Terminal Velocity

Part Three

"Dammit!" McKay tossed a handful of wires and clips to the ground.

The exclamation tore John from his sleep. He raised his arm, checking his watch. Two a.m. "McKay," he hissed, not wanting to wake Teyla. "I thought I told you to get some sleep." He turned to Ronon. "And I thought I told you to make sure he did."

Ronon shrugged. "I made him lie down for an hour. Didn't sleep, though."

John watched McKay, noting the quick, jerky motions as he fumbled with crystals behind the control chair. He raised his eyebrows. "Too much Latiran sludge?"

"I had a couple of cups…large cups…or maybe it was three cups…or four." McKay laughed a little manically.

John pushed himself into a sitting position against the wall, massaging the back of his neck with one hand, feeling the unyielding tension in the muscles and tendons. Pain crept up over the back of his skull and burrowed through his brain.

"Here." Ronon handed him a canteen.

John nodded and accepted the container. The sips of water helped ease the sensation of his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. It took all the willpower he had not to give in to thirst and gulp the liquid down. He knew he was dehydrated, but his stomach wasn't happy with very much in it. John waited for the little he'd drank to settle before trying again.

Teyla stirred and looked John over. "You are feeling unwell again." It wasn't a question. She sat up and handed a small vial to John. "The healer said to take this if you awaken."

Knowing it hadn't worked out so well the last time he'd skipped a dose, John emptied the bitter mixture onto his tongue then he washed it down with another cautious sip. He let his hands fall to his sides as Teyla took back the vial and Ronon removed and recapped the canteen.

McKay scurried over and joined his team. "Okay, I've figured out how the shield works." He dropped down on the floor beside them, talking rapidly. "Each of the outposts generates a shield. The shields overlap and reinforce one another." He grabbed some of the blankets they had brought in from the cart and spread them out on the floor with portions overlapping. "See, this area is several layers thick," he said, pointing at the blankets.

"McKay, I feel crappy. So, I have even less appreciation than usual for the dumbed-down version." John drew his legs up and folded his arms over his knees. It was an effort to hold his head up instead of letting it fall forward onto his forearms as he listened to McKay.

Ronon cast a quick glance at the flickering lights. "Do they have enough power for the shield?"

"This outpost doesn't require a lot of power. There's enough for this facility and its shield. The data indicates that in some cases, several outposts share one power supply, but making sure the power flows through the entire system… With so many posts, there's just so much to check… There's not enough time and a loss of even one shield…" McKay ran his fingers through his hair, making himself look even more frazzled and jittery. "Sheppard, I need you to make a few adjustments at the console over there because while it will let me browse all I want, it will only accept commands from you." McKay's huff made it obvious that he was offended by the selectivity.

John didn't move.

McKay frowned, "Sheppard?"

"'Kay…" John sighed softly and began the arduous climb to a standing position. Once he got there, the room tilted sharply. The resulting effect caused John to stagger sideways, smacking his shoulder against the wall.

Ronon was on his feet a second later, holding onto John. "I keep tellin' you that you don't have to do everything by yourself. I've got you. Take your time."

"Nice sentiment and all," McKay groused, "but time is something we don't have."

"I am certain that John is aware of the need for haste," Teyla placated as the two men slowly made their way to the console.

McKay rattled off a lengthy set of instructions while John stared at the display, trying to grasp the meaning behind his teammate's words. John had just worked his way through the first sentence when he became aware that McKay had stopped talking.

McKay shifted from one foot to the other. "Anytime now would be good."

"I believe it would be faster in the long run if you provided the instructions at a rate more suited to someone who is ill," Teyla advised.

"Uh… Yeah…" McKay began reciting the instructions again, the higher pitch to his words conveying the urgency in spite of the decreased rate.

John figured he had to be looking as bad as he felt for McKay not to make any sort of snarky remark about having to repeat the directions. John swiped at his eyes with one hand as fatigue and dizziness blurred the display in front of him. He drew in a shaky breath and placed his hand down. Crap. The surface under his palm told him he'd missed the button he'd been aiming for. "S-s-sorry."

