Under the Skin

AUTHOR: Gategeeks (aka SGC Gategirl and Girrlkitty)

STATUS: Complete

RATING: Ages 15+ (T+)

CATEGORY: Drama, angst, hurt/comfort, whump

SUMMARY: A little accident with Ancient technology, puts Beckett and McKay a little closer in touch with the Ancients than they originally anticipated, but will they survive the encounter?

SPOILERS: Takes place immediately following the events in Season three's "Sateda"

WARNINGS: Language

AUTHORS' NOTES: This started out as something to do at work when we didn't feel like working and we wanted to try something a little different. With Girrlkitty writing Carson and SGC Gategirl writing Rodney, we kept every scene in one of the two perspectives, with the other author writing the other character's dialogue—whoever was in the scene. Trust us, it worked. We had no real plot, just a vague sense of "let's write something" and this is what happened. Hope you enjoy our first venture into joint fics. Also, much thanks to triciabyrne1978 for the beta. Much appreciated.

ARCHIVE: Do not archive without the authors' express permission.

DISCLAIMER: The Stargate, SGA, the Wraith, and all characters that have appeared in the series STARGATE ATLANTS, together with the names, titles, and back story, are the sole copyright property of Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Studios Inc., the SciFi Channel, and Acme Shark. This fanfic is not intended as an infringement upon those rights and solely meant for entertainment. All other characters, the story idea, and the story itself are the sole property of the authors.

xxx

Under the Skin

By Gategeeks

Doctor Rodney McKay sighed, hunched over his metal coffee mug, staring into its light-brown depths as he tried to lean on only one cheek of his ass. It was harder than it looked and took far too much of his valuable concentration.

Why couldn't they be home already? He needed to lie down in his nice comfy bed—prescription mattress and all. He couldn't really rest here on the Daedalus. The guest quarters weren't any bigger than a closet and that was just a little too close for comfort.

So, here he was in the mess, "navel gazing" into his coffee and wishing he was anywhere else but here.

Until they got back to Atlantis, there wasn't much for him to do. Sheppard was sleeping—that man could fall asleep anywhere. Teyla was meditating or something. At least that's what she said she was going to do an hour or so ago. Ronon was in the infirmary, of course, staying put due to some of Beckett's good drugs.

Shifting a little, he winced. He wished Carson would cough up the good drugs for him. And if he went anywhere near the infirmary, he wasn't sure what the sheep-shearer would do to him. He'd spit off several comments when he'd been in there earlier—right after they'd brought Ronon back. While it might not have been the most…opportune time to ask for something, he certainly didn't need the name calling.

Hearing a shuffle of feet, McKay glanced up, finding himself staring at the devil himself—and a weary-looking one at that.

"Someone finally kick you out of the infirmary, too?"

xxx

Doctor Carson Beckett stared at the patient charts in front of him, the letters and numbers starting to blur before his eyes. When had he last slept? He found he couldn't remember.

He shook his head and rose, moving over to the gurney where Ronon Dex was sleeping. It had been awkward, removing the tracking device in the confines of a moving jumper, the rest of Ronon's teammates hovering around. But the operation had been successful, easier this time since he knew what he was looking for.

They had made a brief pit stop to dump the device back on the planet, and then gotten everyone back to the Daedalus. He had ordered everyone to go get some well-deserved rest, banning them from the infirmary unless they were bleeding or dying, then had whisked his patient away, determined to make sure the man rested while Carson still had some control over him.

He reached out, touching Ronon's wrist, automatically checking his pulse. It was odd, but ever since med school, he had found this to be relaxing. When he knew a patient was out of danger, was resting comfortably—or at least as comfortably as he could get them—he would wait until they were sleeping, then count their heartbeats, reassuring him they were alive.

He wasn't sure how long he stood there, counting, before a touch on his shoulder startled him. Dropping his hold on Ronon, he turned to find Anne Matthews, his head nurse, giving him "the look".

He knew that expression, knew what was coming.

"Sir, you need to go get some rest. You won't do anyone any good if we have to admit you as a patient."

Several objections flitted across his mind, but, with a sigh, he decided to give in. He was, admittedly, too tired to argue with her, and when she got in this mood, he knew she would keep at him until she wore him down. "Aye, lass. I'll go grab some dinner, then rest. Call me if anything changes."

Shrugging out of his lab coat, he draped it over a chair and headed out. Maybe they still had turkey sandwiches left in the mess hall. That was one of the few benefits to working on the Daedalus—they only stocked Earth provisions.

Rounding the corner, he grabbed a tray and loaded up—they were out of turkey, but there was some tuna left, which was his second choice. Glancing around for a seat, he spotted Rodney looking at a cup of what he assumed was coffee. Frowning, he made his way over to the man. Why was he drinking stimulants when he should be sleeping?

As he approached, Rodney looked up, a half-hearted sneer crossing his face. "Someone finally kick you out of the infirmary, too?"

With a sigh, Carson dropped his tray on the table and sat down. "Unlike some people, I know when to take a break." He looked pointedly at the cup in the other man's hand.

McKay scowled, eyes dropping to his mug. "I am relaxing."

Carson huffed into his sandwich. "Coffee is not known for its relaxing qualities."

"Yeah, well, maybe where you come from." He shifted, hissing as a flash of pain flew across his face.

Carson's eyes sharpened, looking closely at Rodney. There were dark circles under his eyes, and he hadn't missed the pain. "Lad, if you can't sleep because it hurts, why din'na you come to the infirmary and let me give you something?"

