Chapter 3: Sea Monkey

The alarm on his watch began ringing from its place on his dresser and Rodney slowly turned his head to glare at it blearily. It was six-thirty, time to start a new day, and he knew his eyes were red with lack of sleep. He'd escaped the infirmary three hours ago, spent two hours falling apart in his shower and one hour trying to pull himself back together in the comfort of his bed. It hadn't really worked and his watch was annoyingly reminding him that he had to leave his room and face the music.

Nobody had come to check on him, or to drag him back to Carson with his needles and scans and witchcraft. There were no alarms going off in reaction to his disappearance, no soldiers or marine biologists appearing at his door with suspicious glares or intrigued eyes, dissecting him even with his clothes on. He wasn't sure if this was a good sign or a bad sign, but he supposed he would find out soon enough.

Nobody had come to see if he was okay.

He threw the covers off and stood, quickly moving to his uniform pants and pulling them on. They sat an inch below his bottom filament, thank god, because he didn't think he could deal with his already torn up flesh being further abused. He took a moment to stare at himself in the mirror, all pale flesh that had once been smooth and was now decorated with three angry red, gaping slashes on both sides. He should bandage them again, just to protect the open flesh from rubbing against his shirt, but decided against it. The pain would serve to remind him that he wasn't just Dr. Rodney McKay, genius extraordinaire and saviour of Atlantis and her people several times over anymore. He couldn't pretend to be just that anymore.

He pulled his blue shirt on hastily and then dragged his jacket over top, zipping it up as a bit of extra protection. His socks and shoes were next and he ignored the pain as he bent over and pulled them on. He looked at his watch before putting it on: six thirty-five. The command staff didn't usually filter into the mess hall until a quarter to, so if he hurried he could grab something and head to the labs where he could avoid the whole confrontation thing until the staff meeting at seven thirty. Yes, he was going to avoid this meeting as long as possible.

He entertained the idea of raiding the kitchens, stocking up on food and then hiding in some remote part of Atlantis for a few days like a child. However he knew that wouldn't stop them from finding him, so he quashed any notions of running away. At least for the moment.

The mess hall was beginning to fill up, the morning people gabbing away happily while others moodily sat at their tables hunched over food, not inviting any conversation until their first cup of coffee had been finished. Rodney moved straight to the muffin basket that sat at the end of the breakfast line, grabbing two (still warm) banana nut concoctions before moving quickly to the coffee table. Conversation had slowed drastically upon his appearance, and he knew it wasn't just his paranoia this time. He would get his coffee and then be free of the gazes he could feel on his back. He looked over his shoulder to glare, but no one was looking in his direction at that exact moment. Sneaky bastards.

He finished pouring his coffee, without bothering to take the time to add sugar, and was turning to escape when he came face to face with Lieutenant Kindersley and Dr. Marlow, both watching him carefully from only three feet away. He almost dropped his coffee in surprise.

"What! Are you two practicing stealth skills or something? Go stalk somebody else," he growled, moving to step around them when Kindersley pulled himself to full attention and snapped off a sharp salute.

"Sir," he said softly, mindful of the people watching them. "We heard what you did for us yesterday. Thank you," he said, meeting Rodney's eyes confidently. Rodney blinked, completely thrown off, and then Marlow stepped forward and took the plate with muffins right out of his hand, only to replace it with his own hand and shake it with shocking strength.

"We don't know how you did it McKay, and frankly we don't care. We really thought it was the end for us, and it would have been without you," he said, and then gave Rodney back his muffins.

"Uhhh…" oh god, he was at a loss for words. He didn't know what to do, what to say, how to respond to this? What would Sheppard say? "No problem, just uhh, stay safe and don't… play with things beyond your comprehension…which is just about everything… so just, yeah," and he stepped around them, quickly, and rushed out of the room with a face that he just knew was beet red.

He ignored everyone in the hallway to the point where he didn't know if they were even trying to say hello, and was relieved when he stepped into his private lab, completely alone. Wow, so that had been a new experience. Sure, he was used to people being aware that he'd saved their lives, but they were usually more subtle about their appreciation, if they chose to show any at all. The thank you's came in the form of extra effort put into projects, less grumbling in his presence about the hours he sometimes forced them to work, getting out of his way while he walked down the center of the halls, and snacks that randomly appeared on his desk, all citrus free. That was probably the first time anyone other than Sheppard had thanked him personally for saving his life. It was disconcerting. It also looked like nobody had really figured out exactly how he'd managed to go back and shut off the valve, at least not yet. Those directly involved were probably under orders not to spill the beans, though people had stopped their morning conversations to watch him, which was a bit unusual…most of the time.