"Move aside, Conan," McKay directed his teammate. "I'll…uh…I'll help him."

John felt Ronon and McKay switch positions. He grabbed the panel, bracing himself against the sway of the room. McKay just wasn't as solid at holding him up.

"Okay…um…" McKay picked up John's hand using his thumb and middle finger, making the least contact possible. "We should carry latex gloves," he mumbled as he placed John's hand on the first button. "I'm pretty sure this can't do anything to you the way the chair did. So, just think 'on' — not power-surge fry-the-circuits 'on,' just ease it on."

The panel began to glow.

"Good. That's good. And by the way you still owe me some replacement Ancient gadgets in my lab, because thinking 'let 'er rip' was not the way to go."

John blew out a small shaky breath — the closest thing he could approximate to a sound of amusement.

McKay's grasp tightened around John's hand. "We can do this."

"Yeah."

"Okay, now you're going to have to press two more buttons and think about calling up the diagrams I specify…"

~~~~oooo~~~~

Using the blankets from the cart, Teyla prepared a spot on the floor at the side of the workbench for John. John figured it must have been obvious he wasn't going to be able to go back and forth across the room every time McKay needed him to flip a switch. He hated appearing weak enough that his team had to waste time looking out for him, but he didn't have the energy to protest, and he knew that their survival might depend on allowing them to help him through. Ultimately, John's choices always boiled down to survival and safety for his team.

John's entire body buckled the second he finished working at the console. He let McKay and Ronon ease him down to the floor. He didn't really have much choice about that. Hoping to maintain some semblance of control, he tried to force himself to sit rather than lie down. But the exertion of working had robbed him of what little relief the medication had brought him from the queasiness and vertigo. John ended up slumped sideways, breathing heavily. Feeling McKay's eyes on him, he tilted his head up.

McKay scrubbed his face with shaky hands. "I'd…um…I'd better get back to work because you don't even look like you're going to last until the asteroids get here…or more technically until we reach the asteroids…" He bit his lip, frowning as he looked at John, then got up and went back to his tasks.

Abandoning his plan to stay upright, John curled up on the blankets, drifting for a while, and then slid into a restless sleep. He dreamed of the chair, sucking the life out of him like a Wraith. The arms of the chair coiled into claws, one pressing on his chest, the other raking through his skull. He woke with a hoarse cry.

"S'rry," he gasped between ragged breaths.

"Nothin' to apologize for," Ronon murmured, placing a hand on John's shoulder.

Melkus, awakened by John's shout, hurried over and knelt by his patient. "I have made some adjustments to the medication." He produced another vial then reached out to assist John in sitting up to drinking the mixture.

"Thank you," said Teyla, smoothly removing the potion from Melkus and stepping between him and John.

The healer backed away.

John was grateful. As much as he hated to be the weak link on his team, he hated having strangers care for him even more. John pulled away though when Teyla offered to help him lie down again. "Need t'…sit." The dizziness and nausea were back in full force. John figured he'd have a better chance of keeping the water and powder down by letting gravity do some of the work. And if that plan failed…well, he'd still be better off sitting up.

John wondered at exactly what point he'd lost control over the mission to the extent that his planning centered on how best not to throw up. Hell, he'd maintained more control over missions when he was trapped on a hive ship.

He felt Ronon shift over to sit beside him, keeping him propped up. John raised a leaden arm and stared at his watch as it swam before his eyes.

"It's four a.m.," Ronon supplied.

"Wake me…in one hour." John hoped by then the medication would have kicked in. But whether it had or not, it was time for him to get this mission under control. As he fell into a restless slumber, the pounding headache masked the scratching sensation at the back of his mind.

