"Major! Teldy! Come in, Major. Dammit, Anne, answer me!"
The angry, terrified voice in her ear finally snapped Anne back from wondering why she was sleeping in a snowbank. She groaned, spit grit out of her mouth and sat up slowly.
"Yeah, I'm here, Major."
She propped herself up against the side of the hallway and looked back at the pile of rubble, ice and fresh snow that was all that remained of the corridor she'd turned out of, just in time. She'd been caught in the edge of the collapse, but the smaller corridor ahead was clear, covered, and comfortingly gloomy. She blinked blowing snow and dust out of her eyes and looked through the new hole into cloud-blackened sky. "I'm about 50 meters from Sheppard's location and the roof looks secure the rest of the way."
Anne could hear the sigh in Major Lorne's reply. "We're completely cut off. There's no way to join you from here. Sir, if you're listening, do you have that map open? Sir?"
Anne waited for an answer that never came and shoved herself to her feet, her pack banging against her back. "I'm on my way," she said at exactly the same time Lorne ordered, "Teldy, get to Sheppard as fast as you can."
She forced herself back into a jog despite aching muscles and bruises. She was sure she had a bruise the size of an ostrich egg on her right calf, and her knees were talking to her. The lights in the corridor were flickering and it was damn cold. What little residual heat the outer rooms had retained had just gone – literally – through the roof. She was preparing a list of medical and survival procedures to work down even as she skidded up to Sheppard's door, pounded once or twice and then jerked her knife out of her pack to slice into the wall.
"Sir, it's Major Teldy. Can you respond? Can you open the door?"
It took her twice as long as Lorne to jury-rig the mechanism and she was spitting with impatience when the doors, after a couple of false twitches, finally lurched open far enough to squeeze through. She shoved her way into the room and froze a second later, facing down the muzzle of Sheppard's 9mm. The chemical lamps were still burning coldly and the blue-white light gave Sheppard's grim expression a ghastly pale cast.
"Hi, sir. I thought I'd make a house call, but if you want to walk to the clinic instead, I'll leave." She had her hands raised, and spoke calmly.
He blinked, shook his head a little. The gun dropped heavily back into his lap. He was leaning up against the computer console facing the door, the injured leg propped up on his pack. The tablet computer he'd wired into the base of the wraith pedestal was lying on the floor, looking like it had slid off his lap.
"Teldy," he breathed. A cloud of steam puffed out at the weak breath.
"Yeah. Lorne and Vega got cut off, so you're stuck with me. We were worried about you. How do you feel?"
"Tired," Sheppard admitted, and then shivered, his whole body jerking with the tremor. "And cold."
"Is that all? I'm tired and cold, too. I want to check your leg and then we'll get this place warmed up."
Anne tugged on latex gloves and poked briefly at the wound through the hole in his outer suit. The second bandage was stained, but not soaked through, so she decided she had time to fuss with getting the door closed to block out the cold draft. She tucked the 2nd bag of saline inside her own suit to warm it up. She wanted to get it in Sheppard as soon as possible. Between the cold and blood loss, shock was her biggest worry.
She was very busy for the next half hour. By the time she finally ran out of things to do, she'd started the new IV, changed Sheppard's damp gloves and socks for two layers of dray ones, bundled him up in full outside gear – complete with hat, outer gloves and an improvised scarf – and busted out the tiny chemical heater Sheppard had stowed in his gear. It was about as effective as a paper umbrella in a thunderstorm, but it was something.
Lorne pestered her constantly during her work, but finally seemed resigned to setting up his own camp on the other side of the cave-in after Anne checked Sheppard's map and confirmed that the only way to them was to either climb outside, over the roof, and back in through the main entrance, or to walk the entire circle of the outpost.
Out of things to keep her moving for the moment, she sat down heavily on the floor beside where Sheppard lay on a thermal blanket, his feet propped up again on the stacked packs. She checked his pulse and was pleased when he swatted away her touch. He'd been groggy and lethargic for quite a while after she'd arrived. The IV was probably making the difference.
