Excuse Me If I'm Paranoid

PART ONE

A quart low in the crankcase.

The elevator doesn't go all the way to the top.

The inmates are in charge of the asylum.

There were so many… God, he couldn't even remember the word. Oh, sayings. Yes, sayings. Damn cold had his head clogged and watching his colleagues and friends fall under the spell of that Lucius character was giving him a headache as well.

For some reason, he knew this idea of swiping, or rather 'harvesting' as someone had more politically correct called it, abandoned Stargates, was going to be a bad idea. He had no idea why, but just flying around all over the galaxy with a stuffed head was a bad idea. It hadn't affected his flying abilities, but obviously it did affect his thought processes as he would have been more on the ball. But he'd left Ronon – Ronon, for God's sake! - watching Lucius. He couldn't believe the Satedan would have fallen for the man's bizarre influence like Carson had.

In retrospect, he pondered how this was indirectly his own fault. They'd visited that planet, run into the most unctuous man he'd ever had the misfortune to meet – an individual with six gorgeous wives and ridiculously tall tales he could spin all night long – and had nothing to offer except hitting on Teyla. Sheppard had really been surprised Teyla hadn't hit on him – in the literal sense. But he knew they were always on the look out for new medicines. They'd run across some bacterial strains that been pretty nasty and resistant to Earth drugs, so…. he'd let Carson go it alone – at the physician's own insistence - get back on the horse type of crap after the disastrous Wraith experiment/kidnapping that took the doctor a while to get over. These people sure weren't Genii spies as the Genii would have shot that jerk long ago… Sheppard was getting tired of having that phrase 'in retrospect' run through his mind.

But Carson sure was happy now. Any happier and he should be wearing a T-shirt with a big yellow smiley face on it and passing out flowers at an airport.

The 'harvesting' had been bad enough with Rodney going on about relocating people off a planet so they could take the gate. He'd been so tempted to smack the scientist in the head for the suggestion, but he was in the co-pilot's seat, a bit too far away, and all Sheppard wanted to do was get home, grab himself a mug of something really hot and clear out his sinuses.

But like all best laid plans, it had gone to hell so quickly.

At least Rodney had had the common sense to look confused and worried when they'd returned to base and found Elizabeth, Teyla, Ronon and countless others gathered around Lucius, just sucking up like remoras on a shark. Or maybe it was more like the Stepford Wives. The Elizabeth he knew, despite her peaceful nature, would have at least shoved off the man pawing at her body!

It was all Sheppard could do to not burst out laughing, or maybe smack his head into a wall in disbelief, when Elizabeth brought out the ugliest gourd he'd ever seen with a yellow candle stuck in its top. Elizabeth, Teyla, Carson and Ronon had gathered around it, smiling and admiring the item like it was the damned Crowned Jewels of England! When Ronon praised what a wonderful man their annoying visitor was, Sheppard thought he was going to be sick.

It was pretty pathetic that Sheppard saw truth in Rodney's comparison of an old Batman TV episode to the current situation of having the most competent people he'd ever known in his life, turn into the Pegasus Galaxy version of teenage groupies sucking up to some stupid rock star. Sheppard couldn't see how on earth – or any planet – that Lucius guy could having so many people kissing up to him without some kind of artificial means, and a lot was explained when they saw security footage of their visitor downing some liquid while in the guest room. Rodney had procured a tiny sample from the bottle he'd retrieved, but when he mentioned that he could use Beckett's help in finding an antidote to whatever Lucius imbibed, Sheppard couldn't help blurt, “He's out picking daffodils for his new friend.”

They'd been gone for hours so they quickly grabbed some food in the mess hall, but Sheppard's appetite, already dulled by his cold, was rapidly vanishing as both he and Rodney discovered the extent of Lucius' influence. According to Rodney, the whole of Altantis' population was turning into 'pod people.' He supposed it stood to reason that if Lucius could influence an entire village, why not all of Atlantis? Sheppard downed only half a muffin before the horrifying thought that if a Wraith attack occurred, everybody on Atlantis would probably line up like lambs to the slaughter.

Sheppard marched down to the control room, only to discover that Lucius was trying to convince Elizabeth to send their people to M68 491, a potentially Wraith-occupied planet. And then she had the gall to push the man's suggestion, mentioning Rodney's 'gate quota' as her reasoning, which in itself was ludicrous. But when Lucius began to insinuate that they were cowards for not investigating that planet, something inside Sheppard snapped. No one was going through the gate without his authorization. Period. He'd almost expected Elizabeth to throw a fit with the weird way she was behaving, but instead, he turned and walked off before he said something he'd really regret.

Damn. The headache was escalating, pounding away like little hammers smacking against his temples, so he went back down to Rodney's lab and bitched about the whole situation, but even McKay was stressing out. The scientist's voice raised a pitch when Sheppard decided he'd return to Lucius' home world and find a bigger sample of the liquid so they could concoct an antidote of some kind.

As Sheppard went out the door, he told McKay to 'just stay away from the nuts.' He hated that “deer in the headlights of an oncoming 18-wheeler” expression McKay shot at him, but good lord, it wasn't like anybody was going to shoot the man - just smother him with the love that was Lucius. Oh god, he was going to get sick if he kept thinking about that. The whole situation was so surreal he was beginning to wonder if he'd been hit on the head and was hallucinating the whole mess.

The village had become a reverse image of what he'd seen before on his previous visit. It was … drab. Even the colors seemed muted as the townsfolk just dragged around, looking dour and depressed as though they'd all lost an audit with the IRS. Or worse, their drug dealer had left town, leaving them high and dry and in pain. He hated doing it, but interrogating them now that the influence of the drug was nearly gone, was easy. It took no effort at all to get the facts from the folks, all of whom clustered around as if he were the Pied Piper ready to lead all the rats out of town. They were addicted to whatever Lucius took, and now they were in withdrawal. Sheppard shoved the more serious implications of how Lucius had manipulated his people into the back of his mind. These people were so screwed, in more ways than one. Happy happy as long as Lucius was around, but unable to fend for themselves in the simplest capacity without his presence. Sheppard just steeled himself. He couldn't save the universe. He had to save his own little portion.

Sheppard's own people now faced the same horrors: either a lifetime of emotional enslavement to an obnoxious and dangerous crackpot, or the brutal reality of withdrawal, unless he could find a vial of the damned stuff Lucius drank.

PART TWO

He was not a doctor of medicine. Hadn't he drilled that little factoid into Sheppard's head a few million times, but since when did the colonel ever listen to him? And now, he was the lone voice of sanity in the insane asylum. “Just avoid the nuts,” Sheppard had advised succinctly. Oh, thank you so very much! How could he expect anything less from a man who didn't even know Julie Newmar was the delectable Catwoman?? Eartha Kitt? Sheppard had weird tastes.

Rodney knew that they'd definitely need Carson to fix this mess. Molecular biology and voodoo mumbo-jumbo was just not up his alley. He could get only so far, and right now, he was up against the proverbial brick wall.

“Dr. McKay!”

Oh no. Rodney turned on his heel. The massive bulk of Lucius Lavan in that god-awful frilly shirt was blocking the door to his lab. Damn damn damn. He quickly shut his laptop. Maybe Lucius had no idea what they were doing. His technological skills seemed to be Neanderthal in nature so hopefully the man didn't know what he was up to.