The scientist's scowled deepened. "The last time I asked I was threatened with additionally bodily harm." He paused, eyes firmly fixed on his mug, the liquid swirling around with every movement of his hands. "I'm fine."

Carson felt his eyebrows go up. Of all people to be deterred by a little bit of rough speech, Rodney hadn't been one he would have expected. But then, he could see how tired the chief scientist was, so in a way, it didn't surprise him. Heck, he felt the same way, so worn out it was easier to retreat than argue. He pulled a package of low-grade pain killers he had snagged to take for a headache out of his pocket, and pushed them over the table.

"These will'na kill all the pain, but should take the edge off enough to let you sleep. And no," he decided to head off any paranoia before it could start, "that won't interact with anything else I've given you."

Rodney fingered the packet, the foil crinkling under the light pressure, but didn't pick it up, instead pushing it back across the table. "I'm fine. I'll sleep once we get back to Atlantis. It's only a few more hours now and this," he raised his mug, "is all I need."

Carson scowled, too tired to deal with irritable scientists. He considered his options. "Rodney, you can either take those, forget the coffee, and go to bed, or I'll have one of the marines haul you to the infirmary where I'll have Anne strap you to a gurney to make sure you stay put. Your choice."

Rodney raised an eyebrow, face settling into one of its more stubborn expressions. "I said I'm fine." He rose to his feet, picking up the metal cup from the table. "I have some things to discuss with Hermiod. Thanks again for your most valuable medical advice."

Carson wondered why, exactly, Rodney felt the need to be stubborn. Was it just to irritate him? He managed to catch the eye of the marine near the door, motioning for him to stop Rodney from leaving. Downing the last few bites of sandwich, he abandoned the tray on the table, letting someone else put it away. That was the least of his worries right now.

"I will'na let you pass out on my watch, since I don't think I have any needles big enough to penetrate your thick skull when you knock yourself senseless."

Rodney glared at Carson and the Marine equally, sidestepping around the burly man, getting one foot into the hallway before the marine grabbed his upper arm. "What part of 'I'm fine' do you not understand? Do I have to try saying it with a Scottish accent for you to comprehend that? I'm. Fine."

Carson ignored the ranting, motioning for the grinning Marine to follow. He started down the hall, reaching up to activate his comm. "Anne, luv, I'm bringing a stubborn goat in for you to look after for a bit. Can you prep the isolation area? I want him to get some sleep with no distractions."

Glancing back, he watched as Rodney tried to free his arm, managing instead to slosh the coffee over the edge of the mug he was clutching in his hand, the liquid spilling onto the floor, barely missing his boots. "Would you call off your goon? This wasn't funny when it started and has quickly descended into the depths of absolutely not humorous. I know you must enjoy the power trip, but this is pushing it too far."

Carson turned, his weariness flashing across his face before he could hide it again. "Rodney, I'm your doctor. As much as you like to think you know what's best for you all the time, it's my job to make sure you don't push it too far. We aren't in a crisis at the moment, so there is nae need for you to stay awake. In fact, just the opposite. If a crisis does come up and you can't perform because I din'na get you to sleep, well..." He trailed off, wiping a hand over his face. He dug the packet of ibuprofen out of his pocket that he had grabbed before leaving the table. "Look, just take this and try to get some sleep, and I'll leave you alone."

"What will make you understand that I'm fine, that I don't need you mother-henning me? Do I need to speak slower? Or maybe louder will work." He tried to cross his arms, but the Marine had yet to loosen his grip, which made the gesture nearly impossible. Rodney scowled at the man, looking away when, after several seconds, it didn't make one iota of difference. "Until you barged into the mess I was minding my own business, relaxing even. You're the one that was playing Rambo—or Braveheart in your case—today. Just because you're dead on your feet doesn't mean everyone else is. If you just let me get back to my own way of relaxing," he tugged at his trapped arm again, "everything will be fine."

For a moment, Carson considered defeat. After all, he really didn't want to do this. But another glance at Rodney, and he knew he had to make another attempt. "You were drinking a stimulant, and you just said you were going to work with Hermiod. That doesn't qualify as relaxing. Not to mention you aren't technically cleared yet—I gave a temporary okay to let you participate in Ronon's rescue, I didn't okay you for full, active duty. And right now, I am ordering you, as the Chief Medical Officer, to get some rest. In your room or the infirmary, it's your choice."

Rodney finally managed to wrench his limb from the Marine, and crossed his arms over his chest—careful to not spill the remainder of his coffee—he tilted his chin upward, his expression hardening. "I've been successfully taking care of myself for the past thirty-eight years. I don't need someone to tell me when to go to bed. Isn't it time for you to tuck in Ronon, anyway?" He turned on his heel, already heading toward the elevator at the end of the hall.

Carson decided to try a different tactic. As Rodney walked away, he called Hermiod, letting him know that Rodney was on the way and he was disobeying direct medical orders to go rest. The naked alien agreed to prevent Rodney from working on any of his systems. With a sigh, Carson headed back to the infirmary, guessing that when Rodney was thwarted, he would come looking for someone—him—to vent his wrath on. But then, at least he would be in the infirmary at that point.

xxx

Rodney figured the fink of a sheep-shearing doctor had called Hermiod, whining that he should be sleeping instead of gallivanting through the ship. At least, that's what he'd do if their positions were reversed. Well, not reversed, reversed. He didn't want anything to do with those squishy sciences. But that was also why he wasn't headed to Hermiod's section of engineering. There were plenty of places to go to get some peace and quiet that didn't involve bothering conspiring naked aliens. McKay swore the Asgard was still ticked about the fact Rodney had figured a way through the Wraith's jamming codes first.

