Chapter Twelve
Unbalanced
"How long are we going to wait?" McKay snapped. He was reclining in his chair, his feet up on the table, and arms folded across his chest, with waves of irritability cascading off his body.
John was sitting beside McKay, his legs also up, arms in matching position, and his attitude wasn't a pebbles throw from Rodney's. "Until the old guy comes back," he drawled. "The locked door kind of saw to that."
"Please, when has that ever stopped us?"
Ford had moved from his chair at the table, and relocated to one of the lounge type chairs. He was the only one in the group who had not slept since they had set out earlier yesterday. John noticed the heavy lidded looks he was giving everyone. The Lieutenant was half-asleep, and fighting it all the way. Sheppard stood, unfolding his lanky body from the chair. "We should probably get some rest while we can."
McKay pulled his feet off the table abruptly. "What? We aren't going to just give up?"
Sheppard tried to incline his head in Ford's direction with enough subtlety that the Lieutenant wouldn't catch on. "We aren't giving up, we're taking advantage of the situation."
Rodney was about to ask Sheppard if something was wrong with his head, when his eyes traveled the path of the motion, and fell on Ford. He made the connection. "Right, right," he said. "Good idea. I'll just, just lay down." He stifled a painful cough, and headed for a nearby couch.
The idea of taking a quick nap wasn't such a bad one, after all, they'd been up for hours, little sleep, and this cold was moving into his chest. Rodney's mother had always warned him to stay in bed when he got a cold. Of course, she'd been a little psychotic about illness and germs, so once he was old enough, he'd learned to take her opinion with a grain of salt. He had enough neuroses from his childhood, and his parent's maladaptive attempts at raising a child hadn't stopped with the bizarre medical advice. McKay supposed he'd just lay for a while, he wouldn't sleep long. He lowered his aching body, and allowed his eyes to close.
John pulled the tattered tissue out of his pocket, and gave a disparaging look at the pitiful remnants. He should've insisted they bring their gear. He swiped his sore nose, for all the good it did, and stuffed it back in his pants. He found his own lounge chair, and stretched out, when he realized that Beckett was still sitting at the table with Teyla. "Rest goes for everyone, Teyla, Beckett," he remonstrated. Despite his ill condition, he was still in charge.
Teyla murmured something else to Beckett and stood. "Major, one of us should stand watch. We don't know enough about this place, or this Gigno."
She wasn't telling him anything he didn't know. He'd planned on covering for a while, and then waking someone else. "I'll do it."
"No, Major, you won't," Beckett said. The doctor stood, and walked to Rodney's side, kneeling beside him. Everyone noticed that despite McKay's bluster, he had fallen asleep quickly. Beckett listened to Rodney's harsh breathing, and frowned. He put a hand on McKay's forehead. "You two need more rest than anyone right now."
"I'll take watch," Teyla said before John could disagree with Beckett.
Sheppard thought about arguing, but Beckett was looking at him like he'd be a fool to protest. He hated this feeling of being an invalid. He hated being a burden on his team. But, they were right. He would be a fool to try and take watch. He could barely keep the room in focus. He nodded wearily, not bothering to voice acceptance of the situation. He'd let Teyla take watch, and he'd sleep like a good little Major, and try to gather his strength, but he didn't have to like it.
Teyla watched Sheppard's eyelids close, and the soft movement of his chest slowly even out into a regular rhythm. She smiled at Beckett, glad they'd won the battle relatively easily. It bothered her when Beckett didn't return her smile. He was still kneeling by McKay, and seemed to be listening to McKay's chest. "What is it?"
Carson didn't move his head, but brought his eyes to meet Teyla's. "I think he's developed a chest infection."
"Is it serious?" She was still trying to learn the medical terms that were common to them, but foreign to her, and her people.
"Yes," Carson said, his voice sober. "Very. He needs antibiotics now, as much as Major Sheppard."
"But you have them, you gave the Major some earlier," Teyla said, puzzled by the serious tone that Beckett was using. He'd given Sheppard some when they'd made camp.