“Lucius,” he nearly squeaked. “I thought Elizabeth was looking for you, um, down on the south pier.” Lord, that was downright lame but the man was more interested in women then men. Teyla should have kicked the man in the nuts back on the planet with the first insult and killed any future deals.

“Colonel Sheppard just went back to my planet.” The large man frowned, almost as if he missed Sheppard's presence, which was definitely not true. Lucius wasn't happy that neither he nor the colonel were not members of his ever-growing fan club. “He said he was going to check on my wives.” A pained smile of gargantuan proportions crossed his face. “Oh, my wives must miss me so. I should bring them here to drink the delights of your fair city!”

Rodney knew if he was diabetic, that last remark would have surely killed him. “Well, um, why don't you wait in the gateroom then?” He swallowed down hard. “I'm sure they'd be delighted to see you.”

Lucius moved into the room amazingly quickly for being so large and obviously out of shape. Although the lab was Rodney's territory, he quickly found himself blocked in a corner. If he got out of this mess, he'd have to definitely review and devise escape routes from his own lab! “Rodney, you really must spend more time with me, up on the balcony, out of this dreary dark room.”

When the grinning man held out his arms expansively just like some thieving politician making promises he'd never keep, Rodney took advantage, ducking and dodging and heading for the door and an escape. “I've got to check the, uh, energy generator doohickey on level 18,” he said as he backed away, cringing outwardly that he was now using Sheppard's lame descriptions. He turned around, then bounced off something blocking his path.

Ronon stood in the doorway, his sold bulk pushing the scientist back into the room.

“Ah, big guy,” Rodney tried to sooth, laying on his best McKay charm. “I need to go fix something. Make sure the city runs okay, you know that Ancient technology, needs constant tinkering.”

“Uh huh.” Both of the Satedan's hands grasped like a vice into Rodney's vest and a second later, he found himself pinned firmly to a nearby wall. Seconds later, Lucius was by his side, wrapping one arm over his shoulder. Rodney was distinctly uncomfortable, and if he hadn't known that the alien was a blatant womanizer, he'd be worried for his virtue, but it was bad enough that he could feel panic creeping in on his thoughts.

“Haven't you ever heard of personal space?” He tried to push off from the wall but instead, Ronon just shifted his grip from the shoulders to his upper arms, pinning him even further against the wall. There was no malice in the man's actions. Ronon was just insane, hopefully just temporarily, that's all. Rodney shuddered inwardly. Ronon had a feral grin that was really worrisome. He'd seen just how nuts the Satedan could be when he was sane.

Lucius began droning nonsense about cooperation and alliances and how beautiful Elizabeth's eyes were but all Rodney could do was try to hold his breath. Wait, what if the effect was transferable by touch as well? Eeeeuuu, the man had his hand across his back, caressing his neck in a very, very creepy manner that made him want to whimper.

How the hell was he going to stay away from the nuts if they turned him into one of them?

Sheppard was never going to forgive him.

PART THREE

As Sheppard stood in front of the massive gate and sent through the IDC code, worry nibbled briefly at his mind. What if Lucius convinced his people not to let him back? After all, Sheppard had been downright rude to the man, and what if Rodney couldn't stop them from putting up the shield? No, no. That was paranoid thinking, and if he didn't get back, Atlantis would fall. He had no choice.

Sure, the Daedalus would be dropping by in about three weeks but every single wraith in the galaxy could decide to drop by before then.

He felt relief as he stepped through the horizon. Not dead. Not a bug on the windshield, but that relief turned to bitter dust when he heard Rodney's raucous laughter coming from Elizabeth's office. The scientist was laughing himself silly over alien marmots. Couldn't the man follow just one stupid simple order of staying away from the nuts? Rodney then explained so matter-of-factly but so happily that it took a second for the terrible impact of the statement to get through: Ronon had held Rodney to the wall till that drug took effect? Holy crap. And Elizabeth was wrangling up food? And they'd sent the rest of his team to the wraith-occupied planet with Beckett in charge? Sheppard didn't give a rat's ass that Beckett could walk on his hands. He was ready to shoot Lucius right then and there.

The gate klaxons echoed, accompanied by Beckett's radioed pronouncement that they were coming in hot – which meant only one thing – Wraith! Sheppard raced down the steps, horribly aware that nobody else was concerned – that they weren't worried that people they knew and cared about could be injured or worse but then his missing people came bounding through the event horizon, laughing as though they'd just left a movie theater, carrying large bags of … herbs? Shit. Weed, smack, marijuana, you name it was something not worth risking their lives over! When he reached out for a bag, Ronon pulled his weapon and thrust it straight in his face. Ronon, the same man who'd forcibly pinned Rodney to a wall. A wave of cold fear swept over Sheppard as everyone – people he knew and trusted with his life – turned against him, suggesting that it was he who had the problem. The image of Ronon's lethal gun just inches from his face, and the man now covetously gripping the plastic bag full of that strange herb, drove it all home. A strategic capitulation and retreat was in order, not hard to do because even the armed guards were looking at him like he was the enemy. He swallowed his pride, meekly apologized and blamed his cold for his aberrant behavior.

Retreat alive, but come back for another day, or hour - as soon as he could figure how to launch a fight against an entire city.

Sheppard went back to his room and locked the door. As a second thought, he placed his skateboard in front of it, just in case someone decided to break in, a feat Rodney could easily accomplish. At least an intruder would trip over that, give him a moment to defend himself. He fell back on the bed, exhausted. He really shouldn't be tired as heck, he'd only been up since six in the morning, but it seemed more like six the previous morning with the way things were going rapidly downhill. He shut his eyes, trying not to see Weir fawning over their new guest like he was Brad Pitt…Carson making a total jackass out of himself, and now McKay? Teyla and Ronon? He could have sworn he'd heard Zelenka giggling hysterically like some schoolgirl with a crush.

He'd have to be careful or else Ronon might shoot him or worse if he ticked off Lucius. None of them could see it, but Lucius had them all eating out of his hand, and Sheppard didn't ignore the possibility that if he pushed too hard against the new ruler of Atlantis, he could find himself with broken bones or drugged in the infirmary.

Shaking off the myriad of nasty scenarios, he got up and rummaged easily through the side table's smaller drawer. He found the bottle. He shook out the one last Advil and swallowed it. Great. Not that it did any good against the cold. “It's just a cold, albeit this galaxy's version of a cold,” Beckett had told him several days ago. “Sergeant Carstairs only had it for a week and he's perfectly fine now.” Yeah, and Sheppard distinctly remembered how blah the 6'3” Marine had dragged around the base for that week. And it didn't help that all the standard Earth cold remedies brought with the expedition had the standard “do not operate heavy machinery” cautions on them, which would discount jumper flying, so…. he had to put up with sneezing. Of course, he could have taken some of that stuff, gotten spacey and let Rodney fly the jumper…

Hmm… that gave him an idea. Of course, for this plan to work, he'd require certain equipment: Rodney wouldn't mind it if he stole his laptop. After all, the scientist wasn't going to be using it, at least not rationally unless he was going to calculate alien marmot populations.