So what if he was tired? He'd saved the city on far less sleep. He could work a little more until they got back to Atlantis. There was just something…unsettling about this ship.

That, and he swore they were using some citrus-based cleaner.

Dragging his free hand wearily across his face, he headed to one of the smaller sections of engineering he'd commandeered as soon as he was on board. It was out of the way and quiet, allowing him to work—when he wasn't worried about what they'd find when they got to Sateda. He'd brought a few Ancient devices from Atlantis he'd been fussing with over the past week or so and his laptop was already there, hooked into the Daedalus computer system.

He'd fiddle a bit, take some notes, keeping busy until they got home.

Simple. Calming. Relaxing. See, he did know how to rest—no matter what Carson said.

xxx

Carson ignored the evil glare Anne sent his way when he arrived back in the infirmary, after being shooed out so short a time ago. He grabbed his lab coat, pulling it back on. If he was going to have to wait for Rodney, he might as well get some work done. Otherwise, he would probably fall on his face.

He went back to his research, brought along from Atlantis to keep him occupied while they sped towards Ronon and rescue. Fiddling with it, it wasn't long before he realized he was getting absolutely nothing done, and in fact might make a mistake that would set him back.

It had been probably a good hour since he got back. He had expected Rodney much sooner than this. A quick call to Hermiod solved the problem: the wily scientist hadn't gone there and no one had seen him.

Carson knew where the small lab Rodney had taken to using was located—he had been down there on the way over to give Rodney pain medication earlier in the trip. Why was he being so stubborn? It was enough to drive a man mad. Looking at his watch, he knew the drugs he had administered before the mission would have worn off by now, leaving a considerable amount of pain.

Gathering up a syringe of medication, he started to head out. But on second thought, he stopped, realizing if Rodney was smart enough to avoid Hermiod, he might have been smart enough to go somewhere other than the lab. He had to know Carson wouldn't give up that easily, not when it came to the health of his charges.

And the blasted lab was about as remote as you could get in a space ship. He really didn't want to walk that far if he didn't have to. He decided to push his luck one more time and see if Hermiod would help again. The little Asgard had been very irritated with Atlantis' chief scientist lately, so Carson hoped he would be willing to conspire against him again.

"Hermiod, this is Doctor Beckett again. Is there is any way you can locate Rodney for me?"

There was a pause before the alien replied, the tone edging toward condescending. "I shall endeavor to do so, however, he has not logged into the computer system since returning to the Daedalus. Have you tried contacting him directly?"

"I din'na want to let him know I am coming." With a sigh, Carson realized he was going to have to check the lab. "I'm going to head to his lab to check there. If you find him somewhere else, please let me know."

"Understood, Doctor Beckett. Hermiod out."

Patting his pockets down once more to be sure he had everything, he set out for the lab, Anne's loud, dramatic sighs and pointed looks following him out the door. He was well aware that he was, essentially, refusing to follow his own advice. But in this case, he couldn't rest until Rodney did, as he couldn't run the risk of the man collapsing. Atlantis needed him too much to let that happen, far more than they needed an ordinary doctor. Not to mention, he considered Rodney a friend, and hated to see him both in pain and so exhausted he could barely see straight.

He hadn't heard from Hermiod by the time he made it to the tiny room, but when he peeked around the corner, he saw Rodney, shoulders hunched, working over something. Knowing how the man tuned out everything around him when he was engaged in something, Carson moved in quietly, slipping the syringe out of his pocket. If he was lucky, he could give the scientist the medication, get a few marines to move him to the infirmary, then, once they arrived back in Atlantis, make sure he was settled in his own quarters to sleep off the past few days.

xxx

Absently scratching an itch on his nose, Rodney poked at the insides of the Ancient device with his free hand. No matter how many times he took one of these things apart, he always discovered something new and amazing—not that he wouldn't have been able to come up with something just like it himself if he had the right components.

This one was no different. Although, he hadn't figured out what it was for yet.

Shifting a little, the right side of his butt numb since he was resting his entire weight on it, he grimaced, but kept working, his back to the door. He probably had another two hours of uninterrupted time before he'd have to pack everything up.

Reaching in with his fingers, he tugged carefully at some of the wires, trying to visualize how they were connected within the part of the device he hadn't disassembled yet.

The sharp pinch in his arm, however, wasn't expected.

Glancing up sharply, his eyes found Carson standing beside him, a now empty needle in his hands. His eyes widened, realizing what had just happened, his muscles already slowing.

"Carson! How…how could you even think in all of your logic that that was a good thing?" His volume was on loud and he didn't care. "You can't just drug people into submission to have your way with them. This is…important work…"

His fingers shifted, still deep within the device, a brief shock of pain radiating up his arm.

"Ow!" he said, flinching instinctively, trying to jerk his hand out as he rose to his feet. The second jolt was even more painful than the first.

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

Carson's wide blue eyes were the last thing he remembered seeing before a swirl of colors blotted out his vision.

xxx

For a moment, Carson thought his heart had stopped as Rodney slipped to the ground. He immediately fell to his knees next to the unconscious body, checking for pulse, looking under his eyes, hollering at him to wake up. He turned his radio on while he worked, calling for Anne to bring a gurney down to Rodney's lab. He knew she knew where it was, since he had overheard the nurses talking about Franken-McKay and wondering what he did closeted away while on board the ship.