~~~~oooo~~~~

The medication worked. John's headache dropped from a 'nine' to an 'eight' on a scale of one to ten, he didn't feel as if his stomach was about to turn inside out — at least not within the next five minutes, and the room wasn't spinning any more than the 'Dumbo the Flying Elephant' ride. Sure, there was still room for improvement, but John always went with what he had rather than with what he didn't.

Reconnaissance was a good place to start. John could gather a few more facts without even having to stand up – make use of what he could do.

John studied Kelore for a minute. "You're a descendent of the Ancients. Why can't you operate the equipment?"

Kelore's face took on a look John recognized. It was the one McKay wore anytime he was confronted with the fact that his synthetic ATA was not as strong as John's natural expression of the gene.

"Is this how you work?" Kelore's lip curled. "Is it really necessary to pry into these details?"

"I'll know better once I have the details," John snapped. He took a deep breath. He needed to start by getting control of himself first. "I'm just trying to gather every scrap of information that I can. Assessing the situation first is how I work."

Kelore appeared to consider the words and then began. "Although a few of our scientists specialized in technology, most of the team conducted research in areas similar to what you would call sociology and psychology."

McKay spluttered out a mouthful of breakfast sludge. "Who'd have thought? Ancient voodoo."

"The various social groupings taken in from the cullings, along with the many types of terrain, natural resources and climatic conditions on this planet allowed for a wealth of observational studies on human populations."

John's hand clenched into tight fists. "So the refugees became the lab rats?" He immediately regretted the volume of his words which upped the headache to an eight-point-five.

"It was mutually beneficial," Kelore defended with an icy stare. "Initially we stayed apart from the inhabitants of this world as much as possible, not wanting to contaminate the studies. However, over time, there was …a mixing of the gene pool with one of the more advanced groupings."

"Ha!" McKay declared. "You don't have the gene, do you?"

John scowled at McKay. "That's not a factor in our favor at the moment."

"Oh… But if there was a…ah…mixing of the populations," McKay swirled his hands around in the air almost knocking over his mug of Latiran brew, "there are others with the Ancient gene."

Kelore shook his head. "My people tried to offer knowledge and technology, to use their gifts for the betterment of the population."

"Betterment?" Teyla arched her eyebrows.

Kelore didn't acknowledge her remark. "There was much envy and distrust…"

"But not quite so much that they didn't 'mix,'" McKay pointed out, making quotation marks in the air.

Teyla quietly removed the rest of McKay's coffee-substitute.

Kelore continued. "Those with the blood of the Ancestors came to be viewed with hostility and suspicion. Following a period of great violence and persecution, my people were forced to choose between withdrawing, and using greater force in self-defense. They withdrew, taking all offspring with them, including those mixed ancestry."

"That period of violence would be The Downfall depicted in the paintings upstairs," Teyla commented.

"Yes." The healer nodded. "They are a reminder that the people must be allowed to follow their own path."

"Since that time," Kelore added, "we have always appointed a Guardian to ensure that the people of this world are allowed to develop undisturbed by outside influences as much as possible. However, in response to the failing systems, I have been forced to seek outside resources to protect the lives of the Latirans."

"You refer only to the Ancestors as 'your people,'" Teyla addressed Kelore again, "but you are also of Latiran descent, too, are you not?" Teyla asked.

"The Latiran association was many generations ago. I had no contact with the Latirans until I assumed the position of their Guardian."

"It must be difficult," Teyla commented, "to belong to two worlds and yet be set apart from both."

For a moment, Kelore faltered. "I may yet have to live among the Latirans… When this is over…"

"Perhaps now is the time for the Latiran people to assume a greater role in the outside world, too. They will be in need of someone who is able to guide them." Teyla began clearing away the remains of breakfast, frowning in concern over John's uneaten meal.

"No offense, but we haven't typically found the Ancient people quite so…charitable," John said with a wry twist to his mouth. The twist turned into a grimace when another wave of dizziness washed over him. The effect of the medication was losing both strength and duration for John. He took a deep breath and pressed on. "Taking in survivors, appointing Guardians… It doesn't seem to fit." John blinked as his vision started to blur.

