John kept the rifle aimed and ready as he stepped off the porch. Contrary to what he had said to Nate and Rodney, John knew Vance was still lurking nearby, waiting for another chance to satisfy his need for revenge. The question was where.

He glanced back at Rodney standing at the edge of the porch, then signalled to Nate to check the right side of the yard as he crossed the open area and headed for the trees on the other side of the road. The last of the evening light was fading fast, and John knew they needed to find Vance before he could use the encroaching darkness to his advantage.

John lost sight of Nate as Ritchie walked around the side of the house. The breeze rustled the tree branches, and John froze and knelt when he thought he heard something moving, something other than the creaking of the trees. After a few moments when nothing happened, he stood and walked over to the stand of trees.

Two bodies lay on the ground just under the cover of the trees, and John did another quick survey, listening for any indication Vance was nearby. He wouldn't put it past Vance to use the dead men as bait for a trap. When he didn't see or hear any indication Vance was nearby, John knelt and felt for the pulse point at the first man's neck. He didn't find a pulse and moved on to the other body lying nearby.

"Anything?" Nate asked in a whisper, startling Sheppard.

John glanced behind him and shook his head. "Both dead. No sign of Vance either."

"I checked the back of the house. There's a body by the barn. Found one still alive near the side of the house by the garage." Nate jerked his head to the right. "But he won't be for long if we don't get some help out here soon."

"How long for someone to get here?" John asked as he stood and surveyed the woods.

"Assuming Dispatch can get the resources together quickly, fifteen, maybe twenty minutes for the first sheriff's deputies to arrive. Maybe longer if Vance really did do something to block the road. Sheriff's department won't let the ambulance crews on the scene until we can confirm the area is secure."

John glanced over at the house and watched as Rodney grasped the railing in one hand and limped down the front steps. The sooner they had some backup out here, the happier John would be. There was too much of a chance of missing Vance in the dark. John wasn't going to let him escape again if he could help it.

"There should be at least two more, not counting Vance," John said and studied the ground under the trees.

"I'll check the woods between here and the garage," Nate offered.

"I'll take the other side of the house," John agreed. "Stay alert and keep your head on a swivel."

"You think Vance is still here?" Nate said with a grim expression.

John glanced over at him. "You don't?"

"From everything you and Rodney have told me about him? Yeah, it's a safe bet. What are we going to do about it?"

John grimaced and shook his head. While there was still a dim glow of light near the house, it was already dark under the trees, making it difficult to spot anyone hiding there, waiting for another chance to shoot at them.

"We have to find him first," John replied. "Hopefully before he finds one of us."

Nate nodded and disappeared into the trees to his right.

John had only taken a few steps into the copse of trees when he heard a voice coming from the yard, and his blood ran cold.

"Doctor McKay, how good to see you again," Vance said. "I believe we have some unfinished business, you and I."

John growled under his breath and ducked behind a tree. He peeked back at the house and clenched his jaw. Not only had Vance managed to get the drop on them, he had a pistol pointed at Rodney. John raised the rifle, but he didn't have the right angle to hit Vance, and even if he did, with the way Vance was pointing the pistol at McKay's chest, there was still a chance he could kill Rodney even as John shot Vance.

John watched as Rodney froze near Nate's truck and turned around. "So you are still alive," Rodney said with a glance at the body near the back of the SUV.

"I always survive," Vance replied and looked around the yard. "Where are Sheppard and that deputy sheriff who lives here?"

John heard a low whistle and glanced to his right where Nate crouched behind a fallen tree stump. He double-checked Vance wasn't looking in his direction and inched over to Nate's position.

"Do you have a shot?" John asked in a low whisper as he crouched beside Ritchie.

Nate shook his head. "Too many trees in the way. Found another body and one more still alive in the woods over there." Nate pointed behind him. "Where the hell did he come from?" he asked and nodded his head in Vance's direction.

"Doesn't matter," John replied. "The question is, how can we get him away from McKay?"