"Aye, I did, but they are back with our gear."
Teyla suddenly felt as if the walls were closing in around her. In the span of a second, a benign, if annoying, situation had changed into the kind that kept you on edge and wrung out. Now, every minute that this Gigno took, put two men she was beginning to care about a great deal, in jeopardy. How could she have been so stupid to leave things behind, for that matter, how could any of them have done so without a second thought? It had a disturbing implication, because the answer was, they wouldn't have. Which led her to believe that perhaps their actions were being influenced. John and McKay had said the building was alive. Maybe it had the ability to influence and react. Maybe it was the old man. She sighed with the frustration of it all. So many questions, and so few answers, as before.
"Get some rest, Doctor," Teyla finally said. "You need to sleep, as much as the others."
Beckett acknowledged Teyla, and crept quietly, stooping for a moment beside Sheppard, and laying a quick hand against his face, peeked at his bandages, before shuffling to a nearby cot. He dropped his body down with a heaviness that came more from their situation, than his fatigue.
John was walking in a world of white. It was as if he'd been transported into a cloud, all around was white mist, flowing in and out his hands, arms, body. Everywhere he looked, he saw white, and it seemed to go on forever. He couldn't see an end, or a beginning. It was unsettling. "Hello?" he called, uncertain.
He didn't know how he came to be here. The last thing he could recall was falling asleep on that chair, in the room. Was this a dream? Had something happened while he'd been unaware, and now he was separated from the others? He had no recollection of how, or when, he'd become awake, or aware of his surroundings.
A body appeared out of the mists. It coalesced, and formed, and became a beautiful white angel, startling John. "Where am I?" he asked it.
The white head tilted. "You are with me."
Sheppard groaned, what was it with this galaxy anyway? "And that would be?"
The white angel walked around him. "There is no location to give you. We are here." Dragging tendrils of fog wrapped around his body, like rope.
"Here, as in, not really here, or here, as in my physical body is here?" he tried again.
The white mist seemed to smile, as if that were even possible. "You've been here before."
Now John knew he was in trouble. He was delusional. "Really?" he drawled. "That's funny, I don't really recall." He looked around at the foggy world again. "You could use a new decorator."
The misty angel laughed. "You said that last time."
"The place could use a little something," John whispered. He didn't know where that had come from, another time, a memory that was, but wasn't. "What's going on?" he said, getting angry.
"You are in grave danger, Major Sheppard. You and your friends have stumbled upon one of our kind. He was banned from us. Here, he's lived out his days, harming none. Your arrival has changed that." The angel had ceased circling Sheppard, and now stopped, facing him. The invisible misty bonds fell away from his body when the being's motion ended.
John looked into the white solidified mist, searching for some landmark of a feature, something to cleave to in this world of nothingness, but found there wasn't anything. "Why? What is he, what is that place?"
"The building is part of us. It was never meant to be found by anyone other than our own kind, but you, Doctor McKay, and Doctor Beckett, have that ability, you most of all. You found our essence, just as you've found this place where we talk now."
Sheppard grasped at the concepts, at what this being was telling him. "Are you telling me that I've accessed some," he struggled to put thought into words, "other plane?"
"Yes," the being answered. "You've done it before, and it saved your life."
John knew what she was referring to. He'd disappeared from the ruins on the ice planet, and no one had any explanation for what had happened to him, least of all, himself. "I did that?"
"Yes, John. Again, you've unconsciously come to us here."
Think, John, think, he thought to himself. "Then my body, it's gone, back in that room?"
The mist angel shook her ethereal head. "No, not this time."
"I don't understand," he said, frustrated.
"You don't need to understand. Not now. What you do need to know is that you are in danger, and you must get out of there immediately. Gigno, he is," it paused, flustered. "Unstable. He's spent thousands of years alone, wandering amongst the exemplum. He believes he is a God, that he created these animals, and this world. He is dangerous, one moment a kind, benevolent being, and the next, angry, and altogether evil." The mist solidified to another level with the angel's emphasis on her warning.