Sheppard hadn't had to fake looking miserable when he leaned against the door of the infirmary, putting on his best downtrodden expression and telling Beckett that he felt something was wrong with him. His cold had felt worse than before, so he wasn't exactly lying, yet Carson of course instead took it as a confession of the man's weakness that he hadn't fallen for Lucius' charm, but that he was finally coming around to seeing how wonderful Lucius truly was.

Fat chance. As soon as they were both out of sight of the other medical personnel, Sheppard withdrew the stunner, turned and shot Beckett into oblivion.

Getting the unconscious man to the jumper was a little more difficult. The doctor was heavier than he looked. Fortunately everybody was so zonked on the love that was Lucius that the one or two people who spotted him didn't go “Hey, what the hell is going on?!” and instead just ignored him. It freaked him out a bit because one of those people was a guard who was supposed to make sure Atlantis' personnel remained safe, not get abducted and dragged off into jumpers by obviously deranged colonels.

Fortunately, whoever was in charge of the control room was equally as slow in reaction time so before they could shut the bay door, he'd fled in a jumper. He knew they'd send people after him so he cloaked the jumper, just minutes before a groggy Carson finally came around. The trouble was that it took over half an hour to get to the mainland. All the while, Carson complained. No, he whined. Whined about being kidnapped, whined about how he couldn't be away from Lucius. Maybe it was good that the cold was spreading so maybe he'd get clogged ears and soon couldn't hear the griping.

Once they landed, he dragged out Rodney's tablet and tried to explain the whole situation to Beckett. For a brief excited moment, it seemed that Carson actually got the idea of 'an addictive personality,' until he snapped 'It's rubbish!” Sheppard ignored the man's grim expression, once again trying to explain the logical progression of the situation. It was simple. They were all drugged, and Beckett was the only person who could keep the whole of Atlantis' population from going through the same horrible withdrawal that Lucius' people were going through on the other planet. “But you're doing it to me right now!” Carson whined horribly. Sheppard couldn't take it anymore. He punched the doctor in the arm, ordering the man to “Buck up!” The physician had to create an antidote or else they were all doomed. Sheppard expected another outburst, but not a crying jag. He hadn't expected that. Watching the man weep uncontrollably over how Lucius needed him was just awful. And it was giving him a bigger headache.

The mainland was big - very big, so Sheppard took the risk and brought Beckett outside. After a while, the man had to relieve himself and getting him out of the 'claustrophobic confines' of the jumper seemed to stop the whining. Sheppard wondered when the doctor had become like Rodney, but maybe it was the effects of the herb. The man had finally stopped his crying – thank God – Sheppard had begun to worry the physician was having a breakdown. First being held by Wraith not long ago on that planet and now being abducted again, couldn't be good for the man's psyche, but he quieted down and was now more amenable to going through Rodney's data. There was the glimmer of cooperation and in the last hour, Sheppard hadn't heard any words about electing Lucius to ruler of the universe. The fact that Beckett was actually looking a bit miserable was making Sheppard feel a little better.

Until he heard the familiar deadly whine, then Ronon's lethal weapon against the back of his head. His own team had found him. Just wonderful. He should have known, really. Damned cold.

At least Ronon had the weapon on stun. Or so he said. If they took him back to Atlantis, there was no way in hell he'd be able to save his people. It was worth the risk.

Or not.

PART FOUR

Sheppard woke up, the familiar dull ache of the stunner infusing its way through his body, and worse, into his head. He blinked opened his eyes, realizing his options were nil. He was face down on the floor in the rear of the jumper, his wrists bound tightly behind his back. Damn plastic restraints. Those things were impossible to break free from unless you had a knife. He focused his vision in front of him. A pair of rough boots were situated a few feet away from him. Gazing up, he saw Ronon staring impassively down at him from where he sat on one of the jumper's rear benches. It reminded him eerily of that first time that Ronon had stunned him and tied him up on that awful too-sunny world where they'd encountered an enzyme-altered Ford. Crap, he hated repeats.

His stomach felt sore, if not a bit nauseous. Probably got slung over Ronon's shoulder like a sack of old laundry. Been there, done that. Loud voices filtered from upfront. Rodney – he had to be flying the jumper – and probably not in a straight line either. Teyla and Beckett. Crap. Beckett sounded like Alvin the Chipmunk, all happy happy again. Shit, and Sheppard had thought the man was making progress in the right direction. He'd sounded clear right before Ronon shot him. Of course, he had made the suicidal move to grab the gun, but still…

A hand dug into the back of his vest and yanked him into an awkward seated position. Ronon peered down at him in a manner that made Sheppard feel like a cockroach about to be squashed. “You going to behave?” he asked gruffly.

Sheppard just grimaced, then let loose with a loud sneeze. God, he hated this cold, but it was really the least of his problems.

“Oh, you can't have him on that freezing floor!” admonished a thick brogue. “Lucius wouldn't want the poor man catching his death of cold.”

“He's already got a cold,” replied Ronon flatly.

The next thing Sheppard knew, Carson had grabbed a blanket from the emergency supplies, shook it out and wrapped it around Sheppard's shoulders like a mother tucking in her child. “I'm fine,” Sheppard ground out. Damn, the doctor was back to smiling like an idiot. How long would it be before he looked just like that?

Carson just beamed at him while Ronon regarded him suspiciously. He supposed he should count himself lucky Ronon had had his weapon on stun and not kill, although if the wraith arrived while they were all in their blissful drugged-up ignorance, he might rethink that sentiment. The doctor continued his annoying shifting of the blankets until Sheppard just snapped. “Do you mind?”

The physician pulled back, then suddenly punched Sheppard hard in the arm. “Buck up, Colonel,” he ordered so cheerfully it almost made Sheppard forget the new ache in one arm. “You're going to be fine.”

Sheppard just stared, mouth open like a guppy floundering out of water. Or maybe there was hope for Carson after all. If he wasn't affected anymore – just faking the obnoxious cheerfulness - there was a snowball's chance in Hell of getting out of this mess. A sneeze suddenly caught him again. He sniffled. Oh man, his kingdom for a tissue.

Unfortunately the Wraith prison cell wasn't the most comfortable of places. Nobody thought to even toss him a blanket, but knowing that until he knew what was really going on, he couldn't sleep anyway. At least they'd cut off the plastic bindings and had given him a chair, one of those damned uncomfortable plastic waiting room things someone had brought along on the Daedalus, probably for the sole purpose of torturing people with its uncomfortable mold.

It was really bizarre - being imprisoned in a place normally reserved for the confinement of Wraith. While Steve had lasted weeks in there with no creature comforts, he knew he couldn't. He didn't figure Lucius was the kind of guy who would starve him till he was too weak to resist – not if he had no problem in having Ronon hold Rodney to the wall for Lord knew how long till he succumbed to the herb's effect. No, while his friends might be under the influence, nasty behavior wasn't in the cards, except maybe for Ronon and his gun, and somehow, Sheppard should have suspected it would come to this after nearly being shot over the damned bags in the gate room.

