Chapter 2

"Ronon! What the hell?" Sheppard fumbled through the supplies in his vest. After Lorne's team discovered that the plantlife on M3X-957 depressed the cardiovascular system, every team carried an EpiPen. John had never seen someone in anaphylactic shock before, but he recognized the symptoms. He jammed the pen in Ronon's outer thigh, releasing the epinephrine into his system.

"Come on, Big Guy. Breathe. You can do it."

The Satedan's eyes were clamped shut as he wheezed painfully. John tilted Ronon's chin toward the sky.

"Easy. Slow, deep breaths. Keep your head back. It will help open up your throat."

Dex nodded slightly and tried to control his panic. John clicked his radio.

"Teyla, this is Sheppard."

"This is Teyla."

"Ronon's in trouble. I need you to contact Atlantis and get Beckett here immediately. Tell him Ronon's had an allergic reaction to some kind of liquid, and I've injected him with the EpiPen."

"I understand, Colonel. I will do so immediately. Teyla out."

"Sheppard, this is McKay. How's he doing?"

"He's struggling to breathe. His lips are still blue."

"He's not improving?"

"Not yet."

"EpiPens carry a dosage for an average person. He is definitely not average so he may need another dose. Do you have another pen?"

"I don't. Let me see if Ronon has one."

John searched frantically through the pockets of Ronon's overcoat. He found four knives, two throwing spikes and a garrote but no EpiPen.

"He doesn't have one, Rodney."

"Where are you?"

"We are a couple of miles north of town. It took us about half an hour to get here, but we took the scenic route."

"Raise his feet and make sure his airway stays open. I'm on my way. McKay out."

"Help's coming, Chewie. Hang on."

John looked up to find Mikros and several other people, including the three now-crying children, staring at them in horror.

"Do you have a small box or something to put under his feet?"

One of the women nodded and ran toward a building resembling a barn.

John glared at Mikros. "What the hell just happened?"

The older man was apoplectic. "My sincerest apologies, Colonel Sheppard. I have never seen such a reaction. I should have warned you about the melrodin before leaving you."

"Yes, you damn well should have. What is it?"

"Melrodin is the chemical we spray on our crops to rid them of pestilence and to increase size and taste. We treat our fields twice a season, at the first sign of growth and now, just before harvest."

"Is it poisonous?"

"Yes, if ingested. Our produce goes through a complicated cleansing process before it is sold or served. No one has ever reacted this way before. I do not understand why Specialist Dex would suffer so."

The woman returned with a small crate that John placed under the Satedan's feet. After a minute, Ronon's breathing eased a bit, and Sheppard heaved a sigh of relief.

"He is having a severe allergic reaction to it, Ren Mikros. There's no way to predict it would happen, but you should have told us you were dusting crops today."

"'Dusting' crops? I don't understand that term."

"It's what we call it back home when, oh, never mind. Look, we need to get him back to the stargate. Can you spare one of your tractors?"

"Tractors?"

"The machines you use in your fields."

"Of course, Colonel. We can use one of our harvesters."

Mikros sent two of the men standing with him to make the arrangements, while the rest headed to the barn area.

Sheppard opened his canteen and helped Ronon take a small sip. He then dampened a bandage and wiped the residue of the melrodin off the Satedan's face.

"How are you doing there?" he asked as he repeated the process for himself.

Ronon was pale and sweaty, and the red splotches were spreading. His breathing was easier, but the wheezing hadn't stopped and his lips were still tinged blue. He opened one eye and whispered, "Teyla is so going to owe me for this."

"Yeah. McKay too."

After a few minutes, a deep, rumbling sound could be heard. One of the Gralan tractor-type machines rolled into view. A man climbed down from the cab and joined Mikros who had been pacing in agitation.

"Can you stand?" John asked.

Ronon frowned in concentration and shook his head. "No."

Mikros and the other man approached. "May we help?"

Sheppard nodded his thanks. He hooked his arms around Ronon's chest while the other two men picked up his legs. John could feel the Satedan's heart pounding as they carried him to the flat bed of the machine. It took a bit of work, but the three men finally got Ronon situated on the back of the harvester. Mikros turned to John, contrition written all over his face.

"Colonel Sheppard, please allow me to apologize once again. We never intended any harm."

"I know you didn't, Ren Mikros. I'm not blaming you. Someone will be in contact, but right now, I need to get Ronon home."

"Of course, Colonel. Nolar will drive you back to town."

The man with Mikros nodded a greeting and hopped in the only seat of the vehicle. John climbed on the back near his teammate and held on as the Gralan restarted the machine and headed to town.

