Part 2

"How'd you manage that?" She asked as she took a seat on the rolled overstuffed frayed arm rest and leaned cautiously back against the thread bare upholstery of the couch, careful to avoid Carson's feet.

"American football bores him to tears," Zelenka informed.

"He's not the only one," McKay muttered none too quietly.

"It was his only defense," Ronon added turning his attention to Beckett. Dex was almost sure that the couch was slowly devouring the good doctor.

"The Colonel would not let him leave after he shoved him into the couch," Telya clarified.

"He couldn't get out and we weren't allowed to help him," the new Canadian added.

"Hey, keep it down, this is the---"

"Game of the century," voices around the room chorused none too quietly.

Weir looked back to Beckett who slept oblivious to the noise around him.

"Don't worry, Elizabeth; nothings going to wake him up," Sheppard pointed out, "Just don't touch'im or call his name or he'll come springing out of there like Batman."

"Batman?" Rodney asked perplexed. "Because I was thinking more like The Tazmanian Devil."

"The Doc? Taz?" Sheppard said in disbelief, "No way, he might be confused as hell and hyper first off, looking for an emergency that's for sure, but he'd be more like---Tornado Man."

"Tornado Man, my ass," McKay snorted, "Carson's better than that--- Hong Kong Phoey, maybe."

"No way," Sheppard dismissed. He was cut short by the new Canadian.

"He kind of sounds like Yosemite Sam when he gets mad and calls you 'eejiots'."

There was a pause in the room. All eyes turned toward the Grodin's replacement scrutinizing him and his words.

"Or not," he added softly turning his attention back to the game and sheepishly taking a small kernel of popcorn, suddenly losing his appetite.

"You know I think he's right," Sheppard stated slowly, "The doc there, does kind of sound like Yosemite Sam…especially when he get all worked up and starts calling McKay an eejiot."

"What makes you think he's speaking to me," Rodney stated, "it's probably you, because we all know I'm the furthest thing from an 'eejiot."

McKay was pummeled by kernels of popcorn.

Some hit Beckett.

Carson moved, his breath caught as he furrowed his brow and wiped at his face with a heavy hand.

The room froze, watching.

"Hey," Sheppard hissed, preventing anymore flying popcorn, "whoever wakes him up has to deal with'im afterward." The colonel promised in his best military threatening voice. It worked on everyone but his team and Zelenka. However, they respected his threat.

The others watched as Beckett settled back within the couch and seemed to disappear a little more.

"I think he's going to fall through to the other side." Radek pointed out.

"Nah," Sheppard turned and stared over his shoulder at the CMO who seemed a little more shrunken within the back of the couch.

"You're not worried about the noise disturbing him?" Weir asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Hell, no," Rodney answered. "You could probably blow up the room from underneath him and he wouldn't stir."

"Don't touch'im though, or call 'is name," Radek clarified, "or he'll wake up like this," and Zelenka snapped his fingers, "look for his shoes, even though he wears them and be gone for the infirmary before you could stop him," Radek pushed his glasses back up on his nose, "He is medical. It is how they are trained." Zelenka stated as if that clarified everything and somehow conveyed what he thought of such training.

"Really?" Weir asked leaning back against the couch being careful not to touch Carson's sneakers.

"Kavanagh, tested the theory." McKay muttered.

"He's not terribly bright." Zelenka pointed out

"No wattage." Sheppard commented.

"What happened?" Weir asked slightly intrigued.

"Doc, didn't take to kindly to it," Major Lorne stated shifting carefully against the jacket that was bunched behind his back acting as a pillow. The back of his hands held the tender pink of newly healed burns.

"Almost lost his temper," Radek muttered.

"He can be imposing," The new Canadian muttered.

"What happened?" Weir re-iterated with a hint of warning in her voice. She did not like the idea that there was unrest in her city without her realizing it. She was aware that scrapes and altercations took place, they usually resolved without much ado. However, when it involved one of her senior staff and she didn't know about it and others did, it got her dander up. She leaned slightly forward, being sure not disturb her CMO.

"Ronon, saved Dr. Kavanagh's life," Telya stated watching the game intently and keeping the popcorn bowl on her lap.

"By mistake," Ronon clarified reaching for the bowl.

Rodney sighed, "Kavanagh whispered Carson's name, said there was an emergency," McKay had a put upon expression on his face as if the retelling was something of a chore.

Weir ignored it and encouraged him to continue by keeping keen interest.

Rodney loved an attentive crowd.

"Doc flew out of that very couch as if his pants were on fire. Had his shoes on and was half way to the door---" Lorne stated, not one to be left out.

"He is quite agile when he believes someone is harmed." Telya interjected before popping more popcorn into her mouth.

"When he saw Kavanagh laughing," Radek picked up the story.

"Hey! Who's telling this story?" McKay broke in indignantly, "I am." He clarified before anyone else could claim the duty.

"Well then tell it," Sheppard said moving his head to the left trying to peer around Dex as Ronon tried to make a grab for the popcorn bowl Teyla was monopolizing.

"He saw Kavanagh laughing, so he contacted the infirmary checking in before heading out the door." McKay looked smug, "there was no emergency of course."

