She beat them there by a few moments, saw the gurney rush by with Sheppard, Teyla and Ronon trailing. They were stopped at the door and gently but firmly pointed to the waiting area. Sheppard saw her and worked up a grin, but it didn't last. She couldn't find anything to say as they entered and sat, so she mirrored their actions, recognizing that it was no longer in their hands.
The silence stretched, but it wasn't uncomfortable, particularly, just quiet. She noticed the blood on Ronon's knees, and Sheppard's, and knew it was her brother's. But he was still alive, and she knew...
"He's stubborn." She hadn't meant to say it aloud.
"He is that." Sheppard nodded agreement, and both Teyla and Ronon smiled a bit.
And it was quiet again, until Elizabeth arrived.
"No news." Sheppard said it before she even asked, and she inclined her head in acknowledgement before moving to an empty chair.
"Report," she said.
"Eight jumpers flying a straight sweep pattern. Radek had eliminated four piers already, so we covered the last ones. We flew as low as we dared; Teyla and Sampson picked them up. We landed a half-klick away and entered the city. I think you saw the rest." He slouched in his chair, and you didn't need to know the man well to see the worry.
"Succinct. Did you ever figure out how the image came to be? If the sensors were out, why was a camera working? And are there cameras everywhere?"
It was a problem, Jeannie recognized, and Weir had presented it now partly because she needed to know, but her timing was also to provide a needed distraction, and her already high estimation of the woman went up again.
"It looked like part of the pattern on the wall, but when you got close you could tell." He stood, wandering the room, and pointed. "There - there's another one. Hang on."
He stared at it for a second, then tapped his com. "Charles, can you see us?" He listened a second, then waved at the camera, nodded to the others. "Good enough. No, no news yet." He tapped off, stepped back and turned away.
"I thought it on, is all. It responded like the lights. I guess, when Rodney was taken, he wished that someone could see what was happening."
"We need to investigate this, send people into all the areas we use regularly and find all the cameras," Elizabeth said. " We can decide what to do about them later, but we should know where they are."
"You turned it off again, right?" Ronon asked. "Hate the idea of someone watching us."
"Yeah. It's off."
The conversation died again, and Jeannie stood. "I need some air," she said abruptly, and left.
She knew John followed, but didn't feel like stopping. She remembered an open space nearby, an atrium, and headed for it as fast as she could without breaking into a run. She hadn't felt like this since being stuck in the Eatons Centre in the middle of a Boxing Day rush, the deep need to have space around her, a requirement for the absence of people. Not claustrophobia, not exactly.
She made for the exact centre of the space, where the colours of the stained glass roof sprawled over the mosaic in a planned pattern that she'd have appreciated at any other time. She stopped, wrapped her arms around herself, and stood with her head bowed, fighting the urge to cry. How close it was, genius and madness. Rod's losses had tipped him over. It had been her brother, and yet not, but even so he had been her friend at one time, and that loss was to be mourned.
And then her brother - he'd been so brave, so careful, and even when he'd realized his situation was hopeless his thoughts were for his friends, his family. She shivered suddenly. How he had changed, how this place had changed him, how these people had changed him.
"Jeannie?"
John's voice came from behind her but she didn't turn, knowing to see his concern would shatter her control.
"Yeah," she said, pleased at how steady her voice was. "Sorry. Just - needed a moment."
He came closer, and she knew if he touched her she'd lose it. He didn't, though, just waited patiently until she drew a deep breath and nerved herself to face him.
"Better?"
She nodded.
"Good."
He led her out and into a small hallway nearby, past a small line of people waiting outside a door. She recognized some of them and they nodded or smiled at her - she returned the wordless greetings. John led her to a bench in an alcove and sat. After a moment she followed suit.
"Beckett doesn't have much blood on hand," he said, carefully casual. "Those people are Rodney's type. Weir put out the call as we were bringing him back."
She nodded. It made sense. He seemed to have more to say, and she waited, but he was silent. Finally, she looked over at him.
It was written in his face, if he only knew, and she could read it because she knew it, knew the fear of loss that made it hard to breathe, to think. And she, who had been so afraid to be touched, reached out and wrapped her brother's best friend in a careful embrace. He was stiff, resistant for a few seconds, but finally he responded and hugged her back tightly. She released him a moment later and knew it had helped him as well. His tight expression was fractionally eased.
"He's tough," she repeated her earlier statement, wanting to say so much more, but not able to find the words. He nodded, quirked a half-smile at her and stood.
"OK to go back?" he asked.
She nodded.
OOOOO
No one commented on her precipitous departure. Teyla gave her a warm smile. Ronon opened an eye a slit, and then closed it.
"Doctor Weir had to return to the gateroom," Teyla mentioned, and John nodded.
They waited.
