A/N - There are just four more chapters left after this one, and everything is really coming to a head! Things are looking pretty crazy for the guys on Atlantis.

Teyla hurried back to John, having dispatched Lorne to deal with the patrolling of the city. She didn't like leaving the Colonel, injured as he was, but Ronon was staying with him and she knew the Satedan wouldn't leave his side.

As she approached, Ronon stood to meet her. John moved slightly, cracking open his eyes, but shut them with a wince and something that approached a whimper. He didn't acknowledge her any further.

"How is he?" Teyla asked quietly, guessing that her voice wouldn't carry to John in his current state. She didn't trust John to give her an accurate answer, and while Ronon wasn't much more reliable, he did have the advantage of being desperately worried about John. That much was obvious.

"Not good," Ronon muttered. "I think his head hurts, too. He can't even really open his eyes. I got him to take some Advil, but it's not really gonna help. You know he won't even tell Beckett what's happening?"

Teyla grimaced. She knew that John hadn't told Beckett, and she knew why. Usually, she would have considered it just another example of John's stubborn refusal to admit weakness, but in this case, she thought it warranted. If Rodney was too distracted by John's welfare to save the city, then they would all die.

"I dunno what we're gonna do," Ronon said softly, looking at John's unruly thatch of hair, which was currently hiding his closed eyes. "I don't think he's gonna last much longer."

Suddenly, John's head came up, and he managed to open his eyes and focus on a spot that was almost Ronon and Teyla. "C'n hear you," he mumbled, sounding affronted.

"Well, you aren't," Ronon told him, but Teyla heard the affection behind the blunt words. "We're just worried about you, Shep."

"You're right," John admitted with a sigh. "Hard...t'keep awake. Head hurts."

Teyla didn't know what to do. They needed John, Atlantis needed John. With two leaders down, Teyla wasn't sure the city could survive. From the look in John's weary eyes, he knew that. And, as usual, he had an answer.

"Stim'lants," John said, fumbling in his vest pocket and pulling out the small bottle from Carson. His fingers were shaking almost too badly to hold onto it, but he somehow managed. "Clear my head."

"No way," Ronon said firmly. He looked to Teyla for support, and even though every fiber of her being was telling her to side with Ronon, she wasn't sure they had another choice.

"Do you still feel sick?" Teyla asked. The stimulants would be no use if he couldn't keep them down, and she didn't want to risk him getting dehydrated.

"Yeah," he said softly.

"John-"

"They'll help."

Teyla was very much not sure that that was true, but they were running out of options. Ronon would be more than halfway to the Nanite Lab by now, the life support would last another hour at most, and she was pretty sure Rodney still did not have a weapon for them. Nothing was going right, and they were running out of options. Perhaps, if John could think better, he would somehow be able to get them out of this.

Teyla reached into the front pocket of his vest and pulled out the small bottle of stimulants. "How many?" she asked. Since she wasn't the Head of a department, she had been on John's shift system up until the current crisis, and while she was certainly tired, she had been able to get enough sleep to avoid needing stimulants. She had never taken them before, and based on what they seemed to do to Rodney and John, she wasn't sure she ever wanted to.

"Two," he said. "No, three."

"Is that...the proper dose?"

"It'll be fine," he whispered. Since their time was very much limited, Teyla didn't even read the bottle, just shook three into her hand and gave them to her friend. He took them with fumbling fingers, and she passed him a water bottle, cap already unscrewed.

"They'll take...a few minutes...to start working," he panted once he had swallowed the pills. "Where's Ronon?"

If John had been able to open his eyes for more than a split second, he would have known that Ronon was still standing right next to him. As it was, Teyla and Ronon just exchanged an alarmed glance before Ronon knelt down next to John.

"I'm here."

"Good," John said. He was using his command voice again now, albeit a very weak version. Teyla recognized that her chance to take care of him was over for the time being, and took a step back. "Ronon...dunno how Rodney's weapon is going. Gonna call him...in a minute. But if it works...I want you to get it from him. And then...go find the Replicator and kill it."

"Me?" Ronon asked. He sounded surprised, but Teyla wasn't sure why. Ronon seemed the obvious choice.

"Yeah. You're...big. Only one who can...take down the Replicator. It...looks like you, you know." He gestured in Ronon's general direction, eyes still mostly closed. "Big."

This seemed to make only very tennous sense, and Teyla made a face. Ronon, however, didn't seem to notice.

"I won't let you down," Ronon said. John couldn't see the smile that had broken over his face, but Teyla knew Ronon was pleased John trusted him so much. He laid a hand on John's forearm.