He didn't really have time to think about it now though, because in half an hour he was due to be in the conference room, and he knew what was waiting for him there. He probably hadn't seen any of his friends or teammates because they were giving him a bit of space. Most likely they didn't know how to deal with this situation either, but they would still have questions. Lot's and lot's of questions.

For the next twenty-seven minutes he drank his coffee in utter silence and then, with no particular game plan in mind and leaving his muffins untouched, he headed to the conference room.

oooOOOooo

Carson sat quietly, his hands gripping his pen tight enough to snap it, had it been made of anything but an alloy. He was beside himself with tension and had no idea how to deal with it. Rodney had awoken during their midnight meeting and had walked out of his sickbay without so much as a sound, and Carson had come back to find the empty bed with bloody bandages lying in the rubbish bin near by. He had damn well near panicked and all but stormed out of the infirmary, calling Sheppard frantically over the radio. He's left us had been his thoughts at the time, which he could now admit were a bit off the wall. He'd wanted to find Rodney immediately, and hadn't been willing to wait, at least not until John had talked some sense into him and stopped him from barging into Rodney's quarters to see if he was there.

No, he'd stood outside the scientists damned doors, pacing, until the Colonel had shown up with a life signs detector and confirmed that Rodney was indeed in his quarters. Carson had still wanted to barge in there, and had been about to do just that when a strong hand had gripped his arm, stopping him.

"What do ye think yer doin'? I have to check on him, make sure he's all right in there!" he'd exclaimed and John, looking more exhausted than any man should, had carefully shaken his head.

"Carson, he probably left the infirmary to be alone, to regroup. If we start barging into his sanctuary where's he going to go then? At least we know where he is now, and that he's safe."

"I don't know John, we should talk to him, just to make sure," Sheppard frowned and looked at the ancient scanner in his hands.

"It looks like he's in his bathroom right now, probably taking a shower. I'm not sure it's the best time," he looked as though it wouldn't take a great deal of convincing to change his mind. Carson opened his mouth to do just that, when the guilt washed over him. If he were in Rodney's position right now would he want company? Probably not. He must be in pain from his wounds, and exhausted from the trauma to his body and mind. So in the end they had decided to leave him alone for the remainder of the morning.

Carson had broken three of his favourite pens in the meantime, before switching to the steel one currently in his grasp.

Footsteps drew his attention to the door and he watched Zelenka bustle through and take a seat. The next footsteps he heard he didn't bother looking over, figuring Rodney would show up at the last possible minute to avoid small talk. The chair at far end of the table scraped and he glanced over to nod a greeting only to have the words freeze on his lips as he saw Rodney, who was busily setting up his laptop.

"Rodney," he gushed out, just stopping himself from jumping to his feet.

"Carson." Came the reply along with a dip of his head nodding in Carson's general direction, avoiding eye contact.

"How are ye feeling this morning, lad?" He pushed to the edge of his seat, ready to leap into action if his friend so much as hinted at feeling unwell.

"Just fine, thank you," he replied, still not looking up.

"Good. Ye had me right worried when you pulled that disappearing act of yours," Carson let some of his anger bleed into his voice, and was somewhat satisfied when the stubborn man finally looked over at him properly. Oye, he looked bloody terrible. He probably didn't sleep a wink after he left and the look of uncertainty so blatant on his face had Carson almost aching with the need to comfort the man.

"Oh, umm, sorry? I…just needed to get out for a bit…" the normally acerbic Canadian trailed off as Sheppard and Weir entered the room. Sheppard took one look at Rodney, marched over to him and plunked down in the seat right next to his. This seemed to make their friend even more uncomfortable.

"Morning, Rodney," Sheppard drawled as he began setting up his notes on the table.

"Good morning, Colonel." He eyed him warily a moment before turning his attention to Weir and nodding at her. She smiled reassuringly at him, but the worry in her eyes kind of ruined the affect.

"Well, shall we begin then?" She looked around the table, her eyes meeting Carson's briefly, and then the meeting was underway. They began with a discussion of the accident yesterday, which made sense Carson supposed, but it was a mite difficult to focus when there was a huge purple elephant in the room practically performing the River Dance. He kept looking over at Rodney, noting that his pale complexion wasn't getting any better and wondering if he'd been able to eat anything yet. The man was speaking as though everything were normal, his voice strong and carrying his usual sarcasm, and it was a bit shocking to see him respond so expectedly.

How many briefings had they had after traumatic incidents where Rodney was able to convince everyone else he was perfectly fine? Because if he could hide all his real emotions, and there was no way he was feeling perfectly fine right now, under his sharp words then they may have rarely known how he truly felt.

