Shockingly short chapter, I'm afraid.
A familiar voice broke through the pain, and he grabbed it like a lifeline, all the while his mind screaming that it was impossible...
They were firing again, running footsteps coming closer and he could hear their voices now. The event horizon shimmered, ripples spreading outwards as Cartwright disappeared after McKay and Harrison, her anxious expression disappearing behind the illusion of water.
A moment later Ronan, with Sheppard himself only a few feet away, stepped through, his eye never leaving the enemy, his weapon never silent. The Colonel turned, firing a random spray, the pain in his hip almost unbearable. He was staggering now, almost unable to keep on his feet.
Another shot was loosed and something slammed into him from behind. All the air was driven out of his lungs and they burned, trying to draw oxygen in and failing. His brain was slow, refusing to catch up with his body and Sheppard staggered another step, night closing in fast. It took another heartbeat to realise it was his mind, not the sky, casting shadows and a bolt of fear shot through him, flooding his system with adrenaline and propelling him into the fluctuating event horizon.
An energy bolt hit the 'Gate, overloading its capacitors and charging the system with more power than it was prepared to handle. Like water it ran into every available outlet, blowing power conduits on both ends and throwing the wormhole off-course. It drew more power from the star it interesected, expending the energy by pushing the limits of its capabilities.
Inside the wormhole, Sheppard was tossed as if he rode a stormy ocean. When his form coalesced and he emerged, he was thrown out like a ragdoll onto the cold, hard floor of Atlantis' Gateroom. By sheer chance, the iris shield had been blown by the amount of power that poured into the 'Gate system and he made it, whole but not undamaged, a prone figure at the foot of the steps to the control room.
Everyone nearby froze. They had evacuated the Gateroom when the unexpected connection had made the wormhole unstable, blowing power conduits and showering the soldiers below with sparks. A host of weapons remained pointed at the 'Gate but not a single shot was fired. Despite the rapid exit of their visitor, there wasn't a person present who didn't recognise him, despite the unfamiliar uniform.
A medical team was called and Atlantis' leader ran down the steps, crouching by the prone form. Loren called out his objections, but she ignored them, telling him to call the Colonel. She touched his shoulder, calling his name. 'John, John?'
He skirted the edge of unconsciousness for a moment. Every muscle felt as it were on fire, but he was breathing again, regardless of the pain and he considered that a bonus. He felt the darkness closing in around him and fought it. A voice pierced the fog, a metaphorical bullet to the brain. It hurt worse than his injuries to hear it, and he wondered if he were delusional. Somewhere, the logical centre of his brain screamed that this was impossible.
He didn't care. He clung to the words, the touch of a hand on his shoulder, straining to listen, using her voice to pull himself back to the world. But then others arrived, a cacophony of words, hands lifting and the pain rose in a wave, breaking over him. Another voice broke in, even more familiar than hers.
'Lis'beth, what the hell-?'
'I don't know-'
'Get back, you have no idea-'
'He's hurt, John.'
'It could still be-.'
'No,' an unknown voice cut in, 'the scan is clear.'
Her voice again, 'keep us informed.'
The darkness took him this time, tossing him into a world confusion and dreams until something cold pressed against his neck and the sedative flooded his system, driving away all thoughts.