A/N - Apologize for the irregular updates on this one - life has gotten crazy! Just one more chapter to go :)

Ronon was getting increasingly worried about John. This wasn't exactly surprising, since that sentence just about summed up the entirety of the last three days. It was, however, upsetting. Ronon felt drained, almost sick with the weight of it. He was starting to fear what would happen if he let John out of his sight for more than a few seconds. Would a piece of rubble fall on him? Or maybe a pigeon would attack, or some kind of freak lightning bolt…. At this point, very little would surprise Ronon.

For now, John was still shivering under the jackets, although they didn't seem to be helping him very much. He was so pale that he looked almost blue, and Ronon actually did see a tinge of purple around his lips. His eyes, when they were open, were dull and hollowed-looking, and even though he was looking at them, Ronon wasn't sure he was actually seeing them.

"You okay?" he asked, even though he knew Sheppard wouldn't like it.

John blinked at him.

Ronon repeated his question, beginning to be even more panicked. This counted as confusion, right? Or mental fog? Was John getting hypothermic? He wished Carson were here.

"Tired," John mumbled, and that was enough for Ronon. Carson had mentioned drowsiness, John was sleepy and shivering, and if Ronon didn't do something then his friend was probably going to die of hypothermia.

Ronon scooted closer to John. He knew Carson had probably meant skin-to-skin contact, but honestly, their shirts were all so wet and clinging that that was probably going to be impossible right now. Ronon's arms were bare, and under John's pile of jackets, Ronon knew he was only wearing a t-shirt. He'd been wearing a long-sleeve for warmth the first few days, but he'd changed when the fever had gotten too bad. Arm-to-arm would have to be enough.

Ronon started dutifully peeling John's jackets off. John, to Ronon's relief, started squirming.

"Hey," he said weakly. "Whatcha doing? Get off me." He pushed at Ronon's arm with approximately the strength of a kitten.

"You're freezing. You barely even know what's happening."

"I know what's happenin'," he protested.

"You've been slow to respond," Zelenka added helpfully. Ronon hadn't really realized Zelenka was paying any attention to what was happening, but when he looked up, the scientist was watching the proceedings with interest.

John, as if to illustrate Zelenka's point, didn't respond.

Once John's jackets were off, Ronon snaked an arm around his shoulders. In another situation, there might have been a hint of awkwardness - Ronon didn't generally cuddle with John, no matter how close they might be. But John's skin was absolutely freezing, and to be honest, it didn't really feel like holding another person. It felt like snuggling with a block of ice.

Ronon used his free hand to adjust the jackets back over John like a blanket. John had mostly stopped protesting, but when Ronon looked at his face, he was frowning.

"This will get you warmed up," Ronon insisted.

"Was warm enough before," John muttered weakly.

Ronon knew this wasn't true, because he could feel John's shivering slowly easing.

"You know, I'm not really sure how helpful this is," Zelenka said. "You also went in the water. And even though you're much larger than John, and you weren't as weakened to begin with, I do imagine it must have affected you some. Are you not cold?"
Ronon was a little cold, but not nearly so cold as John. Also, they didn't exactly have a lot of other options. "Would you rather be doing this instead?" he asked.

Zelenka subsided.

Some time passed like that, all of them lost in uncomfortable silence.

"I t-think we should have seen him by now," John finally said. "Know it takes a little while to get to the Jumper bay, but it's n-not a long flight."

Ronon hadn't thought about that, but John was right. Carson shouldn't have been up in the air this long.

Carson had been wrong. There was no way in hell that he was going to be able to land the Jumper over the hole the meteor had made. First off, the hole was through a section of roof that was at a diagonal, and in order to properly land, Carson would have to set the Jumper down at an odd angle that involved a lot of instruments and concentration and knowledge of physics and flight that he simply did not have. And as if that wasn't enough, the base of the central tower was surrounded by the tall, dangerous-looking spires of shorter towers, and Carson was desperately worried that at any given moment, he would fly into one.

And then, of course, there was the storm. The Jumper did not come equipped with windshield wipers, something that Carson felt to be a design flaw, and the rain was pelting the viewscreen so hard that he could barely see through it. And when he'd made it out of the Jumper Bay, he'd discovered that the sound of the rain hammering the roof had almost completely concealed the howling of the gale-force winds that had come with the storm. After his last experience in a Jumper in a storm, Carson was hesitant to mess with the inertial dampeners. He wouldn't be able to land the Jumper if the machine was too slow to respond to his commands, but as it was, every gust of wind made him flinch and brace himself to be blown directly into one of the surrounding buildings.