Sheppard kept looking at him too, a frown pulling down his lips for moments at a time before he realized his own mask had slipped. He didn't look like he'd gotten much sleep either. Hell, Carson suspected nobody in this room had slept well, and Zelenka's hair was wilder than usual. Rodney's arm kept slipping from the table to hover protectively at his side and Carson glared at the man, because if he had done something more to damage himself while out of his care he was going to hear about it!

The briefing arrived at the point where Rodney was now looking pointedly at his computer, as though it were the most fascinating thing in the room as he described what he did while under the water. How it had taken no time at all the fix the problem once he had arrived at its destination.

"A monkey could have solved it," he declared with an abstract wave of the hand and Sheppard snorted.

"Yeah, a sea monkey apparently." Rodney stiffened instantly in his seat and looked sharply at the Colonel as everyone simultaneously leaned forward in their seats.

"Yes, well, it seemed a good idea at the time," McKay offered rather weakly and Sheppard raised an eyebrow.

"Come on, Rodney," he tried to speak soothingly to his friend, which didn't really work because his soothing voice usually ended up sounding more annoyed than anything else. "You know you're going to have to explain this to us, because I can guarantee none of us ever saw this coming."

"Which, I might add, is a rather large problem as far as I'm concerned," Carson leaned forward from across the table, his worry apparent along with his anger. And John could understand that, he really could, but there was a reason behind Rodney's previous silence. There was a reason behind his fear, even now as he was among friends.

"Well, I'm sorry to have inconvenienced you," McKay snapped back, his eyes flashing emotions as his face remained stony. "Let me assure you that had the situation not been dire I wouldn't have graced you with this 'problem' in the first place."

"And that is exactly what is wrong here, Rodney," Carson's fists clenched in frustration on the tables surface. "You could have been hurt, countless times, where I might not have been able to help you because I had no idea about such a fundamental aspect of your anatomy!"

"Rodney, we are not trying to attack you here," Elizabeth cut in smoothly before Carson could get too carried away. John found himself nodding along with her, though he agreed one hundred percent with Beckett as well. The important thing now was understanding what it meant, not getting upset over what it 'could' have meant. "But we need to know what is going on. Truthfully," she implored meeting the head scientist's eyes for a moment before the man's gaze ducked away.

"What is there to tell, Elizabeth? I have gills. I breathe underwater. I'm not sure what else you need to know…"

"How long have you had them?" Sheppard asked. If they wanted answers, they were going to have to ask direct questions in this case. Rodney looked at him a second before glancing to his computer, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

"I think that's doctor patient-"

"Rodney," Sheppard growled a warning and the man huffed indignantly.

"Fine. I've had them since I was a child. Happy?"

"Far from it. Why didn't you tell us? Better yet, how come we never knew? You had to have had a full physical before signing onto the Stargate program, right? Hell, shouldn't there be reports as far back as your birth on this? Assuming you've been like this since birth."

"Yes, there should be." Rodney sighed and rubbed a hand at his forehead a moment before leaning forward with intent. "Okay, I'm going to explain this to you, once, but I need to know that it's not going to go beyond this room." He looked around the table.

"I'm sorry to say but the rumours are already spreading," Elizabeth informed him, and to that he rolled his eyes.

"Well yes, I suspect they are. It's not every day the smartest man in the city takes a twenty minute swim with one breath of air." He scoffed, trying to mask his obvious unease. He licked his lips. "But rumours can be taken with a grain of salt, and people here will believe and not believe just about anything you want them too."

"I suppose you're a prime example in that regards," Sheppard noted, not trying to sound mean or anything, but apparently unable to keep his immediate thoughts to his self.

"Obviously." McKay wouldn't look at them again, his moods shifting like a kaleidoscope. He lifted his chin defiantly. "Still, if it's all the same to you, I'd rather this bit of information not leave this room."

"I can't make any promises, Rodney," Elizabeth said, sounding so heart broken, "but we will do everything within our power to hold your confidence."

"Well, that's more than others have promised me before…well. Good, that's fine then." He looked at Carson. "I've had them since I was born, obviously, but since I was breathing and had all ten fingers and toes there was no reason for the doctors to do any serious physical scans. I was perfectly healthy, not a mark on me so there was no way of knowing. Not until I was around five years old and they seemed to mature enough to become usable, I guess." He shrugged, looking awkward but determined.

"Five years old? Why then? Why not immediately?" Carson asked, sounding intrigued. Rodney smirked, but it was different from his usual smirk, colder.

"I don't know. I never really thought to ask back then. I heard them saying something about the stimulus of my birth triggering which type of breathing to use. Apparently the human body wasn't meant for two types of lungs and was initially only capable of using one set until I grew stronger. Go figure, huh?"

