~ Underlying Cause ~
An Author's Note follows the story.
Word Count: 6022
Characters: Sheppard, Rodney, Teyla, Ronon and some Zelenka.
Rating: K+/T- for a couple brief scenes of close combat.
Disclaimer: 'Stargate Atlantis' and its characters are not mine. I would not have left them under the aegis of those whose interest lay elsewhere.
SGA ~ SGA ~ SGA
John Sheppard woke in a cold sweat. He lay in his bunk, out of breath, his heart pounding against his ribs, the fabric of his sleep shirt crushed in the clenched fist on his chest. He requested light, mentally pushing it up to maximum intensity, and concentrated on calming his respiration and relaxing his limbs.
He flexed his hand to release his tee, then ran fingertips over the barely perceptible ridge of scar. Like the imprint of the Iratus-bug bite, the evidence of his misadventure was just under the skin. He should've killed Kolya the first time...or the second.
Cold, reptilian eyes. Pain as his life was being stripped from him, each year's deprivation crumbling his bones, cramping his muscles, squeezing his breath. And his chest ~ the needle-sharp agony yanked from his very marrow was extracted through that central point. John lightly rubbed the scar again. Damn Kolya.
He hadn't dreamt of being fed upon ~ hadn't thought about it ~ in months. He'd come to terms with it, put it in perspective, even before he'd gone back to Earth ~ where he was safe, beyond the reach of feeding. If he hadn't been able to move past it, he wouldn't be able to do his job; fear was paralyzing. He was over it, months ago. And now this ~ and tonight wasn't the first.
John mentally dimmed the light but left enough illumination to see clearly. He hoped he'd sleep the rest of the night.
SGA ~ SGA ~ SGA
In the morning John woke tired and drawn. He didn't remember anything after he closed his eyes, but his sleep evidently hadn't been restful; he felt almost in a daze, like plodding through the paces. Problem was, the routine wasn't routine ~ they had to reestablish contact with their allies, had to refamiliarize themselves with city systems that had been recently activated, and they had to pick up the threads of intel on the Wraith and Replicators. And as things stood, they weren't getting much done.
Outside the mess hall John nearly collided with Radek Zelenka. "Colonel, let me know if I can help in your search."
Before John could respond Rodney yelled, "Sheppard! You're late!" Zelenka nodded and went on his way, so John walked over to the counter to snag a cup of coffee; food held no appeal. John joined his team and was aware of their uneasy expressions.
McKay paused in the process of devouring a huge muffin. "You still look like something the cat dragged in," he observed.
Which was exactly how John felt. "Thanks, Rodney," John drawled. "Another bad night." He hadn't had a good one since the Expedition had returned to Pegasus.
"Perhaps you should speak to Dr. Beckett," Teyla suggested.
"I'm fine. Things'll settle down and eventually return to normal." John knew his tone lacked conviction.
"Are we not expecting more personnel?" Teyla asked.
Rodney nodded vigorously as he chewed. "See? 'Normal'? With twice as many new recruits coming on the Daedalus?"
Ronon added, "Recruits won't do any good if we don't have time to train them. No time for the new ones we have now."
"Just time for IOA busywork," John said wryly.
"Has anyone noticed the IOA is completely contradictory?" Rodney stopped to chew. "They say 'observe' but they mean 'change'. They want the city checked out before assigning more personnel, but people came with us and more are already on the way. They don't want to militarize Atlantis but they're doubling the number of soldiers." He swallowed. "They're worried what may have happened in the last few months, but they limit Gate travel." Rodney gestured at Teyla. "What we do know comes from trading trips and it's not enough for real intel." He used the last bit of muffin to point. "Do you think he ever smiles?"
John looked over and saw Elizabeth, wearing her diplomatic smile as she 'graciously' conversed with a stiff little man sitting at her table. John stared down at his coffee cup, held in both hands, and blew on the dark liquid. The heat felt good and the brew smelled good, but overall he was just too worn to appreciate it. "I think Woolsey may have been the best of a bad lot."