"You are an Ancient, aren't you?" Sheppard crowed. "That's what this is about, isn't it? This guy is some psychotic Ancient that you all banished to this world." Sheppard twirled in an arc, elated at his discovery. "What, there isn't any mental ward on the higher plane?"
If ever there was an expression on this being's face, now there was a frown. "You don't understand."
Sheppard took a step towards the being, his elation rapidly changing to anger. "You're damn right I don't understand. You people are supposed to be so evolved; yet every time we turn around, we run into another of your screw-ups! My team is being held by one of your nutty buddies, and you are warning me that we need to leave?"
"Major, you do not know all that you think you do," it reproached.
"I know enough!" he spat. "How are we supposed to get out of here? We're locked in."
"You have the answer within, as you always have. You only need to realize it." The being began to float away, becoming thinner, the outlines blurring into the misty world, reconnecting with the vast cloud.
"Look, I'm sorry," he shouted, panicked that he'd pissed them off enough to leave. "We need your help! I need your help."
"We cannot interfere," the voice floated. He could no longer make out any definition on what had been the beautiful shape before him.
"You're interfering right now!" John cried, frustrated. "You brought me here!"
"We did not, you came of your own free will. We could no more stop you from arriving then we can help you escape. We must not interfere."
"Then you condemn us to death." Sheppard said flatly.
"You already know the answer, Major," the voice faded, growing softer. "The building is alive, remember."
He felt his limbs grow heavy, and he closed his eyes against the now painful whiteness of this place. He tried to figure out why she wanted him to remember the building was alive. He felt himself jolt, as if he jumped, and his eyes snapped open, surprised to find Beckett hovering over him, staring worriedly.
"Major?" Beckett asked. "What happened?"
"What?"
Carson frowned. "You were mumbling in your sleep, son. Something about the building being alive?"
John pushed himself up, using his good arm, and cradling his injured limb carefully. "Do you remember when I returned to Atlantis after that cave-in?"
"On the snow planet?" Beckett sat down on John's chair, beside him.
"Yes, I think I know what happened."
"Now?" Beckett looked at him with barely concealed worry.
"I know this is going to sound funny," John cautioned. "I sent myself into the ascended plane, where the Ancients are."
Beckett's hand flew to John's forehead, feeling the heat against his dry skin. It was hotter than before. "Major, you're feverish," he said gently, talking as if Sheppard was losing his grip with reality. "Hallucinations, dreams, it can seem real."
Sheppard pulled his head back from Beckett's hand, irritated, and stood up, putting his hands on his hips and glowering at the doctor. "This is real, it happened. They told me this guy is a psychotic Ancient, who was banished here."
"I think I prefer to believe you are delusional." Beckett swore. He continued to regard the Major with a slight amount of distrust in his statement, but Carson had been through enough to accept that what John was saying could be true.
"Wake the others, we're getting out of here." Sheppard strode to the door. Remember, the building is alive, he heard the words in his mind, and he knew it was important, but why? He placed his hands on the walls, and concentrated, letting everything fade to nothing.
He concentrated on the hum, the language of the complex. He focused on that like a laser beam. He felt it throb under his hands, and inside his arms, throbbing in tune to the injured arm, and finding a new beat, one that he didn't recognize.
McKay had approached Sheppard. Beckett had woken them, and rattled off some crazy explanation about John talking with the Ancients, and Gigno being crazy, and something about being doomed. He'd told Beckett the doom talk was his to give, and to shut up, and then headed over to where Sheppard was standing, arms taut, and looking like a stoned zombie leaning against the door.
Rodney was about to pull Sheppard off the wall, when the doors slid open, revealing some kind of transporter room. That made sense, something had brought them here, and the ride hadn't been pleasant. "Major?"
"Get in," John ordered. He pulled his hands off the wall, and his pupils returned to their normal state. "It's going to take us back."