Carson was on his third fruitless attempt to even get close to the tower when Zelenka's voice crackled through the radio. Carson jumped, swearing to himself as the ship jerked.

"Carson? Where are you? Are you alright? It has been much longer than we expected…."

"I can't get anywhere close to the bloody tower," Carson screamed, hoping Zelenka would be able to hear him over the sounds of wind and rain. "I'm not going to be able to do it."

There was a short pause, and Carson could hear the muffled sounds of Zelenka relaying the information to the others.

"Colonel Sheppard says to tell you that he told you so," Zelenka informed him. "He would also like me to tell you that he is perfectly capable of landing the Jumper."

Carson closed his eyes in frustration. Putting John behind the controls of heavy machinery in his current state would be a terrible idea at any time, much less in the midst of a storm like this one. Still, if they didn't get the hole covered, then Atlantis would likely flood, and John would be even worse off.

"How is he?" Carson asked.

"Very cold," Zelenka said, a tinge of worry creeping into his voice. "Ronon is doing as you suggested. However, he is much more aware now than he was even a short time ago. I believe that the contact is working."

Carson wished that he could start crying. Every fiber of his being was telling him to refuse, to keep John lying down, safe and as warm as possible. But if he was already that badly off, he would only continue to decline. And they simply wouldn't be able to get him to the infirmary, not with all the water.

Carson supposed, at this point, it didn't really matter either way. Whether John was much worse than Zelenka was saying, or had somehow miraculously gotten back to 100%, Carson simply could not land the Jumper in the storm. He needed to go back.

Even making it safely back to the Jumper Bay proved to be more of a challenge than he'd expected. Despite the Jumper Bay being, well, designed for Jumpers, the winds were making it nearly impossible to keep the Jumper flying on a steady path, and Carson had to try the entry a handful of different times before he was confident he wouldn't smash right into the side of Atlantis. The trouble he had doing something he'd done many times before only confirmed to him that he'd made the right choice by not even trying for the roof.

It was only when Carson exited the Jumper that he realized he was shaking. When he'd been simply trying to land without killing himself, he'd felt the same calm wash over him that he felt when he was performing a surgery. But now that it was over, it really hit him how close he'd come to dying. One wrong choice in the Jumper and….

Carson shuddered. He'd made it, that was all that mattered.

Carson was so shaken up that it took him about that long to register that the hallway outside the Jumper bay was mostly dry - if John was doing badly, they could probably get him warmed up much faster here. Carson wished he'd thought of that before, but it was so hard to remember which parts of Atlantis were still usable, and which parts had been destroyed already. And anyways, the only time the Jumper bay was warmer than the Control Room would have to be if the Control Room had a huge hole in it.

Carson made his way back to the others as quickly as his unsteady legs would carry him. Three pairs of eyes looked up as he arrived, which was a relief. They hadn't been lying about John - he really did seem more alert, granted a little groggy and pale.

"Couldn't land it, huh Doc?" John said sympathetically.

Carson shook his head. "Although, in all honesty, I'm not sure you'd be able to land it either, not as ya are right now-"

John wasn't listening. To Carson's horror, he was already shrugging Ronon off and struggling to his feet.

"Sit down!" Carson practically shouted, but John clearly did not intend to do that. He got himself all the way into a standing position, trembling hard and leaning against the wall, and then glared at Carson dramatically.

"This is our one shot and you know it," John snapped, somehow managing to look threatening even while being held up by the wall. "I gotta land it."

Carson knew he was right, but that didn't mean he had to like it. All of his previous concerns held true, perhaps even more so after seeing the storm for himself. If John was too weak after all, even one misstep could be the death of him.

"See you in a bit," John said, pushing himself off the wall and staggering towards the door with grim determination. Carson yelped in alarm.

"Oh no you don't, son," Carson shouted, moving in front of John and blocking his path. John's jaw set, his uninjured hand balling into a fist.

"Get out of my way," John said, moving a half-stumble closer to Carson.

"If you're goin' up there, then you're taking me with you," Carson insisted. "In case you pass out, or collapse, or stop breathing. If you crash into Atlantis, you won't just be putting yourself at risk, you know."

