Days. Four days without real human contact. Three days with minimal power. Two whole days with a hole in her arm.

Cooper could finally sympathize with Ronon. Running sucked.

She was in one of the lower levels of the city, re-wrapping her arm in the dark. The wound had started bleeding again, which wasn't a good sign. Her P-90 sat at her side, hardly used. A Wraith stunner rested in her leg holster, in bad need of a new clip. Her knife had been lost in the altercation with Sheppard.

She was exhausted, starving, and damn, she was freezing, but the power had to stay off. The main power, anyway. Doors would still open and close even if the transporters didn't work. Some computers still worked, but they were few and far between. She didn't know the exact science of it, that was Rodney's area, and Rodney was...

She got to her feet, leaving her hiding place to find a new one. No amount of rest was going to help her now, she was too wired, too afraid. A scratch on her collar bone pulled as she moved, but it wasn't serious, so she ignored it.

As much as she didn't want to think about it, her mind kept wandering to who was the worst. It was hard to pick. Teyla or Ronon, probably, if she was going for level of difficulty. Sheppard if she was thinking in terms of emotional trauma. McKay, well... he hadn't even made the long list. He was the whole reason she disabled the power, though, so he was at least a threat.

"Cooper."

She flinched, flattening against the wall even though there was no one around. It was her radio. Why she hadn't ditched it, she still didn't know.

"I know you can hear me, Lieutenant. I want you to know that I forgive you for that little scratch you gave me. It's healing up nicely, so no harm, no foul, right?"

She didn't reply, wouldn't reply. It would be too easy for him to get to her if she started talking back. Not Sheppard, not Sheppard, it's not Sheppard.

"Just come to the control room. I promise, I won't try to kill you this time. My word means everything to you, doesn't it?"

The reason she kept the radio was to hear his voice. Just in case it wore off, in case he was better, he could come find her. She knew he wasn't better, but still felt like she needed to know he was alive. But this wasn't Sheppard, and his words now didn't count for anything.

"You were my favorite, you know? I know everyone likes to think I'm madly in love with Teyla or Elizabeth, but it wouldn't work. But you, you're tough, Lieutenant. I think you should come to the control room. We'll work something out. You're hungry, you're tired, and Ronon tells me you're injured. Just come here and everything will be al-"

She ripped the earpiece out and stuffed it in one of her pockets, ignoring the way her heart was burning. Back to the quiet, to the low, low hum of a powered-down Atlantis.

. . .

"Hey, Lieutenant," Sheppard said brightly, watching as Cooper seated herself across from him.

"Evening, sir," she said, picking the roll off her tray. "I heard Lorne was in the infirmary. What's that about?"

"Major Lorne was hit with a Wraith stunner on his most recent mission," Teyla said. "He will be fine, but one of the doctors has told me the effects are lasting longer than usual."

"I think he's just tired," Sheppard said, but Cooper could see he was worried, if only slightly. A friend brought to their knees by the Wraith, in any way, was cause for the colonel to worry.

"What do we do if they get smarter?" she asked quietly.

"You mean smarter than they already are?"

"I must say, that is not something I would like to think about," Teyla said, shifting her perch on the table.

"It's a viable fear, though, right?" Cooper asked. "I'm not just overly paranoid?"

"The way I see it, we keep it simple," Ronon said. "Kill 'em."

"That was poetic, Ronon," Sheppard said.

Then a radio sitting on the table crackled. "We need back up in the infirmary ASAP, Major Lorne has lost control."

Sheppard was on his feet in an instant. "Let's go."

. . .

She checked her stunner. This one was better than the last, but thankfully not one of the new ones brought to the city. One of the guards at the door stirred and she gave him another jolt. She'd made sure to stun them just after the routine check-in. By the time anyone in the control center realized something was wrong, she'd be long gone. She gave the weapons room another once-over, then left.

Her pattern was starting to become a slightly comforting routine. Run, hide, find food, hide, find weapons, hide. All she had to do was stay out of sight of everyone else, which wasn't hard, with all the unoccupied places in Atlantis.

And, boy, had Atlantis saved her ass on several occasions. Cooper had been informed of the city's protocols to lock down if something was infecting its inhabitants. Due to the nature of the infection, Atlantis didn't know until too late that an automated lockdown was necessary. She tried to make up for it, however, by assisting the last unaffected person in any way possible. If Cooper needed a locked door open, she didn't even have to bypass the crystals. If one of the roaming guards was getting too close, they would find obstacles and have to change their route. Sometimes in the quiet moments, like now, when Cooper stopped to catch ten or fifteen minutes of rest, she could almost feel a conjoined sense of guilt. Perhaps that was an illusion, created by her overwhelming remorse at having to hurt so many of her friends, but she almost thought she could feel the city growing sadder by the day.

"It's alright," she said softly, her hand on the wall. "I'll fix this. I have to."