Ophidia
A Stargate Atlantis Fanfic
Monday, 3 September 2007

Chapter 24: Cut and Run

About the first thing John Sheppard noticed as he woke up was that he was lying face down on a cold floor in the middle of a deserted hallway.

And the second was that he couldn't exactly remember falling asleep face down on a cold floor in the middle of a deserted hallway.

So what the hell he was doing there, he hadn't a clue. All the same, Sheppard decided now was as good a time as any to pick himself up; he was a little alarmed though when he started reeling to the side when he tried to take his feet.

"Okay, that's… not good," he muttered, catching himself on the wall. What the heck happened?

All right, last thing he remembered… last thing… What's the last thing you remember? ...I forget, he couldn't help but think, before grimacing a moment later— wow, that was cheesy. Hey, if it was to annoy Rodney, it was one thing, but right now when he couldn't remember what was going on… not the time.

Sheppard stabbed at his radio with one finger. Then, started rubbing the sore spot— which was notably devoid of a radio. Wincing a bit, the colonel began running over the situation in his head.

Alone. In Atlantis, but not really sure where. No way of communicating with anyone.

And my head is starting to throb, he added— maybe that was why he couldn't really focus on anything, including what was going on. In fact, when he thought about it, the side of his skull above his left ear was really starting to hurt— someone had to have knocked him around a good bit.

He couldn't exactly remember getting hit over the head by anyone or thing, but now that he thought about it, it sounded about right. In fact, as he thought about the last… hour? Few hours, more? Time didn't seem to be working right for him either— something was coming to him, it was just all… jumbled. Like someone had taken everything Sheppard was thinking, tossed it in a blender and hit purée.

Like a spark of electricity— and a stab of pain that actually seemed to fit that description nicely— the colonel remembered a Goa'uld… Evil, slimy, parasitic thing, screwing with him and… and the rest of the City and…

"Nnh." With his face screwed up again, Sheppard rested his head against the wall he was leaning on. It was there, he knew it was, but trying to sort it all out was starting to seem kind've needle-in-a-haystack-ish.

Kay… this is getting me nowhere… If I'm not already there, he added, giving a look to his surroundings.

"Let's find somewhere else to be," Sheppard muttered to himself.

Carefully, he pushed himself away from the wall. It didn't take too long to get back into stride, and all that seemed to be bothering him was his head. Whenever he tried to pull things together, a sharp pain like someone sticking a pin in his brain quickly dissuaded that behavior. Okay. Save 'trying to figure this out' for Carson.

Great. Retrograde amnesia and a migraine.

It took a surprisingly short time to reach the City proper, once Sheppard got going… and realized he was going in the wrong direction, at first. Once he got turned around, though, it was all good. In fact, it only took a few minutes to find people, and Sheppard found himself eager to contact his team.

A woman wearing the blue paneled jacket indicative of a scientist was walking down one side passage; calling out a short 'Hey!' to grab her attention, Sheppard jogged the extra few steps to get catch up. The way she started, he felt slightly surprised.

She blinked, straightening her glasses. "Colonel Sheppard?"

"Yep." He flashed an unconvincing smile, raising one hand to rub at the side of his head, where his headache was starting to worsen.

"Uh…I'm… I'm sorry, Ronon was just looking for you."

"Yeah? Good." Though, he had to wonder if it actually was, with the way she said it… "I'm looking for him too… I think. Hey, can I… borrow…" Sheppard trailed off, dropping his hand, noticing the woman looking past him, and spun to see the man in question. "Ronon!" Sheppard felt an incredible sense of relief at seeing his teammate. "I was looking for you… Uh, Ronon?"

That relief was starting to wear off pretty quickly, actually, as the Satedan didn't reply, only narrowing his eyes and starting to stride towards the colonel. Sheppard didn't understand what was going on, but he was getting a bad vibe off of all of this; a bit anxiously, he began to backpedal.

"You know what? I think I changed my mind. I was looking for Zelenka, not you." His eyes darted down to the gun at Ronon's hip, and back up to the man's eyes.

It seemed that was enough to set Ronon off. His hand hooked downwards, catching the blaster and pulling it free in about the time it took Sheppard to realize he was about to get shot. Diving to the side, the colonel could feel the electric crackle across his skin, the hair standing on end with static, as the energy pulse missed him by inches.

He slammed hard into the wall, pushing himself away from it in the other direction in time to dodge a second shot— and this time, around a corner.