OOOOO
"Jeannie?" The hand on her shoulder was gentle and she roused, wondering for half a second that she'd dropped off. Then again, what was the time difference between Earth and Pegasus, it must be jet lag to end all jet lag...she was suddenly awake and staring into Carson Beckett's tired face.
"Carson?" Behind him the others waited patiently, but without tension, and he smiled at her.
"Rodney's responding well. If he keeps on this track, he'll be fine."
She looked at his friends and smiled back, and wasn't surprised to feel a couple of tears tracking down her cheek.
Chapter 4Her brother lay, still too pale, in his bed, and his team were arranged around him in a pattern that spoke of practise. By silent consent, though, she was given the comfortable armchair near the head of the bed. It struck her that it was usually Sheppard's place, but he tossed some pillows off the bed behind her and sat there instead, with Teyla next to him, perching with an easy grace that Jeannie admired. Ronon planted himself on the far side, settling in, it seemed, for the duration.
"When he wakes, he'll be thirsty. If he can drink it, he can have it," Carson said, removing the most recently finished bottle of whole blood and replacing it. "I've got a couple of things to do, but I'll be by as often as I can. At any rate, call me when he comes around."
His words were met with nods, and Carson left, wrapping the tube around the bag as he went.
For a moment, it was awkward. Again, she felt on the outside, an intruder, as Ronon held up one hand and Sheppard threw a pillow over, knowing what was wanted before it was asked.
"Does this sort of thing happen often?" she asked, and winced at how 'small-talk at a party' it sounded.
"Your brother seems to attract…trouble." Teyla was trying to be diplomatic, but Sheppard just rolled his eyes. It wasn't entirely reassuring.
"He also has the best luck I've seen," Ronon added. "He made friends with a whale. Saved his life when the jumper crashed underwater."
Her concern must have shown. "He only got a bit hypothermic," he hastened to add.
"Not helping." Sheppard told him, throwing another pillow, only this time hitting his teammate on the shoulder.
"Um - he's right, Ronon. Not helping much at all. John, how many times has he been in here?" She tilted her head to see him, and Teyla seemed about to speak, but he whacked her none too gently on the knee.
"More times than we're comfortable with," he said finally. "Thing is, your brother gets - enthusiastic. We try to keep him out of too much trouble."
"It terrifies me, honestly," she said frankly. "But it helps knowing he's got you guys to look out for him."
"He also looks out for us," Teyla added. "He can be very calm under enormous pressure."
She laughed. "Right."
"Seriously." John agreed. "Though, maybe calm isn't the right word. Focused? Blinkered?"
"Now, that I can believe. I don't know if I ever told you about my eighth birthday party - Rodney was thirteen, and as you know, eight year old sisters are a thirteen year old's natural prey…" She looked around, and they were all listening, eager to know more. "My parents rented a bouncy castle, and Rodney decided to pressure test it. Anyway…"
OOOOO
They'd stopped talking a while ago and now sat, in companionable silence, waiting. Radek had dropped in with coffee about an hour earlier, and he and Sheppard had a conversation that made Jeannie re-evaluate John Sheppard - they were discussing a way to detect another bridge in the unlikely event another one would be created, and she understood that when the young Sheppard decided to go into the military, science had been the loser. It also gave her a reference for how the friendship between her brother and the pilot had originated - Sheppard was a puzzle, and Mer could never resist a puzzle.
She grinned to herself and leaned forward again, reached to pull the blanket up a bit. She looked at her brother's face, still pale, drained of colour, though Carson assured her that his blood count was out of danger. And he looked back, groggy but awake.
"Guys," she said quietly.
John slid off the bed and was next to her in an instant. She resisted the twinge of jealousy she felt when his was the face her brothers' eyes sought, but then his gaze moved to her, Teyla, Ronon. The relief on their faces told him what he needed, but she couldn't help it.
"You're going to be fine, Mer," she said, "but you may start to speak Czech. Radek gave you a pint."
"Seems like half the city got in on it, Rodney," John contributed. "You got a whole pile of pints. You're a regular United Nations." His drawl was calculated, and he didn't let his relief show.
Her brother frowned. "Rod."
"He didn't make it," Ronon said, and it was with a bit of regret.
Rodney shook his head. "Don't blame him," he whispered.
"No one does. He was no longer sane, Rodney," Teyla said comfortingly. "We are only glad that we found you."
That took a second to register, and he looked up, confused. "How..."
"The 'how' can wait, lad." It was Carson, coming from behind Ronon like a Chihuahua trailing a Doberman. He brandished another pint. "This is for you, and depending on how you behave it might well be the last you need. So be a good boy, and let your system recover, hmmm?" He slipped behind Teyla and changed the bag over. "Plenty of time for explanations later."