The harvester didn't travel quickly. After five minutes or so, Ronon's breathing began to hitch again. John could see him clenching and unclenching his fists.

"Easy there. It won't be long now. Teyla is bringing Beckett. Scottish ire will be raining down any minute."

John could tell Ronon was losing the battle to stay conscious, and the pilot felt panic blossom in his chest. After all the man had been through, Sheppard was not going to let him die, not like this. He just couldn't think of anything to help him.

John glanced up as the harvester began to slow down. He could see McKay running towards them, moving faster than Sheppard ever thought possible. He grabbed the Canadian's wrist and pulled him aboard as Nolar put the engine in gear and continued to town.

"How is… he?" McKay panted.

"His breathing is getting worse."

"Right. Let's see… if this… helps."

Rodney pulled an EpiPen from his jacket and plunged it into Ronon's thigh. The Satedan didn't flinch as the needle penetrated and released the medicine. Sheppard and McKay watched in silence as their teammate's breathing slowly began to calm and even out.

John scrubbed his hand across the back of his neck. "That was a little too close."

"I agree. Let's try not to do that again, shall we?"

"Let's not. I didn't know you could run that fast, McKay."

Rodney wiped the sweat from his face and slumped back. "Well, I try not to make a habit of it, but if you and Ronon keep this up I may have to actually start."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"I have better things to do with my time. Great scientific discoveries are out there, waiting for me to find them. I'll leave the running to you two."

John pulled out his canteen and took a long drink. He was sweating as much if not more than McKay although he didn't feel overly warm. He glanced up at the sun. Maybe it was just adrenaline.

Rodney looked at him oddly. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Do you feel all right? Your face is flushed."

"I'm fine. Just a little keyed up from all the excitement."

"What exactly happened?"

"We were in the fields when some kind of pesticide was released. I'm not sure why Ronon reacted this way other than an obvious sensitivity to it. Although I can't quite figure out how he could have developed an allergy to something on a world he has never visited. Oh, of course…."

"Of course what?"

"The Satedans helped the Gralans with some technological advances. This spray they use must have been one of them. Ronon must be allergic to some compound the Satedans gave them."

"Or some compound the Satedans taught them to make. Did you bring a sample of it?"

Sheppard squeezed his eyes shut and dropped his head to his chest. "I forgot. Way to go, John! I was so caught up in helping Ronon that I didn't think to get a sample for Beckett."

Dex began stirring and opened his eyes. John raised his head up and helped him take a sip of water.

"How is he?"

"I'm right here, McKay," Ronon mumbled.

"Oh, of course, you are. So, um, how are you?"

"Been better."

"Hmmm… color is improving although the hives are still there. You don't seem to be wheezing as much, although who could tell over this freight train. Any grayed vision, spots before your eyes, something like that?"

"No."

"The EpiPen seems to have done its job then."

Ronon peered at Rodney suspiciously. "Are you really this allergic to citrus?"

McKay looked insulted. "I'll have you know I swell up like a balloon if the rind merely touches my skin."

Sheppard scoffed. "McKay…."

"Well, it happened to my cousin, Gerald, once. He turned into one big welt after a drop of juice splashed on him. I'm certain that's what would happen to me."

John gaped at him incredulously. "Oh my…. You're not even really allergic, are you?"

"Allergies are hereditary. I'm sure that I am."

"I don't ever want to hear another word about lemons from you again."

Sheppard and McKay continued to snipe at each other the entire trip back to the village while keeping a discreet eye on Ronon. John was surprised to find sweat was still running down his face and back, soaking his shirt. His face itched, and his head was beginning to pound. God, he wanted off this rock. He knew things were too perfect. If it seems too good to be true, it probably is. He started to take another drink from his canteen, only to find it empty.

"Hey, McKay, got any water left?"

Rodney looked at him in surprise. "Yours is gone already?"

"Yeah. I used some of it to clean that gunk off our faces earlier."

The scientists handed him a full canteen, and John began to guzzle it down.

"Take it easy there, Colonel. Are you sure you're OK?"

"Just ready to get out of here."

The town was in sight. Just a few more minutes to go. He was so restless he felt ready to leap out of his skin. Glancing down he saw Ronon was also drenched in sweat.

"Need a drink, Big Guy?"

Ronon bobbed his head.

"Help me sit him up, McKay."

Rodney got an arm underneath Dex's shoulders, lifting him up. Sheppard gripped the canteen but couldn't hold it steady enough for Ronon to drink. McKay shot him a concerned look.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. This damn machine is hitting every hole."