The wind howling and moaning overhead seemed much louder when she wasn't moving or prattling on to keep Sheppard alert. She pulled up her knees and rested her arms on them while she looked him over, this time with an eye for details. Despite the layers of clothing, he looked chilled, and his lips were tensed into a thin white line. The sweat from the overheated furnace room had congealed into a waxy sheen on his cold skin. He'd consented to take some ordinary Tylenol but aside from that small admission, he was still pulling the stoic routine. It didn't fool Anne. He was hurting. The deep breaths and occasional hitch gave him away.
"Shield's been down for an hour. Can a jumper fly through this?" A whistle of air screamed overhead by way of elaboration.
"Depends. They'll come as soon as they can. They'll get here."
Anne raised her eyebrow, unable to tell if he was jerking her chain or too bad off to answer with anything but platitudes. "Depends on what?"
"What?" he panted finally, after another hitch and deep breath. Definitely hurting.
"I'm no pilot. I prefer my feet on the ground except when it's the only ride out of freezing, wraith-worshipper-infested outposts. So, what decides whether I get to go home in ten minutes or ten hours?" Whether he could get home was what she was thinking. The signs of shock kept scrolling through her brain. He was already at the mild stage.
"Jumpers…jumpers don't fly on the physics of…of…aerodynamic force. Lift and drag. So wind isn't…problem for that. But…not streamline…catch lot of air. If you can keep 'em into the wind, you're better off than in a plane. If gusty or…or…whippy wind, you can get tossed around, slammed into the ground quick. So…so…"
"It depends," she finished softly as he swallowed hard for a second.
"Depends on how crazy your pilot is," he finished at last, trying for a grin.
"From what I hear, sir, I'm wishing you were back at Atlantis getting ready to fly."
He threw her a sidelong look, opened his eyes a slit. "Are you saying I'm crazy, Major?"
She blushed but held her ground. "It was you who ran into the automated defenses the first time your team brought a jumper here, wasn't it? I read the report. Sounded sticky. I read a lot of reports. I'm saying your reputation speaks for itself."
"You take out one little hive ship in a dart, and everyone thinks you're Evel Kenievel in a space ship," he muttered.
"I heard it was two."
"Right…right. Got the Queens to duke it out…" His voice trailed away and squeezed his eyes tightly shut. Anne watched him force back obvious pain with a few deep breaths and sheer willpower. She buried her face in her hands, suddenly overwhelmed.
"Sir…" she began softly.
"Still not the time, Major."
Anne scrubbed furiously at her cheeks. "Yes, sir."
When Sheppard shuddered deeply a few minutes later, from cold or shock, groaned, and rolled onto his side, she squirmed around onto her knees again, and pushed at the man's shoulders.
"Sir, you need to keep your legs elevated."
She could see the desire in his tense frame to stay curled up, but she continued to shove and nudge until he rolled to his back with a groan. The groan turned into a hiss when she lifted the ankle of the damaged leg to prop it back up.
"I'm sorry," she found herself murmuring, the words standing as apology for more than just the doctoring. She checked the IV and then unplugged the empty bag. Sheppard growled with a long sigh of frustration, then resumed his tense endurance. She watched him closely for another few minutes.
"I owe you another apology, sir," she said at last, grasping his shoulder in what she hoped would be interpreted as respectful support. Sheppard didn't speak, but quirked his eyebrows into a questioning expression without opening his eyes. "Yeah. Remember when I laughed about handling the pain? You're doing fine, sir. Just fine."
He nodded. "You were right, too. Leg is…pretty damn…owchie." He gritted his teeth as if in demonstration.
"Still have that morphine…?"
"Still…need to stay…alert…" he gasped, then slowly faded out into something between rest and unconsciousness. He deserved it, she supposed. Even if it made her damn jumpy. After the third time she'd taken her glove off to check his pulse, she just dug her fingers through the layers of his sleeves, and kept her hand wrapped around his wrist.