"He is never without his notebook," Teyla commented.
"Writes in it. Reads from it," Ronon agreed.
"You'd think someone would have realized nothing in Pegasus can be handled 'by the book' that was written on Earth." Rodney shook his cereal spoon for emphasis. "What makes them think they're experts on 'All Things Atlantis'?"
"The IOA has first-hand experience with Replicators. They can't imagine anything worse," John explained.
"Hah. Replicators are machines, which means they can be dismantled or turned off, if we can just find the switch. Wraith, on the other hand..." Rodney looked nervously at John.
John knew what McKay meant ~ there was a lot they didn't know about Wraith. Even Teyla had never heard of 'reverse aging'. Machines, to a certain extent, were predictable, although John wasn't sure how to wage a war against them unless there was a way to pull the plug, permanently. Wraith, on the other hand... John realized he was rubbing his chest. He returned tense fingers to the relaxing warmth of the coffee mug.
"Why do I feel like Great-Aunt Madge has come to visit and is telling us what to do in our own home?" Rodney groused.
With a tired shove of his booted feet John pushed back his chair and stood. "Come on, kids. Let's go see what Elizabeth and the IOA have planned for us today."
SGA ~ SGA ~ SGA
Yellow eyes stared at him without blinking, without soul. John resisted the determined pressure, the attempt to bend his will. He could feel the Wraith's hunger while he struggled to prevent the feeding hand from reaching his skin. Cold, dank air was hard to breathe. He couldn't find any salvation in the shadows.
John woke and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He lowered his head to his hands while he slowed his breathing. He nudged the lights brighter and sat up straight, inhaling deeply.
He'd talked to Heightmeyer about the nightmares, but to no one else. Not Elizabeth and not his team. What really worried John was he couldn't understand why; he knew he was safe, knew he'd survived the un-survivable, and he knew the risk of it happening again. He was a soldier. And he could do his job. He was fine during the day, but at night... At night he felt like a kid who had to have the lights on in order to sleep. The dark seemed foreboding, and even the hum of the city wasn't comforting.
Something had changed. It wasn't the homecoming they'd expected. Being uninvited from the city had rankled, but John assumed even prissy Ancients would've let them back in once they'd reconsidered. Instead the Ancients had died in Atlantis. This time it didn't feel as if an abandoned city had been waiting for them; the hum was more like a warning for an intruder.
SGA ~ SGA ~ SGA
John dragged himself out of bed and took a long, very hot shower before he met his team at breakfast.
"John, you should see Dr. Beckett," Teyla said in concern.
"She's right, Sheppard," Ronon seconded.
John didn't want to discuss the aching tension or bone-deep chill that accompanied nightmares. "I just need a good night's sleep." He rolled his shoulders and massaged stiff knuckles.
"That's what you get for late-night gadding about," Rodney said blandly between heaping spoons of cereal.
John didn't even level a stare at him. And that said it all ~ he was too tired. Damn Kolya. And damn the Ancients for dying.
All those lives. And all that knowledge. If the Ancients were still alive the city would be running at full capacity and therein a solution to every problem in Pegasus could probably be found. John considered how difficult it must be for Teyla, who had believed the Ancestors to be almost godlike. The 'caretakers' of the galaxy were, in fact, the designers of their own executioners as well as the creators of the scourge of all humans in Pegasus. Superior intellect and technology they may have had, but they also had every human failing. The Ancients had been so certain of their superiority, as if nothing could have changed in the ten-thousand years they'd been gone.
A lot had changed even in the few months the Expedition members had been absent. Those changes needed to be identified, but the presence of the IOA was turning 'coming home' into one long headache. Privately John agreed with McKay ~ 'Great-Aunt Madge' was a major pain. Training was not in the IOA schedule, but untrained troops couldn't be sent on exploratory missions, new recruits couldn't make contact with old friends, and unfamiliar personnel couldn't identify changes in the city systems.