Rodney stood with his back against the truck, and his arms crossed over his chest. John suspected he was trying to look indifferent as Vance threatened him. John, however, felt the itch at the back of his skull and knew at least part of the pose was probably so Rodney could support his aching shoulder.

"I've waited a long time for this moment," Vance said. "I would have preferred shooting you in front of Sheppard -"

"I would prefer not getting shot at all," Rodney interrupted with a scowl.

"Then you should have kept better company," Vance replied and raised the pistol.

"I like my company just fine, thanks."

John heard the mix of arrogance and bravado in Rodney's tone and hissed in a breath.

"Guy's got guts, I'll give him that," Nate said as he adjusted his hold on his rifle.

John grimaced. "He's going to get himself killed," he replied shortly. "We need to do something. Fast."

He studied the yard and then the house, looking for something he could use to get Rodney away from Vance. What he needed was a distraction, he decided. Something that would take Vance's attention off McKay long enough that John could shoot him and not risk Rodney getting caught in any crossfire.

Trying to get back into the house was out; there was no way to get past Vance standing near the porch. John looked at McKay, wondering if there was something they could do to the SUV when he spotted the floodlights over the garage.

"What controls those lights?" John asked and jerked his chin toward the garage.

"There's a switch inside the garage."

"Any way you can get to the garage without being seen?" John asked.

Nate glanced out at the yard and then the trees behind them. "I can sneak around through the woods. There's a door at the back." He grimaced and looked down at the rifle in his hands.

"But?" John asked when Nate hesitated.

Nate pursed his lips. "I won't be able to move very fast, or Vance will know where I am. If he starts shooting, I'll be too far out of position to add cover fire for you."

The last thing John wanted was more bullets flying around the yard. He surveyed the yard and the house again but didn't see anything else they could use as a diversion for Vance.

"How long to get to the garage?" John asked. He watched Vance take a step toward Rodney, and John shifted his weight in response.

"Five minutes. Maybe a little longer," Nate replied.

John ducked his head. Five minutes. Vance was already on a hair-trigger, and Rodney taunting him wasn't helping. Did they have five minutes to spare? he wondered. Did they have any other options? That was the real question. John gave the yard one last look and realised the answer was no.

"Go," John ordered and glanced at his watch. "You have five minutes to get into position."

Nate nodded and disappeared into the trees.

John waited a few seconds, then crept toward the edge of the trees and readied the rifle. They were only going to get one chance at this. Once the floodlights came on, he would only have a split second to aim and fire. He needed to have a clear line of sight to his target. As John listened to Rodney talking, he was a bit surprised Vance hadn't already shot him. McKay was trapped in the open. There was no reason for Vance to wait.

As if reading his mind, Vance raised the gun in his hand, and John thought he saw McKay glance in his direction before he turned his attention back to Vance. The light in the open yard was fading fast, and it was getting harder for John to see what was happening.

Rodney jerked his chin up and glared at Vance. "You really think you're going to succeed?" he asked in his most condescending tone, and John suddenly knew what McKay was up to.

"I've dealt with bullies most of my life. Usually, I'd just out talk them," he remembered Rodney telling him once.

John crouched down and watched as McKay kept Vance talking, giving John the time he needed to put his plan into motion.

The gun in Vance's hand dipped as he said, "I seem to recall the last time we met that you were so certain in your assertion that Sheppard wouldn't have let Scott die if he could have stopped it."

John felt a jolt in his stomach as he listened to Vance. The last time Rodney had been in Vance's clutches had been right after Doranda. Right after John had told McKay he no longer trusted him. To hear that, after all that had happened between them, Rodney had still defended his actions based solely on his faith in John's character, surprised him.

"That's right," Rodney replied. "I know Sheppard. I know for a fact he wouldn't risk his team on a mission without good reason and a plan to survive."