John's eyes flickered half-open at that, and the corner of his mouth twitched into what could have been a smile. "I know," he mumbled, then closed his eyes again. Teyla watched as he breathed in and out a few times, recognizing the pattern from the meditation they occasionally did together.

Apparently drawing strength from the breathing exercise, John managed to open his eyes all the way. Carefully, he turned his head to face Ronon. It hurt Teyla to see how gingerly he was moving, but there was nothing they could do about that now. The stimulants did seem to be helping, ever so slightly, and Teyla could only hope they continued to clear John's head and keep the pain at bay.

"You gotta be hungry," John mumbled to Ronon. The big man shrugged, looking suddenly uncomfortable, as though he felt ashamed to admit something so ridiculous as hunger when John was so much more affected.

John didn't say anything, just raised his eyebrows a fraction. He didn't look away from Ronon, and the Satedan shrugged and glanced down.

"I'll be fine," Ronon said impatiently, and Teyla coughed, glaring at him. This was not the time for Ronon's showy machismo. He would just have to get over himself and eat. Teyla would be perfectly happy to share the remainder of the food that she had, although she could feel herself beginning to weaken. Ronon must feel far worse, he hadn't eaten at all in the past day and a half and he was about to be sent off to fight an indestructible robot.

"Eat my protein bars," John ordered, sounding a bit stronger. Ronon looked absolutely horrified.

"Sheppard, you're hurt-"

"Yeah, an' if I eat anything I'll throw it up," John pointed out. "'M not about...t'try."

Ronon still looked reluctant, and Teyla added her glare to John's. Ronon nodded, and miserably fished John's last few protein bars out of his vest pocket. John watched carefully as Ronon unwrapped the first, and once he'd satisfied himself that the Satedan was actually going to eat it, he let his eyes fall closed again.

"I better call McKay," he mumbled, and Teyla watched as he took a steadying breath. John's hand clenched into a fist, and he tapped the comms. When he finally spoke, his voice was stronger and louder, and Teyla could almost feel the effort pouring off him as he struggled to sound normal enough to fool his friend.

"McKay, this is Sheppard. Come in."

Rodney startled as the comms in his ear crackled, and John's voice came through the earpiece. Rodney took a beat before answering, trying to collect himself. He had managed to slow his breathing, somewhat, but he was in so much pain at this point that he was sure it would come through in his voice. But he also knew that John already had a lot going on, possibly more than he could handle, and he didn't want to add any more worry to John's plate. John knew that he was shot, of course, but the least he could do was pretend to be doing well.

"I'm here," Rodney said, swallowing hard when his voice came out weaker than he'd meant.

"How's the weapon going?" John asked.

Rodney looked down at the mess of scrap metal and wires in his lap, ignoring the splotch of blood staining his white hospital scrubs and the tubing snaking up from the crook of his elbow. It was...going. It was going. If he were being completely honest, that was really all he could report.

"It's-"

"How soon will it be done?" John asked. There was something...off about his voice, although Rodney was feeling so off himself that it was a struggle for him to place exactly what it might be. He was clearly completely exhausted, but so was everyone. It was more than that.

"Are you…?" Rodney began, not exactly sure what he was going to ask. John clearly wasn't alright. But...was he going to be?

"I'm fine," John said, voice sharp and short. "But...the weapon."

Carson was watching Rodney carefully, as if preparing to intervene if Rodney got too worked up. Rodney realized he was also listening - he probably had no idea how the weapon was actually coming along. He knew very little about mechanical engineering - even though he'd been helping Rodney assemble various pieces of the weapon for the past hour, Rodney highly doubted he had any sense of what the whole picture was supposed to look like.

Rodney realized that he hadn't responded to John yet. He was having trouble tracking more than one thing at once. The weapon, the bullet wound, John's question - that was three different things. He couldn't even exactly remember what he'd been asked. But he didn't think he could request that John repeat himself without the Colonel realizing how badly off he was.

"Mckay?" John prompted again. "Will the weapon be ready?"

Oh right, that was the question. Now what was the answer? Rodney looked down at the mess of wires, trying to figure it out.

"It'll be ready," he finally said, trying to make his voice sound like he was the definitive authority on anti-Replicator weapons and their potential timelines. "It'll be ready in...a half-hour."

Would it be ready in a half-hour? Rodney would make it so. He'd already done the impossible many times over, in the last hour alone. He would just have to do it again.

"Half…hour. Got it. Th-thanks, Rodney."