By lunchtime John was seriously considering taking an afternoon nap ~ sleep would be a better use of his time. He'd done more paperwork in the last week than in the prior two-and-a-half years. John looked up from his mostly untouched plate and tuned back into Rodney's running mealtime venting. Without missing a beat McKay could pick up an argument or continue a diatribe no matter how many hours between meals.
"Seriously, don't they know everything would go a lot faster if we had three ZedPMs?" Rodney took a bite of sandwich. "We have all these newly activated systems and some won't run on limited power, so maybe we have a vital weapon on our hands but it won't work with only one ZedPM."
"Would you not know it is a weapon?" Teyla asked.
"Not if it's unlike anything we've seen." Rodney shook his head. "How do we know what we have if we can't power it up?" He turned to look at the table where Elizabeth Weir was sitting with the little man again. "If they've gone over every report we've sent to Earth since Day One, why are we filling out more paperwork and reinventing the wheel?" McKay pointed his fork. "Do you know I was explaining the environmental systems today?"
John yawned widely and scrubbed his face with his hand. "Maybe the climate control in his room isn't set correctly. I'm cold every morning," he admitted.
"Maybe your girlfriend is jealous."
John ignored McKay, but he had questioned why Atlantis was not maintaining his quarters. Not for the first time he wondered who had been housed in his room so very briefly.
The day ended like the previous days, leaving John frustrated by filling out forms, rearranging rosters and pussyfooting around politics with a desk jockey who had the power to hobble current efforts and unravel all they'd done during their years in Pegasus.
"If they want even a tiny hint of what this city can do, then we need all three ZedPMs," McKay continued his personal crusade at dinner, between bites of Pegasus-style Salisbury steak.
John considered the near future would be filled with paperwork and more Rodney Reminders that three is better than one.
"Give it a rest, McKay," Ronon complained tiredly.
John did concede that Rodney had a point. When they'd first returned they'd had to re-initialize some systems for their own access. They'd had a few short hours to 'feel' the difference three ZPMs could make before two of the power units were sent to Earth for defense of the Milky Way. They'd gone back to naquadah generators for vital systems and were left with dozens of unknown systems that were on stand-by and had yet to be investigated and classified ~ which were worth further exploration and which were unnecessary and should be shut down to save their single ZPM. If they had three ZPMs, what might Atlantis be able to show them? If they knew all of the city's secrets and had the power to run everything, could they find and exploit the weaknesses of the Wraith and Replicators? John sighed. 'If' wasn't getting them anywhere. "Rodney, he's planning to return on the Daedalus, so answer his questions and then ignore him."
"Hah. Surely you jest," McKay grumbled between chews. "I don't work well with someone breathing down my neck, especially when said asthmatic feels entitled to 'suggest' how to run my lab more efficiently and which areas of research should be pursued ~ about which he knows zip, by the way." He shoved a large bite of pseudo-carrot ersatz-raisin almost-nut cake into his mouth. "A few months ago the IOA was afraid the Wraith would reach Earth. That all went away when the Wraith didn't leave the galaxy. They don't think Wraith are a threat any longer? And their solution to the newest Pegasus Problem is to make a minute study of city systems, but without being able to explore the city's full potential?" Rodney wiped his fingers. "Nothing will be even remotely 'normal' until we get rid of the IOA."
"We will have increased training schedules," Teyla responded, "and many more people in the city. We will not be able to return to our old 'normal'," she commented gently.
"At least now with the Bridge we can return to Earth whenever we want." Rodney looked up. "I mean, if we want..." He fidgeted. "This doesn't exactly feel like we've come home."
John had the same feeling. Nothing was as they'd left it, they were being told what to do by a stranger, and they hadn't truly moved back in; John was still living out of his duffel.
It wasn't until Teyla once again expressed her concern and wished him a good night's rest that John realized he didn't want to return to his quarters to try to sleep.