After a few minutes, before they had arrived, he found himself puzzled. Rodney was still out, but none of his vitals—at least those he could check here and not in the infirmary—seemed out of whack. His breathing was regular, his heartbeat no faster than normal. He had seen the spark, and checked for all the signs electrical damage left, and was finding none.

He also knew the drugs would not have taken effect that fast, nor would they have knocked him out. Carson had deliberately chosen a drug that would ease Rodney's pain and relax him, but not knock him out, going on the theory that if he could get the man to just relax for a moment, mother nature would do the rest and he would go to sleep.

So why was he unconscious on the floor? Anne and a few other nurses arrived, and they swiftly got Rodney moved to the infirmary. Fortunately, the rest of his team was asleep, so at least he didn't have them hovering.

They ran a series of tests, getting the results back quickly. And, surprisingly, it wasn't any one thing. It seemed like the shock had temporarily relaxed all his muscles. Add to that the fact that he really had been exhausted and running on fumes—the pain not helping Carson was sure—and it had all come together to knock the man on his arse. Rodney's poor arse was not having a good week.

His own exhaustion finally hitting him after the adrenaline had woken him up again, Carson ordered the nurses to run an IV, since Rodney's sugar was a bit low—he probably hadn't eaten anything except a stray PowerBar for the last few days—so it wouldn't hurt to try and get him regulated while they had the chance.

He managed to stay awake until they docked with the city, got Rodney settled in the infirmary, and explained to Elizabeth and the others what had happened. They actually seemed amused by the drugging, and Sheppard even joked about setting up a rotating schedule of who got to go next. Carson then instructed his staff to wake him if there were any changes or Rodney woke up, and collapsed into the bed in his office, determined to get a quick nap before all hell broke loose.

xxx

Rodney came back to his senses as quickly as they left, the colors swirling together until they reformed into the walls of the Atlantis infirmary.

He grunted, not quite remembering how he'd managed to get here. His cheek was pressed flush against the pillow, giving him a limited view of the darkened room.

A tentative voice floated in the air, coming from somewhere south of his head. "Doctor McKay?"

He groaned instead, closing his eyes against the pain thudding in his skull.

"I'll get Doctor Beckett." A swish of fabric and it was silent once again. Drifting on the edges of consciousness, he heard a shuffle of feet against the floor, felt a hand touch his arm.

Carson brushed at the sleeve, trying to rouse him into full consciousness. "Rodney, lad, how are you feeling?"

He forced an eye open, narrowing it slightly as he tried to glare at the man at his bedside. He felt drunk and sore and….wrong. Shifting slightly, he groaned, the only thing he could manage right now.

Carson adjusted the IV, checked his pulse. He gestured for a nurse to bring over a cup of water. "Rodney, your body seems to be in a bit of rebellion. I gave you a painkiller, then you managed to give yourself a wee bit of a shock. All your vitals and tests are coming back clean, so if you can wake up a bit, we can see about getting the IV out and getting you a real dinner."

The thought of anything in his stomach right now just made him nauseous. He groaned again, trying to shift in the bed, managing to shake his head when the straw appeared in his line of sight.

"I know you don't think you want anything, but trust me, getting a little water and some toast in ye should help settle yer stomach." The Scot slurred his words a bit as he spoke, earning a sharp look from the one nurse in view.

"No." He managed to push the word out, wanting to curl up but refusing to give into the urge. Taking another shaky breath he managed a short sentence. "Leave me 'lone."

Carson ran a hand across his eyes. "Rodney, I know how much you din'na like sleeping here and how much you love your mattress. If you can get that wee bit down, I'll have one of my nurses escort you back to your room to sleep. You are suffering from exhaustion; between the injury and the rescue, your body just does'na want to be awake any more. Please. Just for once listen to me without arguing?"

Rodney blinked several times before finding the energy to answer, knowing he had to explain something, but not knowing what to say. His mind was still a jumble. "Unless you want…floor decorated with…toast, leave me alone."

"Rodney..." Carson started to move closer to the bed when a somewhat astonished looked passed across his face. Seconds later, he slowly slid to the floor. Several nurses started yelling and running over, but the doctor was already out cold.

McKay groaned and closed his eyes, curling up a little more on the bed.

xxx

It was the voices that slowly brought him back. After a few minutes, he realized it was his head nurse, Anne Matthews, and Elizabeth talking.

"…and all their vitals are fine. We can't physically find anything wrong with either of them. Doctor McKay seems to be a bit worse, but they both have the same symptoms. Mostly it looks like exhaustion, but as far as I know neither of them has ever collapsed like that, even with very little sleep. At least Doctor McKay is awake now. He slept for a few more hours, and while he still refuses to try eating, he is conscious." Anne sounded worried.

"Keep an eye on them, and keep trying to find out what's wrong." Elizabeth sounded tired. Carson thought he should tell her to go rest, but the effort of opening his eyes, much less making any noise, was just too much to contemplate. He heard rustling in the bed next to him, and managed to get one eye open, only to see Rodney McKay staring at him.

"Hmph." It was all he could manage.

Rodney blinked. Once. Twice. "Welcome to my world."

Carson closed his eye again. He really didn't think he was up to snarking, and Rodney sounded way too happy about that.

"Enjoy the nausea. It's a pip."

Maybe if he ignored him, Carson thought, he would leave him alone. Anne must be truly annoyed with him to put him in the bed right next to the astrophysicist.

