Beckett still hadn't come back. It had been a few hours of backbreaking work moving rocks, and usually Ronon wouldn't have complained, but usually he wasn't recovering from a set of nasty burns. He felt exhausted and sore, and it would have gone a lot faster if Beckett had been there.
"Guys?" John was sitting up again, leaning slightly back against the wall, but looking more alert than he had all day. "Is it just me, or has Carson been gone kind of a long time?"
"Nah, you're right," Ronon agreed. "I dunno where he went off to. Could use his help."
"What if a spider got him?" John asked worriedly, absentmindedly bringing his injured wrist a bit closer to his chest. "It's been a couple hours, right? We should find him. Is he wearing comms?"
Ronon shook his head. "I don't think he does much, offworld."
"He headed towards the infirmary," Zelenka said. "I think. Perhaps he is getting some kind of medication for the Colonel."
John looked upset again, and Ronon winced, knowing how proud John was - enough that the mere mention of his injury was enough to agitate him.
"Let's go," John said, shaking it off and beginning to push himself upright.
"You should not-" Zelenka began, but John shook his head determinedly.
"I'm going."
Ronon watched as John painfully levered himself to his feet, both hands planted hard against the wall. Ronon resisted the urge to help him - he knew that at this point, that would hurt John's ego enough as to not be worth it. And anyways, Ronon figured that if John really was well enough to stand up completely on his own, he was probably well enough to follow Carson to the infirmary too.
He did get himself standing, although it was kind of a painful process to watch. By the time John was on his feet, he looked pale, shaky, and vaguely nauseous. He had also disconnected his IV, although Ronon thought from looking that it was very nearly empty anyways.
"I'm ready," John said. "Let's find Beckett."
"Are you-?" Zelenka asked worriedly.
"I'm ready," John insisted, and started to walk out the door.
It became clear about a third of the way to the infirmary that John really should not be up and walking around. This perhaps should have been obvious, and as John slowed down and started to look more winded, Ronon started to regret giving him the benefit of the doubt.
"You need to stop?" Ronon asked as John put a hand against the wall. He was more worried about John's health than John's pride at now - John was getting paler and paler.
John shook his head. "Wanna find the Doc," he panted.
"You look like you're gonna pass out."
"Well if we find Beckett, he'll be right there if that happens," John snapped, heaving himself off the wall.
Ronon supposed that wasn't the worst argument he'd ever heard - they were only a little farther from the infirmary than they were from the Gateroom, and they were significantly closer to Beckett than they would be if John went back.
But Ronon still didn't want John collapsing in the hallway. He moved closed to John, extending a hand to provide support if needed, and so he could catch him if he seemed about to fall. To his surprise, John didn't pull away from Ronon, and instead sort of leaned up against him as they walked. Ronon adjusted himself so he could take a little more of John's weight, and John didn't protest. He really must be feeling weak, if he was willing to be supported when he was fully conscious.
John leaned on Ronon more as they went further towards the infirmary, and by the time they were approaching the entrance Ronon was taking more than half John's weight. John hadn't protested - he was breathing hard, and looked dreadfully pale. Ronon thought that it was probably taking all of his energy just to stay conscious. Maybe it was a good thing they were going to see Carson.
Zelenka opened the infirmary door and poked his head in. "Doctor Beckett?" he called.
"In my lab," Carson yelled back, still sounding rather flustered. Ronon readjusted John's weight slightly, and the three of them headed for Carson's lab.
The doctor was at his lab bench, wild-eyed and clutching some kind of dropper in one hand. The liquid inside was a vibrant purple color, which Ronon was pretty sure was a bad sign. Clouds of steam were billowing from various pieces of equipment. The whole thing looked pretty much exactly like the classic mad scientist in the old monster movies Sheppard had shown him, right down to the stained white lab coat.
John pushed away from Ronon and cleared his throat, sinking back against the wall slightly for stability. "Hey, Doc. Umm, watcha doin?"
"Solving the pigeon problem," Carson said frantically, squeezing a few drops of purple liquid into a murky looking mixture. "I've almost got it!"
"Got what, exactly?" Zelenka asked, vigorously polishing his glasses.
"A solution to the pigeon problem," Carson answered, his face darkening. "It's simple. I've created a poisoned birdseed. We'll feed it to the pigeons, the feathery bastards will drop dead, and then any spiders that eat them will pop off as well."
John made a soft choking sound, and his eyes widened with surprise. Ronon couldn't help but do the same - he'd never known Carson to be anything but caring and kind, even to animals. Apparently, he drew the line with pigeons.