Vance snorted and dropped the gun lower. John glanced at the garage and inched closer to the edge of the trees. If Rodney could keep Vance talking for just a little longer, he might provide exactly the opening John needed to take down Vance.

"I read the report, Doctor McKay," Vance told him. "The unredacted version. The information for that operation was bad, everyone knew it, but Sheppard didn't care. He knowingly led his team into a trap, and Scott paid the price."

"Sheppard isn't like that," Rodney replied. "He would have done everything possible to save your brother."

The last of the twilight had faded, and it was too dark to make out Rodney's face, but John heard the conviction in McKay's tone and was more than a bit stunned at Rodney's unwavering faith in him.

"Like he's here to save you?" Vance asked, and John heard the sneer in his tone even if he couldn't see Vance's face. "I thought you were a man of science, Doctor McKay. Someone who gave more credence to reality than emotional fantasy." Vance held his hands away from his body and turned in a circle. "Well, Doctor, I don't see your precious Sheppard coming to your rescue. Do you?"

Rodney kept his back against the truck as he tried to sidle out of range of the gun.

"I guess this means you were wrong," Vance said, and Rodney froze as Vance raised the pistol again. "Sheppard is reckless and little more than a coward. His recklessness got Scott killed when he refused to listen to the reports about the insurgents." Vance adjusted his aim. "His cowardice is going to get you killed as well."

Rodney sniffed. "If you think Sheppard is a coward, you're a bigger idiot than I thought."

This time John heard the fear in McKay's tone and grimaced.

Nate, where the hell are you? John squinted at his watch. It was too dark to read the dial, and he didn't dare press the button that would light the face.

"Are you prepared to bet your life on that?" Vance asked, and John knew they were out of time. "Perhaps I'll just shoot you now. It might be amusing to watch that confidence you have in Sheppard disappear when he doesn't come to your rescue."

"So much for plan A," John muttered under his breath.

He pushed himself to his feet and braced his arm against the trunk of the tree as he aimed the rifle at Vance. "I'd listen to him if I were you," he said, loud enough for Vance to hear him. "McKay will be the first one to tell you he's rarely wrong."

"Sheppard!" Vance replied with false enthusiasm. "So you are still here."

John stepped out of the trees with the rifle raised and aimed in Vance's general direction. He was close enough to the truck he heard the sigh of relief from Rodney, but Vance was little more than a shape in the darkness between the truck and the house.

"Yep," John replied. "Put the gun down, Vance. Your men are all either dead or bleeding out. This ends now."

"You're right, Sheppard," Vance replied in a low growl. "You escaped my wrath once. You won't escape again. Say goodbye to your surrogate brother."

Come on, Nate, John thought impatiently. Any time, now.

When light flooded the yard a moment later, John winced as his dark-adjusted eyes tried to adapt to the sudden change. Since he was expecting the lights, John had hoped that he would be better prepared and was only partially correct. He squinted and fired in what he hoped was Vance's direction. He heard an answering shot from the pistol and heard a yelp to his left.

"McKay, stay down!" John shouted, and ducked his head as another shot came from the garage behind him.

John felt a spike at the back of his skull and assumed Vance had managed to hit Rodney with his wild shot. The pain wasn't as bad as other spikes he'd felt, and John tried to ignore the pain as his vision cleared.

He saw Vance lying on his back, the pistol on the ground beside him, and stepped closer to the body in front of him. Blood flowed from the wound high in Vance's chest, and for a moment, all John felt was relief that Vance was dead.

John stopped a few feet from Vance's side, the rifle aimed and ready, and grimaced when he saw Vance twitch.

Vance opened his eyes, looked around, and frowned when his gaze met John's. Vance's hand groped for the gun, and John's finger tightened on the trigger.

"Don't even think about it," John growled.

Vance ignored him and continued to search for the gun as he glared at John.

John stepped over to Vance's side, kicked the gun away, and then stepped back with the rifle pointed at Vance's head.

"It's over," John told him.

