Here it is. Horrid, horrid cliffhanger. Next chapter will be posted immediately. :)

Chapter 13

Ankera's announcement regarding their executions had caused the expected outburst from everyone. Rodney had ranted and raved, punctuating his words with a few obscene hand gestures. Ronon had staggered to his feet, no doubt to throttle Ankera, but had been dropped to his knees by a wave of dizziness. Carson, seeing Ronon's sudden rise to his feet had jumped up to stop the man's murderous advance but ended up catching him as he fell over. John had tried to stand up as well and was equally swept off his feet by a wave of dizziness. The pain in his eye began throbbing and the next thing he knew he was laying back on the bench with Teyla looking down at him. She disappeared and Ankera was suddenly leaning over him. Carson hovered not too far behind him. The alien probed and poked around the bandages a moment then nodded at Beckett.

"I cannot say for certain, but I do not believe he has suffered any permanent damage," Ankera said. He backed away from Sheppard as he spoke, his eyes darting from Beckett to Teyla to Ronon. He jerked as he almost ran into Rodney behind him, and Sheppard would have laughed at the alien's almost comic reaction had they not been awaiting imminent death. Ankera eventually huddled into the farthest corner of the cell possible.

Ronon settled back against the wall, leaning his head back. Rodney paced a few more times, and then dropped to the ground next to Ronon. Teyla moved behind Sheppard, sliding under him so she could cradle his head again in her lap. Beckett perched on the edge of the bench near John's feet, resting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.

That had been hours ago. Since Ankera had joined them in their cell, they hadn't seen or heard from another alien. John lay there, exhausted and on the verge of falling asleep again.

"If we weren't about to die, I'd almost feel sorry for you," Rodney said, breaking the silence that had settled over all of them. John turned his head to see the scientist peering at Ankera with intensity.

Ankera looked up, his eyes wide. "Why is that?"

"You're life is pretty sad if you think about it. All of your experiences are someone else's—your explorers. Didn't you ever try to live your own life, create your own, real experiences?"

Ankera stared at McKay for a moment before turning away from him. His face twitched and the long fingers of his hands pressed into his chest. John wondered if he was angry, or nervous, despondent or indifferent at the physicist's words.

"He's right," Ronon added. "If you're so interested in life outside of this city, why didn't you just leave? Why didn't you do your own exploring?"

"I could not. It is forbidden. I would have been killed."

"Only if you came back. And, may I remind you, you're about to be killed anyway. We all are, thanks to you."

John nodded, agreeing with McKay, but not without a little sympathy for Ankera. He wondered what he would have done in a similar situation. If he was confined to Atlantis, could he leave his city, knowing he would never be allowed to leave? He wasn't so sure about that. No matter how anxious or bored he got when he was recovering from illness or injury, or just waiting for the next mission, he would not willingly abandon Atlantis forever. Add to that the feeling that the safety of the city and everyone in it—whether founded or not—was dependant on him staying in it, and the answer was simple. He would never jeopardize Atlantis.

They sat there in silence for awhile longer, each lost in their own thoughts. Again, Rodney broke the silence, but his thoughts had obviously drifted along a different line from John's. "You used the technology on yourself, didn't you?"

"Excuse me?" Ankera asked. The others turned to McKay, wondering what he was talking about now.

"Sheppard's dream about the gray corridor. That was your eyes he was seeing through, wasn't it?"

John looked at Ankera, suddenly interested in the answer.

"Yes," Ankera said. "When I perfected the technology, I tested it on myself to ensure it would not be harmful."

"And?" John asked.

"It was not harmful—either to me or to any of the other human explorers afterward. You are the first that it has not worked on. I do not understand why. With more tests, perhaps I could offer you an explanation. I had assumed humans were similar enough from world to world that my technology would react the same in all of them. That had proven itself out in all subjects before yourself. Perhaps you are different than the other humans…" Ankera's voice trailed off.

At that moment, a guard appeared at the door. Ronon, Rodney, and Ankera stood up.

"Ankera, as is our custom, you have been granted access to a sanctuary to make the final preparations before your death." The guard opened the door, keeping a careful eye on the others in the cell. Ankera nodded his head in acknowledgement and left the cell.

"What about us?" Rodney yelled as the door slid shut. "What about our final preparations?"

"We are unfamiliar with your customs," the guard replied and left.

"Well, that's just great. Thanks for your cultural understanding and all that crap. Is it safe to assume that our end is near?" Rodney yelled, pressing his head against the bars. Silence was his only answer.

"You know, you'd think they would at least try and talk to us given the fact that they're about to kill us," he griped. He slid down the wall in defeat and slumped next to Ronon.

"Sorry, guys," John said.

"Why are you sorry?" Carson asked, looking down at him with some concern.

"My fault we had to come down here."

"Yes, yes, Sheppard. It's all your fault we're about to die. I'll hate you forever in the afterlife—stop looking at me like that." Rodney glared at Ronon and moved to the spot across the cell where Ankera had been sitting. "It's a pointless conversation anyway."

"Lovely," Carson muttered. He grabbed John's wrist, feeling for a pulse, and tutted at what he found.