Rodney frowned. Now that he wasn't so desperately focused on answering John's question, he was starting to think that there really was something wrong with his friend. John was on beyond exhausted. Rodney could have sworn that he'd heard John's voice falter, almost break.

"You sure you're okay?" Rodney asked, suddenly feeling very afraid.

"I'm fine, Rodney."

He must have been imagining it. John sounded almost the same as ever, a twist of amusement in his words at Rodney's overreaction. Whatever Rodney had heard in his voice must have just been simple exhaustion. As usual, he was seeing danger where none existed, and as usual, John was keeping him comparatively levelheaded and on-task.

"Keep up the good work, McKay."

"Don't blow anything up, Sheppard."

John breathed out a soft, weary-sounding laugh, and the comms cut off. Rodney immediately dropped his head back flat to the pillow, breathing hard as the waves of pain that he'd been holding back crashed over him. He'd done it, he'd managed to hold it together for Sheppard. Just barely. But John wasn't going to waste time and energy that he didn't have worrying over Rodney.

Unfortunately, Rodney thought that the short conversation may have drained the last of his reserves. Now that he wasn't desperately fighting the pain back, it threatened to overwhelm him. Rodney's vision was swimming, and as he stared up at the ceiling, the tiles began to look as though they were circling above him.

"Rodney? Are you still with me, lad?"

Rodney blinked a few times, and Carson had joined the tiles in their slow swooping path above him. He looked very worried, and Rodney wondered how many times he'd had to ask.

"Dunno," Rodney mumbled. "Have to be, though."

Carson grimaced, but didn't argue. Much as Rodney would love to lie down and give into the pain, he'd promised Sheppard a working Replicator killing weapon in thirty minutes. That wasn't going to happen without him. But Rodney just wasn't sure he could do it.

"I hate to say this…." Carson began, and Rodney frowned, forcing his tired eyes to focus on Carson's face.

"Don't say painkillers," Rodney groaned. "I won't be able to say no."

"I...wasn't going to suggest that," Carson said. He sounded desperately upset, like whatever he was suggesting came at a great personal cost to Carson himself. Maybe he was going to try to finish the Replicator weapon himself. Rodney was almost at the point where he would let him.

"Just spit it out," Rodney said, eyes roving the ceiling again. He didn't really have time for...whatever it was Carson was doing.

"You may be able to function better if you went on the same stimulants I put John and some of the others on," Carson said finally, words spilling out all in a rush. Rodney rolled his head to the side in time to watch Carson put a hand over his eyes, looking as if he had deeply betrayed his own values by even suggesting such a thing.

"That would be…."

"It won't feel very pleasant," Carson said, cutting Rodney off. "You need to be prepared for that. Now, they're perfectly safe to mix with all the drugs you're on, otherwise I wouldn't even suggest it. But since there's so much already in your system, you should be prepared for some severe nausea and sensitivity to light."

"But they'll...help?" Rodney asked. "I'll be able to...finish?"

"Well, I can't say if you'll be able to finish, as I don't really know what you're doing. But they'll make it easier to focus on the weapon instead of the pain. And they'll keep you awake."

The decision was easy then. Rodney held his hand out. For a second, Carson just stared blankly at him, and Rodney snapped a few times before flattening his palm again.

Carson sighed and started rummaging through his emergency kit. He was mumbling, but Rodney thought it was mostly to himself. "Don't blame me when you feel terrible...never would normally suggest this...we really don't have a choice…."

"I'll be alright," Rodney said, and he was also talking mostly to himself. "I will be."

John wasn't sure if he felt better or worse. The pounding in his head hadn't decreased, but it had become slightly more tolerable. Every nerve-ending seemed to have suddenly gotten more sensitive, and John felt like his entire body was a live wire. Still, unpleasant as the symptoms were, he certainly felt more awake. Now, it was slightly easier to focus his energy on things like conversations and decisions, letting the pain take the backseat for a few moments.

"Is the weapon done?" Ronon asked. He and Teyla were still hovering beside John, watching carefully. John wasn't sure what they were looking for, he couldn't imagine he could look any worse than he had before taking the stimulants. Still, he didn't mind. Having his team around him made him feel a little more in control of the situation, a little stronger.

John nodded to Ronon, regretting it as the movement made his head spin and vision blur. John froze, carefully holding his head as still as possible as he fought down nausea. By the time his vision cleared, Ronon and Teyla were kneeling beside him. John waved them away weakly, hoping they didn't notice how badly his hands were shaking.