Being stuck in the cell wasn't so bad. Nobody was torturing or taunting him. In fact, nobody was visiting him. He had all the time in the world to dwell on everything that had gone wrong, as well as why no one was coming by. Stare into the darkness of the surrounding room and listen to the dead silence. He wasn't sure if he wanted visitors, because everybody was technically insane. Elizabeth wasn't the competent leader he'd come to know and respect. She'd glommed on more makeup, was unzipping her shirt to its extremes, while Rodney was more obsessed with alien animals than solving scientific problems.

And Beckett… the only man who might be his ally, was mysteriously absent. Wait a minute. Maybe Carson was okay. If he'd been clearing up on the mainland, actually developing a plan on how to combat the drug, then how could he revert back to “Lucius needs me” crap on board the jumper? Unless just having a bunch of fellow converts around to give him the Church of Lucius spiel was enough to tip him back over?

Of course, maybe Lucius had banned visitors. Didn't want Sheppard being a bad influence. This was like sending the bad kid in the classroom to the corner of the room, only what if everybody got so caught up in whatever the hell was going on in the rest of the base that they forgot about him? He hadn't seen any food or water since waking up. And the Daedalus would be dropping by Atlantis when…? He could be a corpse by then. Just remembering how everybody had turned against him in the gateroom sent a chill down his spine. It was like that Twilight Zone with the woman covered with bandages. Everybody else was normal and she was the odd one out trying desperately to fit in. Or maybe Rodney's analogy of 'pod people' from Invasion of the Body Snatchers made more sense. They walked, talked and looked the same, but weren't the same. Under the influence. Batman. Catwoman. Just how far would his friends go to protect their new leader?

Hours later, the force field turned off and Lucius entered the room, looking even more arrogant than before, if that were even possible. The man was more than eager to tell Sheppard precisely how he'd come to his current position of power. He'd been a simple baker who discovered the herb's bizarre effects by accident, and soon had everybody fawning over him and wanting to help him. Nobody got hurt, Lucius insisted, and it seemed the man either truly believed that or perhaps was so caught up in his own delusions of grandeur he didn't care. And that's why Lucius sent his people to a wraith-occupied world to get his damned drug. They could have been killed, could have brought the wraith right back to Atlantis' doorstep or worse. Sheppard seriously doubted that Lucius' six wives were going to be all lovey-dovey once the drug wore off. And he had designs on both Weir and Teyla? Over Sheppard's dead body!

The man was deluded and dangerous and manipulative beyond belief and had plans to convert Sheppard over to his mindless flock of followers. Was the man a sociopath? Sheppard wasn't sure, but as long as he had that drug in his body, he was a downright menace to anyone with clear sinuses. When he told Lucius that if they had any one on one time, he wasn't joking about it being the last time. If eliminating one man to save Atlantis was his only option, he'd take it.

If the field hadn't been turned back on after Lucius left, Sheppard would have somehow squeezed through the cell's bars, stolen a jumper and gotten help from the mainland, or hidden somewhere in the city until Lorne's team came back from their mission. They were due back in less than a day. If he could reclaim the city back from the Genii, surely he could get it back from one arrogant whacko.

Half an hour later, the field shut off again. Great. Lucius was back to crow about Beckett giving him the gene therapy, but instead, the door slid open and Beckett came into the outer room, smiling like an idiot. Oh yes, handing out flowers at the airport would be his next job.

“Just wonderful,” Sheppard muttered, not caring who heard him.

The door shut behind Beckett and the smile evaporated. “Are you all right, Colonel?”

Sheppard stared uneasily at the doctor, wondering if his earlier theory held any water. “Carson?”

The door to the cell opened and Beckett stepped in, at first hesitantly. “You have no idea how truly, truly sorry I am about all of this.”

That could be good or bad. “Are you—?”

“Yes.”

“Because I'm not joining—”

“Oh, for pity's sake, we don't have much time.” Carson stepped over and quickly drew a stunner from within his jacket. Sheppard instinctively backed up a step, wondering if he was going to be stunned – again – but Beckett didn't react. “Just promise you won't shoot me with this.” The doctor handed the alien gun over to the colonel.

Sheppard nodded as he accepted the weapon, relief shoving down his earlier worries. “You've got the antidote?”

“Aye, and it works very well, as you can see,” Beckett said with a brief grin as he pointed at himself. “I've got a batch in process right now that should cover most of Atlantis. I've already inoculated several members of my staff so it's in process. It'll take a day to whip up the rest.”

“Just make sure you do Elizabeth and my team as soon as you can, then my men.” Sheppard was glad to have a weapon back in his hands. He'd felt naked without it, and now, he had no compunction in stunning anyone who got in his way.

“I'm sorry I couldn't let you know, but when Ronon stunned you…” trailed off Beckett.

'Yeah, that was a bonehead move,” agreed Sheppard, but then he saw a flurry of dark emotions flitter over Beckett's face. “No no, not you. Me. Trying to steal his gun was like trying to take a bone away from a Rottweiler.”

“I couldn't just tell you I was clear of Lucius' influence,” continued the physician, looking over his shoulder worriedly at the closed door. There was at least one still under-the-influence guard on the other side.

“The punch in the arm was a hint,” assured Sheppard.

“I'd hoped it would be.” Beckett rubbed his hands together, obviously nervous.

“Next time, don't punch so hard,” Sheppard admonished lightly. He stepped out of the cell, a part of him registering the act as reclaiming his freedom, but they had a long way to go to get back the city.

Beckett looked at him with a confident expression. “Now, as to the plan….”

PART FIVE

The plan had been simple and remarkably, it had worked like a charm and had been put into action before Sheppard had been rescued. Lure Lucius to the jumper under the pretense of the ATA gene therapy, where Sheppard would capture him. Beckett then went back to the infirmary and began inoculating people – some lame story about saving people from catching Sheppard's cold. Because that would take a bit of time, Sheppard had to spend several hours on the mainland until Beckett radioed him back with the okay to return.

By the time he'd flown back to Atlantis and handed Lucius over to some rather ticked-off looking Marines, Sheppard realized it had been over 24 hours since he'd managed a decent wink of sleep. He'd caught a brief catnap on board the jumper – maybe two minutes tops before his mind conjured up a horrible image of him telling Lucius that sure, he'd be glad to take him anywhere in the jumper, including any Hive ships in search of herbs. He decided to leave Lucius securely tied up to a tree outside just so he didn't have to listen to the man trying to talk himself out a really bad situation. The more the man talked about how he'd done no harm, the more Sheppard was tempted to commit harm. Lucius needed a serious reality adjustment, one that was gonna smack him in the face if they returned him to his homeworld. He'd leave that decision to Elizabeth as right now, leaving the man tied to the tree indefinitely sounded real good.

He'd been wary when he'd let down the jumper's rear hatch upon arriving back in Atlantis. He held the stunner pistol in hand, just in case. Beckett had been waiting there in the bay, smiling, but it wasn't the idiotic worship smile he'd had before, but more of a satisfied grin, one that grew broader and more meanginful as those four Marines dragged a protesting Lucius off to a not-so-deluxe suite in Wraith-cell central. With that damned uncomfortable plastic chair that hey, was probably too small for Lucius' much larger bulk. Payback was a bitch.

Elizabeth and his team were waiting in the jumper bay as well, looking a bit harried but also deservedly embarrassed.

“John,” said Elizabeth with a weak smile.

