. He'd been in this screen before, but it never held the vast amount of information he saw before him.

"How did you do that?"

"You do not ask those questions, Colonel," Radek said firmly before continuing, "You are looking for the camera outside Rodney's quarters, yes?"

"Yes."

"And the timeframe?"

"Um…start the day of the…incident."

Radek glanced over his shoulder, an eyebrow raised, but he didn't comment. "One moment."

His fingers flew over the keyboard again, pausing every now and then as he waited for the requested information to be called up onto the screen. About five minutes later, he had finally narrowed down the camera footage.

"Here," Radek said, gesturing to the screen. "This is exactly one week of camera feeds from the camera closest to Rodney's quarters. It is not very good and it is not very close, but it is the best I can provide."

John shook his head, frowning at the poor quality. Of course Rodney would know how to pick his quarters away from the security cameras so he could sneak out to the labs.

"I'll take it."

"Do you wish for me to off-load it to a drive for you?"

"Actually, would you mind helping out?"

Radek glanced at him again for a long moment before nodding. "Perhaps. It looks like my schedule has opened up suddenly." He turned back to the computer, his hand poised above the keys. "And I must thank you for bringing Rodney back," he said, the words quiet. "He would have been…missed."

John nodded, pulling up a stool. "Yes, he would have been."

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TBC