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Hazily, he wondered where the bees came from because their persistent buzzing did nothing to calm the throbbing in his head as John fought his way back towards consciousness. He tried to lift his left arm, only to choke on his own breath as the fire of pain raced through his body. As he took a couple careful breaths, he realized the only good thing about the pain was that it had jarred him back to awareness. He swallowed hard and opened his eyes. The room was nearly dark, as the dim, surviving lights cast an eerie glow around him. On the air was a definite burnt odor; the kind of thing you smell when you have an electrical fire. Or overload the Christmas tree lights... he briefly contemplated, remembering one interesting Christmas when he was a kid...

"John, please respond!"

He blinked, the concerned female voice forcing him back to clarity. Focus! It was only then that he realized two things. One: there was an uncomfortably heavy weight pinning his legs and part of his lower torso. Two: His backside and legs were cold... as in wet cold... as in seawater... he sighed again, wincing at the pain in his chest. That's three things...

"John, answer me... please."

Make that four... Elizabeth. He'd learned his lesson about his left arm the hard way so he slowly lifted his right hand and awkwardly reached across his face to tap the radio headset situated on his left ear. "Sheppard…" he managed.

"Oh thank god!" Rodney's voice immediately responded. "We felt the explosion even from here! What the hell happened?"

"Rodney." Elizabeth cut him off. "John? Are you okay?"

John shifted his weight, barely able to move underneath the large chunk of debris that pinned him, but it was enough to send a wave of pain through him. He hissed in response. "Been... better," he answered through clenched teeth. Something tickled the side of his mouth and he licked his lips in response. He grimaced at the metallic taste of blood and reached up, gently prodding a freely bleeding cut on his cheek. He moved his hand behind his head and pressed on the tender the knot on the back of his skull. His fingers came away sticky and he didn't need to see them to know he was bleeding.

"Colonel," Carson's voice took the place of Elizabeth's. "'Tis Beckett."

"Hey, Doc," John tried to smile slightly, "don't suppose... I can interest you in... a house call?"

"Soon as I can, lad. I'm on my way to the East Pier right now." Carson's voice was gentle and reassuring. "Can ye tell me where ye are injured?"

John pulled in as deep a breath as he could and swallowed against a wave of nausea. "Yeah..." he blinked hard, trying to remember the question. "What..."

"Colonel, did ye hit your head?" Carson's voice was still gentle but there was a note of urgency to it.

Oh, right. John nodded slightly. "Yeah, cracked it pretty... good. Bleeding. Sorry. Little scrambled..." He blinked hard and forced himself to focus.

"'Tis all right, son," Carson reassured, "what else hurts?"

John reached for his left shoulder, his hand once again encountering the stickiness of blood, before his fingers bumped into something cold and hard. He stared at the jagged edge of a piece of metal embedded in his shoulder just below the collar bone and couldn't stop the grunt of pain that escaped him.

"Colonel?" Carson immediately responded. "What is it?"

"There's a piece... of shrapnel lodged in... my shoulder," he panted slightly. Squeezing his eyes shut he shifted his weight, trying to ignore the pain. "Not pinning me to the wall though." He rubbed his fingers together. "Still bleeding."

"Aye," Carson sighed, "don't be moving too much and leave the shrapnel where it is. What else?"

Truthfully, John realized, he hadn't taken stock in much more of his condition than that. Pushing with his good hand against the rubble that pinned him, John shifted his legs slightly. A harsh cry of pain escaped his lips before he could stop it. "Broken..." he panted loudly. He squeezed his eyes shut, fighting a floating feeling as the softness of unconsciousness tried to take him.

"Colonel?"

Carson's voice sounded distant. John struggled to speak, but only managed a quiet moan for his troubles.

"Come on, lad, stay with me," Carson urged. "What's broken?"

"John!"

Elizabeth's urgent voice snapped him back to consciousness. "Here," he muttered.

"Good," Carson's voice softened, "ye gave us a wee bit of a scare. Now, what's broken?" he repeated.

"Left... tib/fib," John managed, "some ribs. I'm pinned by something. That's it... I think."

"Certainly more than enough," Carson quipped darkly.

John's chuckle was weak. "Yeah." His right hand dropped to the floor and he closed his eyes briefly as it submerged in what he guessed was about two inches of water. "Got another problem here," he muttered.

"John? What is it?" Elizabeth's voice was heavy with concern.

He blinked, his head clearing as the pain in his body dulled slightly. "The explosion must have caused structural damage. There's a slow leak... somewhere. Water's gettin' in." With his one, good hand, he pushed hard against the rubble, but it refused to budge. "Damn. I can't move this thing." He absently sloshed his hand in the shallow water. "I'm sort of stuck here..." his voice trailed off, the implications of his statement perfectly clear: if the room continued to flood and they couldn't get to him in time...

An instinctive, primal fear pushed at him, but he pushed back, shaking his head slightly. Keep your cool, there's lots of time here... "Wouldn't complain if you got... the doors open, McKay."

