Wraithbait

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1. Chapter One2. Chapter Two3. Chapter Three

Author's Note: This story is gen so far, but who knows how long that will last—so I decided to list it under pre-slash just to be safe.


"And what's that?"

McKay eyed Sheppard dubiously. He had been acting strangely since the moment he had joined him in the lab, looking a little pale and asking inane questions—the answers to which consisted of explanations he usually tried to avoid. He narrowed his eyes. "Are you sure you're alright?"


Sheppard gave a strange little smile that McKay supposed was meant to be reassuring, and dropped down on the bench. His eyes widened innocently as he said, "I'm fine. What is it?"

McKay gave the item in question a dismissive glance and returned his attention to his laptop. "I don't know. We haven't figured it out yet. Why don't you touch it and see if it explodes?" he asked wryly. "Put me out of my misery."

When Sheppard provided him with no cutting response, he glanced over at him in concern. "I'm bothering you," Sheppard said, succinctly, once their eyes had met.

McKay raised an eyebrow. "You have a keen grasp of the obvious, Major."

Sheppard gave that odd little smile again, and got to his feet. "Right," he said simply, and started towards the door.

Rodney's fingers paused over the keys. He should have been thankful—he should have been rejoicing, even, at the quiet his absence left, because he had a million vitally important things he needed to be doing at any given time. Only thing was John Sheppard didn't usually leave rooms quietly, and when he did, it usually meant something was terribly wrong. He rolled his eyes at the inconveniences of being a friend, and got to his feet.

"Major!" he called, and ahead of him, already halfway down the hall, John pulled to a reluctant stop and turned around. McKay bit his lip when he realized he'd gone a few shades down from pale now, and was hovering barely above ghostly. "Maybe we should go to the infirmary," he suggested quietly.

Sheppard shook his head, giving a small little derisive laugh. "Go do your work, McKay."

Rodney grabbed his arm when John turned away, but John pulled quickly and violently away, stumbling so hard he had to reach out his other hand to balance himself against the wall. "What is wrong with you?" McKay hissed, realizing even as he was doing it, that he shouldn't be this angry. He had a knack for turning concern to anger, however, as it was easier to deal with it that way and it was a remarkably hard habit to break.

"Nothing," John hissed, but McKay could see his hair was getting damp from sweat, and he could barely talk through his sudden, labored breathing.

"We're going to see Beckett, now," McKay snapped firmly, reaching for him again.

Sheppard stumbled away from him, and McKay saw clearly the change—he stilled, suspended, and then started to fall. Rodney leapt forward, horrified, and wrapped his arms around the Major's waist just in time to help guide him towards the ground.

John's head fell back against his shoulder as they made it down, and McKay reached for his forehead, surprised to find he was burning up. "What did you do?" he asked quietly.

Sheppard gave a vague kind of laugh. "I don't know. I think I might be sick."

If McKay hadn't been so worried, he would have rolled his eyes. He tapped his comm. "Beckett, you need to get a medical team to my lab—now!"

It seemed like an hour of waiting before Beckett told him he was on his way—it couldn't have been more than a minute. John swayed against him and then went still. Rodney just closed his eyes and started counting back from two hundred. He was at fifty when they arrived and pulled him away.

* * * *

McKay paced the length of the infirmary and back. Beckett watched his movements warily, as he carefully withdrew a blood sample from John's arm. "He's not going to wake up for a few hours, Rodney. There's no need for you to stay around."

"What's wrong with him?" McKay snapped, his jaw tightly clenched. "He was fine, Carson—acting a little odd, okay, yeah, but he was fine. Then he just dropped."

Beckett sighed. "I can't tell you what I don't know."

"How reassuring," McKay snapped. "Are you or are you not the doctor around here?"

Beckett cast him a brief censuring glance. "I'll be able to tell you more once I run his blood work," he said, calmly, as he handed the blood sample off to a nurse. He watched Sheppard carefully. "We can only hope this is not some alien virus."

"Alien virus!" McKay yelled. "Aren't you supposed to...oh, I don't know, reassure people? And not go talking on about killer alien viruses!?"

Beckett glanced up at him. "You need to calm down, Rodney."

"Calm down! Oh, sure, why didn't I think of that? Solves everything, doesn't it?" McKay started pacing again, avoiding Beckett's eyes, and more than that, avoiding the still form on the only occupied bed.

Beckett turned and walked towards his laptop, trying not to notice the way McKay followed his every step. "Maybe you can help," he said. "Do you know what the Major was doing that could have exposed him to something harmful?"

