Chapter 11

Carson rubbed his stubbled face briskly, trying to increase the blood flow to his taxed brain, and get it functioning once more. Fatigue clung to him like a weighted lead blanket, pulling what little reserves of energy he had left out of him, leaving only a shell: a hollow, empty, pathetic, useless shell. For that's all he was, he thought, glancing wearily at the three beds occupied by his dying friends.

He leaned forward to cup his mouth with his hand, his elbow propped on the tabletop to give him some balance as he turned back to the laptop. The bright screen mocked him, blurring before his eyes, while exhaustion robbed him of the ability to study the latest data. He and Turner had gone over everything they could think of: plagues, poisons, bacteria, biological warfare, and still they came up empty. What was left? He glanced back over to the still figures, watching as they struggled for breath, for now it appeared that pneumonia desired to rear its ugly head, sapping the very breath from their lungs.

Of course, he had known it would only be a matter of time. The amount of vomiting combined with their limited supplies and inadequate medical help left them victims of aspirating the vile stomach contents back into their lungs. He and Turner were physically incapable of helping all three at once.

Havis and his team were trying to help, to somehow release themselves from the guilt of causing the sickness to their new friends. They patiently followed every direction, they cleaned up every mess, they changed soiled bedding, and they bathed the heated bodies that had grown silent.

Carson pulled up Rodney's latest white blood cell counts before sighing heavily. The scientist had somehow remained conscious after they'd left to retrieve the major and was waiting for them to return from the gateroom. He never said a word, following their every movement through haunted half-lidded eyes, seeing his friend gasp as waves of sickness crashed over him. He'd somehow found the strength to sit up, his blanket clutched tightly about his shoulders to ward of the chills that shook his body like a rag doll, before pushing the empty bowl from beneath his bed with his foot over to Sheppard. It was the only thing he could possibly do to help his friend, and when the major briefly glanced up to meet the Canadian's gaze, his miserable hazel eyes connected with the blue, and he gave a small nod of thanks.

It was not long after, that the persistent cough Rodney had tried to conceal from the others turned harsh, phlegm breaking free leaving him breathless and blue. They'd tried to make him more comfortable, adjusting the increase of oxygen to his starving body, and adding yet another antibiotic to the cocktail already being pumped into his system. But it appeared to no avail. He lost consciousness, finally succumbing to the unknown assailant ravaging his weary mind, body, and soul.

Then, to make matters worse, Teyla followed soon behind as she too began to lose the battle.

The major lay on his own bed, watching every movement in the room, his neutral expression never once showing any sign of blame. He knew it was only a matter of time before he would be next.

"Bloody hell," Carson whispered, scrubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands, returning to his work with a desperate desire to find the answer.

"Doctor Beckett," a male voice spoke softly from the doorway, careful not to wake the sleeping occupants.

He looked up to wave whomever was looking for him into the room, surprised to find Connor's assistant Marlton, and another figure encased in one of the biohazard suits.

"Yes, lad. Can I help you?"

Marlton nodded, gesturing to the suited individual, "Doctor, this is Master Linton. He is the science coordinator of our sister city." When Carson didn't move, Marlton continued hastily, "He has been researching the illness in his laboratory and may be able to assist you."

The Atlantis physician steepled his fingers, pressing them thoughtfully to his chin, as he studied the Krahn scientists. The uncanny feeling that the other shoe was about to drop engulfed him with a sense of dread mixed with anger. He heard Sheppard shift on the bed from behind him, actually making his way over to sit at Becket's side, his IV pole close to his side.

"You were outside," the major's gruff voice said accusingly.

"Yes, I was," Master Linton confirmed, shifting uncomfortably more so from his current predicament than from the confining suit. "If you could spare me a moment to explain…"

"Marlton?" Connor stepped into the room, Havis and Turner right behind her, looking between the assistant and the other figure. "Temple? Why are you here? Is something wrong in your city?"

"He was about to tell us why he was outside the city," Carson replied. He could feel the heat radiating off the major and turned to direct him back to bed, but the look of sheer determination on the American's face convinced him to remain quiet.

"Temple, what did you do?" Connor demanded, her color turning a livid deep red. Havis' hand dropped to her shoulder, preventing her from doing something she might regret later.

The new member to the group licked his lips as he studied the individuals before him. Stepping up to the table with Beckett and Sheppard, he nodded to the laptop screen before taking a seat on one of the empty stools. "I also have been studying the virus, for close to a year." The room remained silent as they waited for him to continue. "I was doing random routine testing throughout the facility, checking the air filtration systems, when I discovered a higher than normal degree of the plague in the upper level of the city. Upon further investigation, I found it to be emanating from the area of what should have been the sealed hatch."

"I began to run some tests, curious as to what I might find, having never been outside the city. I became ill but kept it to myself as I continued my investigation. Eventually, whatever I'd been exposed to passed and I discovered that I was able to withstand the higher degree so I broke the rest of the seal on the outer door."

Connor gasped, taking a step forward but stopped again by Havis. "What were you thinking?" she hissed. "You could have killed all of us!"

Master Linton shook his head 'no'. "I don't believe so. Over the past month, I've been adjusting the filtration system to allow more of the virus to spread through the city, gradually building up the occupant's immunity. I did it in such small increments that no one even noticed, and no one got sick."

Havis thumped his hand on the table, making the seated individuals jump. "Why would you do such a thing? Taking that risk is unacceptable."

"Haven't we lived this way long enough? Look at us," Temple insisted and then pointed to the guests. "Now look at them. We used to look like them. We used to live above ground instead of cowering in the mountains from a foe we haven't seen in over 10,000 years. How do we know the Wraith will even come back here?"

"Who were you to make that decision for the rest of us?" Connor demanded. "Look what the exposure has done to them! They are dying because of you. That could have been all of us."

"But it isn't." Temple shifted on the stool to stare at Beckett, "I'm sorry, Doctor, but I started this long before you ever arrived to our city and I wouldn't change anything I've done."

Carson sat still, forcing himself to take slow even breaths. If he dared to think about what the scientist had done, the risks he had taken, the Scot was sure he'd become sick. "You say you've been studying the virus for close to a year, did you find any way to combat it?"

The Krahn in question remained quiet, contemplating the strangers and the displayed screen on the laptop. "I can't tell you."

This time Havis wasn't fast enough to stop his wife as Connor leaped forward and decked her co-worker, knocking the Krahn clean off the stool, sending him crashing to the floor. Before she could finish her intentions, Havis caught her by the arm while Sheppard placed himself between her and her victim.

"No," Sheppard grunted before he gripped the table when the room did a serious dip and loop. He would have fallen if Carson didn't grab him from behind and lower him back to the cot. Gritting his teeth through the spasm ripping across his gut, he swallowed the harsh bile his stomach threatened to emit. "He knows the antidote," he wheezed clenching his eyes tight against the pain.

"I know, lad." Injecting a substance into the major's IV, Carson waited patiently, watching the man's short tense breaths slow, releasing him from pain into sleep. "I'll get it from him, John, I promise," he said softly. "I will not let you, or the other's die. I give you my word."

TBC

A/N: Thanks again, Talbert, for the beta. It's winding down folks… just a couple more. Thanks again for the awesome notes and encouragement.