Disclaimer: Stargate Atlantis is not mine; the following work of fanfiction is for fan enjoyment only. No profit is being made (sigh).

Epidemic

By Kerr Avon

5. It Hits The Fan

It was well after midnight as Beckett was examining blood samples of everyone affected in the viral analyzer the Ancients had left behind. He was certain that he had isolated the pathogen - a tiny, irregular virus which seemed most copious in Sheppard's blood samples, and least prevalent in Stackhouse's. Still, there didn't seem to be any antibodies developing in any of the samples. He suddenly noticed two of his fields of view overlap and at first worried that he had somehow damaged the machine. Then he realized with a snort that he was so tired his eyes had crossed. Pulling away from the viewfinder, he pinched the bridge of his nose to try to dislodge the headache beginning there. As he searched for another focal point, his eyes wandered over to Sheppard's bed. He stared for a moment before his mind registered the data displayed there. He was on his feet like a shot.

"Damn," he muttered, rushing to the Major's bedside. The arterial O2 saturation was dropping despite the non-rebreather and 100 O2, and he was becoming decidedly acidotic. Hitting the call button, he barked orders to the nurse who momentarily appeared. "Near as I can tell, he's going into ARDS from septic shock. We need to intubate him. Go grab the ET tubes and a ventilator." Galas ran to do as she was told. "Come on, John, hold on..." he ordered under his breath. "After everything you've been through, you can't let some virus get you."

A hectic half-hour ensued, during which time Sheppard was intubated, sedated, and begun on mechanical ventilation to support his oxygenation. The PEEP had to be aggressively dialed up to overcome the stiffness of his lungs, and Beckett began to consider the possibility of having a chest tube standing by in case one of them blew. Finally, though, he reached an acceptable homeostasis, and Beckett drew a deep breath himself. 'I'd better come up with something soon, or he's a goner.'

Ignoring his growing headache, he headed determinedly to the quarantine room. It was time to get samples from Teyla and McKay, both of whom seemed extraordinarily healthy despite presumably having been exposed to the same bug at the same time as the man he just tubed. Rapping perfunctorily on the door, he strode in before anyone could reply.

Teyla's eyes widened in alarm. "Something has happened."

Beckett nodded briefly, setting down his blood-draw tray. "Sheppard's much worse. We had to put him on a ventilator. The others seem to be holding their own, but they are all getting slowly, progressively, worse."

"I knew it; it's some sort of plague, isn't it? We're all going to die, smothered by our own secretions. I mean, I've always..." McKay was babbling in his panic.

Beckett closed his eyes. 'I don't have the time to deal with this right now.' He finally exploded, "Would you please just SHUT UP?!?" McKay's jaw closed with an audible snap. Beckett's eyes reopened. "That's much better. Now, to continue." He shot Rodney a look that would peel paint. "I've been analyzing samples from everyone who seems to have the disease, and none of them are developing any resistance. Since you both were exposed as well, yet aren't ill, I need some samples from you for comparison."

Teyla held her arm out from where she sat in the center of her bunk. "If it will help the others, you may take all I have." Beckett flashed her an exhausted smile, then sat down next to the bed. Rodney moved over and hovered.

"That's my lass. Now, this will only pinch a bit." Deftly the doctor encircled her arm with a constricting band just tight enough to inhibit venous return, the prepped her antecubital fossa with an alcohol swab. As he inserted the 18-guage, however, Rodney sneezed. Loudly.

Beckett remained steady, managing not to jerk at the unexpected noise. However, as he withdrew the needle and applied the Band-Aid, he glowered again at the physicist. McKay's eyes widened. "Oh, God, I've got it, haven't I? Is sneezing the first sign? Do I feel hot to you?"

"McKay..." Beckett tried reasonable, but the throbbing in his head was making it difficult.

"I think my muscles are aching now, too. I'm short of breath!"

"MCKAY!" Beckett didn't have any patience left. "Sit down and let me take a sample. And slow your breathing; you're hyperventilating!"

McKay plopped despondently into the other chair next to Teyla's cot and resignedly held out his arm. Teyla arched her eyebrow. "Thank you, Doctor Beckett. He has been having these attacks all night."

Carson looked at her as he repeated the blood-draw on the scientist. "Difficulty breathing?"

"No, panicking."

"Now see here..." Rodney began, then yelped as the needle drove home, perhaps a little firmly. "Ouch. That hurts!"

"It'll be over in a minute."

As soon as he had both tubes of blood, Beckett rose to return to his work. It was now between two and three in the morning, and he rubbed his eyes tiredly, ignoring Rodney's protestations that he was not panicking, merely 'realistic'. As he reentered the infirmary he noticed a new flurry of activity around a previously unoccupied bed. Carefully setting down his two samples, he headed over to see the new patient. "Let me through," he growled, and was rewarded by a parting of the medical personnel, to reveal a decidedly ill-appearing Dr. Kavanagh.

A quick but thorough examination confirmed that he was indeed suffering from the same illness, and was the first person outside SGA-1 to do so. Beckett's hopes it might require some stimulus from the planet Velanos to activate the virus - that this might remain endemic - were dashed now, as this scientist had never been off-world. It was official; they were dealing with an epidemic.

Kavanagh was already feverish and hypotensive. Beckett gently grasped his chin and forced him to look the physician in the eyes. "Dr. Kavanagh. Can you hear me?"

The lanky man's eyes were glazed. "Yeah, I hear ya..." he finally managed. "Whaja want?..." The eyes tried to slide shut of their own volition.

"Have you been near Sheppard, Ford, McKay, Stackhouse, Teyla or Markham in the last two weeks?" Beckett had to shake him slightly to get his eyes open. "Kavanagh! This is important."

The now less-arrogant man's eyes rolled. "Lemme think..." he slurred. "Yeah..."

After a moment of silence, Beckett shook him awake again. "Kavanagh!"

The patient creased his brow in concentration. "Yeah, McKay. Been spending almost every day of the last two weeks in that twit's lab; with him sneezing on me and everything."

Beckett's eyes widened. "None of the others? Bumping into Sheppard in the hall? Sitting next to Teyla at lunch?"

Kavanagh's eyes had slid shut again, but he shook his head. "Nah...stay away from 'em. Don' like military types..." he fell soundly asleep at that point.

Beckett blinked, then remembered himself. "OK, 2 liters LR here, too, then 150 cc/hr. Oh, and someone draw a tube of blood and bring it to me over at the viral analyzer." He turned on his heel and rushed back to the two test tubes from quarantine. Kavanagh was sick, the first person not potentially exposed to the virus at its primary source, and the only person that might have transmitted it would have been McKay. But Kavanagh had the same symptoms as the others, while Rodney seemed perfectly fine..." He failed to notice the slight tremor in his own hands as he began to examine his new samples.

TBC...

AN: All right, for those of you impatiently waiting (Kate K, Tjuk, ally, Murdocsangel, Merlin71, and SKRoberts, et al), did you notice the hints at the Beckett-whumping coming up? Don't forget, Rodney first found the new infirmary shortly after coming back from Velanos... (Oh, and Bastet, I modeled Nurse Galas on a Tennessee nurse you know - too bad she only has a small role!)