TITLE: I'VE GOT YOU UNDER MY SKIN
AUTHOR: Wraithfodder
WARNINGS: Violence, language, icky gross critters and some swearing.
See DAY ONE for disclaimers, copyright and other notes.
DAY THREE

PART 19

Zelenka woke up abruptly, his whiskered cheek sliding off his hand. He'd dozed off for a moment, something he could not afford to do. He slid his hand against his cheek, noticing that he was definitely past the time to shave. His head ached, though he knew it was not from the parasite, but from intense stress, lack of sleep and bad food. He'd only eaten one or two PowerBars since coming to the planet. On the last communiqué from Atlantis, they'd promised to send provisions as well, although he'd noticed how carefully they'd omitted saying precisely how long those provisions would last. Atlantis could ill-afford to waste foodstuffs on people, even their own, whose remaining lifespan could probably be measured in hours.

He rubbed at his eyes. They felt dry and gritty. Although the eye drops weren't meant for that particular application, he didn't care. A couple drops in each eye and he actually felt halfway human again.

The computer screen was blinking. Zelenka blinked back at it, readjusting his crooked glasses. The algorithm had completed? That was not possible within such a short time. He felt a jolt of horror go through him as he stared at his watch. He had not just dozed off - he had fallen asleep! It was now sunrise! Yet even worse, he came to realize that no one had awoken him.

"Major?" he called out to an empty room. No response. He ran into the outer room, dismayed to find it devoid of any life. As he approached the door to the dome room, he spied a PowerBar wrapper on the floor right in front of the door. "Gone to gate. Stay put." He re-read the hastily scrawled note, just to make sure that his eyes had not deceived him. The major had left him? And why had he gone to the gate?

Zelenka froze in place. No, the major would not have done that. The recollection of how most of the Ancient expedition had chosen to end their miserable existence erupted unbidden into his mind. Zelenka shook his head adamantly. No, Sheppard had survived that awful Wraith bug. He would not so casually end his life. He was also a man who had risked his life time and again for others.

Secure in that knowledge, he tapped his earpiece and called Sheppard, but no one answered. Zelenka went back into the interior lab, then cursed under his breath as he spotted Sheppard's earpiece on the table, precisely where he had placed it the night before when Sheppard had tossed it away in a fit of anger.

This was not good. What if the major was in trouble and needed help?

There was no choice. He would have to go outside and find Sheppard, but first, he had to check on the computer. A file had been deciphered. A new one! But unfortunately, it was the last remaining file as well. He quickly skimmed the broken text, not thrilled at all by what he read, until he re-read some text. It took a moment to realize the implication but also that he would need Sheppard's assistance to pull the plan together.

Excited by this new find, he double-checked the computer, then quickly rummaged through the room until he found what he was seeking. He gave a small prayer of thanks, stashed the item near his computer, and then went to the outer room. He pulled his .9mm pistol from his holster and checked it. It was loaded and for the first time ever; the safety was off. Looking around one last time, he grabbed Sheppard's machete where it lay against the man's backpack. While the gun might prove more useful, for some reason, the big, lethal-looking machete seemed more comforting.

Within seconds, he had scoped out the dome room, as well as the outside area in front of the installation for any potential threats. The forest looked and even sounded more daunting than before, but he hefted the machete in hand. "Indiana Jones could do it," he murmured to himself and then he proceeded into the dense forest.

The last time Zelenka had been in a rainforest, it had been inside a building, at a man-made forest at a zoo. His glasses had fogged up from the humidity, so he hadn't seen much of it as he'd desired, but he'd thought then and there that he would leave real rainforests to the more exotic adventurers.

He whacked at some thick vines that draped across the path since his last journey through. The machete felt heavier than it looked, especially after having to strike the vines several times before their broken pieces finally fell to the ground. The major had made culling out the path look so simple. This was more difficult work than he had envisioned.

He paused momentarily, scratching savagely at one side. He pulled up his blue shirt, sickened at the sight of the huge red patch that was slowly creeping across his chest now. The scratching didn't help, even seemed to make it worse. Soon, he knew, he'd be drawing blood with his fingernails as the major had done.

The gate wasn't far away, that he knew, and within a minute he would come over a slight rise that would give him a view of at least half the gate. As he rose over that gentle slope, his heart raced in panic at the sight before them. The gate had been activated, its blue flux visible through the trees from where he stood.

No…

Zelenka dropped the machete, running as fast he could toward the gate.

PART 20

"What do you mean, you can't dial in?" McKay's harsh words echoed across the communications area. "You're misdialing."

Peter Grodin tensed his jaw, just a fraction, before replying evenly, "Rodney, I'm dialing PX8 3H6 and it's not locking in."