"Have I mentioned the gut wrenching cramps?"

Groaning, Carson made a half-hearted attempt to roll over, but didn't manage to do more than rock slightly. "Shut up." Maybe being blunt would work.

"Or maybe the headache where you think your brains are going to spill out on the floor."

"You know," he managed to croak out, "if you had just taken the damn painkillers and gone to bed when I told you to, none of this would have happened."

"Or maybe if you hadn't jabbed me with a syringe full of drugs probably not approved by the FDA I wouldn't have touched those wires and crystals at the same time."

"It was pain killer. You can'na tell me you weren't hurting. I saw it in your eyes. You needed sleep, and you couldn't get it when your ass was aching."

"You saw it in my eyes?" He huffed, blowing out air in one gush. "Should I even mention the drugging someone against his or her will thing?"

"Fine, next time I'll withhold all painkillers and make you writhe on the bed for days on end."

"Maybe this will teach you to actually listen to people when they ask the first time."

"You didn't need them then. Why is it you blather about the world ending when nothing is really wrong, and you refuse all help when you actually need it?"

"And who are you to tell me how my ass is feeling?"

"You were shifting around on your chair when I saw you in the mess, the pain was pretty evident on your face, and your eyes weren't really focusing properly. I think, as a doctor, I can recognize the signs of pain and exhaustion."

"And see," McKay said, and Carson could hear him shifting on the bed, "that brings me right back to my initial thought. If you had just done as I asked hours before—when he got back from the stupid mission—we wouldn't be here now."

Carson cracked an eye again, turning his head to look at the other man. "As I said before, you did'na need them then. You had enough in your system, and anything else would have had adverse effects."

Rodney rolled his eyes, grimacing a little as he moved again. "Not. Your. Ass."

Carson glared out of one eye. "I'm. Your. Doctor."

McKay huffed. "Why do I bother?" He lifted his head enough to turn it on the pillow so it was facing the other way.

"I ask myself the same question every day."

"I'm done. Find yourself another patient."

Carson was glad Rodney was turned away from him, as he was too tired to conceal the pain that had nothing to do with his stomach as it flashed across his face. How had he managed to screw up so badly? With a quiet sigh, he closed his eye again, silently making a mental note to ask Doctor Biro to take over Rodney's care when he saw her again.

xxx

Rodney sighed when he finally heard Carson's breathing level off. He hated arguing with the man, but for Pete's sake, it wasn't like he was giving him much of a choice in the matter. And he felt horrible. It's not like he could expect him to be chipper about the whole situation.

He pressed the call button and a few minutes later Nurse Matthews walked over, concern on her face, her brown hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. It looked thousands of times better on her than Kavanaugh.

"Doctor McKay, what can I get you?"

He tried not to whine, but he knew it came out that way. It was the pain. At least that's what he'd say. "Is there any way for me to go back to my quarters?"

"I'm sorry, but until we have a better idea of what's wrong with you, Doctor Biro has ordered that you and Doctor Beckett are to be under constant supervision. Can I get you a cup of water?"

"I want my own bed and peace and quiet. Come on," he said. "I'll ask the control room to leave an open channel to my quarters and the infirmary. I just really need some privacy."

"I'm sorry, but there is nothing I can do."

He shifted, pulling his elbows under him as he lifted his upper body a little so he could see her better. He kept his voice low, not wanting to wake the other man, but trying to put some force behind his words. "Trust me when I say this, but I think Carson and I would feel a lot better with some distance between us."

She shook her head, and smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry, but until Doctor Beckett recovers, Doctor Weir has placed Doctor Biro in charge. She gave strict orders, and she won't give in to us nurses or let us off lightly if we go against her wishes. You can take it up with her when she checks on you tomorrow morning, though. Now if there isn't anything else...?" She looked back towards the rest of the infirmary, where the sounds of other patients were faint, but audible.

McKay sighed, dropping his head into the pillow, letting his arms collapse under him. "Can you give me something for the headache?"

She shot him a look of pity. "I'm afraid Doctor Biro has ordered no unnecessary drugs be administered, since we don't know what is wrong or what side effects there may be. Her exact orders were 'If they aren't having convulsions with imminent heart failure, they get nothing.'"

He groaned. "I swear my brains are going to start running out of my nose if I don't get something. Just knock me out so I can sleep. Wake her up if you have to. I'm uncomfortable and getting more so every minute you delay."

She patted him on the arm, turned down the lights, and pulled the sheets up over him, apology on her face. "We'll try to keep it as quiet as possible. Have a nice night, Doctor McKay." With that, she disappeared around a corner.

Glancing back up as her footsteps receded, he shook his head. This was certainly time to take matters into his own hands.

Glancing back to where Carson was lying, he waited a few moments, making sure he was asleep. Seeing no movement other than the rise and fall of the other man's chest, Rodney leaned over and closed the IV line and quickly yanked out the IV from the back of his wrist, hissing at the sharp pain.

Shifting over slightly, he managed to get one leg off the bed and said a prayer to the infirmary god. At least he was in scrub pants. He hated those backless gowns.

Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself and pushed off, managing to get his feet under him without losing his balance. He waited for the room to stop spinning before he moved off, peering around the infirmary to see if anyone was looking.

So far the coast was clear.

The pain didn't really hit until he was at the door to the hallway, but it took his breath away and drove him to his knees.