Vance scowled at the rifle, then up at John. He pulled his hand back to his side and turned his head toward the trees.

"Do it already," Vance ground out. "I know you want to."

"Sheppard?" Nate called.

John glared down at Vance, then glanced at Nate a few paces behind him, holding a first aid kit in one hand.

"He's not worth it, man," Nate said. "Besides," he jerked his chin behind him, "I think you have more important things to worry about."

John glanced in the direction Nate indicated and saw Rodney lying on the ground next to the SUV, curled on his side. McKay groaned and wrapped his arms around his middle as he shifted on the ground.

John turned back to Vance with a scowl.

"Go take care of Rodney," Nate said and held up the first aid kit. "I'll deal with Vance."

John glowered at Vance for a moment longer, then lowered the rifle and stepped back.

"Guess I … was right … after all," Vance told him with a sneer. "Coward."

John spun back toward Vance, but Nate grabbed his arm. "I think Rodney needs you more than he does," he said in a low voice.

"Managed to shoot him after all," Vance gloated.

"Shut up," Nate said to Vance. He looked at John and jerked his head at McKay. "Go on, I've got this."

John nodded and ignored Vance's taunts as he hurried over to Rodney, unsure what he would find. The spike had faded, but the itch was still there. John knew Rodney was still alive, at least.

"Hey, buddy, how're you doing?" he asked.

Rodney lay curled on his left side, his right arm held tight against his chest. John checked the ground and blew out a breath when he didn't see any blood.

Maybe it's only a graze, John thought to himself as he knelt beside Rodney and tried to see where he had been hit.

Rodney opened his eyes and glared up at John. "What took you so long?" he asked with a scowl.

John shook his head as he tried to move Rodney's arm, looking for blood. "It was only a few minutes," John countered.

"He shot at me!" Rodney exclaimed, then clutched his arm and groaned as he tried to roll back on his side.

"Where did he hit you?" John asked, holding Rodney still as he checked again for a bloody wound.

"Lucky for me, he missed," Rodney ground out. He uncurled one hand and pointed at the truck.

John looked at the side panel where Rodney had been standing and saw the bullet hole in the metal. "If you weren't shot, what's wrong?"

"Shoulder," Rodney said with a hiss of pain as John pulled him up until he sat with his back resting against the front wheel of the SUV. "I landed on it when I was trying to get away from the psychopath shooting at me."

"Let me see," John said and pried Rodney's hand away from his shoulder. John pressed his fingers against the swollen joint, felt a bulge where there shouldn't be one, and heard Rodney groan in response.

"How is he?" Nate asked.

"Lucky," John replied as he examined Rodney's shoulder. He glanced up and saw Nate standing a few paces behind him. "Vance missed him, but he landed hard on his shoulder. I think it's popped out again. Probably should have it checked."

Nate nodded. "I'll get on the horn, let Dispatch know what happened, and get some help out here."

"I need access to a landline," John said as he squeezed Rodney's left arm and stood. Nate gave him a puzzled look, and John continued, "There are some high ranking people that will want to have a conversation with Vance over there."

John glanced over at Vance lying on the ground with one hand cuffed to the porch railing and a bloody bandage covering his chest near his shoulder.

"I'll see what I can do," Nate replied. He walked around the front of the SUV to the driver's side door, opened it, and picked up the mic for the radio.

~*~*~*~ SGA ~*~*~*~

With the hike to and from the Wraith building, the exploration of the building itself, not to mention exposure to an unknown gas, Carson was more than ready to get back to Atlantis, take a well-deserved shower, and sleep for the rest of the day. Maybe longer. He wiped the line of sweat off his forehead as he walked and made a mental note to not tease Rodney so much the next time he came back from a mission exhausted.

The dizziness had passed once he was out of the building, but his chest still felt tight any time he took a deep breath, and Carson noticed the others seemed more out of breath than he would have expected.

What was in that gas? he wondered as he stumbled over a tree root and felt Teyla's hand on his arm, saving him from a fall.