As horrified as John looked and Ronon felt, it was nothing compared to Zelenka's reaction. The scientist gasped, his eyes welling up as if someone had just told him a loved one had died.
"Don't kill them," Zelenka protested, taking a step backwards away from Carson. "They're...they're-"
Ronon frowned. "Hey, wait a second, if this stuff kills the spiders, then that means I can't eat the pigeons either. You know how big of a waste that is, Doc? You gotta be kidding me."
"Well, we need to get them out of here somehow!" Carson said angrily. "And I haven't heard any other ideas. And if we start killing off the spiders too…," Carson paused and sighed, "we can get two birds with one stone."
"Is there any way you can feed them something that will only kill the spiders?" Zelenka suggested. "Many pesticides...they are only harmful to the insects themselves, not to humans or to the animals who are accidentally exposed."
"Spiders are actually arachnids," John murmured. This seemed to interrupt Carson's train of thought, and Ronon could see why - John was slumped heavily against the wall, eyes half-lidded, breathing ragged and unsteady. If Ronon didn't know better, he might have thought that John was about to pass out.
"Son, take a seat," Carson said gently, putting a hand on John's shoulder. John came to a little at the touch, but he didn't protest as Carson guided him over to a chair and settled him into it.
"I'm okay," John said softly, but he seemed to perk up a little once he was off his feet, and he looked up at Carson blearily.
"In answer to Radek's question, yes," Carson said with a sigh. "I'm sure I can develop something that the birds can ingest that's only then harmful to the spiders that eat them. Although it might take a few more hours, since now I've been working all afternoon on this…. And it still doesn't deal with the main problem, which is that there are so many pigeons."
"Maybe some sorta pigeon relocation program," John suggested, still sounding weak but a little more cognizant. "You know, we can bag 'em up and bring 'em...somewhere else."
"Fine, fine," Carson said. "Aye, I won't do anything to harm the pigeons, I'll just...develop some way to capture them, and then we can bring them through the Stargate to some...perfect pigeon planet."
Ronon couldn't tell if Carson was being sarcastic or not - he really didn't know how much the doctor knew about animals.
"Why are you even so concerned about the pigeons?" Zelenka asked.
"They carry diseases, first off, and they...they…."
"It just seems that they are the least of our problems," Zelenka said mildly, and Ronon thought that seemed impossible to argue with. "There is a hole in the ceiling, we...we still have no fresh water and a barely functioning Gate, it just seems…."
"Well, I'm not really worried about the pigeons," Carson said all in a rush. Ronon blinked - this was somewhat beyond him. If Carson wasn't worried about the pigeons, then why was he spending so much time trying to get rid of them? Maybe Sheppard would know, he seemed pretty good at understanding that sort of stuff.
But when Ronon looked sideways at John, the Colonel seemed just as confused as he was, probably because of the poisoning and dehydration. A little hesitantly, John cleared his throat and looked up at Carson.
"Umm, what are you really worried about, then?"
"All of this," Carson nearly shouted, waving his hands agitatedly in the air. "About the hole in the roof, about the hundreds of broken systems Radek keeps talking about, about the scorch marks and the rubble all over the METEOR CRASH SITE…. When I left Atlantis, I assumed there'd still be a city the next time I came back to it! I certainly didn't expect my home to be…destroyed, or desiccated, or whatever you want to call it."
"We're...we can fix it," Zelenka said weakly, and even Ronon was starting to think that the scientist might be overly optimistic.
"No you bloody can't," Carson snapped. "Even if you were to patch up the giant hole in the roof, the civilization that built it died thousands of years ago. We can't even hope to fix it like it once was, and every time I come back it's to something like this. I'm half-scared to leave again, in case I come back to nothing more than a pile of smoking rubble."
Ronon gulped heavily. He didn't quite share Carson's worst case scenario, but Atlantis had grown to be a part of him. He had to admit that he wouldn't be happy either to come back and find a good chunk of it completely destroyed.
Across the room, John looked as though Beckett's words had hit him, too. His eyes were wide and his jaw set, the face that Ronon knew meant that if he were anyone else, he would be tearing up. Zelenka actually was tearing up, although Ronon wasn't sure if that was because he was worried about the city, or if the very real possibility of him getting fired was beginning to sink in.
Either way, Carson seemed to notice the group's distress and sighed. "I...I didn't mean that. I'm just a wee bit nervous, that's all. I shouldn't even be complaining, the three of you have had to deal with this for days, and I've barely even been here a few hours."
"I...hadn't really thought of it like that," Zelenka said sincerely.