John softened, very slightly, and gave Carson a tiny nod. Relieved, Carson stepped back from the doorway and allowed John to stumble onwards. As he passed, Carson moved a little closer, taking some of John's weight as soon as the Colonel looked to be falling.

"I really don't know about this," Carson said again, feeling John shivering as he supported him. "You're still awfully weak, I shouldn't be letting you do this-"

John scoffed and rolled his eyes, managing to look surprisingly sassy for someone whose ability to stand up was completely dependent on another person.

"Not like you had much choice," John said. "Now, shut up and get me to the Jumper Bay, huh?"

In the confines of the Jumper Bay, John could hear the storm in earnest. The large room was on the outer edge of the Control Tower, placed slightly away from taller spires to allow for ease of Jumper travel, which meant that there was nothing to block the full strength of the wind and rain. The storm was howling outside, and John could hear the heavy batter of the rain on the metal roof. Even though Carson was inexperienced, not to mention a bit of a nervous pilot, he didn't appear to be wrong about the strength of the storm. From the sound of things, it might prove to be a struggle even for John.

"Okay, let's do it," he said, shaking Carson off and heading for his favorite Jumper.

"Maybe once we're up in the air, I can take the controls back over," Carson suggested. "You can...tell me what to do. Explain how to make it safer. That way you can…."

John was shaking his head. "Can't do that, Doc," he said.

"Why not?"

John hesitated. Talking about flying, really talking about it...that was something he had a hard time with anyways. There were no words in the English language that he could use to explain the intuitive feeling he used when guiding a plane, at least not any that he knew of. And now, when his head was pounding and the world had started spinning lazily around him again...he really wouldn't be able to explain it. In his experience, really good flying wasn't exactly something that could be taught. He just wasn't sure how to explain that to Beckett.

He ended up shrugging, which sent an unfortunate throb of pain up his arm. "No way to explain it," he said softly. Carson seemed to buy it, and he followed John quietly to the Jumper.

John settled himself behind the controls, and turned the Jumper on with a single touch. Carson eyed him worriedly as he started to ease the Jumper out of the bay.

As annoying as it was to have Beckett constantly hovering over him, John was slowly starting to realize that this really was not a good idea. John was very stubborn, but as he had learned the hard way many times before, stubbornness was not a painkiller. If he did not physically have the ability to do something, for example, stay conscious at the controls of the Jumper, all the toughness and stubbornness and mental fortitude in the world wasn't going to help. It was a lesson he was often forgetting, and only ever seemed to remember at the worst times. Like when he was already up in the air in a Jumper.

The biggest problem, which he hadn't considered until he actually started flying, was that his left hand was all but useless. The Jumper could technically be flown completely one-handed, but precision steering took two. And flying a Jumper with only one hand was particularly difficult when that one hand didn't seem to be working so well...John was still shaking pretty badly, and he ached all over from the collision with the stairs. Or at least, that's what John thought it was. Somehow, he had avoided near-drowning in the past, so he wasn't exactly sure what was typical afterwards. He supposed he wouldn't be surprised if his near-death experience had left him sore and achy all over.

There was also the fact that he couldn't take a full breath, and hadn't been able to in hours, the fact that his fingers still felt a little numb and he couldn't stop shaking. There was the merciless headache that was building behind his temples, and the nausea he'd finally almost gotten under control before his unplanned swim had gotten bad again. But all those things it was possible to ignore, he hoped. He had to ignore them.

John sent a vague plea out to the universe, hoping as usual that someone up there still liked him. Too often, it seemed to be the only reason he was still alive. Hopefully, they were still listening.

John steered the Jumper towards the roof of the Central Tower, ignoring Carson's squeaking at each gust of wind. With a touch, he adjusted the inertial dampeners just enough to keep the Jumper steady, but not enough to sacrifice the maneuverability he would need to land the ship.

"Careful, Colonel," Carson yelped, as a spire rose out of the rain to their left.

"Don' backseat fly," John growled, wishing he could glare at Carson, but unwilling to take his eyes off the viewscreen. He'd seen that particular obstacle before Carson, but he was exhausted enough now that what normally seemed like second nature required significantly more attention. If he took his eyes off the stormy skies even for a second, he was liable to crash and kill them both.