Sheppard just cocked his head. He noticed she'd zipped her shirt all the way up. “Dr. Weir.” Oh, he didn't need to be so formal and catty but he just couldn't help himself.

Elizabeth's lips thinned out as she held her crossed arms tighter against her chest. “Thank you for saving us from this…. “

“Disaster,” finished McKay bluntly, finding the floor and the walls much more fascinating to look at than Sheppard.

“Uh huh,” muttered Sheppard dryly. He sneezed loudly. “Damn. Carson, how much of the city is clean?”

“Over half,” said the physician. “All your men received the injection and have those still under the influence under control, although they're all feeling some of the withdrawal symptoms but by tomorrow morning, everybody should be back to normal.”

Sheppard hated to think of any of his people going through what Lucius' people had to going through right now on that distant planet. “How long will it take you to whip up enough to dose all of Lucius' people? He's not going back there till his influence is gone.”

Beckett frowned. “At least a day, another to inoculate.”

“You're sending him back?” said Ronon.

“I thought about making him walk the plank off the south pier,” said Sheppard, “but I'm sure Elizabeth would bring up the Geneva Convention.”

Elizabeth just arched an eyebrow. “Then he'll be our houseguest for the next two days at least.”

“Prisoner,” corrected Sheppard sharply. “I don't want him leaving that cell at all. And no visitors unless you get my approval.”

“He can't harm anyone anymore,” said Carson.

“He's done enough damage, wouldn't you say?” Sheppard countered with a grim smile.

There wasn't a single word of protest. Part of him had almost expected to hear it – Lucius' legions of worshippers had aggressively defended him against the one lone person who hadn't fallen under the influence all because he had a simple cold. God, it had all happened so fast, and so easily, that he doubted anyone would really sleep easily the next few days thinking about what could have happened.

He watched Elizabeth rub at her neck. The vision of how intimately that damned Lucius had touched her there came to mind, and his anger at how quickly they'd all caved to Lucius evaporated. “Are you okay?” he asked quietly.

She pulled her hand away, blushing slightly as she realized the implication of his worry. “I'm fine. It's just my pride that's wounded. I can't believe that we let this happen.”

Sheppard switched his glance to Teyla, who had an expression similar to Elizabeth's. No, Lucius hadn't tried anything, except for the obvious marriage proposals. The way Elizabeth had been all over Lucius made Sheppard wonder if the damned man had decided to make her wife number eight. Oh, he was so not going there. He'd throw up his lunch, that is, if he'd had any. Had he? Oh yeah, half a blueberry muffin.

Ronon just shrugged in response. That was probably going to be all he'd have to say about the mess. The less said the better, that was the way the Satedan was, and Sheppard knew everybody wanted to forget the last day.

Rodney just looked depressed. Beckett had mentioned something about Jell-O runs.

“In a nutshell,” continued Beckett. “The herb's effect is concentrated and very strong. And the smaller the body mass, the quicker the effect.”

“But we are all now all right,” said Teyla. She nodded confidently at Sheppard.

“And believe me, that's all I want to hear,” admitted Sheppard tiredly. Everybody's pride was shot to hell, but there was no physical damage.

The abrupt sound of the gate's klaxons blared, startling everyone. Sheppard automatically brought up his P90, feeling a surge of adrenaline and the worry that the wraith had followed Ronon's team back to Atlantis after harvesting that damn weed.

“It's Major Lorne's team,” came the technician's level voice over their headsets.

Thank God.

Sheppard went immediately to the gateroom with everybody following him. Normally that would be fine and he might not have even been really aware of the action, but right now it was sort of unnerving as it seemed they were all trying to make up for something that really - if he thought about it through his cold-stuffed head - wasn't their fault. If someone slipped you a mickey and you drank it unwittingly, it wasn't your fault that you passed out on the floor. This situation wasn't much different.

Even Lorne had detected something wrong when he came through the gate and saw everybody's faces. Sheppard gave him the Reader's Digest version of the whole fiasco. Lorne was pretty much 'bright-eyed and bushy-tailed' (Rodney's acerbic expression when he saw the soldier step through the gate) so he could deal with the mess for the next several hours. Sheppard was going to catch some ZZZ's before his head just imploded from the cold. However, he couldn't stop himself from spending the rest of the afternoon checking out everything, particularly his own men. He'd simply instructed the men (and women) that this herb was an unknown hazard of the Pegasus Galaxy but next time, let's all be more aware of what's going on around them. Any scientist under the influence wasn't that much of a threat – except for Rodney, who had already blown up part of a solar system – but his men had weapons and the knowledge to use them. Once satisfied – all the downtrodden expressions were a definite sign that Lucius' little reign was over – he turned over the 'reclamation effort' to Lorne, sneezed, and went back to his room.

The door to his room shut behind him. He stared at the skateboard off in the corner, then slid it slowly in front of the door. No, he wasn't being paranoid. It was just… he didn't know what it was, but what he did know was what now greeted his ears: blissful silence. No insufferably grating voices spinning deception and anarchy, or the fawning responses. A hot shower was definitely in order. He stared at the bathroom door, but it just seemed too far. He simply sat down on the bed, popped open the pill bottle Carson had given him and downed a couple of pills. The warning of 'operating heavy machinery' didn't apply right now. The gate harvesting could definitely wait. He gingerly rubbed fingertips at his throbbing temples. A moment later, he fell back on the bed and shut his eyes.

PART SIX

Major Lorne had the situation totally all under control. No casualties, just a lot of long faces and a hundred or so people who would probably be giving Colonel Sheppard as well as Lorne and his team a wide berth for the next day or two. The Colonel had looked pretty pissed off when he'd dashed into the gate room. He was obviously running on adrenaline and not enough sleep, but he was clear enough to give Lorne the once-over, proclaim him fit for further duty, and gave him the short but incredible story of how one obnoxious whacko had taken over the whole city in just a few hours.

While Sheppard hadn't given him every excruciatingly painful detail, it hadn't taken Lorne very long to figure out what had happened to each individual. People talked, amongst themselves, seeking absolution of some kind from someone else who had shared their horrible experience. Dr. Weir seemed to be holding it together pretty well, although she'd spent a lot of time talking with her top people – Beckett, McKay, Teyla and Ronon – as those in the control room and top echelon of Atlantis were affected the worst. They all seemed to be in some kind of mutual 'it wasn't your fault' club but we have to get back to business. It was like a bizarre twelve step meeting but he just stood quietly in the meeting and ran down security protocols.

Lorne was glad his team had had an easy mission to PL5 6S2. It had been a cakewalk, a very boring mission that hadn't yielded anything but no wraith, no disasters, so he and his team had actually come back refreshed. That gave him the energy to ensure that the entire city's complement was no longer under that Lucius' guy's influence. All of the military personnel were clean and they did a one-on-one headcount, dragging anybody hidden away in labs off to the infirmary for a date with a needle.

He'd finished filing a report, or rather, kept adding to the ongoing report on the “herb incident,” as some folks were calling it. The SGC would call it a disaster that nearly happened: Lorne hadn't missed the dark expression on Sheppard's face when he'd mentioned Beckett leading a team on an impromptu visit to a wraith-occupied world. They were just so damned lucky….

