Chapter 2: Twelve Years

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When Rodney woke up it was to darkness, the infirmary lights having been dimmed to simulate the night hours. For a long moment he lay there quietly, listening intently to the sounds around him. There was no steady beeping to indicate that his heart was being monitored and there were no signs of movement in the immediate area. He lifted his head from the pillow and looked around. There were no chairs nearby to indicate the need for visitors. He slowly pushed himself to a seated position, feeling a tug on the back of his hand where the IV tube was taped down, and looked around more carefully. A few beds over Corporal Something-Or-Other from SGA-5 was sound asleep, still recovering from a fever after encountering some tree mold the day before. Rodney stared at him a moment, watching his chest rise and fall steadily, his breathing silent.

On the far side of the room he could see bright light on in one of the storage rooms, filtering out its partially open door. A shadow shifted about within. Right, Rodney thought offhand, Wednesday's were inventory nights for Beckett's staff. After taking stock of the infirmary carefully once he carefully removed the tape holding his IV in place and pulled the catheter out of his hand as gently as possible. He grabbed for the Kleenex at the side of his bed and used it to soak up the drops of blood that tried to escape. Then he pressed his thumb down firmly over the tiny wound and then struggled out from under his blankets as quietly as he could, swinging his legs out to dangle over the side of his medical bed. He frowned at the burgundy scrub pants he had on, and then at the shirt that covered his torso, not remembering dressing in either of them.

He didn't have to move to feel the ache that had made a home on his sides, but he did have to move to feel the thick bandages that were taped securely over them. He lifted the shirt and frowned at the dressings before peeling them off with shaking hands. He looked around the medical bay again, ensuring he was still virtually alone before standing carefully and tossing the almost clean bandages into the wastebasket beside his bed. He crept quickly to the door. Sneaking out in bare feet made it virtually impossible for his footsteps to be heard, even though his feet were freezing, and he made it to his room without running into anyone.

Once inside he let the shaking begin as he stripped off his shirt and dropped it on the floor on his way into the bathroom. He stopped only once he'd reached the mirror and then he stared at himself. There was nothing vain about the look he gave his reflection, but he didn't let the despair he felt flood his features. It had been twelve years, twelve very long years since he had allowed his flesh to slowly grow over the gill filaments adorning his waist, making him appear like any other person. He looked down at himself and carefully pressed his cold fingers to them, feeling the pain of tender flesh but continuing his examination regardless. Sweat broke out on his forehead, but he honestly wasn't sure if it was from the pain or the shock.

"Twelve years," he whispered to himself as he continued gently probing, feeling around the tender, torn flesh. They would hurt for a few days as the skin that had grown over to conceal the gills either healed or simply fell off. It wouldn't be pleasant, but as far as he knew it was perfectly normal. It was what had happened the last two times. With a grimace he moved on to his other side, tempted to pick off the tiny bits of useless skin, but with the way his hands were shaking he would probably remove more than he wanted too. And it hurt.

He stripped off the rest of his clothing and moved into the shower, thinking 'on' even as his back hit the wall and he slid down slowly until his ass was resting on the ground. Salt water, he thought, and jerked as the first of the slightly warm spray slid over the open flesh, stinging him. He hugged his knees to his chest, hiding his face away, and let the water rain on him.

They knew.

He swallowed the thick lump in his throat, trying not to choke around it. They knew now, and there was no going back to the way things had been before. That was already apparent, since he had awoken alone in the infirmary. Yeah it was late, but he had thought one of his team mates would be there, or at least Carson, just to reassure him that things were going to be just fine. That's usually how things went.

When he had lain down on that stretcher he had actually thought things might be okay, possibly, but he knew the bitter reality was that some things were just too weird, too repulsive, to accept off hand or deal with right away. Here, in Atlantis, you expected all levels of unimaginable things when it came to aliens…but people? It was a natural reaction to stay away when you didn't know how to deal with something that didn't belong. Hell, Rodney had stayed away from it for years himself so he couldn't really blame them for wanting their distance. He just wondered what would happen now.