"I'm just saying, we're locked up in a cell and about to be executed. No one even knows we're here, so no chance for a last minute miracle rescue." At Ronon's continued glare, Rodney threw his hands up in the air. "Fine. For the record, Sheppard, this is not your fault. No one blames you—not even me—so stop trying to stock even more skeletons into your closet."

"Actually—" Sheppard began, pushing himself up into a sitting position.

"No, Sheppard. You are not allowed to take the blame for this. This is not your fault." Rodney pounded the floor, punctuating every word.

John shook his head and opened his mouth, about to respond, when they heard a sound from outside. Ronon and Teyla stood up, their stances wide, and John saw Ronon flick his wrist as he palmed a small knife that had appeared out of nowhere.

They heard the footsteps coming toward them, but it sounded like someone was running. John frowned, wondering what the rush could be after they'd been sitting there for hours on end. His thoughts flitted momentarily to the last minute miracle rescue McKay had lost hope in, but then Ankera suddenly appeared in front of their door.

"We do not have much time," he said, breathing hard through his nose. He glanced down the hallway he had just run down, then pulled out a key from his pocket. His hair trembled and his hand shook as he nervously tried to get the door open. The door finally slid away, and Ankera stepped back. "I will help you escape, but you must hurry."

When no one moved, Ankera waved his arms in impatience. "I mean you no harm. Please, you must believe me. I will help you return to the surface, but we must leave now before they realize I am not in the sanctuary."

John was the first to move, helped to his feet by Rodney and Carson. They held onto him as he got his feet under him, then John nodded and stepped forward. The others followed suit. Teyla took the lead, following Ankera, and Ronon brought up the rear. Carson hovered close to John, but the pilot managed to stay on his own two feet.

John walked as fast as he could. His head was throbbing, but he pushed the pain to the back of his mind and tried to focus on escaping. According to Ankera, he would be fine, and the thought of returning to home and to normalcy propelled him forward, fueling his energy reserves.

They moved down to two separate hallways when the first sound of an alarm went off. Ankera spun around nervously, looking for the guards that were sure to be on their tail.

"This way," he said. He opened a small hatch on the side of the corridor that meshed almost invisibly with the wall. Behind it lay narrow ladder. After explaining how to close the hatch behind them, Ankera ducked into the small passageway and began climbing down.

"Colonel, will you be alright with this?" Carson whispered.

John peered down he ladder at Ankera's disappearing head. His depth perception was a little skewed with one eye covered. He swallowed tightly. "Don't have much choice," he answered. At Carson's persistent glare, he shrugged his shoulders. "I'll be okay. I can do this."

With that, he stepped into the hatchway and began climbing down the ladder. He could hear Carson following him, but he was feeling a little lightheaded and kept his eye focused on each rung and each step. His legs were feeling a little shaky, and he tightened his grip on the ladder. A distant noise above him signaled the pursuing guards were getting closer, and the ensuing surge of adrenaline gave John the extra energy boost he needed to reach the bottom. As he reached the ground, his legs buckled slightly, and Ankera was suddenly in front of him, wrapping his long arm around John's waist.

"I'm good. I'm okay now," John said, holding onto the alien for a second after getting his feet back under him. By the time Carson reached the bottom, John was standing on his own and Ankera had moved down the hallway a few feet to make sure the way was clear. The rest of the team quickly piled into the corridor, and they moved forward again.

Hallway after identical hallway, they moved as quickly as they could. The sounds of the guards pursuing them and of the alarms going off would get louder then softer then louder again. Sometimes, they'd run down one hallway, only to backtrack and run the other direction, just missing a patrol of guards. Ankera seemed to know where he was going, and he knew the city well.

The guards pursuing them knew the city just as well, and they seemed to have split off into teams to systematically search the area, cutting off the escape hatches that would let the humans return to the surface of the water. At the next corner, Ankera jumped back, barely out of sight of a passing patrol. They waited until the sounds of pounding steps faded in the distance.

"This isn't working," Ronon growled under his breath. Ankera nodded in agreement. He blinked his eyes, pressing his hands into his chest.

"We need a distraction," John said, breathing heavily and leaning against the wall.

"A distraction?" Ankera asked. His face twitched in what John was beginning to interpret as confusion.

"Yes, a distraction. We make a big boom somewhere over there so that we can escape over here," Rodney grouched, his tone of voice conveying exactly what he thought of their alien host and the situation they found themselves in. Ankera paused a moment, then nodded his head.

"We will have to move quickly, but I may know of a distraction that would work," he answered.

"Maybe some of us should wait for you while you set up your distraction," Carson spoke up, and John didn't miss the not-so-subtle nod from the doctor in his direction. He would have argued with the Scot, but his headache wasn't letting up. If he was honest with himself, he could use a minute to catch his breath.

The group began moving again, and Ankera explained his plan in quiet tones as they ran down another hallway, then another, then another. A few minutes later, they ducked into a small, bare room. John slid to the floor against the far wall, frustrated with how tired he felt. Carson and Teyla stood by the door, keeping guard as Rodney, Ronon, and Ankera headed out again.