"There were a few for whom a strong sense of responsibility towards others predominated," Kelore explained. "There were those who even felt the need to atone for the mistakes of past generations, for the sequence of events leading to the creation of the Wraith and for the existence of the Replicators. Surely you understand this. My assessment indicated that you, of all people who carry the blood of the ancestors, know of this trait."

John wanted to ask about this assessment, about his 'suitability,' but he'd lasted as long as he could. He wasn't quite sure if he flopped towards the floor, or if the floor rose to meet him. In any case, he couldn't get up again and the room faded away in haze of pain and vertigo.

~~~~oooo~~~~

John was relieved to find that the drugs had eventually notched his headache back to a 'seven.'

"Hey." A pair of leather boots moved into view in front of John's face.

"Ronon…"

"Sure you don't want any lunch?"

"'M sure." John turned his head minutely. He was glad his team had chosen to eat on the other side of the room. Even from that distance the odor wasn't doing him any good.

Ronon slid down beside him. "You still have to drink."

"I know." John sat up with Ronon's assistance and took two swallows from the canteen before shoving it away.

Ronon picked up the canteen and held it close to John's face. For a moment, John thought Ronon was going to force him to drink the water. Instead, Ronon leaned in closer and spoke so low it was almost inaudible.

"With the stuff you did this morning, McKay's managed to open the door to the room above the gate. I'm gonna go have a look."

John faked taking another sip of the water. "I'm going, too."

"Knew you'd say that." Ronon's grin was overshadowed by the worry in his eyes as he hauled John to his feet.

"Gonna go water the plants," Ronon announced.

"The trees," McKay corrected, rolling his eyes.

"I do not think…" Melkus began. "Oh. I see." He cast his eyes around the room. "Perhaps, given the circumstances, we should locate a container of some sort…"

"No," John and Ronon answered at the same time.

Even if the trees hadn't just been a cover story, there was no way John was going with that plan. Besides, dehydration had taken care of that problem.

~~~~oooo~~~~

The trip down the hall and up the stairs didn't go as well as John had hoped and he hadn't hoped for all that much. His legs were shaking violently and the motion had triggered two rounds of painful, dry heaving.

Ronon deposited John in a chair in the main control room. "You gonna make it upstairs?"

John leaned forward clutching at his ribcage as he sucked in air. He tried to give Ronon his best 'you really need to ask?' look, but wasn't sure he'd pulled it off.

Ronon pulled out a walkie talkie. "McKay said to click once to let him know we're ready." He depressed a button.

A second panel creaked its way open, revealing a stairwell that looked much the same as the one leading down. Even with Ronon's support, John pretty much crawled up the stairs to palm the controls at the top.

The light from John's P90 made shaky arcs in the air as the door opened into a dark room. There were no jumpers immediately apparent, but that didn't mean there might not be a cloaked jumper. John and Ronon inched their way forward, feeling the air in front of their hands.

John stopped at a small dark shape on the floor and dropped down to examine it. He held it up to Ronon. "Is this what I think it is?"

Ronon looked at the metal fragment. "Yeah. Looks like it's from a jumper."

A wave of dizziness had John suddenly sitting on the floor slumped forward, locking his elbows as he used his arms to force himself upright. After a minute, he began creeping forward on his hands and knees, studying other bits of debris on the floor. There were small scraps of charred metal, a DHD button, a piece that might have been a portion of a jumper ramp… The room reminded John of an airplane crash investigation scene…

John's heart rate soared. He clutched at the sides of his head, fighting the sudden spike in pain. He could feel himself burning… He… No! He fought back against the flashback.

"Sheppard? Sheppard! Sheppard, look at me! Sheppard!"