A particularly vicious gust of wind buffeted the Jumper, and Carson gave a muffled sort of squawk, almost startling John into swerving.

"Stop it, Doc," John snapped, wrestling the Jumper back under control and pointing its nose towards the tower. "This ain't exactly a picnic."

"I thought you said you could do this easily," Carson squealed.

"You shoutin' doesn't help. Shut up and let me fly. If I pass out or something, that's when you can take over. 'Til then, quiet."

Out of the corner of his eye, John could see Carson make a face like he was swallowing a lemon, but he nodded slowly.

"Aye. Fair enough."

John took as deep a breath as he could manage and lowered the Jumper carefully towards the tower. The instruments on the panel began beeping frantically, warning him of a proximity alert. Carson made a soft, choked-off gasp, and John silenced the warnings with a wave. As close as he was, the nausea and the headache had faded, and John was back on autopilot. The instruments would just distract him - he knew how much room he had.

Slowly, John lowered the Jumper towards the hole in the roof, drifting around spires and outcrops on the edges of the surrounding roofs. As he went, he adjusted the inertial dampeners, tilting the Jumper to compensate for the angle they'd need to approach the roof. Finally, he felt the Jumper connect with the ground, and Carson let out an explosive gasp of relief.

"That's it," John said simply, and turned off the Jumper. In an instant, his headache came rushing back, now even more painful than before. He gave a small gasp as his temples began throbbing, and the nausea swelled inside him, the tilt of the Jumper doing him no favors. He swallowed hard and bowed his head against the control panel, closing his eyes and focusing on his breathing.

"Good job, son," Carson said softly.

There was the familiar crackle of comms, and then Zelenka's voice broke through. His words were garbled, probably by the weather, and his voice was hard to hear because of the wind and thunder itself. But John could make out his tone - he was happy.

"...worked! Blocking...and...just need to get rid of the water. Tell the Colonel…."

"Alright, lad, we'll be making our way back to the Gateroom now. You should expect us in about ten minutes."

Zelenka said something else that John couldn't make out.

"How do you feel?" Carson asked.

John realized his forehead was still resting on the control panel. He debated trying to look at Carson, but thought that much movement might make him vomit. He groaned - that was about all he could manage. At least Carson would know he was alive.

Carson seemed to realize he wasn't planning on moving, because a few minutes later there was a touch at his back. Carson spent a moment silently rubbing his back, which gave John something else to focus on besides the pain and nausea. Finally, he felt ready to sit up.

"I did do it, huh Doc," he said, pushing himself off the control panel. "Zelenka said no more rain?"

"I believe a small amount of water is still entering the Gateroom, but nothing like before."

John nodded - that was good enough for him.

It occurred to John at that point that he had no idea how they were supposed to get back into the Gateroom. Were they somehow walking back to the Jumper bay? Busting a hole in the bottom of the Jumper? He hadn't even thought to think about it, he'd sort of just assumed that once he'd landed the Jumper, everything else would work itself out.

Carson was looking at John expectantly, and John realized he was probably missing something.

"How are we-?"

"There's a hatch in the roof," Carson said patiently. "You'll need to open the Jumper."

"Oh," John said lamely. He definitely knew about the hatch in the roof, but he had forgotten. Thinking was getting awfully hard.

"It's alright," Carson told him, in the gentle tone John knew well from many infirmary stays. "Just open the Jumper, lad. I'll get us down."

John nodded and pressed the button to lower the Jumper's hatch. As soon as the door began to open, the sound of the wind and the rain rose until it was almost deafening. John winced, and shivered again. He still hadn't warmed up from his near-drowning in the Gateroom.

"It's a short walk, son," Carson told him. "And then we'll be inside, and it's likely already warming up in the Gateroom."

John didn't think this could possibly be true, not with a huge pool of water still sitting inside it, but he also knew that he couldn't sit inside the Jumper forever. With the last of his strength, he pushed himself upright, and Carson caught him as he wobbled. Together, they entered the storm.

As soon as they were outside the Jumper, the first gust of wind took what little breath John had. The next one threatened to take him off his feet, and for all John knew, the next one actually would.

"Get...down," John gasped, pulling on Carson's jacket and falling to his knees.

"Colonel, are you alright?" Carson was shouting to be heard through the freezing wind, and even so, John could barely hear him.

"Stay...low," John screamed, as loudly as his damaged lungs could bear. "Wind's...too strong."