"Oh, yes. He tells me he's going to go explore all these lovely different contaminated rooms on Atlantis all the time, and I just happily allow him to wander off. What the hell do you think? Don't you think if he was doing something dangerous I might have, you know, said something?"

Beckett paused, his eyes widening as he looked up at McKay, clearly taken aback. "That's not exactly what I meant."

McKay winced and turned away, running a hand through his hair. "I know."

Weir broke the awkward stand-off when she strode briskly into the room, and headed straight for Sheppard. "What's wrong with him?" she asked, and Beckett let out another sigh.

"I'm not sure yet," he said.

"Beckett needs more time," Rodney told her, with a grim plastic smile. "Of course, we're not sure Sheppard has it."

Weir gave Rodney a curious glance before looking back down at Sheppard. "Is this something contagious, Doctor?"

"He doesn't know that either," McKay answered promptly, before Carson had even opened his mouth. "He doesn't know anything, actually, but thanks for stopping by."

Weir looked a little speechless at Rodney's ranting, and so Beckett stepped up beside her. "You'll have to forgive Rodney, Elizabeth, he's just worried."

"Worried?" Rodney sneered. "Major Sheppard owes me five thousand dollars, and I just don't want him dying before we make it back to Earth and he has to pay up."

"Five thousand dollars?" Weir asked, obviously confused.

"Is this really something you want to talk about now?" Rodney snapped coldly, and Weir glanced bemused over at Beckett.

"I should be heading back," she said, cautiously, obviously not wanting to stick around for the impending fireworks. "Contact me the moment you learn anything, Doctor."

"Will do," Beckett said.

Rodney watched her leave, before his eyes flickered nervously back to John.

"You should go too, Rodney," Beckett said, gently, placing a hand on Rodney's arm.

McKay shook him off irritably, and took a few steps off to the side. "I'm fine. Shouldn't you be doing something? Like maybe trying to find out what the hell's wrong with him?"

Beckett gave a brief sad smile and walked away.

McKay dropped down into the chair beside Sheppard's bed, and rested his elbows on the mattress—his head in his hands. "You'd better wake up," he whispered, but John didn't move.

* * * *

The first thing he noticed when awareness returned was the paper pajamas. He groaned, not sure he wanted to know what had happened this time—and then wondered, not for the first time, just how the hell they ever managed to change his clothes while he was unconscious. It couldn't be easy, what with all the buttons on his BDUs, and these med scrubs ripped remarkably easily. He grinned a little as he decided he didn't want to know.

"What the hell are you smiling for?"

He cracked one of his eyes open at the outraged voice, to see McKay with crossed arms and a scowl glaring down at him. "Good morning to you, too, sunshine," he said, running a hand through his hair. "What time is it?"

"What time is it?" Rodney repeated it dangerously. "You want the time?"

Sheppard glanced over at him, a little worried by the tone. It didn't sound like a trick question, but he was thinking 'yes' might be the wrong way to go. "No...?" he said uncertainly, and McKay rolled his eyes.

"Let's review," McKay said tightly. "Last night, I was working in my lab. Where were you?"

"Is this another trick question?" John asked warily, closing his eyes again.

McKay shook him a little to get his eyes open again, and he saw Beckett running over. "You nearly died!" McKay snapped, and Beckett glared at him.

McKay didn't exactly get the reaction he was going for when Sheppard only yawned and said, "Did I?"

"You did not nearly die, Major," Beckett said calmly, glaring over at McKay. "You merely had some kind of reaction...to something."

"Instill him with a little more confidence, why don't you?" McKay snapped.

"I'm not the one telling him he almost died, now am I?" Beckett snapped back, and Sheppard put his hand to his forehead again.


"Can I go?" he asked.

Beckett and McKay both turned to glare at him. "No," they snapped, simultaneously.

"Look," John said, charmingly. "I remember now, alright? I wasn't feeling so hot so I went to bug Rodney, when I left I stepped on some kind of carousel in the middle of the hallway and everything started spinning. I collapsed, end of story—I feel fine now."

"If you had a large bleeding gash on you leg," McKay snapped, "you would keep walking and say you're fine."

Sheppard grinned. "Is that a compliment?"

"Are you actually asking me that?" McKay asked harshly.

"Enough," Beckett said, giving them both quelling glances. "As soon as I get your blood work we can decide how to proceed," he said, glancing down at Sheppard. "Until then, I want you to stay here, under my observation."

McKay gave a supportive little nod, and Sheppard watched him warily. "What's with him?" he asked Beckett, with a not-so-subtle nod in Rodney's direction.

McKay sputtered a little at the question, but Beckett only gave a small grin. "He's been here all night. Protecting his investment, he says."