John felt himself being pulled to his feet and steered away from the detritus. He was less aware of being almost dragged from the room. He lost consciousness as he was carried back to the ground floor.

~~~~oooo~~~~

John sat propped against a boulder, waiting. Either the medicine would kick in any minute or his stomach would forcibly eject it. He was rooting for the medicine to win out, but if he had to put money on it, he'd bet on his stomach. He couldn't remember ever feeling so utterly sick and miserable on a mission. He couldn't ever remember feeling this trapped both by circumstances and by his own body. The incident in the Genii prison came close though.

"I had understood your methods to be unorthodox at times, but this subterfuge is intolerable." Despite his weakness, Kelore managed to get his indignation across.

"Our methods are intolerable?" McKay squeaked. "You lured us here under false pretenses—"

"Your incorrect assumptions were not my doing," Kelore answered smoothly. "And the inquiry was necessary to determine suitability for the task."

"…and we're virtually prisoners, facing almost certain death."

"The decision to retain volunteers until a task is complete was also not my doing. It is another unfortunate necessity to ensure survival for the Latirans. As I have said, the gate will become available once the tasks are completed, and they will be completed."

"It appears that I know much more about these systems than you do and I'm thinking not," McKay retorted.

"Your input may prove useful for smaller repairs such as the stasis chambers. However, you are wasting your time on the shields. It is Colonel Sheppard's work that is required. You cannot be expecting to repair such a sophisticated defense system as ours."

"Well, you may not have the ATA gene, but you didn't miss out on the Ancient arrogance gene did you?" McKay's hands shook as he ripped open his dinner MRE.

Ronon removed a kettle from the fire. "Think maybe you've had enough of this stuff, McKay?"

"Does death by asteroid mean anything to you? Another day's gone. There's one day left. I need every minute of it. Who are you going to trust," McKay jerked his thumb towards Kelore, "his approach, which is frying Sheppard's brain, or my track record of pulling a scientific miracle out of thin air at the last minute?"

Ronon put the kettle back on the fire.

John took a small drink of water and cleared his throat. "About this suitability," he rasped.

"It is clear our system is more taxing to you than your Atlantean system. However, you have the capacity to save the inhabitants of this world. It is what you do, is it not?"

"Yeah, but I wouldn't stick my neck in a noose to do it."

"Really? The inquiry suggested otherwise."

John clamped his mouth shut. He was too exhausted to argue and although he tried to ignore it, some part of him thought that Kelore had a point.

"You cannot possibly compare personal risk freely undertaken in the service of others to this situation." Teyla's eyes flashed with anger.

"Surely, Colonel Sheppard has been in a situation requiring him to place someone at risk to save the lives of others. This is no different."

Or to save the life of one, John thought, recalling the 'choice' he offered Wallace. He swallowed, struggling to keep the medicine in place. His stomach had never managed particularly well when he thought of that moment. Think of something else. "What happened to the Puddlejumper?"

"It was damaged during research activities."

"Which were…?" McKay prompted.

"Irrelevant to you."

"But the data from the actual crash…" McKay snapped his fingers. "My, God! It's not a chair malfunction is it? It's the flight data! The sensors record velocity, temperature…impact…disintegration." McKay looked pale and sick. "I don't know how you've done it but Sheppard's experiencing… He's living through… Jesus…"

"Kelore meant no harm," Melkus offered. "The pain is not real. The after effects can be managed with the proper ingredients…"

John fought against the flames licking across his skin again. His mind raced, but he couldn't pick out and hold one thought, couldn't form a single word. His jaw locked and his hand clawed as his muscles seized. His lungs worked overtime, pulling, without drawing in enough oxygen. He knew this feeling. He'd fought it before.

Ronon's hand was on his back, rubbing vigorously. "Breathe. Come on, Sheppard… Breathe."

"What is the purpose of this barbaric practice?" Teyla raised her voice, grabbing Kelore, the front of his robes bunched tightly in her hands.

Kelore struggled to no avail in Teyla's grasp. "It-it is merely a teaching tool. It has been tested. It is efficient…and effective."

McKay had gone from white to a livid red color. He advanced on Kelore. "The Ancients didn't just offer technology for the betterment of the population, did they? They tested it on them."

"Sheppard! Dammit! Breathe!" Ronon's voice seemed very far away.

John managed to suck in one stuttering breath just as his vision faded.