SGA ~ SGA ~ SGA
The space was cold and damp with a brackish stench. He could hear the splash of moisture dripping from some overhead beam. The Wraith was there, waiting ~ waiting to feed. John could sense its anticipation, the hunger and driving need. He couldn't see in the shadows. Where was his team?
John woke in the half-light of his quarters. He lightly fingered his chest then ran his hand up through his sweat-soaked hair. Fervent concentration brought slow, rhythmic breathing. He closed his eyes, wondering when the nightly pattern would end.
SGA ~ SGA ~ SGA
Rodney strode into one of the science labs, his gaze fixed on the tablet in his hands. His step was certain, the path well known, and he was secure in the knowledge that anyone awake at that hour would move out of his way. "Radek, do you have those calculations for- " He looked up and came to a stop. Zelenka was staring at an Ancient display screen, apparently fascinated by life-sign dots. "What are you doing?"
"He's at it again." Radek clicked to zoom in on a dot.
"Who?" Rodney walked over to the screen.
"Colonel Sheppard. He's looking for something."
Rodney leaned closer to peer at the dot. "How do you know that's Sheppard? And how do you know he's looking for something? And what do you mean 'he's at it again'?"
Zelenka moved the cursor to follow the single dot. "Flynn saw the colonel the second night during a recalibration." Radek looked up at Rodney's exasperated mew. "Flynn is on the night shift... Rodney, teams have been surveying twenty-four-seven since we returned to record changes in city. I saw the colonel myself a few nights ago and offered to help him find whatever he's looking for, but he seems unwilling to ask for help."
"But he told you he was looking for something?"
Zelenka paused. "He seemed preoccupied. Distant. I asked if he needed help and he said he 'had to find it.' I was concerned because- " Radek looked up soberly. "He was barefooted."
Rodney nearly choked. "I saw him last night. I thought he was, you know, on his way to a rendezvous or..." He trailed off in the face of Zelenka's frown.
"Rodney," the Czech admonished, and deep down Rodney knew that shuffling barefoot through the halls to an assignation wasn't Kirk's style, but what else could he be doing?
"You said he's doing this every night?" Rodney queried.
"Yes. He will reach certain wall and eventually turn back."
Rodney started thinking, recalling every team meal, every conversation or off-chance remark. "Come on!" he urged as he picked up a hand scanner and headed for the exit.
Zelenka hurried after him. "Where are we going? Colonel Sheppard will go back to his quarters in a little while."
"Sheppard hasn't been sleeping well since we returned," Rodney answered over his shoulder, "or rather, he's not getting any rest. I think he's actually sleeping so well he doesn't know he's walking around at night." He looked down at the scanner. "Where the heck is he trying to go? What's down there?"
SGA ~ SGA ~ SGA
John knew something was up when his team was waiting for him in the hall. He was escorted to breakfast so he 'wouldn't get lost', according to Rodney, while in the background Ronon rolled his eyes and Teyla rushed over the conversational gaffe.
During the meal John felt like the only one at the table who didn't know a secret. Elizabeth 'casually' dropped by to suggest that the team take a little outing, to make inspections as a break from questions and paperwork, since the IOA was pushing for a status report on the city's readiness to support more personnel. An hour later, per Weir's request, they were on a recon mission, going into the underbelly of the city, sans usual arms.
"All dressed up, nowhere to go," John mumbled to himself.
The understructure of Atlantis was inaccessible by transporter; the team headed down maintenance stairs to areas that were vastly unexplored. With each level of descent John noted the diminishing elegance in design and the lessening of the group's usual banter. Below the water level the architecture still bore a certain Lantean style, but the space was compartmentalized, like a submarine. The ambient lighting had dimmed as they descended and the current corridors were close and the air stale.