Sheppard laughed, but it turned into a coughing fit that gave McKay and Beckett concerned frowns. "Well, I've told him before; I'm not really giving him that five thousand dollars."

"Oh yes you will," McKay snapped. "Or I'll make your life a living hell."

"Don't you do that already?" Sheppard asked, amused.

"No. Be afraid, Major," Rodney said, but his words held less bite for how exhausted he sounded. "This is without trying."

"It's really your own fault, Major," Beckett said, with a shake of his head. "You should really have known better than to play Trivial Pursuit with him, let alone for money."

"Yeah, well who the hell brought that as their personal item, anyway?" John groused. "They'd better hope for their sake I don't ever get my hands on them."

"You're just a poor loser," McKay said, with a grin.

"I'll take you on any day, McKay," Sheppard told him.

"Not today, you won't," Beckett said firmly. "You need sleep, Major. If you don't do it on your own, I'll get you some help."

Sheppard let out a shaky breath and waved him away. "Yeah, yeah. Sleep. Got it."

Beckett nodded and headed back to his office, to check on the progress of the Major's blood results. McKay watched him go for a moment before dropping again into the chair beside John's bed.

John watched him skeptically. "What are you doing?" he asked.

McKay held up a small stack of paper. "I have some reports to go through. Thought I might as well do it here."

Sheppard grinned wryly as he closed his eyes. "Whatever. I think you just get off on watching me sleep."

"Oh, yes, Major. It's what I live for," Rodney intoned grandly, never looking up from the reports.

"At least you're admitting it," John said, amused, before his breathing evened out and he fell asleep.

* * * *

Weir leaned against the doorway, and Rodney was in the chair in front of Beckett's desk, his chin resting in his right hand. Beckett, for his part, looked at a loss. "His blood work was clean," he said.

Agitatedly, Rodney pushed to his feet. "You saw him, Carson; just try to tell me there was nothing wrong."

"I'm not saying there is nothing wrong," Beckett said, trying to calm him. "I'm saying his blood work came back clean."

"So it isn't a virus," Weir said, relieved. "We don't have to worry about an outbreak?"

Beckett shook his head. "When dealing with things of other worlds there are no certainties, Elizabeth, as you know, but his blood contains no conventional viruses—I cannot find anything amiss at all."

"Then what the hell's wrong with him?" McKay yelled, and Weir glanced at him, surprised by his vehemence.


Beckett, growing used to his outbursts, simply looked thoughtful. "It's possible he suffered from a panic attack," he said. "The principle symptoms are all there."

"A panic attack?" McKay repeated dubiously. "This man has faced down aliens with super powers without batting an eye and you think he had a panic attack in the middle of a hallway?"

"We all deal with things our own way, Rodney," Beckett said with a shrug. "Some react during the action, others long after."

"I don't buy it," Rodney snapped, and Elizabeth sighed.

"Just keep an eye on him," she said, glancing from Beckett to Rodney. "You're on stand down until further notice."

Rodney nodded distractedly as she left.

"You should get some sleep," Beckett suggested softly, but Rodney walked away without looking back. Beckett sighed and then got to his feet to follow him over to Sheppard's bed.

"What's the verdict?" John asked, looking a little smug, as though he already knew.

Beckett pursed his lips, before telling him reluctantly, "You're free to go for now, Major. But I—"

The Doctor trailed off as John grinned and threw the covers off, because he was already wearing blue BDU pants and a black t-shirt, with black boots firmly laced on both of his feet. "Good," Sheppard said.

"How did you...?" Beckett started.

"You changed while we were all in there?" McKay asked, disbelievingly. "Weir was a few feet away!"

"I doubt it's anything she hasn't seen before," John said wryly, giving him a quick wink. "Besides, none of you saw me. I'm stealthy."

"How did you know I was going to release you?" Beckett asked with a frown.

Sheppard rolled his eyes. "Because I'm fine, I feel fine, and I wasn't planning on staying here anyway."

"You are to come back here the moment you feel anything unusual, Major," Beckett said firmly, but John wasn't listening to him so he turned to McKay. "Watch him for me, would you, Rodney?"

McKay nodded and Sheppard groaned, because he could see in his eyes; McKay was taking that as a personal challenge.

"I don't need a babysitter," he snapped, as he carefully lowered himself from the bed.

"Good," McKay said, giving him a wide smile. "I have no intention of acting as one."

Sheppard's eyes narrowed. "Good." He was still watching McKay with suspicion as he started from the room, and he wasn't surprised when both McKay and Beckett's laughter followed him out the door.

to be continued...