"Of course," Weir interjected to irritate McKay a little.

"He pinned Kavanagh to the wall without touching him," Radek said with awe in his voice.

"Carson did?" Weir cast a sideways glance at her quiet CMO. She never saw him as imposing and certainly not now with his head crammed backward, neck exposed and harsh breaths rasping through his slightly opened mouth.

"Looked like doc here was going to rip Kavanagh's head off or at least bruise it some." Sheppard added. Weir stared at the Colonel narrowing her eyes slightly as if trying to gauge his level of belief in his own statement.

"Hey!" McKay shouted indignantly.

Weir snapped her eyes around to Beckett expecting him to stir at the outburst. Instead, he slept contentedly oblivious to the voices around him and his partial 'digestion' by the couch.

"Well, tell it damn it," Sheppard snapped.

"I'm trying but you keep interrupting me."

"I haven't said a word." Sheppard snapped back.

"What was that then?"

"Rodney?" Weir broke in trying to get those two verbally separated before they could start in on one another.

"Yes, so it looked like you might have been having to write Kavanagh's next of kin but Ronon, here, came in like the Terminator and threw Kavanagh out on his ear." Rodney sat back in his chair, feeling special that he had managed to not only commandeer one of the two chairs in the room but also tell a story during American football night. He was special and deservedly so.

Weir quirked her eyebrow at Ronon Dex.

"One should not lie; especially to superior officers."

Weir nodded, "Though, I agree with your reasoning, Dr. Beckett nor Dr. Kavanagh are officers or part of the military."

"Oh," Ronon shrugged and turned his attention back to the game, unrepentant.

Weir stared at Beckett as he rolled and faced into the back of the couch, twisting his uniform jacket up under his arm. His head had become trapped and his neck angled even more severely. His lower arm was pinned underneath him, his palm facing up to the ceiling and his fingers to the rest of the room.

He looked horribly uncomfortable, however, his steady shallow, uninterrupted breathing indicated otherwise.

"John, you have any spare blankets?" Weir asked pushing herself up from the arm of the couch.

"Um, yeah, why?" Sheppard asked slightly perplexed.

"Pillows?"

"Yeah, in the closet with the blanket. Why?" Sheppard asked again skirting his eyes from the Football game to Elizabeth.

"Because it might make Carson a little more comfortable," she pointed out.

Sheppard leaned over the arm of his chair to peer into the couch. He spied Beckett's mangled sleeping form and grimaced, "Yeah, might be a good idea."

"Glad you agree," Elizabeth mumbled as she rummaged through the closet and gathered a blanket and pillow.

She stood behind the couch and unfolded the blanket with a snap and then fluttered it up over the back of the couch and onto Carson. He stirred only slightly, moving his feet, kicking irritably at his right foot with his left, as if his right had done something to annoy the left.

Weir shook her head. Her senior staff had some quirks.

"Carson," Weir whispered holding the pillow ready. "Carson," she repeated again resting a comforting hand on the side of his head.

Zelenka and the new Canadian shuffled warily away from the front of the couch.

She was prepared for Beckett's reaction. His head snapped up, eyes open but still rolled as he tried to escape the tentacle like clutches of Sheppard's couch. "Whoa, easy Carson; no emergency; just a pillow," Weir spoke softly, noting the scrunched up features, opened, but unseeing eyes and the uncoordinated tension in waking muscles. "Go back to sleep," She placed the pillow, molding it to the back corner of the couch and gently pushed his head back down, "go back to sleep, Carson."

She watched slightly afraid she might have truly woken him and he'd be back to his anxious, irritable, unable to sit still for a meeting, self.

"Nothing 's wrong, Carson, go to sleep," Rodney stated observing from his chair. Zelenka and the new Canadian watched from their seats on the floor, trying to gauge if they would need to scramble out of the way should Beckett decide it was time to claw his way free of the couch. The flash point seemed to have passed; however, one could never be to sure.

"Aye," Carson groaned and settled heavily back into the couch and tugged heavily at the pillow, situating it where he wanted it.

Weir watched as his breathing leveled out and he immediately drifted off to sleep.

"I thought only Rodney and Radek could manage that," Weir whispered to herself.

"Not hardly," Sheppard muttered, "its no picnic waking them up when you need them to do something they don't think is important."

"Oh yeah, try looking in the mirror, Sleeping Beauty." McKay retorted.

"Colonel Sheppard, you can be disagreeable," Radek pointed out and then turned his attention to Rodney, "However, he does not look much like Sleeping Beauty. More like one of those dwarfs that bop around the forest."

"Bop around the forest?" Sheppard asked incredulously.

"What is a dwarf?" Telya asked.

"A shorter version of the Colonel, here," Rodney answered.

Weir returned to her seat on the arm of the couch and leaned back and enjoyed the banter that seemed to stem and encompass Rodney McKay and John Sheppard.

'

Three hours later, or more accurately, one 'world renown' Hail Mary pass, and one Terminator movie later, the others began shuttling off to their respective quarters.