~~~~oooo~~~~

"It is best if your find your own path." Kelore's voice lacked conviction now.

"My path is to gather the information I need and then make my own decisions." John's voice sounded far more faint that Kelore's. But there was steel in his words.

Kelore tugged on the ropes binding his hands. "The tool was not initially designed to inflict pain. It was not even designed for use with the chair. It was a neural interface for those with or without the ATA gene. It was hoped that the enhanced connection with the student's mind would facilitate the learning process."

"I can't find any records on it." McKay was back at work on his laptop.

"The approach was abandoned."

"Which is another way of saying the Ancients screwed up and covered their tracks again." McKay banged his fist in frustration.

"The approach is still in use," Teyla pointed out.

"The circumstances required its resurrection. Guardians before me found…new applications."

McKay rubbed his bloodshot eyes. "I don't suppose you would know how it works?"

"I do not know the basis for this technology."

"I do," John whispered, trembling with the realization. The scratching in his mind, the claws in his brain that seized control… "Feels like—" He started to gag. "Wr-Wraith…mind…control."

Even Kelore looked shocked this time. "I…I did not know… It-it was a means of accessing the mind to share knowledge… It was devised long ago. Surely it was not based on…"

Gagging turned into choking as what little there was in John's stomach forced its way up his esophagus.

"It is not such a surprise," Teyla spoke through clenched teeth as she knelt down beside John, "that the Latirans took up arms against this method of 'betterment.'" She spat out the last word.

Ronon grabbed Kelore by the hair and yanked his head back. "What is the new application?"

"The neural connection…allows for very realistic simulation. The Guardians found ways to simulate pain… to facilitate the learning of pain management." Kelore's strained to speak until Ronon tossed the man's head forward again.

"For what purpose?" Ronon demanded.

"There are those with the blood of the ancestors who harbor gifts — a high threshold for pain…the ability to separate mind and body. In the right circumstances such an individual may escape from his physical body and use endurance in the service of others as a route to Ascension."

John's mind reeled. He thought back to his last time in the chair. He'd almost separated entirely from his body then, but his team had anchored him. Even away from the chair, the 'after effects' were almost bad enough to… Shit "Ascension? How…how will that fix the shield?"

"Once you have ascended, such a task becomes easy. There was no one left here or anywhere in this galaxy with the skill to repair failing systems. But the Ascended could accomplish this with ease."

"The Ascended are not allowed to interfere in the lives of others." Teyla's voice shook.

"Once the task has been accomplished, that is not relevant. Three million lives will have been spared. And before you argue any further, tell me that less than twenty four hours from now, when the situation becomes critical, Colonel Sheppard will not willingly undertake this task to save the inhabitants of this planet and for all of you."

"Bastard," Ronon forced through bared teeth at Kelore.

~~~~oooo~~~~

"Shit!" McKay banged around, muttering, cursing, slamming his hands on the console, and cursing some more.

John couldn't suppress a whimper. His headache had reached excruciating proportions despite the medication Melkus had been allowed to prepare before being tied up beside Kelore.

McKay dropped down crouching in front of Sheppard. "Look, I know you feel crappy… No, actually, I can't imagine how bad you feel, but don't you dare even think of ascending."

"McKay, I…"

"I don't want to hear it. Just keep your mind off ascension. That's all you have to do, okay? I'll do the rest. Just don't think about ascension."

John didn't respond.

"Promise me!"

"O-k-kay." John breathed, and then curled up tighter so his friend wouldn't see his eyes water with pain.

~~~~oooo~~~~

"John…" Teyla's voice wavered. She picked up his hand and held it.

"D-don't…" he murmured.

She drew in a breath and nodded. "You know what I mean to say."