Damn, he thought, hearing the sound of running feet and exclamations of surprise and dismay. He was so close.

xxx

Carson awoke to the sound of people giving conflicting orders, yelling about IVs and gurneys and needles. He managed to get both eyes open this time, to be greeted by the sight of a medical team hauling Rodney from a portable gurney to the more permanent bed.

What in the bloody hell was going on?

But before he could ask, Doctor Biro was there, slicing through the noise and giving orders that no one would dare to counter. She had the brusquest bedside manner he had ever seen, but she was competent.

Rodney's loud and heated complaints fell on deaf ears, as she smoothly pulled straps over his arms and legs, and stuck an IV in his arm. "You are obviously delusional if you thought you could leave on your own power, Doctor McKay. Until I am convinced that you are operating under your own will and not that of some alien virus, you will remain strapped to the bed."

"Come on, just let me go. You can't do that! Come on," he said, tugging quite hard on the restraints trapping his limbs. "I'm fine. Just let me go back to my quarters. I'm fine. I need to get out of here. Just let me up."

Carson was impressed she could stay so impassive in the face a full-blown Rodney snit. "No." Then she deliberately turned her back to him, gave a few orders about no drugs and supervision, and left.

The next words were muttered, bordering on hysteria. "Nonononononono. Just let me go."

Rodney turned toward him slightly, eyes slightly glazed, more reflective than they've been earlier. "Nononono. I need to get out of here. Need to get out." He tugged at the restraints again, struggling against them.

Carson sat up, alarmed. The room swam for a moment, then, careful not to repeat Rodney's mistake, he shifted on the bed enough to lay a shaky hand on the man's forehead. "Rodney. It's okay, lad. I'm here. We are going to get through this, I promise." He only hoped it wasn't an empty promise. The med team was working on it but...

"Carson, please."

Closing his eyes, Carson realized that despite his resolve to give Rodney what he had requested, to back off and let another doctor care for him, he couldn't leave his friend like this. It didn't matter than movement made his stomach do flips or his vision go blurry. "Promise me you won't try to leave again. Please. If you do I can take off the restraints. I...Rodney, if you try to leave again, they'll only restrain us both."

"I have to get out of here. Have to get out," Rodney said, repeating the phrase over and over as he tugged and yanked at the bands holding him to the bed.

Carson rang for one of the nurses. Anne appeared a moment later looked a little disheveled, her eyes wide. "Lass, he needs a relaxant, needs to be released from the restraints." He used his best pleading look. She hesitated, since technically he wasn't in charge at the moment. She hesitated. "Look at him," he said, trying to put some force into his words, "does that look okay to you?"

She hesitated a moment longer, before nodding. She left quickly, only to return a few moments later, needle in hand. She injected the contents into Rodney's IV line. He hoped it was something calming.

"It's something you normally prescribe for him," she said, offering a reassuring smile. "I looked earlier."

He watched Rodney for another moment—the man's body twitching and fighting the restraints—before his own body gave out on him and he sank back into the bed. "Tell Doctor Biro I requested that Rodney be allowed to have an isolation room. Being here is obviously distressing him, and we both know that isn't conductive to a good recovery."

Anne nodded, patting his arm before straightening his blankets and moving away on quiet feet.

Carson drifted back to sleep to the sounds of Rodney slowly quieting down. Hopefully things would be better tomorrow.

xxx

Rodney opened his eyes, rolling his head to the side, blinking slowly as the room came into view, the walls of the infirmary replaced by the high ceiling of isolation room one.

How did he get here?

He felt sluggish, heavy, disconnected, letting his eyes drift closed. His head ached deep inside, more than the worse migraine he'd ever had, but without the shooting pain.

When he went to lift his hand to rub it on his forehead, though, he discovered his arms were tired to the bed and he could feel his heart start to beat faster. Lifting his head, his eyes now wide, watering against the pain, he spied the cuffs on his ankles as well and he could feel the panic rising.

Glancing around the empty room, his breath started to come in gasps. Why was he here? What happened? Why was he like this?

He could hear words, but he couldn't grasp them, couldn't comprehend what they were telling him. All he could think of was Offoffoffoffoffoff!

He could feel hands on his arms, touching him, holding him down as he tried to move, to get away, but he couldn't.

One voice, though, finally got through.

"Rodney! Rodney, snap out of it!" John Sheppard's voice was rough, commanding, and soothing, all at the same time.

He stopped, waiting, refusing to open his eyes. What if he was imaging it? His muscles were tense under the hands, the pressure on his limbs constant.

"Rodney, listen to me. Open your eyes. You have to snap out of it."

Nononononono. Where was Carson? Why was Sheppard here?

"Carson is still in the infirmary, Rodney, you asked to be moved away from him. I'm here to help. Listen to me, Rodney. Open your eyes."

Wrenching his eyes open, he found himself with a face-full of John Sheppard, hazel eyes filled with worry, hands holding down his right side while Nurse Matthews had his left. "Sheppard?" he whispered.

"I'm here. It's okay. You were having some sort of panic attack. It's going to be okay."

Rodney took a shaky breath, trying to convince his muscles to relax, but they weren't listening. "What happened?" he asked, his voice weaker than he liked. He felt wrung out and wired at the same time.

"We don't know. You spaced out last night, tried to make a break for it. They had to strap you down, and then I guess you convinced Carson to have them move you here." John motioned for someone to come over, and Doctor Biro appeared in view. "Doctor, what the hell is going on here?"

Rodney shifted his gaze to the doctor, but he kept glancing back toward the Colonel as if he was going to disappear.