Ronon stood stretching with the deadly elegance of a waking grizzly. He was still convinced that he could beat the terminator. If a skinny little human could do it, then it stood to reason, at least to Dex, that he too could persevere.

Weir found no argument suitable to challenge him and was not sure she truly wanted too.

"What are you going to do with him?" McKay asked standing and stretching his arms up over his head and arching his back.

Sheppard stretched in his chair, arching, mirroring McKay's stance but only from a different angle.

The room's remaining occupants turned and stared at Beckett who still slept facing the back of the couch. His shoes were still on, his coat still twisted under him. The blanket lay half on, half off the couch.

"Leave'im," Sheppard pushed himself up and cracked his back. "He's slept there before without it killing'im. He'll survive another night."

"You will take his shoes off, won't you?" Weir asked.

John stared at her puzzled, "Why?"

Telya rolled her eyes and shared a commiserating look with Weir.

"Dr. Beckett, we are going to remove your shoes." Teyla placed a steady hand on the Doctor's head and nodded to Weir who quickly untied and removed the sneakers. Beckett mumbled and tried to free his feet from whatever grabbed at them. Unsuccessful, he tried to push himself up right, but found his arms uncooperative and the couch's grip too daunting. He mumbled and tried again.

"There is no emergency, Dr. Beckett," Telya reiterated, "please, go back to sleep."

He muttered and settled back into the pillow.

The Athosian sighed and shook her head. These people would never survive the Wraith if they did not have Atlantis to protect them. They ran themselves too far down and would not be able to respond in a timely manner if the Wraith should decide to attack.

"Let's get his jacket too," Weir muttered as she dropped his second shoe to the floor and shot John, Rodney and Dex an irritated look.

With some soft utterances and gentle manipulation, she and Teyla got Beckett free of his twisted coat without him truly waking. Once left alone, he curled back into the couch kicking his feet free of the blanket and settling quickly into a dead sleep, scrunching deeper into the couch.

"Where's his ear piece?" Weir asked tiredly straightening up and staring at Sheppard with a touch of annoyance.

John put a hand to his chest and stepped backward, "What did I do?"

"Nothing," Weir smiled tiredly, trying not to find fault with the others. They worked on a different wave length. "Where's his…"

"On the table," Dex pointed to the small night stand next to Sheppard's bed, the only flat surface in the room that didn't run the risk of having heels rest on it.

"I'm keeping him off the duty schedule tomorrow," Elizabeth informed them, "no emergencies-- we treat him like we do Rodney," Weir stated, staring directly at Sheppard, then Teyla and finally Ronon, Radek and Major Lorne.

"Wait, wait, wait; What is this?" McKay stuttered, "What does this mean, 'we treat him like we do Rodney'? What is that all about?" Rodney let his eyes skip from person to person trying to divine information from their knowing expressions.

"Come, Rodney, I will explain it to you," Radek placated directing the stammering astrophysicist to the door with Teyla and Dex right on their heels.

"You need anything, Colonel?" Major Lorne asked as he stopped at the door.

"Not now, ask me tomorrow morning," Sheppard stared at the back of his couch. Lorne chuckled and left feeling very thankful that he was not the chief military officer of Atlantis. It came with a lot of non-military duties.

Weir paused at the door and stared at the mess that encompassed Sheppard's quarters due to the presence of so many people. She wondered if he noticed the upheaval and didn't care because it didn't bother him or he didn't care because he figured it was an acceptable outcome if it got people together for a moment of down time.

"See you tomorrow, John," She smiled and left Sheppard's quarters, realizing the Colonel knew exactly what he was doing.

Sheppard sighed and headed deeper into his room. He picked up the popcorn bowl and put it on his 'coffee' table. He stared for a moment at the blanketed form of Beckett.

They were to treat him like Rodney, Sheppard sighed. It was a good plan, however, the biggest flaw was, one of the people that played a key role in the plan was now the target. Even worse, now Rodney was aware of their plan and by the end of tomorrow he'd know how it all played out.

They would make sure Beckett slept, undisturbed; make sure he ate, undisturbed; make sure he slept again, all undisturbed. They were to run interference, all medical questions would be intercepted for the day and rerouted to one of the other doctors. No expected attendance at the meetings. No gate travel--that one would be easy-- no emergencies, no going to the labs--that would be more difficult.

A type of house arrest that only worked because the target, usually Rodney, was too exhausted to realize he was being manipulated and guarded. If he were not at that degree of fatigue then it would never work. There were times when McKay might have figured he was being buffered, handled with kid gloves and manipulated but had been too exhausted to care or fight or perhaps a combination of both. It worked for everyone. Everyone benefited.

It would be difficult with Beckett, he was privy to the 'McKay' plan. In fact, he, Weir and Sheppard had masterminded it and executed with Radek's help. Maybe they'd get lucky and like Rodney, Carson would shuffle through the morning with glassy eyes, half formed sentences, unfinished thoughts and not really come to life until evening, in which time their jobs would be over and he'd fall asleep easily enough that night. It'd never work two days in a row.

"Good night, Doc," Sheppard muttered, thinking the lights off and changing in the dark before heading to bed.

Tomorrow would be interesting, if nothing else.

The end.