Author's Note: Once again, thank you to everyone who's reviewed, the response to this story has been incredible! No chance to reply individually tonight, but I will get round to it, I swear, time seems to be getting away from me though... Thanks again!
Warning: If you hadn't guessed from the ending of last chapter, there's attempts at suicide in this chapter, and the fallout from it...
Chapter 8
And he lifted the gun to his own temple.
Sheppard was already moving, had begun moving when he spotted the calm surrender in Corporal Reilly's eyes. Moving with the same speed he had employed to kill Kolya, he grabbed the Wraith stunner in his thigh holster, yanked it out and aimed it at Reilly.
But he hadn't moved fast enough.
The stunner hit the corporal just as the gun in his hand went off, and even with the jerk from the bolt of energy coursing through him, Reilly only flinched enough to stop the bullet from destroying his temple.
Instead the bullet clipped the edge of his head; blood sprayed, not as much as Sheppard feared, and then Reilly fell to the ground in a lifeless heap.
Again John moved the fastest, racing forward to dive to his knees besides the downed corporal. Blood was still seeping out of the deep gash, but he didn't have a bullet through his skull.
He applied pressure with a hurriedly unwrapped field bandage, unsure if he should be doing so but hoping that the most important thing now was to stop, or at least slow, the bleeding. Teyla was beside him in a second, laying Reilly straight as Dawson ducked down to keep the corporal's head still.
Sheppard nodded his thanks, and then twisted his head to find Major Graham. "Find out where Williams and Johnson are," he ordered a touch breathlessly. He raised his voice. "Everyone else, check for survivors."
Graham touched his shoulder. "Williams and Johnson are only half way to the gate," the major told him.
"It's going to take too long," Sheppard growled, looking around as if for an answer. "It'll take ten minutes for a jumper to get here. Another ten to get Reilly back. He needs treatment now!"
Graham squatted on the other side of the still breathing Reilly. "Sir, with all due respect, even if he can be saved, would he want it?" He shook his head, and then looked around, emphasising the death and destruction. "Does he deserve it?"
Sheppard actually snarled. "This wasn't his fault, major," the colonel snapped, the urge to bear his teeth incredibly strong. "Just like it wasn't Ranger's fault, or Lorne's. Something's wrong with these men, and I'll be damned before I let them die for no good reason! Now find me a damn stretcher!"
Graham blanched slightly before nodding a rising, but Sheppard missed it all, instead searching for someone else. "McKay, take Reilly's head. Captain, I need you to run and get the jumper as quickly as possible." The scientist was already there, taking a gentle hold with a scrunched up face. "Now, Dawson, run!"
The captain went off at a sprint, holding his gun against his chest so it didn't rattle. Sheppard watched him for a moment before turning back to find Teyla staring at him.
"Major Graham is right about one thing," she began cautiously. "He admitted to massacring these people."
"That doesn't mean he doesn't deserve to live," Sheppard snapped instantly, interrupting her before she could go on. "Besides, he can't have been the only one. Even hopped up on something, he can't have taken out thirteen other marines. Something big went down, something went very wrong. This wasn't his fault – I'd stake my life on it."
"I agree," she told him a touch impatiently. "However, whether or not this was his fault, he did do it. And that has obviously created a great deal of guilt, or he would not have tried to kill himself. Would you want to live with the knowledge that you killed your own people?"
"I do," Sheppard snarled quietly, so only Rodney could hear besides the two of them.
"Yes, but Corporal Reilly is not you, and you were doing it to end Colonel Sumner's suffering," Teyla explained, getting exasperated. "Corporal Reilly told us that he does not know why -."
Sheppard gave a sharp growl, cutting the Athosian off. "I don't care!" he told her as Graham arrived by his side with a stretcher found somewhere among the rubble. "We're getting him back and getting him right!"
Teyla fell into silence as she moved aside so Graham could lever the stretcher under the shallow-breathing corporal. Behind them Dawson was landing the jumper only fifteen feet away.
"McKay, you got his head, and the bandage?" Sheppard demanded. The scientist nodded quickly, and John wrapped a blood-soaked hand around a handle on the stretcher. Graham, Ronon and one of Sheppard's marines, Holden, grabbed another handle each, and together they raised the stretcher and walked towards the jumper. Dawson already had the hatch down, and they shuffled up it, before easing the stretcher to the ground.
"Major, stay here, wait for the medical team that's coming," Sheppard ordered, moving to the front. "Find any survivors and do what you can for them, but I want everyone back as quickly as possible." He looked around. "I don't want anyone here any longer than they need to be."
Graham nodded and backed off the hatch before Dawson hit the button and closed the door. Sheppard slid into the pilot's chair and took off only a second later. "Hold on boys and girls," he addressed McKay, Ronon, and the two marines as they cleared the treetops and sped off towards the gate. "It's going to be bumpy ride."
No sooner had the words left his mouth then the jumper died.