There was nothing intimate about the gesture – she'd spent her entire life in the company of men who were professionals, colleagues. She was doing her job, keeping a wounded comrade under supervision. Nothing personal.
Except it was.
Anne began to realize that she desperately needed to keep this man alive. He was more than colleague or "just" her superior. He was…Sheppard, the man spoken about in hushed tones by skeptics and admirers alike – for whatever you thought about him, there was no denying that he was a remarkable soldier. She was coming to learn just how painfully remarkable he was.
She dropped her head onto her knees, shivering a little herself. She was really tired. It took all of her willpower to stay awake herself, and she found herself even a little envious of Sheppard and his nap. Another hour passed. The wind howled outside the complex and Anne shivered again. It was getting damn cold. The little heater was cranking out about as much heat as a candle relative to the ambient temp. She bundled up the still-sleeping Sheppard in another thermal sheet and walked around the room to warm herself up.
After a second hour had passed, she realized that the water in their small canteens had frozen, despite the layers of insulation. She broke out a cooking sterno and put one canteen over it to thaw. She woke Sheppard long enough to get him to drink some of the lukewarm water, and then put the thawed one inside her suit and set the second one onto the flame before it had used all its fuel.
When she was finished with that project, she spent a little time fussing with her hand scanner. She'd put it in her suit, hoping that it if warmed up long enough, the screen would clear. It had almost worked…until she brought it back out into the chill again and it started to dim like before. She did get a peek at the LSD and could see Lorne and Vega's dots huddled together a few corridors away. There were no other signatures wandering about in the halls nearby, so she stuffed it away again before it froze.
"Dammit! Where the hell are they?!" she spat into the room after a third hour.
Anne paced to stay awake and stay limber. The cold seemed to seep into her very bones. With a surge of claustrophobia induced panic, she began to shove her gear back into her pack with half a mind to walk back to the stargate and BRING a rescue team here.
"They'll be here," Sheppard said softly from his spot on the floor, correctly interpreting her manic activity. Anne snapped her mouth shut, surprised that he was awake – he'd been out for so long. His teeth were chattering almost constantly, but his expression was fierce. She made sure she answered with a calm tone, despite the doubt in the words.
"Sir, we're already five hours overdue. Atlantis' scanners should show them the shield is down. Why the hell aren't they here, now?"
"If it were safe to come, they'd be here. If it weren't safe but possible to come, they'd be here."
"Maybe we should –."
"Major, Carter's been on the other side of the puddle enough times to take nothing for granted. She'll send someone to check up on us as soon as it's remotely possible."
Anne's eyes went wide at the realization that – of course – Carter would be the one calling the shots back on Atlantis. She'd never thought of it that way. She sank to the floor to sit cross-legged beside him.
"I know that. Back in the Milky Way, though, gate teams are pretty much expected to make it back on our own. I guess I'm not used to depending on jumpers for backup. I don't like waiting," she admitted, only half telling the truth.
"I know the type," Sheppard muttered with an amused roll of his eyes. "It took Ronon months to trust me."
"Trust," she repeated idly, thinking about her epiphany from before. How was sitting around on your ass waiting for your ride anything about trust?
"They'll be here, Major. If it's not safe for them to come here, it's not safe for us to get there, either."
"Right," she said softly, trying hard to find the trust that was required within her. She trusted Carter, didn't she? "Right. Do you need anything sir? It's been hours. You should have some more water and maybe something to eat?"
"Water," he said. She got him a drink, fussed over his wraps a little, worried about the shivers he couldn't shake. She decided to check the LSD again, just to make sure she wasn't missing any rescue units that were wandering the complex looking for them. She unzipped her suit with an involuntary hiss at the chill and held it up quickly in case it started to fog.
"Uh, oh." The words came out without thinking.
"What?!" Sheppard was instantly alert, his eyes glittering.