For a single second, Lorne thought about calling Sheppard when he spotted Weir striding purposely down the corridor, some weird object in hand. He couldn't help but be curious and he did have to report to her, so he quietly followed. She went out on one of the many high balconies adorning Atlantis' massive tower. He stood back in the corridor, but watched silently as Weir held the strange object – some ugly black bulbous thing with a candle stuck in the top of it. She glared at it, and if looks could kill, that thing would be a pile of ashes. She suddenly emitted a deep growl of frustration and viciously lobbed the thing over the precipice. Okay, that was different.

Weir turned, embarrassment momentarily flushing her features when she realized she'd been seen.

“Major, is there something you need?” she coughed, but quickly resumed a more dignified pose.

“Just wanted to report back that all Atlantis personnel are on the mend.” Lorne frowned, looking past her shoulder, still wondering what he'd just witnessed

“Thank you, major.” Weir looked a tad bit uncomfortable at his focus. She glanced back at the open sky beyond. “It was just--,” she began.

“If you don't mind my honest opinion, ma'am,” interrupted Lorne. “I would have tossed it overboard too. Looked pretty ugly.”

“Yes, definitely,” she concurred.

Lorne got the distinct feeling that the ugly thing had something to do with the character they had locked up in the wraith holding cell.

Weir quickly regained her calmer, diplomatic composure. Whatever that thing was, deep-sixing it over the side seemed to have been therapeutic. She walked past him, that normal self-assured expression set firmly on her face. “And it definitely clashed with the décor,” she added with a smirk.

Lorne just nodded in agreement. Of course.

PART SEVEN

He knew it. He'd just known it deep down inside his very being that it would all end badly: the fake ATA inoculation scam, Beckett showing up to help save Atlantis. It had all been a ruse to get him off his guard. He'd passed out in his room and the next thing he knew, several Marines just snatched him and dragged him back to the wraith cell, tossing him in without a care. Hours passed before Lucius showed up with Beckett in tow like an obedient little lap dog, just beaming in disgusting adoration at the nutjob who was compromising all of Atlantis.

Sheppard's stomach had bottomed out when several wraith came through that door behind Lucius, their pale and thin forms looking like specters of death. They fanned around, standing to either side of the men, smiling at him with evil intent. Beckett had grinned and offered himself up as a literal happy meal when one of those wraith grabbed him. “Anything for Lucius!” he'd shouted cheerfully a second before the wraith slammed his hand into the doctor's chest.

Sheppard awoke with a start, tangled in damp sheets. He sat up, realizing a second later it had just been a nightmare. Right, right, just a nightmare. Right? He felt himself for damage, then became aware that his uniform was gone. He could have sworn the last thing he'd done was taken some antihistamines for his clogged head. He had on his boxers and that was it. He rubbed a hand against his cheek, finding a fine growth of beard. How long had he been out? A glance at his watch, then at the window behind him, confirmed he'd been out a while because he sorta remembered it being daylight and now it was darkening. Did this mean he'd actually gotten a few hours sleep and things were fine, or had the entire base just gone insane during his unconscious state? No no, that was just being paranoid. He'd left everything in Lorne's capable hands and he trusted the man implicitly to follow his orders and keep the base safe.

He swung his legs over the bed and two things struck him: his sinuses actually felt better and his headache was gone. He hoped that this wasn't a dream as the headache had been a downright nuisance, but oddly enough, his cold had been a lifesaver.

After a hot shower and shave, he got dressed. He put back on his weapons belt but decided the P90 might be overkill. He stashed it under his pillow as nobody would think to look for it there, and in an action that wasn't routine, he hid the stunner pistol just inside his jacket. No, he wasn't being paranoid, just cautious. He stared at the door as though it were the gate to Hell. No, the dream had been just that - a bad dream, Things were fine, just fine. He took a deep breath and opened the door.

What the hell was a soldier doing standing outside his door? The young man was obviously guarding the door, and despite the fact that he looked no older than nineteen, he remembered this particular Marine coming off the Daedalus a couple months back. Deceptively small, he was lightning fast when it came to hand-to-hand combat and actually gotten out of Ronon's grasp once.

But right now, Sheppard wasn't sure if that bode good or bad for him. “Corporal?”

“Colonel.” The young man looked rather relieved.

“What are you doing?”

“Dr. Beckett said you needed your rest after the, uh, situation.” The young soldier coughed, looked slightly ashamed as he too had fallen under Lucius' influence. Who hadn't, it seemed, except him?

Okay, well, that was nice. He knew Beckett was probably taking it harder than the rest. After all, he'd brought Lucius back to Atlantis. “Um, you're dismissed.” For a split second, the horrible thought occurred that the young man would turn into a Stepford clone and not leave, but instead, the man simply nodded and left.

Phew.

Sheppard glanced down both ends of the empty corridor. His stomach growled accusingly. Yeah, food was the first thing on order. He'd check in with Lorne after he'd eaten.

PART EIGHT

Teyla munched down a small carrot, quietly watching the men seated before her continue their intense conversation.

The mess hall was rather devoid of personnel, or those in it were spread out pretty far and wide, no doubt the result of everybody feeling uncomfortable with their actions in the last 24 hours. Perhaps that was why she had chosen the table outside on the balcony's twilight darkness. Ronon had joined her, then Carson, then McKay.

“He could be dead, Carson,” insisted McKay, and not for the first time that evening.

“I keep telling you, Rodney, the colonel's just sleeping.” Beckett poked inattentively at his salad.

“He could be dead. I mean when you went to check on him, he didn't even move!”

Teyla knew that wasn't true. When she and Beckett had gone to check on Sheppard once all the injections were done, they'd found him asleep – in full gear – face down on his bed. While the colonel didn't rouse to full consciousness when Beckett checked him over, he did mumble something about Lucius that could not be repeated in any company, polite or otherwise. A combination of the medication Beckett had given him, exhaustion and stress had just knocked him out. It took only a few minutes for them to get Sheppard out of his uniform and under the covers, not that the colonel would remember any of that.

“Rodney, you need to stop worrying,” added Teyla.

“He'll be fine,” muttered Ronon.

“I mean when did you last check on him?” continued McKay.

“He's asleep. He's exhausted. He spent over a day trying to save the base from the mess I made,” sighed Beckett. A tomato squashed messily as he stabbed it with his fork.

“Carson, this was not your fault,” said Teyla.

“And how is it not?” Beckett asked, eyes darkening in anguish. “I brought Lucius back.”

“I thought we weren't supposed to mention his name,” spoke up Rodney sullenly. “Elizabeth said—“

“There is no one to blame,” said Teyla, and not for the first time. They had all gone over this so many times since recovering. “None of us had ever heard a substance with such power over one's reasoning before.”

They had discussed this at an impromptu staff meeting once they were all given the injection and their minds cleared. Damage control was the first and foremost in everybody's mind – to make sure Atlantis was safe and no one remained under the drug's influence.

But the damage had been done and could not so easily be retracted. Teyla and Elizabeth had found themselves out on one of the balconies, after the base had been secured. Neither had been proud of their behavior, of how they'd acquiesced to Lucius' lecherous advances. She still had to repress a shudder at how she'd actually entertained the very thought of marrying that man. Elizabeth felt likewise, but worse, they'd been willing to compromise the safety of Atlantis, and even themselves, in their deluded pursuit of making Lucius happy.