John squeezed her hand.

~~~~oooo~~~~

Ronon sat beside John. "Remember when we were trapped in that collapsed building and you told me we were gonna shoot until we couldn't shoot any more?"

"Th-that's…the…plan…now."

"Knew you'd say that."

~~~~oooo~~~~

"Okay, here's the deal." McKay looked terrible. Dark circles ringed his glassy eyes. His whole body shook from the combined effects of the Latiran house blend and three days without sleep. "In a couple of hours we'll reach the edge of the asteroid field. The first meteor showers are close… I think I can fix the system, but I-I haven't… I'm sorry, Sheppard, I can't fix the chair and you're going to have to use the chair to allow me access to work. Whatever you do, though, don't ascend. Give me a chance. I…I'll fix it and we'll have you home in no time."

Kelore shook his head. "Even if you do repair the system, if you do not allow him to ascend, it is unlikely that he will survive. It is selfish to ask him to—"

"Don't wanna hear from you again," Ronon threatened, his weapon leveled at Kelore.

Melkus turned his head away from the scene.

"We have to get the gate open, too, because we have to…" McKay looked at Sheppard and swiped a hand across his eyes. "Ronon, when I say 'go,' you grab Sheppard and…"

"I got it. Run for the gate."

"Teyla…" McKay turned to his teammate

"I will go upstairs, dial the gate, and radio for medical assistance at that time." She headed over and undid the bonds on Kelore and Melkus.

"Let's d-do it." John's voice was barely audible.

No one spoke as Ronon helped John to the chair.

John closed his eyes and sat back. And then he was flying again.

John screamed as he erupted in flames. Scorched skin peeled from muscles, muscles tore from limbs, and limbs splintered until he was nothing but dust. And still the pain consumed him. It became all he knew. It obliterated his thoughts and memories until his entire subsistence took on a single focus. Escape. Terminal velocity for the journey, when non-existence became his state of existence, when time ceased to exist. John wondered what the difference was between ascending to a higher plane and descending into madness, wondered which of those two paths he was taking as his mind pulled away from his body.

Something tugged at John — an anchor pulling at his heart, calling him back.

"Goddammit, Sheppard! Don't you dare ascend! You promised."

John crashed. He wasn't sure what he screamed out loud and what he screamed inside his head. Maybe he begged for it to stop. Maybe it was inarticulate agony.

"I…I…I'm… One more second… Sheppard, stay with me… Oh, God, I… Yes! It worked… Teyla, Ronon, go, go, go!"

His team was safe. The pain stopped. John floated, watching from above as McKay gave a signal to Teyla and Ronon. He watched as Teyla fled down the hall toward the DHD. And he watched as Ronon took off at a run for the gate, the body of his team leader, John's body, in his arms, McKay not far behind.

~~~~oooo~~~~

In the days after, there were times John almost wished he had ascended. Almost. His team wouldn't let him go there. At times, he was close to waking, close enough for the pain to bleed through every drug Keller had given him. Those were the times he was also close enough to waking to know who was nearby, silently willing him to fight for his life.

In the hours when John was aware enough to know that the screaming and cursing was coming from his own mouth, he was also aware enough to know who was talking to him in whispers that caressed his skin and soothed his mind.

In the minutes when he was aware enough to remember the horror with such clarity that he could feel the agony of every minute of his flight play itself out over and over, he was aware enough to know whose fear and desperation and pain hurt as much as his own, aware enough to know who feared losing their friend even more than John feared losing his life.

John's team anchored him to the physical world with a strength that outweighed the power of more than one thousand of the Ascended.

~~~~oooo~~~~

"Colonel? Wake up. You've slept long enough. It's time to open your eyes… I'll let you go back to sleep in a minute."

John exhaled, making a breathy sound that didn't quite pass for a syllable.

"That's it. Now, come on. Open your eyes."

John pried his lids apart, and then slammed them shut against the glare of the lights.

"Still not dim enough for you? Hold on… There. Try this."