"What the hell!" Sheppard cried as the puddle jumper dipped and began falling from the sky. He pounded his fists on the terminal before him, trying to force life back into the machine, while Rodney got to his feet – no easy task with the sudden loss of inertial dampeners – and came to the fore of the jumper. But they hadn't been high in the sky and in the slim ship they dropped quickly, despite every effort Sheppard could muster to keep them steady and straight.
The jolt of hitting the trees jarred every bone in Sheppard's body, but even so he managed to grab McKay and pull him down, so he wouldn't hit his head against the –
They hit the ground and started rolling, sliding but by that stage everything had gone black.
"So Holt didn't kill Ranger," Woolsey repeated, sitting down in his chair. Gibbs nodded from where he stood, hands on his hips. The expedition commander sighed and put his head in his hands.
"Well… I guess. I mean, that could be good news, right?" Woolsey mumbled as Gibbs sat down across from him. The bald man looked up, obviously looking for consolation. He wasn't going to get it from Gibbs. "Well, at least… Holt's out of surgery, Dr Keller says he should be fine, barring complications. But why would Ranger attack him? And then kill himself? Even if he was so enraged he wanted to kill Holt, why stop, and then turn his knife on himself when he snapped out of it. Would he feel that guilty? Do you think it has something to do with this virus?"
Gibbs sat up straighter, not caring about the frustrated frown on his face. "With all due respect, Mr Woolsey," he began. "A virus doesn't make you kill people, others or yourself." He paused. "There has to be a certain strain working in an environment like this," he added. "Maybe these marines finally just… snapped."
Woolsey actually snorted. "What both Ranger and Lorne at once?" he snapped sarcastically. Then he shook his head. "I highly doubt it, Agent Gibbs. These people are the best of the best, and what's more, a vast majority love what they do here."
"But a virus?" Gibbs demanded. "Be realistic, Mr Woolsey. It's a virus, not brain-washing technology."
Somewhat annoyed, Woolsey leaned across the table. "That is realistic in this galaxy, Agent Gibbs. I know Colonel Sheppard has told you before, but apparently you didn't listen. Whatever you think you know about real is only scratching the surface in this galaxy. If we had time, I'd show you the reports. The ones that read like fiction. The ones like the time a childhood disease wiped away the memories of this entire base. The time a pheromone given off by a visitor made everyone love him to the point that they would become sick, and depressed without him."
Woolsey leaned back, waiting for some reaction, but Gibbs refused to give him one. The man continued. "There's more, Agent Gibbs. Hell, some of them even happened in the Milky Way, but like I said, we don't have time. We had one viable option for what was going on with our people. Now we've scratched that one off the list. We need another, and this gives a reason to why normal, sane, good men are taking a dip in the crazy pool. What I need you to do now is find out what Ranger and Lorne have in common."
Gibbs' back went up, not used to taking orders and actually being expected to obey without question. But he took a mental step back, not liking the need to rearrange the world order in his head after so many years of knowing exactly what was what in the universe. Okay, so viruses could make you crazy enough to kill a friend. He could work with that. He could.
"What do you know about this virus, then?" Gibbs asked eventually, slowly.
"Nothing," Woolsey admitted. "For that, you'd need to talk to…" He sat up straighter, looking past Gibbs out to the walkway. "Speak of the devil."
Gibbs looked around to find Dr Biro entering the glass office, looking nervous and confused. Woolsey didn't even let her settle herself though.
"Doctor, what have you got?"
"I haven't got anything, Mr Woolsey," she began to explain.
The leader interrupted, not understanding. "What do you mean, doctor?" he demanded. "What are you doing here, then?"
"No, you don't understand!" The doctor sounded like she was close to having a panic attack. "I got the results back from Corporal Ranger's blood work. There's no trace of the virus."
Gibbs wanted to shoot Woolsey a triumphant grin, but refrained because of the sinking feeling that now he had to find a new suspect.
"But…" Woolsey avoided looking at Gibbs as well. "You said, doctor -."
To Woolsey's obvious surprise, Biro interrupted him. "I know what I said!" she actually snapped. "But there is no evidence of a virus. Which is wrong, because there is evidence… What I mean, is that all the signs of a virus are there. High temperature, elevated levels of white blood cells, though his immune system was severely damaged. There is evidence of the beginning of multiple organ failure – his kidneys were -."
"Get to the point, Dr Biro," Woolsey snapped, obviously frustrated. The doctor gave him a hard look.
"The point is, I couldn't find any alien pathogens in him. And by alien pathogens, I don't actually mean alien… well, I do, in the sense that it wasn't from… well, you get the picture. I couldn't find any actual virus."
Gibbs and Woolsey shared a look. "So how do you find a virus that doesn't exist?" the agent asked slowly. Woolsey just shook his head helplessly before checking his watch.
"Colonel Sheppard needs to hear this," he decided, standing up. Gibbs stood with him. "They're overdue for a check in anyway."