Carson nodded his thanks and frowned when he saw Garcia a few steps in front of him, bent forward with his hands braced on his knees.

"Freddo?" Thompson asked and stepped around Carson and Teyla.

Garcia straightened and waved off Derek's concerned look. "I'm good," he replied, his tone breathy. "I'm okay."

Carson frowned and walked over to Garcia. "Let me guess, your chest feels tight? Like you can't get a deep breath?" he asked as he checked Garcia's pulse.

Garcia hesitated a moment, then nodded.

"What about the rest of you?" Carson asked with a glance from Thompson to Ronon and then Teyla.

The three exchanged looks, and Teyla asked, "What is happening?"

"It's the effects of the gas," Carson replied shortly as he helped Garcia stand straight.

"We're outside," Ronon pointed out.

"Yes, but we all inhaled some of that gas while we were still inside. The chemicals in the gas seem to have a long-term effect on lung function."

"How long-term?" Ronon asked.

Carson shook his head. "I'll need to run tests and take scans to know for sure. And there is still the possibility the gas contained some kind of unknown pathogen that's contributing to our symptoms. The sooner we are back in Atlantis, the sooner I will have some answers for you."

Ronon stared at Carson for a moment longer, then jerked his chin at Thompson. "We need to move."

Thompson nodded, gave Garcia a pat on the shoulder, and fell into step beside Ronon.

Carson kept one hand on the tree beside him, watching Ronon and Thompson walk away, trying to hide his own breathing difficulties.

"Doctor Beckett?" Teyla asked, resting a hand on his arm. "Are you all right?

Carson smiled at her. "Aye, it's just been a long day," he replied.

Teyla gave him a long look but thankfully didn't push. "We should not need to walk much farther. I believe the stargate is on the other side of that stand of trees." She pointed to the line of trees in the middle distance.

Carson nodded and pulled on the straps for the backpack, easing the strain on his back and shoulders. He remembered the cases of lab equipment he'd brought along and then abandoned in the complex and pinched the bridge of his nose. It would mean endless paperwork explaining the loss and requisitioning replacements, but for the moment, he was simply glad he didn't need to carry the equipment in addition to the pack.

"I'm all right," he said, letting go of the straps as Teyla watched him. "Let's be getting back. Then I can give you some better information on what's happening."

They hiked for another thirty minutes before they broke through the last of the trees and into the clearing surrounding the 'gate. Carson stared at the field and the bustle of activity in surprise, trying to wrap his tired brain around what he was seeing.

"What's going on?" Ronon asked, giving voice to Carson's confused thoughts.

A long white tent stood on the far edge of the clearing. A second, smaller tent was attached to the first, and a flexible pipe ran from the smaller tent to a large portable tank. A short, transparent tunnel with zippered panels at each end separated the front of the larger tent from the rest of the clearing.

"They brought the quarantine to us," Carson murmured as he watched the men and women, all in biohazard suits, moving around the clearing.

A third tent, this one smaller and green, stood a few meters from the white tent, and Carson watched as two people carried various crates into the green tent. A dozen or so Marines, each wearing a hooded gas mask, stood guard around the perimeter of the clearing.

"Doctor Beckett!" one of the hazmat-suit wearing bodies called and raised a hand in greeting.

"Serafina?" Carson asked as the body stopped a few paces in front of him, and Carson saw Doctor Cortes' concerned expression through the window in the suit's helmet.

Doctor Cortes nodded. "Corporal Daley radioed and told Doctor Weir you had run into something biological while exploring the Wraith facility. She said you wanted quarantine protocols in place for your return to the city. I spoke to Doctor Weir. We agreed that since the planet appeared secure, it would be much easier, not to mention safer for the city to hold your group here until we are certain there is no biological threat to Atlantis."

"Good thinking," Carson agreed. "We'll need blood samples from everyone. I'd like to get air samples from the -" He stopped speaking when Doctor Cortes raised both of her hands.

