Chapter 4

He always thought eternity was just a historical reference time line; something to judge the distance between the beginning and the end. Never had it occurred to him that eternity could be counted in minutes or hours.

For it had been two hours since their discovery that they couldn't return to Atlantis. Two hours in which they'd set up a makeshift lab, delivered via a malp, from equipment that Atlantis couldn't spare, but did. Two hours that included blood tests and examinations. Two hours of staring into microscopes, searching for an answer to a question he still didn't understand. They were waiting for him to pull a rabbit from the hat and it had only been two hours.

"Carson?"

The Scot looked up to find Rodney staring at him from the other side of lab table. Dark circles were forming under the scientist's eyes and his usual quick step demeanor had slowed considerably as he journeyed back and forth from the gate to the labs, trying one idea after another that would allow them to go home. So far, his efforts were fruitless.

Making his way around the table, Carson was surprised when his friend did the same, keeping distance between the two. "Rodney? How are you feeling, lad?"

"I'm fine."

The Scot stopped moving, eyeing the scientist who warily stood on the other side, staring back at him. "Then why are you here? Do you need to lie down?"

"The major," he huffed, running his hands over his face.

"What about the major, Rodney?"

"He threatened to shoot me if I didn't come here for a check up. So," with arms spread out, he glared, "I'm here."

Carson turned his gaze to the floor and coughed, trying to disguise his brief smile, remembering Havis' confused expression when he'd come earlier with equipment of his own. He'd questioned the Atlantis physician as to why Major Sheppard and Doctor McKay were continually quarreling with one another. When Carson informed him that was normal for the pair, the man's appearance shifted to a pale yellow, fading even more as voices once again erupted from out in the hallway.

Looking back up, he caught McKay's cautious distrusting gaze and took another step around the table; only to have the scientist repeat his movement away. "Damnit, Rodney, stand still. I'm not in the mood to chase you; I've got too much bloody work to do to put up with your foolish games."

It was like watching the air deflate from a balloon. The scientist dropped to the stool Carson had vacated moments before and leaned forward to rest his head over his folded arms. It was easy now to see the visible shaking in his hunched shoulders and Carson could feel the heat of the fever once more as he pressed his hand to his friends back.

"Rodney," he encouraged gently, "the major's right. Let me examine you."

The bowed head rocked back and forth across the arms. "I can't be sick, there's too much work I need to do to get us back."

"I know, lad, but give me just a couple minutes to check you out. Once I'm done, I'll see about getting you out of my hair."

The head stopped rocking and lifted to meet the physician's concerned gaze. Rodney's features were pinched and haunting; his inquisitive burning blue gaze was now a hidden shadow behind pain filled, clenched eyelids. "Are any of the others sick?" he questioned, following Carson as the he was guided to a cot.

"No. I'm not certain why, but," Carson sighed, "let's hope maybe it was just you who came in contact with the source of the infection, and not the others. If I can get your system to stabilize, possibly stop the viral load from metastasizing in your cells, I may be able to find the key to reversing the effects."

Rodney paled visibly as he sank on the cot, clutching his arms about his middle and taking shaky deep breaths.

"Do you feel like you're about to be sick again, lad?"

"No, it's just…." He stopped, holding his breath as a wave of dizziness flooded over him.

Carson gripped the scientist's shoulders and pushed him carefully to lie down. "I can't help you, Rodney, if you don't tell me what's happening."

"Typhoid Mary," he mumbled, his heavy lids remained closed.

"Rodney, listen to me. You are not Typhoid Mary. She didn't even know she was sick when she was spreading the disease." Carson was angry at the situation: clenching his teeth, he set about examining his friend, searching for some sort of answer to ease the discomfort. "I know I've asked you several times earlier but you've yet to give me a straight answer, what did you eat today?"

"MRE for breakfast."

"Anything else?" When McKay slowly shook his head 'no', Carson swore silently. "Bloody hell, Rodney, you need to eat," he chastised under his breath as he grabbed a glucose monitor and test strip. At least this was one problem he could solve. With an IV attached and Rodney dropping off into an exhausted sleep, he went about a more thorough examination, drawing several vials of blood and tissue samples before returning to his lab table.

Placing a drop of blood on a slide, he slipped it under the microscope and peered through the eyepiece. "Bloody hell," he mumbled his favorite phrase once more, drawing back to stare at the ceiling.

"How is he, Doc?" The major's quiet question from the doorway broke the stillness of the room.

The physician's stare slipped from the ceiling to meet Sheppard's inquiring gaze. He opened his mouth to answer but caught himself and stopped, gesturing towards the equipment on the table in front of him. "I honestly don't know what to do, John. This is something I've never seen before."

Sheppard stepped over to the table and peered down into the microscope; his brows scrunched tightly together as he tried to understand what he was seeing. "Is that his blood?"

"Aye."

He looked up worriedly to meet the Scot's eyes, "That's not normal. Even I can tell that's not normal."

Carson shook his head and leaned back over to take another look. "I've never seen anything like that in my life."

"I don't understand. From everything we've heard and seen the Krahns didn't get sick. Yeah they're more colorful than a box of kids crayons, but they're not… they didn't…" he stopped to look over Rodney's still form and then back to Carson, searching the Scot's face for answers. Not finding any, he went and sat beside his friend, his hand straying over but not touching Rodney's.

"It's all right, Major. You can touch him. I don't believe he's contagious." When Sheppard didn't move, Carson walked over and placed his own hand over Rodney's heated brow and frowned. "I've been with him off and on since we found him in the suite and I haven't changed." He handed the major a towel and pointed to a small basin of water, "Keep the cloth damp and lay it over his forehead. It should make him feel a wee bit more comfortable."

The room returned to its quiet state with Carson once more leaning over the scope while Sheppard bathed McKay's sweaty forehead with cool water.

"Doctor Beckett," Havis called out as he hurried into the room, carrying Teyla in his arms. Connor was right behind them.

Carson jumped up, directing them to another empty cot. "What happened?"

"We were in the tunnels," Connor quickly answered. "She asked me to take her where I took Dr. McKay earlier. We had made as far as the lake when she asked to return, stating that she didn't feel well. We had almost reached the top of the stairs when she collapsed."

"Did she say what was wrong?"

"No, she just fell. Fortunately, I was able to find Havis nearby and we brought her here."

Carson leaned over the Athosian, checking her temperature, "Teyla, lass, can you tell me how you're feeling?"

She shivered slightly, her dark brown eyes squinting to meet the physician's gaze. "Headache," she whispered before her face paled and she leaned quickly over the side of the cot, gagging as her lunch made an impromptu return.

Holding her hair out of the way, Beckett nodded when Sheppard placed the bowl he'd had earlier with the cool water under her, catching most of the mess. "Get me a glass of water and another towel," he directed to the major while easing Teyla back onto the cot.

Handing Carson the supplies he'd requested, John the glanced over to McKay and then back to the Krahns. Tapping his radio, he paged Ford, his call instantly answered.

"Yes, Major."

"Contact Atlantis and have them send over a half dozen biohazard suits, a decontamination unit, and…" he glanced back to Carson.

"Dr. Kavanagh," the Scot replied, shaking his head.

"…and Kavanagh," Sheppard completed.

"Kavanagh, sir?"

"You heard me, Lieutenant."

"Yes, sir," Ford snapped before ending the connection.

Sheppard stared at McKay and Teyla's unconscious bodies before meeting Beckett's resigned face. "You better be right, Doc, cause being stuck here with him is the last thing any of us would ever want."

TBC

A/N Ugh! This is gonna be fun...