"Got a bogey on the scanner. Lorne and Vega are accounted for. Single life sign, on our side of the cave in. Walking this…shit! Fogged."
She shook the scanner, just for spite, then shoved it back into the outer pocket at the same time she was leaping to her feet and flinging off the outer glove of her gun hand. The wraith stunner she drew was bitter cold. Her already cold fingers numbed around the weapon, making her grip feel stiff and odd. Sheppard was grunting as he struggled to shove himself upright. She crouched and stopped him with a hand on his shoulder when he paused to prop against the bench.
"Stay put, sir. I'll check it out."
He looked like he wanted to argue, but she saw the fatigue of pain around his eyes. Resignation seeped into his shuddering shoulders. He stopped trying to get up and flopped off his own outer glove to get a better grip on his 9mm.
"Right. Stay in touch," he breathed, pointed to his earpiece. For an instant, she wondered if he wanted the contact to keep tabs on her…or to keep himself conscious. He was already getting tense and breathing faster as sitting upright stretched torn muscles in the damaged leg.
She left her knife stuck into the wall beside the door after she closed it behind her – if she needed to get to Sheppard fast, she didn't want to have to spend three minutes fiddling to do it. It was damn cold and even thicker clouds of steam rose from each breath as she stalked in the direction of the mystery life sign. Compared to the exposed corridor, their coffee-break room was downright balmy. The severe cold felt like prickles against her skin and made her eyes felt weird in the sockets. She wouldn't be able to stay out here long without the rest of her gear.
From her brief glimpse at the scanner, she knew she had to make a couple of turns before she got close. She filled in Lorne and Vega in quiet whispers as she rounded the first turn and knew they were listening in along with Sheppard. The storm outside was an ominous companion, the screeching and howling providing fuel for her over-active imagination.
She slowed even further as she reached the final turn into the corridor she'd seen the dot. She crouched low, and peeped around the stringy corner.
"I'm at the place where the LSD said the bogey was five minutes ago. It's empty now. There are two open doors in sight and another junction just beyond the curve of the hallway," she whispered for her team's benefit. It seemed safe enough to talk. They didn't respond, respecting radio silence.
She remained there, in a crouch for several more minutes. She was just about to enter the hall and assume the something had taken the last turn when a furious growl froze her to the floor and turned her insides to ice. A chunk of something came flying through one of the open doors and smashed against the opposite side of the hall. A hunched, ragged figure stalked out after it and howled over the pieces again.
Anne jerked her head out of the hall and slammed her back against the wall, gulping air like a guppy on a plate. Wraith. Her first in-person look at one, too. She was terrified to move, terrified not to. With a supreme effort, she held her breath – lest the clouds of fog give her away – and peeked back around the corner. The wraith was just disappearing through the closest door.
She waited to make sure it was definitely in the room, destroying more things by the sound of it, then turned to slip quietly back the way she'd come. When she got to the next turn, she put her shoulder on the corner to watch her six and opened her radio.
"Sir, it's a wraith. It's searching room to room, looking for something. It looks really pissed off, throwing computers around and…screaming a lot."
The chorus of exclamation sounded too loud to Anne who was still wired by the encounter.
"Shit, was that thing here the whole time?" Vega shouted.
"The second hot spot," Lorne corrected, his voice just as keyed up. "Those worshippers in the furnace room were trying to thaw out their Wraith buddy but the pod controls were damaged. The one we saw would never have woken up. There must have been another hibernation chamber over the other hot spot."
"And this one did wake up." Vega sounded disgusted.
"Maybe the explosion triggered the alarm clock, or maybe some power spike reset another malfunctioning pod controller."
"How old is that damn thing?" Vega wondered. "This outpost is geriatric, so if those guys have been here since -."
"Hush!" Sheppard interrupted the conversation to Anne's immense gratitude. She didn't care how it woke up, she needed to know what to do about it. "Major, fall back. Do not engage the wraith. Those bastards don't go down easy, especially when they're…old." There was a shudder in Sheppard's voice.