"Working on it." Privy to the entire conversation, Rodney's voice was devoid of any sarcasm. "I haven't been able to override the lock yet."

"Rodney?" Elizabeth responded, "Radek is working on overriding the locks from here as well. In the mean time, I'm sending a team your way with the equipment to cut through the door if we have to. John? Try to relax," Her voice was calm and controlled, "we'll get you out of there."

He smiled slightly at her reassuring tone. But even for all her professionalism, he could hear concern anyway. "I know," he responded quietly.

--------------------------

Rodney punched a few keys on his data pad then looked up at the door expectantly. His gaze narrowed. "What? I don't get it."

"Stand back, McKay."

Rodney turned and took an involuntary step back as Ronon stalked towards him, Lorne and a team of Marines close behind.

"Time's up, Doc," Lorne knelt in front of the door and opened a large case. "Time to take the direct approach." He pulled a heavy duty cutting tool from one of the cases.

Carving up the city like a Thanksgiving turkey absolutely ground on Rodney's temper. "Just... wait. I think I almost have it."

"No." Ronon took a step closer to Rodney.

"Not gonna happen, McKay," Lorne's voice was level and determined, "the Colonel's trapped and injured and we're not waiting."

Rodney swallowed hard and stared at the solid door, memories of a flooded Jumper coming back to him. Sheppard had been there then, risking his life to save him. Rodney sighed and pulled his data pad connectors from the door crystals. He stepped back as Lorne put on a dark pair of goggles and fired up the cutter.

"What's the status here?"

Rodney turned and stared coldly at Carson as the doctor and his team approached. "The status is they're cutting holes in my city, that's what." Rodney glared at the back of Lorne's head as the major started cutting his way through the door.

"Rodney, the Colonel needs immediate medical attention," Carson reasoned.

"I know that," Rodney snapped. "They're just..." he grimaced, "cutting holes in my city," he repeated.

"Your city?" Carson's voice was darkly amused.

Rodney scowled at him "Yes! Who else understands this city like I do? You?" He snapped. He kept his expression cold as faint amusement crinkled the corners of Carson's eyes.

"Right," he sighed.

His attitude was placating, something Rodney wasn't in the mood for. "Look. You don't..."

"Quiet!" Ronon interrupted.

Rodney turned towards the big Satedan, his eyes widening as Ronon tensed before putting a hand on Lorne's shoulder.

Lorne turned off the cutting tool and looked back at Ronon.

"What?" Rodney whispered loudly, "what is it?" He wilted slightly under the scathing look Ronon gave him. Fine... shutting up... he looked up as a faint thumping sound, followed by another and then another echoed from the other side of the door. Sounds like... Rodney's stomach somersaulted. "Doors," he whispered. He smacked his headset. "Radek! Scan the East Pier, now!"

"What is it?" Lorne looked up at Rodney.

"If I'm right, we got a big problem," Rodney muttered.

"McKay, what?" Lorne raised his voice slightly.

"Rodney," Radek's concerned voice came back over the radio, "several bulkhead doors between you and the Colonel are closing. I cannot override the system and stop them."

"Damn it!" Rodney resisted the urge to throw down his data pad.

"What's going on?" Elizabeth's voice came over the radio.

"It's the city," Rodney responded. "Since we couldn't cut power to the East Pier, the sensors were still active. They must've detected the structural damage and flooding and sealed off the affected areas. It's a safety protocol designed to compartmentalize the breach and keep it from flooding the whole city."

"But, the doors to the room John is trapped in are shut," Elizabeth's voice was puzzled.

"They must be damaged," Rodney shook his head, "Or there's structural damage outside that room as well. At this point, it's hard to know for sure, but something triggered the bulkhead doors to close."

"According to the sensor readings, there is a slow leak in section C-7 as well," Zelenka interjected. "Must be damage along the outer wall and is probably what triggered the safety protocol."

"When this is over, we're going to have to get out there with divers and repair the outer wall," Rodney's frown deepened.

"There has to be some sort of override," Elizabeth reasoned, "otherwise, how do you rescue anyone trapped?"

"I'm sure there is," Rodney sighed in exasperation, "but I don't think we have days to find it in the Ancient database!"

"I am detecting six emergency bulkhead doors between you and Colonel Sheppard," Radek added.

"Six," Rodney muttered, "bit of an overkill...

"Ma'am," Lorne interrupted, "it's going to take us a good thirty minutes to cut through each door. If there's six of them, that's three hours. The Colonel..." Lorne shook his head, "I don't think the Colonel has that much time."

"Besides, there is the reality of why the bulkheads closed in the first place." Rodney added. "We'd be removing the city's protection from what could become a catastrophic flooding event if the outer hull gives way completely and there are no bulkheads to stop the water."

"Then we need another plan," Elizabeth reasoned firmly. "Can we take a Jumper and come in from the ocean side?"

"We have no idea how he's pinned," Rodney shook his head. "The compartment would flood immediately. We can't do that unless we know exactly how to free him."

"We could use rescue divers and breathing equipment," Elizabeth pressed.