Ford and Teyla, along with Beckett, joined McKay and John inside the cubicle. "Take us back where?" Ford asked. He wasn't questioning the story, not yet, that'd wait till they got out of here.
"To the bottom floor, where our stuff is at." Sheppard explained.
Once everyone was safely in, they felt that familiar yanking sensation, and the nausea returned with a vengeance. In the blink of an eye, they were back in the center of the room, surrounded by the cubicles filled with creatures. "I never thought I'd be so happy to see this creepy place again, " Ford said vehemently.
"Let's just get out of here, we've got a long ways to go, and that guy is around here somewhere." Sheppard pushed his way forward, out of the huddled group, leading them back towards their gear.
McKay jogged to pull abreast of John. "How did you do that?"
"You could've done it."
"How?"
John titled his head slightly towards Rodney, still walking at a fast pace towards their camp. He could make out the dark shapes of their sleeping bags, and the bulkier packs on the ground ahead. "The building's alive, remember, and we've got a little bit of Ancient in us."
"Huh, what do you know?" McKay snorted, and it turned into a cough. Rodney tried to catch his breath, but the cough propagated into another, and another, and soon he was bent over, struggling to get a breath into his starving lungs.
"McKay!" Sheppard waved at Beckett, trying to ease Rodney into an upright position, but McKay's desperate attempts to breathe kept him hunched over.
Beckett had little to offer McKay, but he and Sheppard supported their friend while he road out the wave of coughing. It eased its grip little by little, finally allowing McKay to straighten. Rodney's face was flushed, lips pale. He took another steadying breath, pulling his hands away from his face. "God that hurt."
Sheppard was staring at McKay's hands, transfixed by the stain of color. He swallowed, his own throat going strangely tight, as the evidence of how serious their situation had become. "We need to go," he said, finding the words.
"You won't be going anywhere, Major Sheppard," the voice came from behind them.
Sheppard swore, and turned on his heel, beyond angry. They weren't going to be toys for this madman's pleasure. "Let us go," he demanded roughly.
"You know that is not possible." Gigno was standing a few feet from Ford and Teyla. He was smiling pleasantly, but John could see the seeds of insanity in his eyes.
"Fine. We'll stay with you," John said, pacifying the man. He could see the surprised look on the others. He had an idea, and at least it would give them more time. "But we need our stuff. We're sick, and hurt, and we'll die if you don't let us have it. We won't be any good to you dead. You'll have no one to play with."
Gigno pursed his lips, the wrinkles and heavy jowls swaying from the movement. He went from calm to giddy in a nanosecond, rubbing his hands together gleefully. "Good, good. It will make you better, right?"
John nodded slowly. This guy was really unstable. As an Ancient, he could have healed them, and then they wouldn't need their gear, but he wasn't going to mention that little issue, because he wasn't getting their stuff only for the medical supplies.
"You can't go anywhere, you do realize that, so go, and do what you need to. I'll give you a few hours, Major," Gigno paused. "May I call you John?" Gigno had now walked up to Sheppard, and threw a hand around John's shoulders.
Sheppard fought to not pull back, or do anything that would set the guy off. "Sure," he said. "John's fine."
Gigno clapped the hand that was around Sheppard's shoulder hard against John's back, riding a manic high, "Wonderful! I'll see you soon!" And he disappeared in a glowy light bulb moment.
Everyone was silent, including McKay. Beckett was staring at the spot where Gigno had been. "I think we're in trouble," he said mournfully.
AN: Thank you for the reviews! This is my first fic to reach 100 so that was really cool. NebbyJ, it's always different when it's your own story LOL, it's all okay to leave y'all hanging when it's my story, but when you guys do it to me, well then, that's just not right! (smile) ErabuHikari, you know I love Gary Sinise, but I've never seen that movie! Okay, I could write paragraphs responding to all of you, and I really appreciate the reviews, it's great hearing what you guys think. Thanks a TON!