The commander led the way across the walkway, spotting one of the technicians behind the Ancient consoles. "Amelia, dial the gate."
They all heard the crash from the alpha site, standing up straight as the noise of trees being torn and shredded created a deep, cold hole in each and every gut.
Teyla shared a look with Major Graham, and then the marine spun to address his men before the crashing had even stopped. "Bryan, Wheeler, Henderson, you're with me!"
"I'm coming as well, Major," Teyla told him, but Graham wasn't about to argue. He just nodded.
They took off at a run, sprinting out of the alpha site and towards the gate as fast as they could. The splintering of the trees ended quickly, suddenly, and the abrupt silence was eerie in the dying light of the planet they had made their back up home.
Faster by a second, Teyla was the first to clear the destruction-less trail, suddenly finding herself jumping over broken branches, tree limbs, her heart rising up her throat as the path the crashing puddle jumper had taken became clearer and clearer.
And then suddenly the clearing the Stargate occupied was there, and so were the two marines, Williams and Johnson.
And so was the jumper, lying upside down against the Stargate, directly in the path of the vortex if the wormhole was established.
As she took in the sight, Teyla unwillingly slowed, jaw dropping and eyes widening. Debris littered the clearing, sticks and splinters dropped carelessly in the tracks of what could only have been the sliding jumper. Major Graham caught up around the same time as his men, and together they absorbed the crash.
Realizing what she was doing, Teyla shook herself mentally and ran forward, aiming for where Williams and Johnson were already trying to open the rear hatch. The five of them joined the two marines, but Teyla wasn't sure how they would gain access to the crashed ship. Despite its abilities to withstand the rigours of space and atmospheric re-entry, the jumper was apparently unable to handle crashing through a forest of trees – the ship was dented, and the hatch stuck.
"How do we get them out?" Teyla demanded, looking at Major Graham. But the marine just shook his head.
"I don't know. We need crowbars, but we don't have any…" He shook his head again, helplessly.
"Is there some kind of locking mechanism that we could… I don't know, shoot loose?" Teyla asked, very aware of how Ronon-esque that question was.
"Only on the inside," Wheeler told her, staring at the door as if it were a problem he could fix. "Wouldn't do much good if your enemy could shoot at it during space battle."
Teyla clicked her radio. "Colonel Sheppard? Ronon? Doctor McKay?"
Major Graham got the idea. "Captain Dawson? Sergeant Holden? Come in, anyone?"
Teyla felt her head dropping, as Graham motioned for the others to begin trying to pry it free. "John, can you hear me? Rodney, come in. Ronon!"
A noise came over the radio, a small groan before a voice. "Teyla, that you?"
Teyla wasn't the only one to heave a sigh of relief. "Ronon, are you okay?"
"Fine," the Satedan answered gruffly, gruffly enough that Teyla knew he was lying. "What happened?"
"I don't know," the Athosian woman answered. "The jumper crashed, but I don't know why." And for the moment she didn't really care. "How is everyone else?"
"Hang on," the answer came, and from inside the jumper came the sounds of things being tossed aside. "Dawson and Holden are alive, but still unconscious. Man, Reilly's still alive too."
"What about the colonel, and the doc?" Graham asked. There was a moment of silence, and more movement from inside the jumper.
"Both unconscious. McKay's got a head wound, but he's breathing fine. Uh, Sheppard's not looking so hot. We need a med team here as soon as possible."
"We need you out of there first, Ronon," Graham told him, to more silence. Confused silence this time.
"You are against the Stargate, Ronon," Teyla explained. "If we dial, it will take out the jumper, and whoever's inside."
There was more silence. "And the hatch isn't opening."
"We've been trying from this side," Graham told him. "But we're not having much luck."
"Something must be jammed," Ronon agreed. "Cause it won't work from here either. And the hatch doesn't look the right shape."
"It's mostly intact," Wheeler interrupted. "If we can get the locking mechanism to release, we should be able to pry it open."
"And how do I do that?" Ronon demanded. There was a pause. "Hang on, do you actually want me to shoot something?"
"It was Teyla's idea," Graham dobbed, to a scowl from the Athosian.
"We need to get you out of there, Ronon," she explained patiently. "We're already late for our check-in, and you know Mr Woolsey."
Graham grimaced with acknowledgement, but Ronon answered instantly. "Okay, shooting the panel it is. I don't know what this will do, so… maybe step back."
The marines stepped away from the hatch, and there was another moment of silence before the muffled sound of Ronon's blaster filtered through the hull of the jumper. The marines jumped forward again, bending over to grab what had been the top of the hatch, hands and muscles straining, bulging. Over the radio they could hear Ronon groaning as well, apparently pushing from inside. Heavier than it looked, the hatch still actually began moving, inch by inch, slowly but surely widening the gap.
Not soon enough, however, as the lights of the Stargate lit up and the countdown began when they could only see Ronon's feet.
He he… sorry, but… uh oh!