"Elizabeth, given what I know of the Colonel's injuries and especially what I don't know, I doubt even he would have the stamina to survive what you're suggesting," Carson interjected. "If the flooding overwhelms him and we can't free him immediately, he'll drown."

"Can we extend the Jumper's shields to keep back the ocean?" Elizabeth offered.

"Probably not," this time Zelenka answered. "We do not fully know the condition of the outer wall. The damage is apparently more widespread than we anticipated. The shield would be unstable at best, and could collapse in on itself at worst. That would flood the compartment and subject the Jumper to the crushing pressure of the ocean. We'd loose both the Colonel and the Jumper's crew."

"He's right," Rodney affirmed. "Even micro-fissures in the outer hull could be catastrophic."

Elizabeth's frustrated sigh was clearly audible. "Find me an option C, gentlemen and quickly."

Rodney looked around for a minute, his mind racing. He let his head fall back, his gaze fixing on the ceiling. Realization dawned on him and his heart jumped in response. "That's it," he muttered.

"Rodney?" Elizabeth answered immediately. "What's it?"

"The floor... that is the ceiling..." We need cutting tools, climbing gear, precise sensor readings...

"Rodney!"

Elizabeth's urgent voice jarred him from his racing thoughts. "Only this level is flooding." Rodney reasoned quickly. "We go up one floor, enter the pier and reach the Colonel's exact location. Then cut through the floor to get to him."

"McKay, these floors are thick," Lorne shook his head, "that's a hell of a cutting job."

"You got a better idea?" Rodney shot back, affirming his statement with a cold glare. "Better suggest it fast, because while we stand here and argue, water is still flooding the room where Sheppard is trapped!"

Lorne waved his hand at Rodney. "I get the point. Dr. Weir I want three more teams with the heaviest cutting tools we have to meet us one level up from here. We're going to have to tag team the job if we want to cut through in time."

"We also need climbing and rescue gear to rappel down to him once we're through," Rodney added hastily.

"Whatever you need, you'll have." Elizabeth immediately answered. "Get going."

Rodney started down the hallway, Ronon right beside him and Carson's team following. "Radek," he snapped into his headset, "Get me a precise location on Colonel Sheppard."

"Precise?" Radek questioned.

"Yes!" Rodney snapped, "It'd be helpful to know exactly where he is so we don't drop the ceiling on his head!"

"Right. Scanning," Radek answered his tone unfazed.

Rodney reached the auxiliary stairwell and took the stairs two at a time. His calf muscles protested his haste and briefly, he sent annoyed thoughts at Sheppard. Carving up my city... Memories of cold water creeping up his body briefly flashed through Rodney's head. He swallowed hard, pushed away the thoughts and quickened his pace.

--------------------------------

John's teeth chattered uncontrollably and the corresponding shivering painfully tensed his whole body. He'd been dressed for jogging; t-shirt, light jogging pants, running shoes. The water just soaked right through them, chilling him. Not that any heavier clothing would've mattered, but right now he swore he'd trade his right arm for a warm coat. Or a warm anything... The only good thing about the cold, he realized, was that it dulled his pain. But, it also dulled his senses and it took all the strength he had to keep his head clear.

Edging ever higher, he guessed the water around six inches deep and still increasing. It crept under the debris pinning him, over his legs, and silently up his body. He swallowed against fear, holding tight to the knowledge that his people were coming for him and that they were doing everything in their power to get to him as fast as they could. But, part of him wondered if it would be in time.

He slumped against the wall, resting, saving his strength to stay calm and stay conscious.

"John, how are you doing?"

Elizabeth's voice was gentle, but held a note of quiet strength that he focused on. "Don't suppose... you could get me... a little hot coffee?" He stuttered. "What was the... noise I just... heard?" he asked tentatively. He really wasn't sure if he wanted to know and the long silence that followed did nothing to bolster his confidence. He closed his eyes briefly. This can't be good... "Elizabeth," he urged quietly.

"The city's sensors detected a hull breach," she finally answered. "Six emergency bulkhead doors between you and the entrance to the pier closed."

John clenched his jaw, momentarily silencing his chattering teeth. "Can McKay... get them... open?"

"Not easily, no," Elizabeth answered firmly, "and Major Lorne believes it'll take too long to cut through them. With the rate the water is rising, by the time they got there..." her voice trailed off.

"Yeah," John answered softly, fighting a renewed instinctive panic that tried to consume him. "So, what's the... plan?"

"They're going up one level, where the bulkheads are still opened and going to cut through the floor to reach you."

"Floor..." John's voice cracked slightly. "Big... job."

"We're bringing in three more teams and the heaviest cutting tools we have," Elizabeth's voice took on a reassuring note. "We'll get to you, just hold on."

John smiled slightly. "Is that an... order, Doctor?" In his mind's eye he could see the determined smile on Elizabeth's face.

"It is, Colonel, and you better follow it."

In spite of his chattering teeth, John managed to keep his small smile. "Yes... ma'am."