He didn't think they would let it affect his position in Atlantis, but they would ask a lot of questions that he didn't want to answer and if he couldn't be honest with them then he couldn't expect them to…just let it go. God this was such a mess and he couldn't stop his body from shaking and…twelve years. He just wanted to go for a swim, to remember the freedom when there wasn't the possibility of death lingering in the water. But he wouldn't go, not yet, maybe never. First he would give himself a few days to heal. Then he could spend some time looking for a place out of the way, a place that was hidden so he could be safe from prying eyes and sea creatures alike. Then maybe he could safely reacquaint his body with the alternate method of living he had denied himself for so long, before he would get rid of them again.

He would have to learn to live with everyone else knowing, learn to deal with how they would treat him and look at him. He'd have to see if life here would still be tolerable and if it wasn't…he didn't know exactly what he'd do if it wasn't. But staying…he breathed out a harsh laugh as he sat there on the floor. He had to accept the fact that staying in Atlantis might no longer be an option.

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The huge bags under Carson's eyes were a testament to how exhausted he was, but if one needed more evidence then they could see it in his hunched shoulders, pallid skin and enormous cup of coffee. Sheppard knew exactly how he felt, and he gave him a weak smile as he slid into the seat across from him and beside Elizabeth.

It was 2:23am and their table was the only table with human occupancy in the mess hall, if you could call them human at this point. They looked more like zombies. Sheppard nodded at everyone, noting the weariness in Weir's features, the shock in Zelenka's and the confusion in Ronon's. They were already so exhausted and there was so much they still had to learn. So much they didn't know.

"How the hell did he manage to hide something like this?" Elizabeth started, looking to Carson for answers and the good doctor opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying and failing to come up with a response. He looked heart broken.

"I don't know why you're so upset. He's alive, I would have thought that was a good thing," Ronon growled, crossing his massive arms over his chest.

"Aye, it's a bloody good thing! A miracle, and I wouldn't have it any other way," Carson strongly declared. "But ye have te understand Ronon, the fact that we didn't know about this…" he trailed off, once again at a loss for words.

"A human with gills, with the ability to breathe successfully underwater…it's a fantasy on our planet. A myth," Elizabeth tried to answer in her own way.

"It's not natural, and we should have known about it," Sheppard declared, crossing his own arms.

"You gonna send him away because of this?" Ronon asked, his sharp eyes looking to Weir and John dropped his arms and leaned forward on the table, eyes narrowed angrily at the Satedan.

"No. No one is sending Rodney anywhere! The fact that he has gills," he stumbled over the word, which just made him even angrier, "has nothing to do with why we're so angry. It's the fact that he has them and we didn't know. How could we not know something like this? He's spent the last eleven years working for the US government and the last ten of those were in the Stargate program and Area 51. You don't get into these places without very thorough background checks and, more notably, medicals." He looked at Carson again and the man waved his hands around wildly.

"Don't look at me like that! I have nae been hiding this from ye. In fact I'm a bloody fool for not having known. Something like this…it's not a small, easy to miss aspect of one's anatomy. It's a completely separate respiratory system! I mean, good god, his entire torso must be at least slightly altered, but I can't see how except for the rather obvious filaments now flapping away on his waist side. I've done numerous scans of him since arriving in Atlantis, hell, I was even his doctor for a year in Antarctica. I've done tests on him, experiments with the gene therapy and I was working on him without fully understanding how his body worked. I could have killed him…"

"Carson, this is not your fault. He chose to hide this from you and he volunteered for everything you've done to him. Do not begin thinking along those lines," Elizabeth immediately countered, her tone soft yet firm. Carson nodded sullenly and it was clear he was just appeasing her. She looked at Radek. "Did you find anything?"

"Not yet," the man sighed and shook his head. I have examined several Ancient medical devices but there is no sign of tampering that I can find. Not to say I won't find it, I just need more time."

"The sooner the better, because I scanned him again three hours ago and there is no indication of his gills whatsoever in any of the results. I can't trust my instruments on him, they're not working, and therefore I can't help him properly," Carson ground out, his fists clenching.