"I have all of that already in hand, Doctor Beckett. Doctor Zelenka and the science team are already through the decontamination process and settled in the quarantine tent. We are running their blood work now."

She glanced from Ronon to Teyla and then Thompson and Garcia. "You all need to follow Jason into the quarantine tent." She pointed to another of the suited people standing behind her. "Once they are through decontamination, I'll need basic vitals and blood samples from everyone, please," she said to Jason, who nodded.

"And oxy -"

Cortes cut Carson off with another raised hand.

"Check their O2 levels. If they are like the others, they will all need supplemental oxygen," Cortes said.

"Yes, ma'am," Jason replied and stepped back with a glance at Carson.

"Go with him, Carson," Serafina said. "We have everything under control."

Carson gave her a crooked smile and followed the others as Jason led them into the smaller tent anchored to the large white tent.

"Showers," Jason said as Carson stepped into the tent behind Garcia. "There's a hazmat bag for your uniforms inside each cubicle and a set of clean scrubs on the bench outside the shower. I can take your gear for decontamination." He nodded to the rolling cart in the corner.

Carson shrugged out of his pack, handed it to Jason, and then stepped into one of the tiny shower cubicles. He quickly undressed, stuffed his uniform into the red biohazard bag, and set the bag outside the cubicle. The water was cold, but Carson made sure he thoroughly scrubbed his skin and hair. Once he was clean, he put on the set of white scrubs and followed Jason through a zippered partition into the larger tent.

A row of gurneys lined each of the tent's long sides, each bed separated from the next by a panel of canvas. A desk with a laptop sat just inside the flap covering the entrance to the tent. A table next to the zippered partition leading to the showers held an assortment of medical supplies, everything from bandages and antibiotic cream to a defibrillator.

A monitor stood next to each bed. Carson mentally noted the oxygen readings as Jason led the way down the row of gurneys to an empty bed. Unsurprising, most of the readings he saw were on the low side, and everyone he passed wore a nasal cannula.

Let low O2 numbers be the worst of it, Carson thought to himself as he settled on the empty bed. He hadn't noticed any mottling of his skin or other obvious signs of a poison or pathogen, but he wouldn't be satisfied until he could see the test results for himself.

"Sharon is taking the blood samples," Jason said as he clipped a pulse-oximeter to Carson's finger and turned on the monitor next to the bed.

Carson waited a moment for the number to settle, then pursed his lips. "Better bring the portable O2," he said to Jason.

Jason hesitated for a moment, then nodded and disappeared. He returned a few seconds later with a portable oxygen tank and handed Carson the cannula.

"Sharon's still with Sergeant Garcia," Jason said as he turned on the flow of oxygen. "She'll be here soon."

Carson nodded, adjusted the head of the gurney so he was mostly sitting upright, and settled back to wait. Doctor DeCampo and Corporal Masters were in the beds across from him, and Carson noted both were asleep. He heard Ronon and Teyla talking to each other somewhere to his left, but the canvas panels between the beds blocked his view of the room. He didn't hear any alarms from the monitors and took that as a good sign.

He watched the suited staff walk up and down the row of beds, taking notes and checking equipment, and couldn't help the swell of pride he felt at the way his team went about their duties. They were all good people, he realised as he settled deeper in the bed. More than capable of handling the situation.

He was on the verge of sleep when he heard the scritch-scritch noise of someone wearing a hazmat suit coming toward him, and a moment later, Sharon came around the partition.

Carson blinked several times, forcing himself awake, and sat up. "How is everyone doing?" he asked as Sharon set her kit on the table beside the bed.

"So far, everyone is stable," Sharon replied as she prepped his arm for the blood draw. "Tired," she added with a pointed look as Carson rubbed his forehead with his free hand, "but other than shortness of breath, no serious side effects from the gas so far."

Carson nodded and watched as she inserted the needle into his arm and blood filled the tube.

