Jennifer's first thought was that she couldn't hear.
Hands pressed against her cheeks. A face blurred above her. John. John's face. He had a smudge of dirt down the right side of his cheek. Odd. She didn't remember seeing it before. His mouth moved. Words spoken… no… shouted. He was yelling. She was pretty sure of that because of the expression on his face. He looked upset. Worried.
Why was he moving in slow motion?
She was sitting against the wall in the corridor with John kneeling on the floor in front of her. He cupped her face, forcing her to keep her head facing his. Someone stepped into view and John waved them off. Her gaze shifted, catching sight of two Marines running past them down the hallway.
Things were awfully tilty.
And why was it so quiet? All she could hear was a sharp ringing.
John's outstretched hand pointed and she turned, catching sight of Sergeant Bolisky… Bulisky… Balisky? She could never remember the proper pronunciation. Why was Dr. Bryant sitting on the floor? Oh good, the Sergeant was helping him up. There were papers scattered all over. He must have dropped his file again.
John's face hovered closer. There he goes, holding her head again. And why on earth was he yelling? She tried to concentrate on what he was saying, but she still couldn't make out the words. It looked like he was asking her if she was hurt. She shook her head. No…not hurt…just deaf apparently.
With a roar that left her head feeling like she'd been sitting next to a thousand vacuum cleaners, sound smashed into her skull. The influx of John's voice physically hurt. She winced. Pain shot across her forehead, pounding it's escape route across the back of her eyes. Everything sped up, bringing life back up to its normal speed.
"God!" she cursed, trying to lift her hands. Her limbs were leaden, sluggish. She managed to get her palms over her ears but it only made the ringing worse.
"Jennifer! Can you hear me?!" John was yelling, amidst commands to keep all personnel away from the end of the corridor.
"Yes," she hissed. "Don't shout so loud!"
"Do you feel any pain anywhere?"
"Isn't that my line?" she frowned, wincing at a newfound stiffness in her back and shoulders. She looked down at herself but other than a few smudges of dirt, she didn't see anything wrong. "No… nothing…. Why? What happened? What's going on?"
"Are you sure?" he demanded. "Nothing broken?" His hands travelled quickly down across her neck and shoulders, each arm, each leg.
She wriggled when his fingers brushed the sensitive spot behind her knees. He froze and glanced up, worry evident in his eyes.
"That tickles," she scowled, slapping his hand away. "I'm fine. Now stop it."
He smiled, then. The cocky grin replacing the worried frown. But his eyes weren't laughing, so she knew the smile was for show. She'd learned that about him over the years. To watch his eyes. The doorway of the soul, and all that.
Goodness but she had one hell of a headache now.
"John, what's going on?" She peered past him, catching sight of the flurry of activity taking place down the end of the hallway. She'd been going to her room. So why was she still in the hallway?
"Nothing for you to worry about right now, Doc…" John shifted his weight, moving into a crouched position. "We need to get you checked out."
"Checked out? But I'm fine…" she protested and tried to stand up. A firm hand on her shoulder held her in position. Darkness descended, momentarily blocking the light before she recognized Ronon's shadow. He slid to a stop beside her, dropping to one knee.
"Get her to the infirmary," John ordered. "And don't let her out of your sight."
Ronon didn't hesitate. In an instant Jen felt herself being lifted. She let out a squeak and grabbed on, wrapping her arms around Ronon's neck. "Ronon! Put me down."
"No." He turned and shoved his way through a pair of fast moving Marines.
The blurring motion made her head swirl and she closed her eyes.
"Doc?" he questioned.
She nodded. "Fine…" she mumbled. "I'm fine."
When he stopped moving she opened her eyes, and looked up into the underside of his jaw. Past his head and shoulders she recognized the closed confines of the transporter. The transporter she'd just been in with John. Then her room. They'd been walking her back to her room. Dr. Bryant was there… then he wasn't… then he'd come back. She'd opened her door… and someone… no something had shoved her. A force. An explosion? There'd been an explosion? But there was nothing down there except…except…
Except for her quarters.