"Yes, it is obvious he has changed them some way. We all know he is genius, we just did not realize he was also conniving bastard. To have no evidence of tampering…we scan medical equipment every week to ensure its accuracy. To never pick up anything wrong…is almost incomprehensible." Zelenka informed them, shaking his head in either irritation, dismay, or admiration. It was hard to tell with him sometimes.

"So he's been holding out on us," Sheppard leaned back in his seat, a headache begging to ask for attention.

"Obviously!" Carson snapped, and then his face reddened in embarrassment. "Sorry John, this is just…"

"Shocking, mind blowing, absolutely freaking insane? Yep," he agreed easily enough. "But then again McKay does like to make life as interesting as possible," he smiled, accepting the apology.

"I still don't know why you're all so shocked. Wasn't it obvious he was hiding something?" Ronon asked and they all turned to stare at him in shock.

"What do you mean?" Elizabeth asked carefully, and the man shrugged.

"He's always complaining, about stupid little things that don't matter. Puts himself in the spotlight as much as possible, so that when something actually happens people treat it like it's not that bad. I've seen him walk away from examinations without being checked because he complains so much that the medical staff kick him out." Carson's eyes narrowed dangerously at this. "He keeps his distance too, never talks to people about anything that's personally important. I thought you all knew this," he trailed off.

"Well, yeah we knew all that…sort of," Sheppard grimaced.

"I was unaware of my staff's less than professional treatment," Carson growled.

"Yeah well, whatever. What are you going to do about it?" The Satedan asked, apparently more interested in action then talking about it. Hell, the man had probably just used up his word allowance for the month and would revert back to grunts after that speech.

"First he will take me through whatever he has done to equipment with fine tooth comb or else there will be Canadian bacon for breakfast all week," Zelenka huffed.

"Then I'm going to upgrade my files so that I can actually treat him properly if he's ever seriously hurt," Carson growled and Sheppard looked between them.

"Now hold up a second before we all go getting our wet suits in a twist," he leaned forward. "How's Rodney doing?"

"He's been out like a light fer the last ten hours. As we all know his lacerations aren't all that serious, but I suspect the shock to his system, after not having used his gills like that fer who knows how long, is what's put him out of commission. He'll be fine when he wakes up."

"Will he?" Sheppard asked and looked around at the group pointedly. "We're all talking about taking scans of him and having him change the medical equipment back like he'll simply roll over for us. He's done a lot of work to keep anyone from knowing about his gills in the first place, and I'm thinking he won't be too happy with us telling him he can't keep his secrets anymore."

"There's not much we can do on that level John. As chief scientist of this expedition we need to have his full medical file and properly functioning equipment. If he wants to stay here he doesn't have a choice in this matter. That doesn't mean I don't understand what you're saying," Elizabeth forestalled his response quickly. "I have no idea what is going on here or with Rodney. We need to get to the bottom of this as soon as possible but the last thing I want to do is alienate him in the process."

"Good luck with that," Sheppard muttered.

"John," she frowned at him disapprovingly.

"I'm just saying, I doubt he's going to just talk to us. We don't know how he's going to react to us knowing about it now, because if our roles were reversed I don't think I'd be all warm cuddly feelings, you know?"

"I could talk to him," Ronon offered and Sheppard looked at him incredulously.

"Beating it out of him won't get us the results we're after."

"It worked on you." The Satedan frowned at him.

"He's not built like me."

"No kidding, unless you're a fish too?"

"Not that I know of, but I was a bug once…" John raised a eyebrow, effectively not shuddering at the happy memory.

"Gentlemen, this is not helping," Elizabeth pinched the bridge of her nose.

"All I'm saying is that we should give him a day or two to get used to us knowing his big mutant secret before we start diving in with questions."

"What if he is less than willing to see things our way?" Zelenka asked.

"We'll deal with that when the time comes, shall we?" Elizabeth looked around solemnly. "Forgive me for asking this, but I need to know: Is anyone going to have a problem dealing with these new facts about Rodney? Because rumours are already getting out of control and, depending on what Rodney decides to do, he's going to need our full support." She looked imploringly at each of them in turn and Sheppard was glad to note that the only response she received were tired, distraught eyes gazing back. "Well then, let's get some sleep and deal with this in the morning with fresh eyes. It's been a long day."

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