Sheppard had been the only one who'd been able to save them, and they'd locked him up in the cell. And none of them had even had bothered to check on him to see if he was all right. Lucius had told them that Sheppard was fine, and they'd believed him.

“But it was you, Carson, who was able to fight the drug's influence when the colonel took you off to the mainland,” reminded Teyla. Those precious several hours that Sheppard had held Carson captive had given the man time to 'detox' and regain his wits, then finish the cure for Lucius' herbal drug. For some reason, Carson found it difficult to recognize that he'd played a crucial part in regaining Atlantis. Had they stayed further on Lucius' homeworld on their initial visit, it could have been anyone of them who had first fallen victim to the man's influence.

Rodney dug into his pasta salad, but even he appeared a little lackluster in what was one of his favorite pursuits. “Face it, we all screwed up monumentally. He doesn't trust us at all.”

“I'm sure he does,” said Teyla.

“And that's why you nearly tripped over a skateboard positioned oh-so-strategically in front of his door, and that's why he went to sleep with a P-90 clipped to his vest,” added McKay.

“He was worn out,” continued Beckett.

Teyla was grateful that Beckett was focusing on that, and not his unwitting part in the whole fiasco.

“The only people he trusts are Lorne and his men, and that's why Lorne stuck a guard outside Sheppard's room.” McKay leaned back in his chair, crossing arms defiantly against his chest.

“No, Rodney, that was because you didn't believe me when I said the colonel was all right and decided to check on him yourself,” Beckett reminded.

Ronon chuckled. “He called you a marmot and hit you with a pillow.”

“He wasn't really awake,” countered Rodney weakly.

“Exactly!” Beckett dropped his fork. “Otherwise he would have thrown you out of the room, instead of Ronon dragging you out by your ear.”

Teyla sighed. Ronon had told her about Rodney's little break-in, but also that he noticed Sheppard reaching under his pillow for a weapon he didn't have, which is why in his groggy state he assaulted the scientist with a pillow, and not a stun pistol or worse.

The argument continued, with Rodney still worrying about Sheppard's well being, having turned the cold that had beset Sheppard for the past several days, into a raging case of pneumonic plague.

Teyla wondered if the mess hall staff had any more red Jell-O. While Rodney was partial to the blue Jell-O, which she found totally unpalatable, she'd developed a slight fondness for the strawberry version. She didn't care for the cherry version, and was waiting to hear about the strawberry-banana version that Elizabeth had said might come in with the next order of supplies on the Daedalus. She turned in her seat, looking into the mess hall but instead, spied someone staring back suspiciously at her.

---

He'd slept away an entire day. Really, well, almost. He thought maybe he'd conked out for a few hours and it was dinnertime, and wow, those antihistamines had sure worked fast, but on the way down to the mess hall, he'd bumped into Lorne. The major told him that everything was under control, filled him in on some details, and added that McKay wouldn't be bothering him. He'd stared at the younger man in confusion, until Lorne said something about McKay waking him up and Sheppard beating up the scientist with a pillow and the subsequent guard being placed outside the door.

“Fine, yeah, he can be a pest,” Sheppard agreed with a fake smile, then he turned and went on his way, wondering why he couldn't remember attacking McKay with a pillow. Damn, what did the man do? Sneak into his room while he was asleep? And what on earth for?

Fortunately the mess hall ran 24/7 due to the various shifts, but he didn't feel like a full dinner, so he grabbed the Athosian version of an apple - it was a lot squatter and sweeter than an average Earth apple - along with a chicken (or whatever) salad sandwich, coleslaw and a soda. He stared at the letters embossed in the can's aluminum top. What the heck did they do with deposit cans in the Pegasus Galaxy?

Beckett's voice echoed lightly across the mess hall and Sheppard turned, narrowing his eyes as he studied the physician and his team seated at one of the tables outside on the balcony. A second later, Teyla then turned and studied him.

He made his way over to the table, calmly surveying the other personnel he passed. They looked normal. Lorne said they were all normal. None of the female personnel had their tops unbuttoned or unzipped too much. He arched an eyebrow, wondering if Elizabeth might remember just how she tried to use sex appeal to lure in Lucius.

He dropped his tray in the empty spot next to McKay, which made the scientist, who was arguing about the sleeping habits of some animal or something weird, nearly jump out of his seat.

“You're awake.”

“I knew they gave you that doctor title for a reason,” said Sheppard dryly. He popped the top on the soda can. He lifted his gaze, then scrutinized his teammates carefully. “You guys okay?”

There were affirmative nods all around. Beckett actually looked cheerier than the last time Sheppard recalled seeing him. He was still nursing a bit of guilt about bringing Lucius back.

“And you?” McKay was studying him too closely.

“I'm fine,” he replied. “Headache's gone. Sinuses feel a lot better.”

“Those were strong antihistamines I gave you.” Beckett was looking at him, and Sheppard could detect that the physician analyzing him like a bacteria specimen under a microscope.

“Yeah, really did the trick.”

“Good thing you didn't take those while flying a jumper.” Rodney smirked. “Would have flown right into a tree or something.”

“I'll leave that to you, Rodney,” grinned Sheppard. “I'm surprised you didn't crash the jumper trying to land it on Atlantis.”

“What?”

”After Ronon shot me.”

“You remember that?” Rodney looked uncomfortable.

“Well, I'm getting used to it,” admitted Sheppard honestly. He cocked his head, nodding toward the scientist's almost picked through food tray. “What, no blue Jell-O? Surely Carter didn't eat all when SG-1 visited.”

“Of course not,” replied McKay testily.

Beckett actually looked like he was enjoying this change of topic. “No, he gave it all to—”

Rodney raised his finger immediately, almost threateningly, like a nuclear missile about to be launched and reign down destruction.. “We're not mentioning his name, remember? Elizabeth's orders.”

Damn, she really had to remember all of what happened if she was that pissed off, thought Sheppard.

“That man was a bottomless pit,” complained Rodney loudly. “He wasn't even here a day and he wiped out the blue Jell-O. Hated the yellow Jell-O and hello, it's lemon? Can I eat that? No!”

“Hates lemon Jell-O?” This was too good not to pass up. Sheppard tapped on his earpiece and got Lorne shortly. “Major, has our prisoner had dinner yet? No, well, yes, you can ignore my 'starve him till he's a 90 pound weakling' suggestion. Give him dinner. All the lemon Jell-O he can eat. Yes, you heard me correctly. Out.”

Sheppard just let a very satisfied smile grace his face until he saw everybody staring oddly at him, which sent a tendril of worry coursing through him. “What?”

“I liked the starvation idea better,” grumbled Ronon. “And I happen to like the lemon Jell-O.”

“It's not nutritionally sound,” argued Beckett, who then shrugged. “But one day won't hurt the bugger.”

Sheppard cast his glance at Teyla, who had remained oddly silent. Her lips quirked in a slight smile. “I prefer the strawberry Jell-O.”

That made him feel a bit better. Not long ago, the lot of them were ready to practically shoot him on the spot for attempting to grab a plastic bag full of weeds, but now, they were singing a completely different tune.