"We're not sure. Doctor Beckett, while experiencing some of the same symptoms initially, is improving quickly with rest." She paused, trying to put a smile on her face, but McKay knew she was just trying to be nice. "We're still trying to sort things out."

"Sort faster." Sheppard growled. "I didn't just recover one of my team members from death at the hands of the Wraith to have another one down from some sort of mental virus."

Mental virus? He didn't like the sound of that. Sheppard glanced down at him, an eyebrow raised. Had he said that out loud?

"We are going to figure this out. Rodney, can you remember anything unusual, anything that might have happened to you and Carson before you collapsed?"

"Collapsed?"

Sheppard looked at him carefully. "Yes, when you collapsed. After Carson gave you the painkillers, you collapsed. Anything happen before that? Were you playing with any strange alien devices or anything?"

He glanced up, narrowing his eyes, his tone edging down into dangerous territory. "I never play with anything. I work on things—very carefully and methodically."

The Colonel grinned. "Now that sounds more like my McKay. Okay, so were you carefully and methodically working on anything that might have decided messing with you and Beckett sounded like a fun time?"

He tugged at the restraints again. "I need to finish. It's important."

The grin faded, to be replaced by a confused look. "Finish what?"

"What I was working on. It's important. We need it. Let me go. I need to go."

"Rodney," Sheppard drew the word out. "What were you working on?"

"Nonononono. You don't understand. It's vital. I have to go." He pulled at the restraints holding him to the bed. "Let me go. I need to finish it."

"Rodney!" Sheppard's voice had the crack of command in it. "Don't slip away again. Focus! What were you working on?"

"I. Have. To. Go. Let me go! I have to get out of here. Have to get out." The words flew from his mouth, faster and faster, as he begged and pleaded with them to listen to him, to let him finish what he'd started.

The Colonel was pushed away by Doctor Biro, who shot something into his IV line. Even though Sheppard wasn't next to the bed, he continued to talk, low, soothing, the same tone he had used to bring Rodney back before. "Listen to me, it's the mental virus thing talking here, McKay. Fight it. Don't let it take over. Deep breaths. Let the drugs work, let them help you fight it."

He shook his head from side to side, his muscles finally relaxing into the bed as everything slowed down, his last words begging them to let him finish.

xxx

Carson was on his back, staring at the ceiling. He did his best to ignore the cramping and occasional spasms. They were more of an inconvenience than anything else.

How had he managed to screw up so badly? Firs the debacle with the Hoffans, then the whole Michael incident, and now he had lost Rodney's trust. No matter how he tried to squirm and evade responsibility, it all kept coming back to one thing.

He wasn't fit to be CMO of Atlantis, much less even a doctor here.

He heard noises coming from the isolation area, people rushing over there, and he wondered what was going on. He hoped Rodney was happier there, away from him, away from being forced to look at someone you hated.

After a while, he saw Doctor Biro starting to walk across the room. He had seen Colonel Sheppard go in earlier, so Carson assumed he was still with Rodney. It hurt, a little, that everyone was so very concerned about Rodney, and not one person had stopped to see how he was doing. He knew Rodney was worse off than he was, but would it kill them to stop by and see how he was doing too? It just reinforced that he really wasn't doing much good here. Someone else could do much better.

He raised a shaky hand and managed to catch Doctor Biro's attention, waving her over. "How is Rodney doing? Is he okay?" He couldn't help it.

Biro paused beside the bed, her hand instinctively reaching for his wrist. She took a deep breath, releasing it slowly before she answered. "I honestly don't know."

It was odd to have someone checking his pulse, odd to see his own habits in someone else. "You don't know?" He sat up a little straighter, or tried to anyway. "What happened?"

She shook her head, stepping back a pace. "He's not…all there. Once we get him calm again we need to get him under the scanner and take a look at his brain function, but…" She sighed, her gaze dropping. "He's insistent he has to finish something that he has to get out of the infirmary. I just can't keep sedating him, but he's too agitated otherwise."

He felt his eyes widen. "What do you mean not all there? What is he doing? What does he need to finish?" Request for another doctor be damned, Rodney was a friend, and he wanted to help if nothing else. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Sometimes it sounds like Doctor McKay, but other times…he's not making a lot of sense." She glanced toward the nearly depleted IV bag. "And as for you, no, there's nothing you can do except rest and get back on your feet. Are you feeling any better?"

He let his body fall back into the bedding. That was really the crux of it, wasn't it? He really wasn't needed. "Aye, fine. Can you let me know if there is any change in his condition?"

She nodded, narrowing her eyes. "And you still didn't answer my question."

"Question? Which one was that, lass?" He slid his eyes to his lap, where his hands were tightly clenched together to hide the fact that they were still shaking slightly.

Her tone was clipped. "How are you feeling? It's not a difficult one to answer."

"Oh. Ah, better. Much, thanks." He didn't raise his eyes. She had more important things to do than worry about a few stomach cramps and muscle spasms.

Her eyebrow rose, her voice hard. "Try again."

He steeled himself, forcing a light smile onto his face as he glanced up. "Really, I'm feeling much better. Let me know if Rodney changes, okay?"

"Doctor," she said, pausing after the first word for a moment. "Whatever's happening to Doctor McKay obviously has some ties with your collapse. I need to know exactly what symptoms you are experiencing so I can treat him."