Ronon understood what he meant - Ronon had mostly just been focused on the immediate problems, like the fire, the lack of water, the spiders. It hadn't really occurred to him to even consider the fact that they had destroyed their home.
There was no point in pretending Woolsey wasn't going to be mad. He was going to be furious when he walked through the Gate and saw what they had done. Everyone would be. Rodney would be pissed, even Teyla would be pissed. They had turned a place that all of them orbited their lives around into a broken mess, and even if it could be fixed, once they had more people available, that didn't change the fact that they had done it.
"I wouldn't be very happy," John said, "if I came back and Atlantis looked like this. I'm...not really very happy now."
"I would...I do not even know what I would do to the person who destroyed my home like this," Zelenka said. He sighed. "We're not going to be able to fix it, are we?"
Carson opened his mouth to respond - he was looking a little softer and more nervous than he had before, so Ronon thought he was probably going to say something nice. But before he could, they were interrupted by an unfamiliar tapping sound. Carson immediately broke off, and all three of them straightened up.
"What is that?" Carson asked, looking vaguely upwards in the direction it seemed to be coming from.
"I think...that it's rain," John said slowly. "The sound of rain hitting Atlantis when the shields aren't up. And-"
Zelenka made a strangled sort of sound, and Ronon's head snapped up - his face seemed to have gone a few shades paler. "And coming through the hole in the roof," he finished miserably.
John was fine. He was completely fine. He felt much better than he had even this morning, and he was pretty sure he was coming up on 100% cured. His head - it only hurt a little, and only for a second, and only if he moved. He was nauseous, but he'd managed to have about seven sips of water since he'd woken up that morning, and they'd all stayed down, with no more effort than he'd need to make if he were seriously hungover. He was weak, but he could move, sort of, which he really felt was as much as he could ask for at this point.
He still needed some help from Ronon as the four of them hurried back to the Gateroom, but that was probably only because he was still a little dehydrated. He would stop feeling dizzy and weak in no time at all, and then he'd be completely back to normal.
The biggest remaining problem was his wrist. He had managed to stop worrying about it since Carson had assured him that it would end up fine, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt. Every time John moved his left arm, pain was still shooting through his hand and his wrist. He didn't say that things hurt lightly, but this was actually painful enough that he was pretty much down to one hand.
Still, things were looking up. And the pattering on the roof meant rain, and rain meant fresh water. John knew that he was fairly well hydrated from the IV, probably better off than either Ronon or Zelenka, but his throat was parched and dry enough that it almost felt sticky at the edges. He had barely had any of their water rations (aside from the few sips that morning) in days, mostly because he'd been too sick to keep anything down. But now, much later in the day, after some of Carson's initial efforts had paid off, John was feeling decidedly less nauseous. The idea of water, as much of it as he could drink (even if that didn't turn out to be very much), was intoxicating.
Ronon and Zelenka looked like they felt the same way. John hadn't seen either of them look anything other than angry or worried for the past few days, which he supposed made sense. But now, Ronon was actually smiling, and even Zelenka looked a little more relaxed. Carson was the only one who still seemed worried, but he hadn't really had a chance to get thirsty yet.
As they got closer to the Gateroom, the tinny sound of the rain hitting the roof became more of a wet splashing sound, which John guessed was the sound of the rain falling through the meteor hole and beginning to collect in the Gateroom.
"I hope that it will continue to rain until we have had time to collect enough water," Zelenka said worriedly.
"Anything's better than nothing," John pointed out, feeling a resurgence of his usual optimism. Everything looked a lot better when you weren't dying from a spider bite, it seemed.
"That is very true," Zelenka answered, but he began to walk a little faster anyway. John struggled to keep up, feeling his breath start to come faster. Ronon glared at him, and John slowed down with an answering glare of his own.
By the time Ronon and John made it into the Gateroom, Zelenka had already found some empty storage crates and begun to set up impromptu rain barrels. Looking at the level of water already on the Gateroom floor, John was no longer worried about getting enough water. A massive puddle covered the area in front of the Stargate. It was already as much as an inch deep, and the rain had started no more than twenty minutes ago. Outside the walls of Atlantis, it must be pouring.
"Hey, Doc, look," Ronon said. Both Zelenka and Carson turned to look at him, and John chuckled. " No more pigeons. Guess they don't like rain."
John blinked in surprise, then peered around the Gateroom. Ronon was completely right. There were a few unhappy-looking, waterlogged pigeons nestled in the corner, but the vast majority of the pigeons seemed to have left the Gateroom in favor of somewhere drier. John never thought he would say it, but the number of pigeons left in the Gateroom at this point actually seemed reasonable to him. He sure couldn't handle several hundred pigeons, especially on top of everything else, but he could manage ten or so.