John watched them from his position at the far end of the room. He could feel the last of his energy reserves quickly draining. He closed his eye against the pain in his head and rested his forehead on the palms of his hands.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Carson looked back at the man sitting against the far wall of the little room they'd taken refuge in. John Sheppard was beyond pale and an ugly, purplish bruise was beginning to spread out from under the white bandages wrapped around his head and covering his eye. He'd taken a nasty hit from one of the guards. Carson shook his head at the memory. John's exhaustion was clearly written in every line on his face, but the fact that the man had not even made a token protest about being left back while two of his teammates performed the more dangerous task of setting off a distraction spoke volumes about his actual physical state.

Carson pushed away from the door where he and Teyla were standing watch and kneeled quietly next to the sick man. John was leaning back against the wall with his visible eye closed and his arms resting loosely on his knees. He looked even worse up close, and Carson bit his lip in frustration that he didn't have anything from his medical bag.

"John?" He spoke quietly, not wanting to startle the man too badly and peripherally aware of the danger they were still in. John cracked his eye open, looking up at the doctor.

"How are you holding up?" Carson asked. He rested the back of his hand against John's forehead, noting that while the skin was warm, it wasn't feverishly hot. The left side of his face, near his eye, was painfully swollen. He grabbed his wrist and felt for the pulse while waiting for the man to answer.

"I've been better," John admitted.

"We'll get you out of here and home soon."

"Yeah, I know."

John closed his eye again and leaned his head back against the wall. Carson sighed, knowing there was nothing more he could do for his friend to ease his suffering. He moved back to where Teyla was. The room they were hidden in was attached to a small side hallway off of a larger corridor that Carson hoped was not used very often. Teyla had simultaneously been keeping her eye on the narrow hallway and the distant junction where it met the larger corridor and watching the interaction between John and Carson. Carson looked at her as he leaned against the door jam and saw her concern.

"How is he?" She whispered.

Carson opened his mouth to answer, but at that moment, they both heard the rhythmic tapping of footsteps coming from the larger corridor. They ducked back into the room, holding their breaths. The footsteps got louder, then abruptly stopped. Carson glanced at Teyla in alarm, but she kept a hand on his arm and signaled him to stay quiet. Carson looked over at John, but the colonel's eye was still closed and he seemed oblivious to the situation.

They waited. They could hear the faint whispering of sound somewhere nearby, indicating the presence of the guards, but they didn't dare look out the door and risk being caught. If the guards saw them, there was nowhere to run.

A metallic grating noise startled Carson and he jerked in surprise. The sound seemed louder than it probably was and set Carson's heart to beating frantically. Some kind of fan or grate was opening up near the ceiling in the wall above John's head. John had opened his eye in alarm at the noise, and was looking up at the opening above his head as well. Within a couple of seconds, the noise ceased. They held their breath, waiting for the reaction of the unseen group down the corridor. They could still hear the occasional foot steps, indicating that the group hadn't moved far. Carson wondered fleetingly if whoever was just out of sight was some innocuous worker and not the guards hunting them down.

A distant explosion rumbled through the walls, causing their part of the city to shudder and vibrate. He looked at Teyla, and she nodded at his silent question. Their distraction. John was slowly climbing to his feet, using the wall to keep himself steady, and the footsteps in the corridor suddenly pounded away, growing louder for a second before fading away. Teyla creeped forward down the narrow hallway, her gun ready. Carson stepped out of the room, intending to watch her back and praying nothing happened to her.

His foot had barely cleared the doorframe when a door slid out of the wall and sealed the room—with John in it—shut. Carson jumped back in alarm, but as soon as the door slid shut, he rammed his shoulder into it. There was a small window allowing him to peer into the small room. John looked around in confusion until he saw Carson's face in the window, then began moving toward the door on shaky legs.

Carson glanced at the wall that John had been sitting against. It was glistening in the pale light in a way that it hadn't before. It took him a moment to realize water was dripping down the walls from the grates that had opened up only moments before. He heard another sound, a rumbling thrum in the walls. In the room, John looked a little disoriented as he peered around the room. He took another step toward the door then turned quickly toward the far wall.

Carson's heart seized in his chest as a cascade of water surged through the grates and flooded the small room. The force of the water knocked John off his feet and slammed him into the wall. Carson started banging on the wall. He would have yelled too, but his voice caught in his throat. Teyla was suddenly next to him scanning the walls for some kind of control panel.

The room filled up with water faster than Carson would have thought was physically possible. The water level rose quickly passed the window, it blue murky depths lit up eerily by the ceiling lights. Carson was breathing harshly, fogging up the window as he pressed his face against it. For a brief second, he wondered if John had swam to one of the walls in search of a control panel to the door.

He banged against the door, no longer caring whether anyone heard. Staring through the window almost felt like watching a movie, like he was seeing something on a screen that wasn't actually happening. He froze abruptly, and in the sudden silence, Teyla squeezed in next to him to look through the window. She gasped, falling backwards into Carson, who stood like a statue at the nightmare playing out before his eyes.

John floated into view, hanging suspended and completely still in the water that had filled the small room.