"McKay said thirty minutes." John managed to speak without his voice trembling too badly. "Ronon, I need you to meet up with them and get the weapon, then intercept the Replicator before it gets to the Nanite Lab."

John paused, his strength waning. Even after that short speech, he found himself struggling, short of breath.

"Okay," Ronon said, and his eyes were dark with worry but he didn't interrupt to express it. John was silently grateful. They all knew he wasn't okay, and at this point, reiterating that was just a waste of energy he didn't have.

"We'll be on comms the whole time, directing you. I...I know you know where you're goin', but…." John trailed off, gasping for breath, trying to do it subtly and failing.

Teyla's hand closed over his, and she continued as though nothing had happened. "But we cannot afford any mistakes or wrong turns. These are not pathways any of us are overly familiar with."

"I get it," Ronon said. "I hope you're gonna be navigating, though. Sheppard gets lost on the way back to his own room."

"Do not," John mumbled, fighting a smile. Just because he didn't have Ronon's freakishly fine-tuned sense of direction, just because he got turned around on a mission one time….

"Better get a map," John admitted, turning to Teyla.

"I will see what I can do," she said, nodding slightly. He watched as she got up and walked towards Chuck, and John hoped that Zelenka still had power to enough systems that she would be able to acquire a map somehow. They'd all spent time in the Nanite Lab, and John knew Ronon would be able to get there, but Carson and Rodney would be much harder to reach. The explosion outside the infirmary had left that section of Atlantis very nearly inaccessible, aside from convoluted backways that John was sure he would get lost in.

"I'm gonna...talk to Mckay again," John said. "Tell him you're coming. But you can...head out. I'll call you if anything changes."

Ronon got to his feet. "See you in a bit," he said, voice carefully casual.

"Good...good luck," John said. Ronon was the most powerful fighter he knew, and he thought if anyone could take down a Replicator with some sort of makeshift weapon, it would be him.

But at the same time...fighting the Replictaor had been like nothing else John had ever done. He hadn't even had a chance. He didn't think he'd really even gotten a single hit in, and he'd ended up with what was very possibly the most serious injury he'd ever had in his life. He had faith in Ronon, but there was also a small part of him that wondered if he was sending his friend to his death.

Ronon nodded, and John watched as he left the Gateroom, heading in the vague direction of the infirmary. Then, John lifted a weak hand and tapped his comm on.

"Mckay?"

"Sheppard?" It was clearly Beckett's voice, not Rodney's. He must have taken the comm back.

"Everything...okay?" John asked.

"Aye, Rodney's working."

John nodded, then his sluggish brain reminded him that Carson couldn't see him and he awkwardly cleared his throat. "I'm sending Ronon to you. He's going to get the weapon from Rodney, and then he's going to the Nanite Lab."

"Should I go with him?" Carson asked.

"Um…." John couldn't even begin to process why Carson might want to go with Ronon to fight a Replicator. That didn't seem like Carson's skillset at all. Had the Doctor been holding out on him?

"You said he had Elizabeth, son," Carson said gently. "She's likely injured or drugged, and it's possible the nanites have done something to her."

"Oh," John said. "Right." He'd been so busy worrying about Rodney and Atlantis that he'd forgotten he needed to worry about Elizabeth too. He didn't know anything about what was going on with her aside from that she had been captured, and that was a terrifying thought.

"Will Mckay be okay by himself?" John asked. He didn't like the idea of Rodney being left on his own, but he couldn't exactly go with them.

"I'll evaluate the state of Dr. Mckay before we leave and make that determination," Carson said.

"Oh." That sounded...ominous.

"I'll make sure he's alright," Carson told him soothingly.

"Okay," John said, closing his eyes against a sudden wave of dizziness. He wished he could talk to Rodney. But he was making the weapon, and John knew that he didn't have time. John didn't even have time to talk to Rodney.

"How are you doing, lad?" Carson's voice was quieter, and John had to strain to make it out. John guessed that Carson was trying to ask softly enough that Rodney wouldn't hear.

"I'm okay," John lied, hoping desperately that Ronon wouldn't immediately contradict him when he met up with Carson and Rodney.

Carson clucked disapprovingly. "You may be able to fool Rodney, but you're not fooling me. Don't do anything too bloody stupid, will you?"

John grimaced, glancing at the mound of bloodstained jackets surrounding his leg and the mostly-empty bottle of stimulants still resting beside him. He rather thought that he'd already failed to follow Carson's directions.

"I won't," John said unconvincingly. "Ronon should be there soon. Good...good luck."