"That's a load of crap, and you know it."

"Not now, McKay. Here, you try. I'll support his head."

John handed the canteen to Rodney and moved behind Ronon to hold him up. He could feel tremors running through the big man's body while his hands twitched at his sides. Dex was worsening again. McKay didn't seem to have a problem steadying the canteen, and Ronon sighed in relief after taking a long drink.

As they reached the edge of town, a team of Marines, Teyla, and Dr. Beckett greeted them. Nolar began powering down the machine, and John hopped off to make room for Carson, letting McKay fill the doctor in on the details. A wave of dizziness greeted Sheppard as his feet touched the ground and his stomach rolled a bit. Who knew you needed sea legs to ride on the back of a harvester?

Teyla noticed the stumble. "John, are you feeling well?"

"Yes, I'm fine. The motion from riding on that machine has messed up my equilibrium. Thanks for getting Beckett here so quickly."

He called over one of the Marines. "Lieutenant, I need you to go back with Nolar here and get a sample of the liquid that caused this. It's called melrodin." He turned to the Gralan. "Nolar, would you please take Lt. Spellman back to your farm?"

"I would be honored to do so, Colonel Sheppard. I hope Specialist Dex will recover fully."

John gave a slight smile. "Me too, Nolar. Thanks. And Spellman? Double time it back here."

"Yes Sir!"

Carson had slapped on oxygen mask on Ronon's face and started an IV. Two of the Marines moved Ronon from the back of the harvester onto a stretcher. Spellman hopped on the roaring machine, and Nolar headed back.

"OK, gents, easy now. Let's get him home."

The Marines carried Ronon through town toward the stargate with the team and Beckett following. John assigned the fourth Marine to wait for Spellman. Carson cast a professional eye at Sheppard.

"And what's your story, Colonel?"

"What do you mean?"

"Don't get cute with me. Your face is flushed, you are sweating profusely, your hands are twitching, and you haven't stopped moving since you got here. What's wrong with you, lad?"

"Just worried about Ronon. Is he going to be OK?"

"I don't know just yet. I can treat the anaphylaxis, but his other symptoms concern me. I need a sample of that liquid to know what we're facing. And don't think I didn't notice you changed the subject. Do you know if he ingested any of it?"

"Probably. It hit us in the face."

Beckett stopped to stare at him. "Us? Did you ingest some too then?"

"Yeah, I think so. But I'm not sick like he is."

"The hell you aren't. You just aren't allergic like he is. When we get back-"

"Doc!" shouted a Marine as they laid the stretcher on the ground.

Ronon was convulsing.

"We need to get him to the gate now!" cried Beckett.

"Teyla, dial the gate. You two, pick up that litter and run!" ordered Sheppard.

As one, they raced for the stargate. The vortex whooshed to life, and McKay entered his IDC while Carson contacted Atlantis by radio. They ran through the event horizon, emerging to find a med team waiting with a gurney. Beckett stopped long enough to inject Diazepam into the IV and headed to the infirmary, giving orders as he went.

John stalked around the gateroom. How much worse could this get? He wiped the sweat from his face and decided he really needed a shower. He turned to go to his quarters and ran straight into Elizabeth Weir.

"What happened?"

"We were in some fields when they began spraying their crops. Ronon had an allergic reaction to it. I left two Marines there to get a sample for Beckett."

"John, are you OK?"

"Yes. I just really need a shower right now. So I'm going to go to my quarters."

He handed his P-90 to Teyla and swung around to leave. He was dying of thirst again, and someone had driven a spike through his temple.

McKay gaped after his retreating form. "Seriously? You're going to your quarters? What about Ronon? You need to go to…."

John didn't acknowledge the words and kept walking. His nerves jittered, and he used every ounce of self-control he had not to break into a sprint. He exited the transporter and strode down one corridor and then another and another. Where was he going? His breathing became labored, and the voices in his ear were agitating him. He turned off his radio and walked faster. He was all turned around. He had needed to do something. What was it?

He twisted and turned through various hallways. His quarters. That's where he was going. He froze and looked around in panic. Where was he? He didn't recognize anything, and the corridor was completely deserted. His abdomen began cramping, and he felt a constriction in his chest. Oh, God, he was in trouble. He dropped to his knees as nausea took over, emptying his stomach of its contents. His back muscles began to spasm, and his breaths came in gasps. He crawled on his hands and knees to the wall and sagged against it. What was he going to do?

His radio.

He turned it on and opened a channel.

"Help me…."

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tbc