John had no inclination to try that again, but the voice had a firm, insistent tone and he found his eyelids overriding his brain. Fuzzy shapes swam in the low light. One of the shapes loomed over him a bit, causing John to cringe in reflex.

"It's okay. Relax. Do you know where you are?"

John heard the hum of Atlantis. Home. He inhaled. Barely a scent of the ocean and not a hint of dirty laundry. Not his quarters. Antiseptic. "'Fir…'firmmm-rry."

"Very good. Colonel…?"

John felt hands steady his head as he tried to turn it to the side.

"Moving around's not such a good idea right now."

But John couldn't stop. Not until he had all the pieces of the puzzle. His head pushed against the hands as he squirmed, trying to turn the other way. He whimpered as the pain in his head shot up. "T-teammm?"

"Ah. I asked them to step outside for a minute. They're fine. They weren't so keen on leaving the infirmary for a break, but they're fine."

The figure turned away for a minute. Blond hair. White coat.

"Kell'r?"

Keller turned back. "If you can tell me your name, too, you're three for three."

"J-John…Shepp'rd."

"Perfect. I'm going to give you something for the pain now and let you sleep a little more."

"N-nooo. Ssseeee. Team."

"You want to see your team now?"

"Mmm." John dragged one hand across his face in a clumsy gesture, trying to rub his tired, sore eyes. Instead, he knocked something away from his face.

"Hold on. You still need the oxygen for a little bit." Keller replaced the mask on his face and finished up her examination. "You know, it's kind of odd. You had a lot of symptoms of altitude sickness. But your team said that you were with them all the time. So…" Keller pursed her lips and frowned for a moment.

"F-f-flying."

"Yeah. Ronon told me about the side effects of some of the drugs."

John didn't think that was what he meant, but what he'd intended to say was slipping away.

"The preliminary analysis of the powder that Teyla brought back indicates it's similar to a drug that we use to treat altitude sickness — which fits with your symptoms, but it's sorta odd, you know, given that you weren't hiking up any mountains… Basically, I'm not exactly sure what that means yet, but we'll figure it out." Keller patted John's shoulder, and then reached into her pocket. "In the meantime, I've got some stuff that'll help."

"Noooo." One of John's hands flailed as he tried to grab Keller's arm. "Wanna see…m-my teammm…n-now." He closed his eyes for a minute, fighting off a wave of dizziness.

Keller sighed. "A short visit."

~~~~oooo~~~~

Even without Keller's drugs, John had almost drifted back to sleep when his team returned to his bedside.

"John." Teyla smiled as she approached the bed and clasped one of John's hands.

Ronon ambled in next. "Hey." He pulled up the nearest chair, dropped into it and placed his feet on the bed, careful not to jostle his friend.

"Pulled it off again." McKay hastened to claim a spot at John's bedside. "But lest you let yourself get carried away by your genetic predisposition towards arrogance, just remember who it was that pulled you out."

All present and accounted for. Safe and sound. John finally relaxed.

This time, John didn't protest when Keller stepped forward to inject the medication into his I.V. John felt the drugs pull him under a few moments later. He drifted back to sleep, the voices of his teammates blending with the soothing hum of Atlantis.

"…And Woolsey hasn't answered a single one of my emails about a reserve supply of coffee."

"Mr. Woolsey has spent several days in meeting with the Coalition and the IOA. I believe he said the political issues surrounding Latira would be resolved when 'hell freezes over.'"

"Keeps him off my back about reports…"

This was one of the days, John thought, when his parachute had opened and let him drift gently to the ground.

~~~~oooo~~~~

The End

~~~~oooo~~~~

Prompt Note: This was written for the sheppard_hc Secret Santa 09 Fiction Exchange at LiveJournal for lorr54 who wanted something to do with the ATA gene and wanted the team searching for something to prevent a catastrophe that was not on Earth or Atlantis. It also had to be set during Carter's or Woolsey's tenure as leader of story ended up not quite a search so much as a problem to be solved, but I think I covered the rest.