He shrugged, uncomfortable with the questions. He knew, intellectually, that she was right, but at the same time, he just wanted to be left alone at this point. "It was pretty much the same as Rodney's original symptoms, stomach cramps, and shakiness. I'm feeling better though." He hoped she didn't notice that his knuckles were white from the effort of holding his hands still.

She looked at him for nearly a minute before nodding once, briskly. "You'll let me know immediately if it changes?"

"Aye. I think I'll just get some sleep now. Goodness knows I need to catch up." He managed to look up and give her another smile he hoped was reassuring and relaxed.

Biro nodded again, fussing with the IV line before finally walking away.

Thank God. He didn't want to think about what was going on. In the back of his head, from what she had told him...what if he had pushed Rodney into some sort of mental collapse? What if the drug he had given him, meant to help, had done just the opposite? This was all his fault.

He turned over, intending to get some sleep, or at least make everyone think he was sleeping. Before he could get comfortable, however, he heard Colonel Sheppard come out of the isolation room, giving orders to nurses to find out what the hell was wrong.

He heard the man's voice getting closer, heading his way. He closed his eyes tightly, hoping he would move on. Carson wasn't in the mood for conversation. Footsteps stopped next to his bed, and he silently begged the Colonel to just go away.

"I know you're awake, so you can stop pretending not to be."

He felt his hand twitch, but quickly forced it still, eyes still closed, still silent.

"Being the stubborn Scot, are you? Well, then," he said, a scrape of the bedside chair against the floor filling in the pause. "I might as well tell you what's going on down the hall if you haven't been able to hear the ruckus."

Carson debated staying quiet, but he really did want to know what was going on. He gave up and opened one eye. "How is Rodney?"

Sheppard looked…haggard. Rubbing a hand against the back of his neck, he offered a slight smile, no more than a twitch at the corner of his mouth. "Not good."

Opening his other eye, Carson leveraged himself up a bit. "Doctor Biro is the best. I'm sure she'll figure it out."

Sheppard shook his head, obviously not convinced. "I know she's a good doctor, but she's way out of her depth."

"She's the best we have," Carson repeated. "If anyone can get Rodney back to normal, it will be her."

"No. Our best is sitting on his ass feeling sorry for himself."

Carson shot him a startled look, and then looked down. Uncomfortable with the statement, he decided to try and change the topic. "How is Ronon doing? Anne told me he was released to his own quarters this morning, and is on light duty until his wounds all get healed up."

"He's sitting with Rodney right now, actually."

"Ah." He didn't know what else to say.

"You know Anne overheard you last night."

"O-overheard? What do you mean?"

Sheppard tilted his head, narrowing his eyes. "Apparently Ronon heard too. You weren't exactly quiet." He paused. "What the hell is going on with the two of you? Anne mentioned something about a Marine, too."

"Nothing." It was out quickly, the word practically tumbling out of his mouth. "Look, Colonel, I really am tired. Can we do this later?" He started to bring his hand to his face to run it across his eyes, but aborted and put it in his lap when he remembered the shaking.

"Fine." The word was sharp. "Rodney very well might be losing his mind and you're tired. I'll be talking to Doctor Biro trying to figure out a way to get my friend back. Have a nice nap."

Stung, Carson couldn't stop the choke from getting out. "I'm sorry. I just... I... What if it is my fault?" He stopped, clamping his mouth shut. He hadn't meant to say that.

"Your fault?" Sheppard took a deep breath before he continued. "Again I have to ask: what the hell is going on?"

Sighing, Carson realized he had to come clean. He had told them about the painkillers and how he had given them to Rodney, but not about the fight that led to the drastic measures.

"He was in pain, but was refusing anything, refusing to sleep and I knew he needed it. We argued about it, and I tried to order him to the infirmary. But, you know Rodney. He refused and went off to sulk. I had hoped he would come around, but after a while I, well, you know. I medicated him and then he collapsed." His voice dropped to almost a whisper. "It's my fault. Whatever is wrong, I did it to him."

"What did you give him? Something different than normal?"

"No, the same thing I had given him earlier. But that's no excuse. I should have... I don't know. I was tired, I wasn't thinking straight. At first I thought it was just the shock, I felt it, a spark, so I know it hit him harder when that thing he was fiddling with did whatever it did." He raised is hand again, this time letting it rest across his eyes, hiding him from Sheppard, from the accusation he knew had to be there. "It was my fault."

"What spark?"

"The spark, from the Ancient gizmo he was playing with. It shocked him right before he fell. I had my hand on him, so I felt a bit of a shock, like when you touch something metal on a cold day."

"Damn, Beckett. Why didn't you say that before?" A rustle of fabric and the squawk of the chair against the floor punctuated his question. "Sheppard to Zelenka. Doc, what was Rodney working on?"

At his words, Carson felt a flutter of panic. No, no one should touch that. His stomach cramped up, and his hands started to shake more. "Colonel! No, ah, you should leave it alone."

"What? What the—" He broke off, the next words decidedly louder. "Doctor Biro! It's Beckett!" A warm, dry hand grabbed his arm. "Oh, don't you do this to me too. One was enough."

He curled into a ball, trying to stop his body from the spasms that were swiftly getting worse. "Please, just promise, don't mess with it. It isn't ready yet, it has to be completed first." Carson didn't know where the words were coming from, but he couldn't stop them.

"We won't mess with anything, trust me. We need to know what it is, what Rodney was working on."

At his words, the shudders stopped, but the flutters of panic were still there, hovering around the edges of his awareness. As the attack stopped, he heard people running towards him. Then he slipped into blessed darkness.

xxx