"But sir, I have the advantage of surprise, if I can -."
"Fall back, Teldy. That's an order. Lorne, is there any way you can regroup? Even if there's only one wraith, we'll need combined firepower to take it out."
Firepower? Something jogged in Anne's brain and she was only half listening as Lorne answered, "We'll suit up and try to either go over the debris in the obstructed corridor, or over the roof. I can't promise you speed, though, sir. It's going to be tricky at best. Sorry."
"The M16! We parked it just outside the main entrance. That should be enough firepower, and then some." Anne's mind was already racing through scenarios, and she began to fall back as ordered. Sheppard's coffee-break room was down a dead end hallway thanks to the cave-in. The turn to the main entrance was between her and it and she ran until she got to the junction.
"Sir, Lorne and Vega can pick up the M16 once they're over the cave-in. I'll bunker down with you, hold the wraith off until they can join us." That plan had made the most sense as she hashed it out. It wasn't worth the risk to leave anyone alone with inferior firepower.
"How far to the entrance and the M16?" Sheppard sounded flat, disturbed almost.
"About a twelve minute round trip. Took me only five to close the distance between you and the wraith. It's too close for comfort, sir."
"There isn't far enough away for comfort, Major. Retrieve the M16, then doubletime it back here."
For the second time that mission, Anne was taken aback by Sheppard's decision to break with conventional wisdom and forego the security of numbers.
"Sir?!"
She couldn't help it. Maybe it was because she was used to being in charge on away missions, but she kept finding herself blurting out arguments to his decisions.
"You're wasting time, Major. Get that damn gun. I'll be here when you get back, but I don't want to have to hold him off on my own any longer than I have to, got it?"
Anne almost bit her tongue around the curse she wanted to spit out.
"Got it," she said instead, her voice cold from more than the temperature. Trust me, was what he'd really said.
She ducked into the corridor that would take her to the entrance and away from Sheppard. The suit was awkward, the boots were impossible and she was going to get too hot, but she ran like a sprinter at the Olympics. She'd promised Sheppard twelve minutes – she'd be pissed if she didn't do it in ten.
She was just under five when she turned the last corner and a blast of arctic wind literally sucked the air out of her lungs. She lurched to a stop, gasping in air that was too cold for her lungs to do anything with. Only after she slapped her hand over her mouth and re-breathed some warm air from cupped fingers did the shock induced panic abate.
Ahead of her, the ragged crack in the wall that served as entrance looked like a white screen. The blizzard outside, dimly lit by the weak, never-setting sun, raged past in horizontal streaks of blowing ice. Gusts of wind hooked around the edges and spun a growing pile of snow into whirly-gigs.
Anne kept her hand over her mouth and squinted into the stinging gale. The crevice where Vega had stashed the M16 was just inside, Anne had to turn her back to the wind to find it, buried to the hand grip in drifting ice. She snatched it by the barrel and scurried back around the corner, shuddering in the bitter wind.
She didn't stop to test the weapon, she just ran as thorough a check as she could while on the move. She no longer worried about sweating – it was almost as damn cold inside as outside, just a little less windy. Her calves were screaming at her by the time she'd made it halfway back to the coffee-break room. The clunky and awkward boots forced her to lumber with an awkward lurch every step having never been designed for running. She'd been running all day in them. She tapped her earpiece twice to signal her intent to communicate.
"Sir, I'm…almost…to the final corridor. I'm going to take swing through the area and see if I can spot our friend before I join you, so we know generally where it's wandering around."
Anne sounded raspy and out of breath, even to herself.
"No need, Major. I know exactly where it is," was Sheppard's tense reply. Anne jerked to a halt, her heart in her ears.
"Sir?!" She really hoped that didn't mean what she thought it meant.
"It's tearing apart our room."
Yup, that's what she thought it meant.