"Nice place for an outing," John remarked deadpan. His teammates were beside or slightly behind him, but John was aware of their gazes; they were keeping an eye on him. John stopped short. "Okay, guys, anyone wanna tell me what's goin' on?"
Rodney glanced at the other two, then said, "We had an early-morning meeting. Well, the three of us, plus Elizabeth. Early enough that her shadow wasn't present," he further explained. "We thought you should come down here. In the daytime. When you're awake..." McKay slowed to a stop.
John narrowed his eyes in confusion.
"You've been sleepwalking, Sheppard," Ronon announced.
John could only stare. Teyla approached him and put her hand on his arm. "It is true, John. The reason you have been so tired is you are not staying in your quarters."
It made sense, in a way, and yet it was hard to believe. John looked at each face, hoping to find evidence of a practical joke... So, he was having nightmares and then going walkabout? "And you expect me to recreate the situation when I'm awake?" John realized a part of him was angry, feeling almost as if he'd been tricked. "Sorry, guys, but I don't remember any of it."
"Ah, but we know where you've been going," Rodney exclaimed excitedly. "Radek and I followed you last night." He moved to take the lead, referring to a map on his tablet.
The passage was narrow and dim and the group took a path that involved several turns down hallways that smelled of damp from probable storm damage but which bore no signs of flooding. John marked the bare beams and struts and the raised thresholds needed to contain water, section by section. The team rounded a corner to find a dead end created by a containment door that had closed off the corridor. There was nowhere to go but back.
"So, is this the end of our little field trip?" John drawled.
"Uh, not exactly. This is the door you've been trying to open. With your bare hands." Rodney looked pointedly to where John was unconsciously massaging his knuckles. "The engineers have locked it because of flood damage, but we can proceed if I just..." Rodney started tapping keys and pushing buttons on his tablet before he extracted a connecting cable for the wall panel.
As John slowly approached the door, waiting for McKay to override the lockout, he realized he didn't want to be there. A feeling of dread was crawling over his skin ~ inexplicable fear of what was beyond the door. His fingers were cramped, stiff with cold. His chest hurt. He kneaded the phantom pain, clenching his vest in a fist. His breath was coming noisily, in short, strong measures through his nose. He closed his eyes to relax, trying to calm himself, trying to slow his breathing, trying to... "Hafta fine 't," he mumbled and heard his own voice from a distance.
"John? ...John!"
John opened his eyes at Teyla's call, just as the door swooshed open, freeing the odor of stale seawater. John drew his sidearm before he'd had a chance to think. Ronon and Teyla flanked him, taking his cue to be on the alert. John was rigid, frozen; he didn't want to enter. His heart was pounding. He leveled his weapon and wished they were all fully kitted for an offworld mission, complete with P-90s and Ronon's blaster. Or a bazooka. He took a deep breath and stepped over the threshold.
The space was cold and damp with a brackish stench. The dank air was hard to breathe. John heard the splash of moisture dripping somewhere. What was in the shadows? John checked the position of his team ~ Teyla and Ronon on either side, Rodney bringing up the rear, monitoring his equipment and complaining about the smell and the water squishing in his shoes.
John knew his team was there to help him face his demons and that they didn't really expect to find anything. He didn't expect to find anything, either, but he felt like a ten-year-old entering a haunted house. He pulled a penlight from his vest pocket. "Can we get some more light in here?" Atlantis didn't respond to John's request, but Rodney did.
"There are only emergency systems down here, but I can probably..." McKay tapped some keys. "Yes, reroute the power to our current section as we go." The lights brightened slightly above them but went dark behind them.
John led the way slowly into the gloom. Water lapped at the walls and dragged at their feet. The lighting didn't illuminate the shadows in the space that was filled with crossed beams and structural hardware. John ducked under a low girder and felt the water slosh over his boot tops.
"Do you think they ever had to worry about sinking?" Rodney asked, still watching his tablet and adjusting the lighting.