Carson instantly brightened, and Zelenka's face fell.
"They're probably somewhere safer," Carson said kindly. "Maybe they went back to wherever they were before."
"I suppose it is better for them to be out of the weather," Zelenka said, after a moment's consideration. He went back to adjusting the rain barrels below the stream of water. In John's estimation, in ten more minutes or so they would be full, and they would need another set of containers to collect the water in.
"We should move everything of value out of the Gateroom," Carson said. "As much as we can carry, anyways. The rain doesn't seem to be slowing down."
It didn't seem as though flooding had occurred to Zelenka as a potential problem, and he looked around the Gateroom nervously. "We should try to cover up the Gate tech as well," he said. "We must be able to find a box of trash bags…."
"I thought that stuff wasn't damaged by water," John said. "None of the Ancient tech."
Rodney had told him that - it had come up a surprising number of times.
"It shouldn't be, but I would rather be safe than sorry in this case," Zelenka said. "And I am sure there is a limit to that. And I...do not know how much it will continue to rain. We could very well be surpassing that limit."
Before beginning the process of waterproofing the Gateroom, all four of them paused and drank some water. The water from the barrels was still cold from the air outside, and so fresh-tasting it came across almost sweet. John managed the most water he'd had in days, nearly a full cup. It soothed his dry, aching throat and alleviated some of the pounding in his head.
"It's coming down faster," Carson said nervously, just as John was considering whether or not to have another cup of water.
John looked up and realized that to his dismay, Carson was right. The rain was pouring down harder than ever, and the water level in the Gateroom was rising. The puddle was growing, lapping outward towards their belongings.
"We gotta go," he said, abandoning the idea of another drink and standing up, only slightly shakily this time. Much to his surprise, even Carson didn't protest overmuch. The doctor stood as well, contenting himself with a stern glare and a reminder not for John to overdo it. John responded with the standard half-nod, half-eye roll, and the four of them began the process of moving their gear halfway up the stairs, just far enough to be safe.
After about fifteen minutes, John was starting to realize that just standing up straight was overdoing it, much less picking up objects and walking halfway up the stairs with them. But the water was continuing to rise as the tapping on the roof grew more urgent, and John knew they needed all the help they could get. He just hadn't realized they had this much stuff…. Still, it would be good to have the fresh water. Even if the Gateroom flooded a little, it couldn't outweigh that. They'd find a way to get rid of the water somehow, it would probably just...drain away on its own. John shook his head as he trudged up the increasingly-slick stairs, reminding himself that they were still better off now than they had been yesterday.
Ronon had never seen rain like this. Not even on Sateda, where he remembered thunderstorms so intense that he mistook the noise for Wraith warships. Even those had been nothing compared to the sheer volume of water currently pouring into the Gateroom.
The whole floor of the Gateroom was well underwater now, probably by at least a couple feet. They'd managed to get all their belongings to about the halfway point of the staircase, but it was starting to be pretty clear that wasn't going to be far enough. At this rate, the rain would just have to keep falling the way it was for another hour or so, and the water would make it that far.
"We gotta move 'em again," Ronon said, grabbing the heaviest box and slinging it over his shoulder. Sheppard blinked at him in distress, pale and shivering softly, his hair hanging sodden and flat over his eyes.
"It's rising too fast," Ronon explained, and John nodded miserably. Carefully, he grabbed a bag of food - one-handed - and followed Ronon up the rest of the stairs.
"This is not good," Zelenka whispered, staring down at the pool of water that had formerly been the Gateroom. "Ohhhh, why is it that God wishes me to suffer?"
Ronon grabbed one of the bins of freshwater they had collected at the beginning - it seemed stupid to him, since there was so much water everywhere, but Carson had warned them against drinking unpurified water directly from the Gateroom floor. There could be unknown foreign contaminants, apparently.
Ronon watched John carefully as they made their way up the stairs. He wished John could simply sit down and wait for them in the control room, but the water was rising too quickly, and even Carson seemed to know they needed all four of them available. He wished at the very least he had an arm free, to take some of John's weight if he needed it, but with John out of commission Ronon was pretty sure he was the only one who could carry the huge boxes of water without spilling them everywhere.
Ronon watched as John stumbled, his right knee hitting the stair. He managed to right himself, but he was looking shakier by the second. Ronon realized for the first time that the rain was cold - he hardly noticed changes in temperature anymore, unless there was something he could do about them. But he was sure that couldn't be good for Sheppard.
"You okay?" Ronon asked, standing next to John but unable to offer a hand.