"It's a good thing you brought all of that lab equipment with you," Sharon added, and Carson saw her smile through the window of the hazmat suit. She finished with the blood draw and taped a cotton ball over the puncture in Carson's arm. "Saved us the trouble of bringing it through with us."

Carson looked up at her in surprise. "Are you telling me Cortes sent people back into that building?" He started to swing his legs off the bed, but Sharon stopped him with her hands on his shoulders.

"Everything is fine," she assured him. "The team we sent are all in protective gear. They aren't in any danger from the gas."

"The gas isn't the only thing they need to worry about," Carson argued. The memory of Thompson and Ronon tearing at the walls of the room they'd been trapped in was still fresh in his memory.

"We needed samples of the gas for study, and this was the best way to get them," Sharon replied as she packed up her supplies. "They won't stay any longer than they need to to collect the samples and retrieve the lab equipment." Sharon tapped Carson on the leg and gave him a reassuring smile. "Don't worry. I'm sure they will be fine." She stepped away from the bed and added, "Get some sleep. I'll let you know when we have your blood work back."

Carson watched her walk away and settled back in the bed. He listened to the quiet murmuring of some of the others and tried not to worry as he let the sound lull him to sleep.

He woke sometime later and looked around in surprise when he found he was in the infirmary in Atlantis and not the quarantine tent. Elizabeth sat next to his bed and smiled when he looked over at her. "Elizabeth?" he asked with another confused look around the room.

Ronon was across from Carson and two beds down, eating from a tray. Teyla slept in the bed next to Dex. Radek and the rest of the science team were scattered in other nearby beds, some of them awake reading from books or journals while the rest were asleep.

"Good to see you awake," Elizabeth replied with a smile. "How are you feeling?"

Carson glanced at her and shifted in the bed. "Better, I think," he replied, touching the nasal cannula with one hand. "When did we get back?"

"Several hours ago," Elizabeth replied and stood as Doctor Cortes walked over to the bed.

"Serafina?" Carson asked.

Doctor Cortes stopped at the side of Carson's bed and read the numbers on the monitor. "The good news is, we found no indications of a pathogen either in any of your blood work or in the samples of the gas we tested." She noted something on the tablet computer in her hand then set the computer on the bedside table. "The bad news is, the gas did adversely affect your lung tissues."

Carson clasped his hands together and asked, "Permanent damage?" he asked.

He glanced at Ronon, then at Derek and Garcia a few beds away. If they all had lasting lung deficiencies, that would mean no more exploratory 'gate travel for any of them. He did not look forward to explaining that to the Marines, much less Ronon or Sheppard when he and Rodney returned.

Cortes smiled and shook her head. "The alveoli are inflamed." She held up a small paper cup. "From the tests we've run so far, corticosteroids and oxygen therapy should clear up the problem in a few weeks."

Carson took the paper cup, and Elizabeth poured him a glass of water. "Any indication of what the gas was?" he asked and swallowed the pills in the cup.

"The chemical analysis is proving difficult. One component of the gas we think was meant to act as a sedative. We were able to identify a chemical signature similar to ether. We're running more tests to be certain."

Carson thought back to the loopy feeling he'd experienced in the room where they were trapped and nodded. "I felt dizzy while inside the building."

"Doctor DeCampo and a few of the others reported the same feeling," Doctor Cortes said.

"And the rest?" Carson asked.

"We aren't sure," Cortes admitted. "The other chemical signatures we found are like nothing we have on Earth. We're still running the results through the Ancient database. Hopefully, we'll find a match, and then we can better treat your symptoms." She glanced at Elizabeth and stepped back from the bed. "In the meantime, all you need to worry about is getting some rest."

"I'll stop by later to see how you are feeling," Elizabeth said as she followed Cortes back to the infirmary doors.

Carson nodded and let his eyes drift shut. He hoped Rodney and Colonel Sheppard were having a better time on Earth.