John looked back in time to see Ronon bend nearly double to pass under the girder. Face-forward John could see through the next doorway to more struts and higher water. As he entered the new room the slap of waves against the walls and the splash of their footsteps echoed in the open area. John stepped beyond a large brace and aimed his light around the space. Shock stiffened his spine and stole his breath even as the others joined him.
John breathed in deeply and forced his feet to move forward. He kept his weapon trained as he warily approached a Dart stuck in the hull, with only the nose and a bit of its canopy visible.
"Well, that explains what she was doing," Rodney commented, keeping only one eye on his LSD and tablet. He stayed at a distance while the others surrounded the foreign craft.
"What're you talkin' about?" John asked, never shifting his weapon from the Dart. It looked harmless, quiet, but ten nights of bad dreams and sleepwalking had left their mark on him.
"Atlantis led you here. She wanted you to find it. I think, when there were briefly three ZedPMs installed," Rodney explained with a note of injured disgust in his voice, "the city sensors found the hull breach. For whatever reason, neither the Ancients nor the Replicators took any action; perhaps because it's evidently nonfunctioning there was no rush to remove the Dart. Still, the city found the breach. Now we only have one ZedPM" ~ the disgust in his voice resurfaced ~ "and can't expand the sensors to cover the entire city. Sensors aren't active in this area, but Atlantis is still aware of the breach. You were picking up her warning, albeit garbled, in your sleep."
"You have no idea..." John murmured. He looked at his team. "I've been dreaming about Kolya. And the Wraith..." He didn't need to say more. He exhaled and felt tension ease from his body. "How long d'you figure this thing's been down here?"
"The Queen could have slipped one under the radar during our supposed alliance a few months ago," Rodney suggested.
"We should've found this earlier," John asserted.
"We haven't even checked all the areas that flooded when we originally arrived here," Rodney responded defensively. "We're still mapping the city and you know, it's going to take a while, especially with only one ZedPM and not many survey teams to do the on-site evaluations and trying to describe a room here is not like marketing a condo. Atlantis is the size of Manhattan and we're a few hundred, not a few million people," he argued. "And frankly, with the Wraith and Replicators and regular missions, making a tourist map of the bowels of the city isn't our highest priority. Nobody comes down here," Rodney concluded.
"Well, we better send somebody down here," John countered. "Instead of a tourist map we should be checking the hull!"
"Perhaps the Dart is from the siege nearly two years ago," Teyla inserted into the rising argument.
John paused and said pensively, "Or a million years ago. Atlantis doesn't rust and this thing's bio-something-or-other Wraith tech. They're both pretty durable." He walked slowly around the Dart, shining his penlight over the nose of the ship. "We can't exactly check under the hood for the year it rolled off the assembly line." John looked at Rodney. "You said 'evidently nonfunctioning' so is it really dead-dead, as in 'doornail-dead'?"
Rodney rechecked his equipment. "It's dead," he declared, tapping keys. "No power, no weapons, no signal."
"What about Wraith?" John turned to Teyla. "Anything?"
Teyla shook her head. "I sense nothing."
"Which means," John swung back to face the Dart, "the pilot's dead, missing or...hibernating."
"Hibernating?" Rodney squeaked. "How can we tell?"
"Obviously," John said patiently, "we'll have to check it out. We need engineers and divers. See if we can salvage this thing." He leaned in to examine the breach in the outside wall. Water had slowly dribbled into the city, but the opening was tightly encrusted with small sea creatures. "The way this is stuck in the hull, the pilot was trapped ~ if it survived the crash it couldn't release the canopy without flooding the Dart and drowning. So," John looked back at his team and grinned, "we check it out."
SGA ~ SGA ~ SGA
"What do you mean, 'it was in storage'?" Rodney asked from the co-pilot seat. "How did you really set this all up so fast?"
John manipulated the Jumper controls and spared a glance at McKay. "It's something I rigged last year." The little ship hovered over the waves at an angle such that John could observe the activity below. Divers and engineering personnel swarmed over top and side of the pier, one man gripping a rung on the hull.