"Oh god," she exhaled and snapped her head up.
Ronon glanced down, concern shifting his eyes into a light hazel.
"Someone tried to blow me up," she whispered.
His silence was all the confirmation she needed. She felt his arms tighten as he carried her into the infirmary. Marie hurried forward, obviously waiting for their arrival.
Ronon set her onto a gurney.
She scrambled to sit up, pushing Marie's hands away. Someone had tried to blow her up?! The same someone who'd attacked her, shot at her, had now tried to blow her up? This was not happening!
"No, stop, wait!" she commanded, shoving at Marie. Ronon grabbed for her hands, locking them tightly between his. "Is anyone hurt?" she cursed, wriggling to pull herself free of his grip. It was futile. He wasn't letting go. "Colonel Sheppard. He was there, too! He should be down—"
"No one's hurt," Marie interrupted, pulling Jen's hair aside to check the back of her neck.
"Marie, stop. I'm fine." Jen shied away from Marie's probing fingers. "What about Dr. Bryant? Where is he?"
"He's being looked after," Marie assured her, angling her chin towards the back of the infirmary. Jen turned her head, catching sight of Dr. Bryant being seen to by two of her staff members.
She turned back, wrestling to remove her hands from Ronon's tight grasp, while shrinking away from Marie's assessment. Anger bubbled, overriding the fear and horror she should have been feeling. She let it free. This was her home. Her domain. No one had that kind of power.
Since Ronon wasn't letting go, she used his grip to propel herself off the gurney and onto the floor. She straightened and glared at Marie, who dropped her hands with an exasperated sigh.
"If you don't let me check you out I swear I'm going to sedate you."
"I'd like to see you try it," Jen countered.
"Doc," Ronon warned.
"Stuff it," she snapped.
He blinked in surprise.
She yanked at her fingers, and this time he released her. A commotion broke out in the entryway of the infirmary and all three turned as Laura shoved her way past the pair of security guards outside the doors.
"Are you okay?" Laura exhaled, slightly winded. "What the hell happened? I heard they were bringing you in to the infirmary!" She grabbed for Jen and pulled her into a tight hug.
"Someone tried to blow me up!" Jen exclaimed.
Laura jerked back. "What!" she shouted. "Who? Why that rat bastard! I'm going to fuckin' kill him!" she stomped her foot, and spun towards to Ronon. "Where the hell were you? I thought you were supposed to be watching her?!"
"Colonel Sheppard was watching me," Jen scowled, pushing past Laura, bumping her away from Ronon.
Laura grabbed her arm and spun her back around. "Whoa, whoa! Where the hell do you think you're going?"
"To my room," Jen yanked her arm free. "I want to see—"
"No!" Ronon stepped in front of her, blocking her path.
"You're not going anywhere!" Laura joined Ronon's wall with Marie on her other side.
With a hiss of exasperation Jen spun on her heel and stomped off towards the back of the infirmary. Not expecting her change of direction, it took the others a few seconds to realize she wasn't heading towards Dr. Bryant, she was heading for the exit.
Recognizing her escape plan, Ronon swore and jumped after her. Crazy fool woman! He wrapped his arms around her, lifting her off the floor. Ignoring her squirming and cursing, he stepped across the hallway and deposited her onto her feet inside an empty storage room. Slapping his hand across the access panel, he locked the door, closing them both inside.
She spun to face him, her fists clenched, her face flushed with fury. She looked like she was about to take a swing at him. At this moment, he wouldn't put it past her. He might have laughed if not for the harsh reality of the situation.
He'd just finished a weapons session with the latest recruits when Sheppard's panicked call had come over the com. Thoughts of Carson's death… the explosion that had taken his friend's life… had merged with images of Jennifer. With every ounce of willpower fueling his limbs, he ran. By the Ancients he hadn't felt that level of fear in a very long time.