Thankfully, Carson nodded, and stayed crouched down. John squinted his eyes against the stinging rain and, agonizingly slowly, they began the crawl to the access panel that would lead them back inside the city.

It had been far longer than fifteen minutes, and every passing second was making Ronon far more agitated. Finally, just as Ronon was considering kicking out a window and climbing up after them, there was a loud clattering from a catwalk near the high Gateroom ceiling. An access panel that Ronon hadn't known existed fell from the roof and into the water with a splash, and Carson's disheveled head poked its way through.

"I could use a hand," he shouted. Before he had finished speaking, Ronon was already climbing towards him.

"Where's Sheppard?" Ronon yelled, and he thought he heard a very weak voice answer.

"He's here," Carson replied. "He says he's fine, but we could both use a little help getting off this bloody roof."

Ronon was a fast climber, and Carson was a slow one, so by the time Carson had made it down from the ladder that connected the access panel to the catwalk itself, Ronon was basically at his side.

"Where's Sheppard?" Ronon asked again.

Carson was trembling with cold and exertion, leaning heavily against the wall. "Might...might need to go up there. I c-can't take his weight on the ladder."

Ronon started up the ladder without hesitating, and a second later, was glad that he did. Sheppard's legs and back poked through the access panel, but he was shaking so badly he looked ready to fly apart, and he couldn't seem to make his boots connect with the rungs.

"Shep, stop moving!" Ronon said. "I'm coming to you."

Ronon wasn't sure if Sheppard didn't want to stop moving, if he couldn't hear, or if he didn't understand. Whatever, the reason, he did not stop moving.

Almost immediately, he missed a step. He didn't seem to be holding on at all, and would have fallen off the ladder if Ronon hadn't lurched upwards and caught him with a hand on his back. John seemed to realize one of his feet wasn't in the right place, and tried a few times to find the right rung, but couldn't. After a moment, Ronon physically moved John's leg back into place, then helped him down another few steps, until his shoulders and head came into view.

"Let me help," Ronon said, loudly to be heard over the wind. "Stop moving!"

John obediently stopped moving, but he was still shaking hard. Ronon was relieved the access panel was only about ten feet off the catwalk - it would be a miracle if John made it down the ladder without falling, even with Ronon's help.

Sure enough, when Ronon was standing and holding John's shoulders, and John was still a few feet from the ground, he missed another rung. This time, he seemed too weak to even attempt to keep his balance, and he skittered down the last few feet of the ladder to land in a heap on the ground.

Ronon was by his side in an instant. John was making no move to get up, just lying there, and when Ronon turned him over, his eyes were glassy and vacant.

"Sheppard? Sheppard?" Ronon asked.

Sheppard made a small groaning sound in response. "'M okay," he murmured, almost too quietly to be heard. He clearly was not.

"What did you do to him?" Ronon said angrily, turning to Carson.

Carson looked alarmed. "I did not do anything!" he said. "The Jumper...everything's taken a toll on him. We need to get him somewhere safe, so I can take a look at him and make sure there's no other problems."

"There better not be," Ronon muttered darkly, and he heaved John off the ground. John didn't seem to notice this, and fell heavily against him as soon as Ronon let him go. Ronon sighed and wrapped an arm around him, all too familiar with the drill at this point.

"Let's get you down," Ronon told him, and John nodded softly.

"Down," he mumbled, although Ronon wasn't entirely sure that he understood the words he was saying.

Unsurprisingly, getting John down was quite a process. It mostly involved Ronon and Carson practically carrying him, while Zelenka stood below them and shouted worried and unhelpful advice. Eventually, however, Ronon managed to coax John down a ladder and he slumped safely into a heap at the bottom, coughing softly and beginning to shiver once more.

"Can we get him somewhere warmer?" Carson asked angrily, beginning to fuss around Sheppard.

"Unfortunately, until we drain the water from the Gateroom, we really cannot move him anywhere," Zelenka said, sounding sheepish. "We are mostly cut off from any easily accessible points, unless we wished to walk for over a mile."

"Nope," John whispered softly, apparently having caught that. "Don' wanna do that. 'M fine, anyway."

"I'll be the judge of that," Carson announced, fixing John with a stern glare and beginning to check him over.

After about fifteen minutes, Carson sat back with a mixture of relief and annoyance. "Well, I wouldn't say fine, but miraculously, you seem to be no worse off after the Jumper trip."