"...The crash." Rodney glanced nervously at the water. "This isn't a submarine, you know. It's not waterproof, exactly."
"Just space-proof?" John asked carefully.
"We will not go into the water, Rodney," Teyla soothed. "We will only be over the ocean long enough to retrieve the Dart."
Cables dangling from the Jumper disappeared into the ocean below. John maintained position, keeping the lines away from the hull while allowing some slack. A diver surfaced and gave a 'thumbs up' and a wave. "That's our signal," John acknowledged.
"A little old fashioned, don't you think?"
"They're in Earth wetsuits, Rodney. They're not set up for sound." John pulled the Jumper back slowly. The cables grew taught and then the Jumper jerked slightly when the Dart was freed from the hull. John gripped the controls to steady the ride, keeping a firm backward movement. The Dart suddenly appeared, like a water skier rising from the sea. John waved and the diver signaled in return before disappearing underwater.
"Where's he going?" Rodney wanted to know.
"Back to help with repairs. They're putting a patch on the hull from inside and out. Should hold, until we find instructions in the Database how to repair Atlantis correctly."
Rodney snorted. "Since when do we have instructions?"
"We need to look for instructions, because even if Atlantis doesn't rust, the patch will." John had maintained the backward trajectory, taking the Jumper away from the work site while Ronon operated the winch to reduce the length between the two crafts. When they were safely removed from the reparations John turned the Jumper and guided the ship slowly back over the city, where he gently lowered the Dart to the ground. "Piece o' cake."
SGA ~ SGA ~ SGA
"Can we use it?" John stood with Teyla and McKay alongside the Dart. Ronon was circling the ship, making an inspection.
"If you mean, can we learn something about Wraith tech," Rodney replied, "the answer's 'very little'." He tapped keys on his tablet and looked up into John's stare. "I was able to crack its interface only because flying a Dart doesn't require thought." John raised an eyebrow. "It's mindless." John's eyebrow rose further. McKay sighed. "Darts are almost like our drones ~ programmed missiles, but manned. A Drone in a Dart is mostly controlled by other Wraith. Maybe because Drones are nearly 'brain dead' there's no DNA requirement. Cruisers and Hives require the genetic connection because there's a mental component. There's no DNA requirement with a Dart, so it's very low-end Wraith tech."
"Sheppard." Ronon pointed to undercarriage scorch marks.
"Yeah, I saw that," John responded. "Either brought down by weapons fire or it was a kamikaze run at an access port."
"Can we not study the scooping beam?" Teyla asked McKay.
"No power," Rodney shook his head, "and it won't hook to naquadah generators, but intel in the computer will be useful."
John nodded and rubbed his hands. "Okay, kids, here we go." John stepped up onto the side runner of the Dart and leaned in to find the release mechanism. The canopy dissolved. "I hate these things," John sighed as he stepped back down and frowned at the motionless occupant. "You know, a sealed cockpit and it could hibernate for centuries. It could've been dead a few months or since the original siege. Or not dead at all. How d'we know?"
Ronon pulled a knife from his leather forearm shield and elbowed John out of the way. "We kill it. Then we know."
"I'm with you, Chew- "
"John!" Teyla screamed a warning.
SGA ~ SGA ~ SGA
The Wraith moved ~ reaching over the side of the cockpit to grab Ronon by the throat. It struck the knife from the big man's hand as it stepped up and out of the Dart, maneuvering so that Ronon was between it and the team. The awkward embrace was a tense battle for life; Ronon was barely able to keep the feeding hand at bay. They were forged so close Sheppard had no clear line of sight; he entered the fray and jammed the muzzle of his sidearm against the Drone's ribcage and fired the weapon repeatedly, point blank. The Wraith backhanded Sheppard, who flew several meters before landing painfully on his back and skidding across the pier. Staggering in bloody injury the Wraith had loosed its grip. Ronon tore free of its grasp and scrambled for Sheppard's gun. The Drone, howling in rage and pain, ran for the edge of the pier. It tackled Sheppard, who was rising awkwardly to his feet, and took the colonel with it, tumbling into the dark waters below.