Sheppard took off running, going straight through a group of surprised scientists who flung themselves to either side of the hall, crying out in alarm as he pushed past them.

The very next corner he saw, he threw himself around again as yet another blast of orange seared past him. Breathing hard already— partly from exertion, partly from a sense of panic he could only assume came from being shot at by his own team mate— Sheppard knew his time was limited.

If he got caught in a straightaway, he would be downed in a heartbeat— not only could Ronon outrun him, but the second Ronon got a clear shot—

Yet again, Sheppard found himself dodging around a corner— this time bowling straight into an unlucky scientist— and this time, a searing pain caught him just above his right elbow.

Biting back some colorful words, Sheppard staggered a few steps, ignoring the man he'd just plowed over. The guy's incensed tone caught the attention of other nearby people, but everything they were saying just kind of blurred together. The colonel, meanwhile, was grasping at straws, searching for any options that might slow Ronon down. Door… this corridor has a door…

A quick mental command later, that door was sliding shut behind him, and after a second, Sheppard knew it had locked. Brushing past the incredulous looks people were giving him, the man ducked into a side passage.

To his dismay, he found himself in a science lab— after a moment to take it in, though, he breathed a sigh of relief. It had another exit.

Silently ordering Atlantis to lock the door he had come through, Sheppard took a moment for himself— all of a sudden how much he needed it. When he went to lean against one of the work tables with his right arm, it gave out completely, and he went crashing to the floor.

"Damn it!" Sheppard stood slowly up… noticing that his right arm barely had any feeling left in it. He swore again, realizing that the numbness was starting to spread into his shoulder and side.

There was no way he could keep this up. Hell, even if he could get a hold of a radio or borrow someone's, there was no guarantee he could get this all sorted out before Ronon caught up and shot him. Or that even if it was sorted out, Ronon wouldn't shoot him anyways. Control Room's my best bet…

Expression becoming a distinct frown, Sheppard leaned against the workbench again, this time sure to use his good arm. Seemed like every option ended up in him getting shot. Again.

Again? he thought, catching himself.

A hissing sound snapped Sheppard out of it before he could figure that out, and he ducked behind the workbench he had been leaning on. How did he know where I was? Hell, how does he keep getting the doors open?

Of course, he hadn't been standing next to the other door. No, that would have been smart. It was a good twelve feet behind him— trying to hold his breath, Sheppard noticed he couldn't hear Ronon. That didn't comfort him.

The longer he waited…

Sheppard whispered one of his favorite cuss words, before scrambled— then dove for the door, praying it would open at his command.

Seeing as he hit the floor instead of the door panel, he had to assume it did. Hastily, he thought, closed and locked, and the door whooshed shut in time to receive the brunt of a stunning blast. Even as the colonel was picking himself up, he heard Ronon hit the door, and started back a half step.

If the last few doors were any indication, this one wouldn't stay shut long. Not wanting to be around when it opened, Sheppard spun to the side, trying to ignore the stitch in his side.

The next thing he knew, his whole body seized up, wracked with an intense pain he had hoped never to feel again. Barely able to let out a choked groan, Sheppard was unconscious before he hit the floor.

Ronon paused at the flash of blue light beyond the lab doors, not even taking notice as the tech in the Control Room radioed him to say he had finally got the door unlocked; as the panel slid into the wall, however, he stepped out to find already Sheppard laying in a heap on the floor.

"Good shooting," he commented flatly, looking up to see Teyla holding the long Wraith stunner at her side, approaching silently.

The grim look on the woman's face sufficed for a reply.

Doing what he should have done the first time, Ronon kneeled and rolled Sheppard from his side to his stomach.

After a moment's pause, he heard Teyla radioing Beckett, but didn't honestly pay attention. There, the whole time… An unmistakable white line, a distortion along the back of Sheppard's neck. Gritting his teeth so hard it hurt, Ronon gently turned his friend's body back onto his back.

At least now he understood what had been going through that thick skull of Sheppard's.

For its part, it had to smile, even if privately. They had him.

You left him alive. He'll tell them, they'll know.

So optimistic, the Goa'uld replied. He cannot tell what he cannot make sense of… The other had no words this time; the parasite smirked, but quickly masked it back into a small smile. Besides… why kill him? Your species has already proven eager to participate in a witch-hunt… He couldn't help but let his smile grow at the immense satisfaction he gained from the next few words. Far be it from me to deny them.