He'd seen her shape, sitting on the floor between Sheppard's legs, the Colonel's voice commanding her to listen. Her eyes had been so vacant, confused. Around her remnants of the twisted metal that had been her door lay scattered across the corridor. There was no blood, no injury, but that didn't stop the guilt from tearing through him.
Laura was right.
He was supposed to be watching out for her.
But damn it, Sheppard was right there! He trusted the man with his own life, could he not trust him to protect Jennifer as well?
"Let…me…out!" Jennifer hissed.
He took a deep breath, and shook his head slowly. "Not going to happen."
"Ronon…" she warned, the edge of her jaw clenched so tightly he could see a tiny bulge along the corner of her jaw.
"Jennifer," he countered. Shit, she was angry! She was practically trembling from it. But her expression held too many emotions to be fueled by just one. He had a feeling this was about to get really bad, really fast. He took a deep breath. "You need to calm down."
"What?!" she drew the word out, long and slow.
Apparently the wrong thing to say. "Look," he tried again, praying for strength to be the calm one, when all he wanted to do was get the hell out of here and find the bastard who'd done this. "There's nothing you can do. Let Sheppard's men—"
"No!" she snapped. "I'm tired of letting Sheppard's men figure things out! It's my room, my…life, my…existence this jackass is messing with! Why do I have to hide while he gets to…to…roam around like some kind of cocky bastard?"
Her shoulders hunched, curling up towards her ears. He reached for her but she shied away.
"It's not fair," she continued. "I shouldn't have to put up with this. I'm the CMO, damn it, and I shouldn't have to put up with this! I haven't done anything wrong!"
Ronon watched the anger slide slowly away from her eyes, exposing the frustration and fear which was the true fuel for her reaction.
"I haven't done anything wrong…" her voice dropped, turning her statement into a dying warble.
His heart broke at the shine in her eyes. The sadness. The helplessness. The fear.
"I haven't…" she whispered.
This time when he reached out she came to him, plastering herself against his front, her small hands knotting in the material against his lower back. All sense that he needed to be out there—not here—washed away with the feel of her tears soaking through the front of his shirt. Her knees buckled. Ronon lowered himself with her, taking her into his arms as he propped himself against the wall beside the door. She curled in on herself, tightening into a ball, hiding her face, but not letting go.
He heard Sheppard's voice in his ear, concern evident in the request to make sure she was safe.
Laura's answer saved Ronon from having to break into the silence. Yes she was safe. Yes she was with Ronon.
And yes, Ronon added silently, that's exactly where she is going to stay. Safe, and with me.
"Grenade," Laura glanced at the cable hanging off the edge of the door. A cold ball of anger hardened itself inside her abdomen. She fingered the thin wire, letting the familiar metal pin swirl in the air. "Standard issue. Open the door and the cable pops the pin." She dropped the wire and stood, turning to face the destruction of Jen's quarters. "Three seconds and boom. If Doctor Bryant hadn't called her back the two of you would be in pieces right now."
She turned back towards Colonel Sheppard and Major Lorne. Separate, the two men were quite formidable. Together—both looking like they'd have no problem ripping the perpetrator apart with their bare hands—they were damn dangerous. Laura almost smiled. Almost. Because when they caught up to the man who'd done this…the two of them would have to get in line.
He fought the desire to tap his fingers together like a Bond villain. It gave him such pleasure to see the result of a hard though plan. All the elements were coming together so perfectly, one would think he'd planned it that way.
And what do you know? He had planned it that way.
Perfect.
Absolutely perfect.
One final gift for the Lieutenant, and they'd be well on their way to the grand finale. Ah but not yet. No… he'd wait. He had forty-eight hours. Let them calm down. Let them bumble around in frustration trying to find him. Then he'd spring his final surprise.
Spring.
How very clever! There were days when he really did make himself laugh.
Masking his face into the properly sober emotion, he nodded briskly at the security guards stationed in the corridor.
These military men were all so predictable.
And a good thing, too.
After all, what good was a plan if no one played by the rules?