"So if you had had a water birth…"

"Then I probably wouldn't even be here right now. Things like this tend to scare and intrigue people." His tone of voice suggested that that line of questioning was not going to be picked up in his presence. He'd had enough and John had to look away a moment as he thought about how Rodney's life could have turned out. An infant that could breathe underwater…they probably would have locked him up in a lab or something. He looked at the figurative distance Rodney was trying to maintain from them now and wondered if that had happened anyway. His chest felt tighter than usual as he looked at his friend.

"That still doesn't explain how you've gone through the SGC medicals and scans without any indication of this." Carson was frowning, looking like he already suspected the answer and didn't like it one bit.

"Please. I went to the doctors so many damn times over the stupidest things that I actually gave myself a complex trying to train them to not look too carefully at me," Rodney was looking at the table top again and he slid his chair away from the table, and them, a few inches without seeming to notice the action. John did not like that, and neither did the others by the quickly hidden looks on their faces. "And as such a highly valued and respected member of the expedition by the time it came to needing full body scans for this trip," he waved his hand around to indicate Atlantis as though this were a vacation, "I had already managed to program the equipment to just completely ignore the gills. It was easy once I had access to the tools and by that time we were relying on technology much more sophisticated then earths, which subsequently makes it easier to interfere with. I did the same thing to the Atlantis scanners first chance I got," he looked slightly apologetic at Carson.

"But that's a lot of scanners, Rodney," Carson sat back in his seat, looking a bit sick.

"If you haven't figured it out yet I am a very thorough person, not to mention good at my job."

"Yer damned lucky nothing has damaged that area of yer anatomy, because if it had…"

"Yes yes, I am, and was, well aware of the risks. No offense, but I deemed them necessary."

"Even after all this time?" Elizabeth asked softly and Rodney shifted uncomfortably.

"Yes well, like I said: it's nothing personal."

"How is that not personal?" Sheppard asked, glaring at the man. "You're basically saying that you don't trust us enough to even let us know about a fundamental part of your anatomy. You choose possible death through who knows what kind of complications over trusting us."

"When you put it like that it doesn't sound like a good plan," Rodney looked at him, meeting his eyes briefly before shifting away. "But you know now. I'll fix all the scanners, if you haven't had Zelenka do it already," he waved at the scientist in reference before he began shutting down his computer, keeping his hands busy as they all stared at him.

"Yer darn right you will. And then yer gonna sit down and let me take a proper scan of ye so I can learn how to treat you properly."

"Yes, right." It didn't look at all okay with the astrophysicist as he agreed to the tests, but he sighed as though he'd expected nothing less. "In the meantime we can just inform people that it was a freaky off world encounter with some device and the effects were irreversible. Tell them I chose not to publicly disclose it because it was none of their business."

"Like it was none of ours?" Sheppard asked and immediately cursed his automatic response. Rodney's entire body became even stiffer but his demeanor didn't change as he apparently decided to take the lofty route; pretend it was all nothing to be concerned or shocked with.

"Yes, precisely. Now, if you'll excuse me there is a ton of work I need to be doing, least of all is checking the previously flooded area of the city for damages," he was gone as soon as he finished his sentence, not waiting for permission. Sheppard turned to find Weir and Carson glaring at him. Zelenka just looked lost in his own little world. He rubbed at his eyes, feeling tired beyond belief.

"I know, I know. I'll talk to him, just not when there's a crowd," he gestured around them all which seemed to mollify Weir.

"I can't imagine what he must have gone through to make him so afraid," Weir sighed, shaking her head in dismay.

"It's probably best not to speculate, dear," Carson comforted. "He's still the man we have known in Atlantis for the last two years, and even before this place. Once he see's that we're not going to hurt him," he kind of choked on those words "then we can put this all behind us."

"Just pretend it never happened? That's he's not a fish man?" Sheppard asked harshly, defensively and Carson looked so stricken that he immediately realized he had misinterpreted the man.

"No, of course not! Just that we can all go back to acting like normal bloody human beings without having the fact that he has bloody gills be the first thing that pops into our heads every time we see him!"

"You're right. Sorry Carson, I didn't mean it that way. I just never thought Rodney would hide something this monumental from us."

"We are all emotional right now," Radek began folding his own equipment up. "Rodney is fine and a disaster has been diverted. I for one am happy. I must go to work and spend some time coming up with appropriate fish comments now." And he left the room on Sheppard's snort.

"We stick to our initial plan and remain supportive," Weir announced, as if there had ever been another option. "In the mean time we have a city to run."

TBC.

Thanks for all the wonderful reviews! You have me grinning and biting my nails in anticipation of your responses : )