"Yeah, yeah," John said. "Go on ahead."
The Gateroom stairs had grown slippery with shallow, running water - John was clearly struggling to keep his balance, especially without the use of his bad hand to stabilize himself on the handrail. Ronon tore himself away from John and hurried forward. If he set down the water and John still hadn't made it to the top, Ronon could go back to help him.
Ronon made it to the top of the stairs, and set down his water. Even he had had to fight to keep his balance. The hole in the ceiling was positioned just so, so the water hit about two-thirds of the way up the Gateroom stairs. When the rain hadn't been coming down as fast, when there's been less water on the Gateroom floor, that hadn't been much of an issue - the rain had fallen right through the gaps in the stairs. But now it was coming down too quickly for that, and the Gateroom stairs were turning into something resembling a small waterfall.
Ronon turned back towards John, who was still in the middle of the stairs, slowly trudging through the rain and determinedly holding onto his bag of food.
Ronon was already starting down the stairs again when John slipped. The first time, he had fallen forward, and could catch himself against the stairs in front of him. This time, he fell backwards, his legs going out from underneath him.
"Sheppard!" Ronon shouted, lunging for John. But he was too slow, too far away. There was a horrible thud as the back of John's skull caromed off one of the stairs, and then he was sliding under the quickly deepening water.
"Oh god, what's happening?"
Ronon heard Carson's question as he and Zelenka turned back towards the stairs, but he didn't have time to answer him. As soon as John's head had made contact with the steps, his eyes had slipped closed, and he was clearly unconscious. If Ronon delayed for even a second, it could mean the difference between life and death to Sheppard.
Without bothering to explain himself, Ronon took a running start and dove off the steps into the lake the Gateroom had become.
The water had gotten deep, making it almost a third of the way up the Stargate, and exceeding even Ronon's height. With the state John was in, he was as good as dead if Ronon couldn't find him quickly.
Ronon came up for air, submerging again as soon as he got a full breath. Cautiously, he opened his eyes, peering around for Sheppard. Luckily, and somewhat surprisingly, the water was fairly clear. Unlike Sateda, this planet had been uninhabited for eons, and the rain wasn't polluted like it had been there. It was clean and clear, and as Ronon looked around, he made out a Colonel-sized shape sinking slowly to the Gateroom floor.
Ronon dove down after him, horrified to see that John was still, not trying to fight his way back up to the surface. It was just a confirmation of the conclusion that Ronon had already reached, but he'd hoped that he was wrong.
Ronon reached down, wrapping his hand around the Colonel's uninjured wrist. He pulled, and with the added buoyancy of the water he was able to lift John towards him, close enough for him to wrap his arm around Sheppard's chest and begin to kick for the surface. He was sure that Rodney would have some fancy science reason for why it worked that way. Maybe, if they got out of this, Ronon would ask him.
Ronon broke the surface, gasping for air and shaking his dreadlocks out of his face. John's head hung limply beside him, water streaming from his hair and trickling over his closed eyelashes. He didn't seem to be breathing.
"Ronon, over here!" Carson was kneeling just above water level, reaching out. Zelenka was beside him, looking scared out of his mind, and for once Ronon couldn't blame him. He swam towards them as fast as he could, towing John along beside him, hoping for the wet cough that would mean John was still alive.
"Take him," Ronon gasped as Carson got his hands underneath Sheppard's shoulders and began hauling him up onto the stairs. Zelenka helped as well, Ronon trying and failing to gain any kind of leverage for the water. As Carson laid John out, Ronon scrambled out of the water, dropping down exhausted beside the doctor.
"What happened?" Zelenka gasped. "He looks-"
"Is he gonna be okay?" Ronon asked. "Doc, is he…?
Carson ignored both of them. He was in what John sometimes affectionately referred to as Doctor Mode. He probably wasn't going to answer any of their questions for a little while, not unless they had some direct bearing on John's health.
Carson quickly but carefully stretched John out flat. He touched the back of John's head, and his fingers came away bloody. Then he turned John's head to the side. Some water trickled out of John's mouth and nose and onto the floor of the Control Room.
"Hey, that's great!" Ronon said. He knew enough about drowning to know that was a pretty good sign. That's what they wanted - the water outside of John.
Carson didn't say anything celebratory, so Ronon decided this probably wasn't as good as he had thought. This was corroborated by the fact that John hadn't woken up. In fact, he honestly looked dead - his face pale and still, heavy, wet clothing clinging to limp limbs. Ronon was pretty sure that if he was alright, he would be choking and coughing.
Which meant...he wasn't alright.