“Everybody's had the shot?” Sheppard directed at Beckett.

“Except for yourself.” Beckett seemed to mentally run down some list. “I'd prefer that you finish off your antihistamines before we give you the shot, to avoid any reactions.”

Rodney's fork clattered to his tray. “Whoa, whoa, wait a minute You didn't even bother to ask me that, Carson,” he snarked. “In fact, I distinctly remember you luring me down to the infirmary with promises of chocolate chip cookies.”

“Aye, that was very effective.”

“So he gets preferential treatment?” Rodney jabbed a finger in Sheppard's direction, which promptly got swatted with a fork. “Ouch.”

“You had an adverse reaction, Rodney,” said Teyla.

“What? I was clear-headed!” shot back McKay. “I got caught up on a lot of work.”

“No, you were hyper-alert and running around like a damned chipmunk on crack annoying everyone,” said Beckett sharply. “That's why there was a guard on—” The physician suddenly coughed, then found the food on his plate abruptly fascinating. “And anyway, the colonel needed his rest and since he wasn't exposed to the pheromones due to his cold…”

Oookay, so that was the real reason for the guard outside his room but he was not ready to try to clarify the pillow assault. In fact, he really didn't want to envision himself half-asleep beating off an intruder with a damned pillow. Talk about embarrassing.

“So, you're okay?”

Sheppard nearly rolled his eyes at McKay's query. “I sorta recall telling you that already. Headache's gone, sinuses are basically better.” Yeah, he could actually smell the food he was eating.

“Headache?” repeated Rodney.

“From listening to all of you worship at the altar of Lucius.” Sheppard regretted the remark as soon as the words left his lips. Uncomfortable expressions and averted glances swept over everyone's faces.

“I told you not to leave me alone with the nuts,” Rodney said quietly. “It wasn't my fault. It was his.” A finger pointed dangerously at Ronon, who glared at the scientist.

“I said I was sorry.”

“We're all sorry,” Teyla spoke, her voice firm and deep with conviction.

“It was an insidious affect,” said Beckett morosely. “Much more than just making us susceptible to suggestion, but altering our personalities to…” He bowed his head slightly. “We did things that we would never have done otherwise.”

Beckett grimaced for a moment, and all Sheppard could really think of was being back in the jumper, watching the man cry inconsolably like a kid who'd just lost his favorite pet.

“Well, look, it's all over with now, right?” Sheppard said lightly.

“So why do you have the stunner pistol?” asked Ronon.

“What?” Rodney's head swiveled around to stare accusingly at the colonel.

Sheppard frowned, shifting uncomfortably as he put his sandwich down on the plate. It was then he noticed that Teyla caught a glimpse of the weapon underneath his jacket.

“Well, excuse me if I'm a little paranoid,” replied Sheppard, realizing he'd been caught. “But not long ago I was stunned, tied up, locked in a cell and threatened with being assimilated into the Lucius fan club, and, well… I was taking it back to the armory.”

“Which is in the other direction from your room,” pointed out Ronon.

“I was hungry first,” stated Sheppard truthfully.

“We're no longer pod people, Colonel.”

Teyla stared curiously at Rodney; obviously he hadn't introduced her to the joys of the people taken over by giant alien snow pea pods.

“I know that,” replied Sheppard.

“Soooo?” Rodney nearly poked him in the side, but pulled his finger back instead, as if touching the jacket might scald him. It was apparent that he couldn't see the weapon from his angle but Ronon had easily detected it, and since Teyla was nearly across from him, just shifting for a second had exposed a glimpse of it.

Everybody was looking at him. Not staring, but just beneath the confused looks lay curiosity, even the glimmer of trepidation that in Sheppard's eyes, they were still the enemy. Were they?

“So I just wanted to… feel things out, okay?” admitted Sheppard, wondering why he was feeling guilty about it when all he'd done was try to protect Atlantis. “You guys went to a wraith-occupied world and came back acting like you'd… like you'd just come off a ride at Space Mountain!”

“Did you have to remind us?” moaned Beckett. “I'm truly trying to forget that trip!”

“We are alive and well, which is what counts,” soothed Teyla.

Sheppard wondered just what the hell happened on that planet. His people running around furtively through woods and grass – dodging maybe three hive ships worth of Wraith – to gather weeds? He had no doubt that Ronon and Teyla were responsible for getting Beckett back in one piece and the same age, but they'd been basically stoned when they got back.

But that was just avoiding the issue. Did he trust them? It wasn't like they were filled with homicidal intent, but the stupidity that had overtaken them could have easily had the same results if taken to the extreme.

“See, he still thinks we're nuts.”

“I'm sorry, Rodney,” drawled Sheppard. “But I'm still seeing you practically worshipping at… 'his' feet, going on about cute little marmots.”

McKay's face drew up into a mask of disgust. “They're rodents. They carry disease. Why would I think they're cute? Are you insane? I was insane, but it was temporary and not my fault.”

”Well, why the hell didn't you just lock yourself in your lab?” Sheppard prodded

“I was going to do just that,” shot back McKay, “But I was busy trying to save our miserable little hides and then you left through the gate which seemed to be a big red glaring alert screaming 'McKay's alone. Go get him!' and he was down there within minutes and the next thing I knew, I was assimilated by the Borg!”

Sheppard waved his hand at Ronon's confused expression. “Never mind.”

Rodney went back to hacking up his meal on the plate, but more of it went into his mouth than before, and he actually risked both life and limb by smacking Ronon's fingers when the man reached for the butter roll sitting tantalizing off to the side.

Things actually did seem back normal. McKay was being an ass, Ronon was tormenting the man while Teyla sat by patiently and Beckett just hoped no blood was shed.

“Well, it could have been worse,” Sheppard pondered aloud

”I don't see how,” remarked McKay caustically, “unless he decided to take over the Daedalus.”

“Heck, it could have been you using that stuff,” Sheppard said with a smirk.

“Oh, as if I'd turn into a megalomaniac bent on world domination,” huffed McKay.

“Yeah, true,” agreed Sheppard, trying not to laugh, especially after the way McKay had openly gawked at the beautiful women in Lucius' village. “No, you'd just have Zelenka or someone cleaning up that pigsty you call a room.”

”Excuse me?” Bits of salad spat out on the table as Rodney did his level best to look mortally offended. “Do you really think I'd waste my vast influence on something that petty? And my room's not a pigsty. I just don't always have time to clean.”

Sheppard thought about it for a moment, then shrugged. “Hey, if it squeals like a pig....”

Rodney just gave him a curious look, but he was always doing that, those cryptic weird I'm-the-scientist-you're-the-slave-labor type glances. Yeah, he could return the stunner to the armory. Things were back to normal.

THE END

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COPYRIGHT DISCLAIMER: The Stargate Atlantis characters, as presented on the series, belong to MGM, Sci Fi, and other registered copyright holders. No copyright infringement is meant or intended by the writing and posting of this material. I'm just borrowing the characters and the universe for a piece of non-profit 'fan fiction' and will return in one piece (well, usually). Please do not repost this fiction, in whole or in part, anywhere, without expression written permission of the author. Please email PX7555@aol.com if you have any questions, or feedback.