SGA ~ SGA ~ SGA
In one sweeping motion Ronon unhooked a cable from around the Dart and sailed off the pier in a smooth dive, the metal line trailing behind him as he entered the rolling sea.
"Rodney, power up the Jumper!" Teyla shouted. "You must be ready to raise them when Ronon gives the signal! Go! I will tell you when Ronon pulls on the line. Go! Go!"
Rodney jerked his gaze from the bubbling surface where his friends had vanished. "Right. I can do this... I can do this..." He repeated the mantra as he ran into the Jumper.
SGA ~ SGA ~ SGA
Human and Wraith sank beneath the waves, engaged in a slow-motion duel. Deeper and deeper, the Drone tearing at the zippered vest to secure access for its feeding hand while Sheppard fought to defeat the Wraith's purpose at the same time struggling to draw his knife from its sheath. Man and monster, grappling for life, Sheppard's lungs crying for air as he felt for the weapon's grip, slid the blade into the Wraith below the armored chest-plate and yanked upward, then he twisted the knife to pull it sidewise. Sheppard was freed, but his breath was spent...
SGA ~ SGA ~ SGA
"One, two, three...breathe. One, two, three...breathe."
John gagged up sea water and feebly raised a hand. "Enough," he choked, then turned his head to the side again and coughed up more ocean. "Stop, Chewie...you tryin' to...kill me?" he croaked, between painful breaths and rolling to his side to retch.
John relaxed onto his back and looked up at the faces surrounding him ~ Teyla and Ronon on their haunches at either side and Rodney nervously watching from his position at John's feet. Ronon was banged up and they were all dripping wet.
"Thanks, buddy," John rasped and nodded at Ronon.
"Teyla helped," the big man replied and Rodney huffed.
John didn't recall the feel of a mustache, so evidently Teyla supplied the 'breathing' while Ronon was doing chest compressions. John smiled up at her. "Thanks." Teyla smiled back and Rodney huffed again, louder. "Thank you all," John clarified.
John marked again that Ronon's face, shoulder and arm were badly scraped and bruised. "What happened to you?" he asked.
Ronon slid his gaze in McKay's direction, but it was Teyla who began diplomatically, "There was a...difficulty raising- "
"I used a cable from the Jumper," Ronon interrupted. "McKay brought us up too close to the city. Wouldn't go farther out over the water." He lowered his brow at Rodney. "Teyla had to jump in to help me carry you up the rungs after I let go of the line."
John looked over at Rodney. "Why are you wet?"
Ronon barked a short laugh and pointed to the Jumper. "Too close. After he set down, he ran out the back. Fell off the pier."
"Rodney did very well," Teyla stated in McKay's defense.
John nodded in agreement. "You did good, Rodney." He paused. "You really fell off the pier?"
"Oh, and like you've never miscalculated distance," Rodney challenged mulishly. "I was in a hurry."
John nodded again, then turned his head to stare over at the lifeless Dart. "So, this was all for nothing," he stated solemnly.
"Well, you probably won't have any more nightmares," Rodney suggested as a consolation.
"How do you feel, John?" Teyla asked sincerely.
John lay on the pier, soaking wet. His chest was sore, his lungs and throat hurt, and he was cold. The hum was there, at the back of his mind, comforting, as it should be. John smiled up at his team. "Like I'll get a good night's rest." *~*
Author's Note: This story arose from two considerations - why can Sheppard fly a Dart, and, why was there no scene of "homecoming" in the series when everyone returned to Atlantis? For the latter, rather than explore the feelings of coming home, I chose to find a reason that there was no real sense of homecoming for the Expedition members.
Thanks for reading.