John smiled a little weakly - the look of a man who had been proven right, but still didn't feel "fine."

"Well, that is wonderful news," Zelenka said briskly. "Now, we really need to focus on getting the water out of the Gateroom."

"I must agree with you there." Carson was still looking at John, with the expression Ronon thought of as his 'doctor face.' "I still want to bring him to the infirmary and do a full scan of his lungs, just to make doubly sure everything is alright."

John scowled, but didn't say anything. Ronon figured that he knew that in this instance, Carson was probably right.

Zelenka began pacing the Control Room, rubbing frantically at his already-wild hair. "Perhaps some sort of pump could extract the water. Or...a heat ray? No, no, that has the capacity to do more harm than good…."

Ronon shifted uncomfortably. It seemed to him as though there was one very obvious solution being overlooked, which probably meant that he'd thought of the dumbest idea of the century and hadn't realized it.

"Maybe th' pigeons can drink it," John suggested wryly from his corner. This, more than anything, inspired Ronon to speak up. Maybe, if he sounded really stupid, he could pretend he'd been telling a joke like Sheppard's.

"Why don't we just...open the Gate?"

Everyone turned around to stare at him. Ronon was still unsure whether or not he'd said something stupid.

"That...that seems like it would work," Carson said hesitantly, turning to Zelenka. Ronon realized abruptly that Carson in particular didn't know all that much more about how the Gate worked than Ronon himself did. Maybe even less - he'd certainly been through it less times.

Zelenka was eyeing the water, silently sizing up the Gate, looking back at the control panel. Finally, he shrugged.

"Yes, yes," he said. "I do believe that would work."

"Really?" Ronon asked. The whole past week had felt a touch surreal, and the idea of clearing the water from the Gateroom through the Gate, at Ronon's suggestion, felt like the final straw. He thought it distinctly possible that this was a dream.

"Good job, buddy," John murmured quietly from the corner. He sounded like he was getting weaker, somehow, between each breath and the next, so Ronon was desperately glad they had a plan in mind that would probably work. Ronon was generally no advocate for medical care, but in this case, it was clearly truly necessary.

Ronon heard the familiar sound of Zelenka dialing out, and the gate powering up. Almost as soon as the empty ring was replaced with glowing blue, the water started to drain away. Slowly, for sure, but...it was going.

"Where are you sending the water?" Carson asked.

"It is an ocean planet called P3X-782," Zelenka said. "It was one of the planets we considered for Atlantis, before settling on this one. They will not mind the extra water."

"Can't believe the Jumper saved the day again," John said sleepily. "Love Jumpers. Look at that."

He gestured vaguely at the ceiling, where the Jumper was in fact blocking the hole. It wasn't perfectly straight, and a tiny bit of water was still trickling in around the sides, but it was way better than before.

"It did work," Carson said. "Although I did not enjoy being part of that plan."

"Love Jumpers," John murmured.

It took about twenty minutes for the water to mostly drain from the Gateroom, at which point Zelenka shut off the Gate. There were still quite a few wet patches, and a couple of deep puddles, but the difference between what it had been like even just an hour ago...it hardly felt like the same room.

Zelenka pushed his glasses higher up his face, blinking owlishly at the Gateroom as though he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"It's gone," he whispered softly. "It's finally, finally gone."

"Hey, I think the rain actually helped some with the scorch marks," Ronon pointed out brightly. He was already feeling better - the water was gone, the Jumper was neatly sealing the roof hole, and the pigeons had been frightened away from the flood. Basically, all of their problems had been solved.

Zelenka gasped, sounding slightly unhinged. "Yes, yes, I told you that would work!"

"Did we do it?" Ronon asked. "We...we saved the city?"

"Yeah!" John said softly from the corner, sounding half excited and half asleep.

"We saved Atlantis," Zelenka shouted, and even Carson looked a degree less panicked. "Despite all odds!"

Carried away by the moment, Ronon punched Zelenka happily on the arm. The scientist almost fell over, but he smiled, so he must have understood that it was meant to be celebratory rather than hostile.

Zelenka took a deep breath, rubbing his arm. "Well, congratulations, everyone. My thanks to Colonel Sheppard and Ronon for their insane but effective ideas. Somehow, Atlantis is still intact. We did it!"