"Which means the gate isn't functioning, which makes no sense, or…" the scientist began pacing nervously behind Grodin, his cast making a clunky noise against the floor. "Or it's 'busy.'"

Elizabeth stared at the silent gate, then at Rodney, who was looking more agitated by the second. As her mind ran over the text left by the Ancient expedition team, she realized just what was driving Rodney into that tumultuous state.

"Rodney, they wouldn't do that," she said calmly.

McKay turned on his heel, nearly losing his balance on the cast. "How do we know that?" He lowered his voice. "This is the third day. That's when most of that Ancient expedition decided to bump themselves off.

Elizabeth moved silently from her habitual spot at the railing overlooking the gateroom, to stand next to McKay. "You know they wouldn't give up."

McKay's expression was dark and unreadable as he leaned against one of the consoles. "I know that but… you read the Ancient text. Those were all rational men of science who…"

"Rodney," she said softly. "John is—"

"What?" McKay turned, distress dimming his normally vibrant eyes. "He's trained for this? Prepared? How can anyone be prepared for this?"

Elizabeth didn't know how to respond.

"Is something wrong?" Beckett appeared behind them. He had two metallic cases in hand. "Why isn't the gate open?"

"We're trying," McKay replied sharply, looking away.

"It's not broken, is it?" Beckett looked worried, then a more shocked expression took hold. He was no doubt thinking precisely what everybody else who had read the Ancient report was thinking.

God knew, Elizabeth couldn't help but think of it as well, but she summoned up the strength to shove down the fear.

"Peter, keep trying."

PART 21

"Major!"

Zelenka's frantic cry echoed into the green canopy above. Just as he reached the clearing in front of the Stargate, his foot caught on an unseen root and he tripped, smashing into the ground. From that vantage point, he saw the tops of Sheppard's boots sticking out ominously from the tall grass several yards away. Zelenka swallowed nervously, ignoring his bruised elbows. He hoped that more of Sheppard remained than just his boots.

The scientist breathed a welcome sigh of relief seconds later when he found Sheppard lying unconscious on his back. "Major?" Zelenka tapped the prone man gently against one cheek. He was instantly rewarded with a sharp blow from the P-90 that sent him reeling backwards.

Zelenka barely caught sight of Sheppard as he sat up, P-90 in grip, until he toppled over to his side with an audible groan.

Sheppard had a hand to his head, his face masked with pain, as Zelenka knelt next to him, careful to stay away from the P-90 that had struck him high on one cheek.

"What the hell did you do that for?"

"Me?" Zelenka was definitely confused. "You hit me!"

"Should have said something." Sheppard managed to crack open his eyes. "Warn me."

"I did." Zelenka frowned at the bizarre conversation, until he studied the still-activated gate and in dawning realization, suddenly knew what had happened. "You walked into the force field? Intentionally?"

Sheppard sat up, resting his head wearily against upraised knees. "Yeah, seemed like a good idea at the time."

"And you did this because…?" Zelenka waved an arm at the gate as he was at a total loss of words for such an insane act.

"Kills the itch, for about an hour or so," replied Sheppard weakly. He rubbed both temples with his hands but Zelenka could tell it was doing nothing for what had to be a pounding headache.

Zelenka was angry, not only for being left behind at the compound, but for the major putting him through unnecessary worry, but mostly because Sheppard could have easily been killed. "You did not think to mention this fact earlier, or tell me of your demented plan?"

"Uh." Sheppard raised his head for a moment and regarded Zelenka with an odd look. "No. Figured you'd… object."

Zelenka snorted in derision. "Yes. You would make a terrible scientist. No sense of establishing proper parameters for experiments."

Sheppard squinted at the huge gate. "You should try it."

There was nothing that Zelenka would like more than to eradicate the horrid itch that was conspiring to take over his body, but he could also see the physical toll that Sheppard's perverse method of dealing with the itch was taking on the man. A fine sheen of perspiration bathed his too pale skin, and even Zelenka could not help but notice the faint tremors that coursed through the major's limbs.

"No, no, thank you," Zelenka declined politely and with a hint of sarcasm. "One of us needs to be thinking clearly."

Sheppard was silent for a moment before turning his head. "Oh, you're a laugh riot, you know that?"

Zelenka just arched his eyebrows in response, and then tapped his earpiece. "Atlantis. This is Dr. Zelenka. Please come in."

"Won't work."

Zelenka regarded the major, who had shut his eyes. "Not Atlantis. Athos," Sheppard explained.

Zelenka stared at the event horizon. "Why would you dial Athos?"

"Figured Atlantis wouldn't appreciate a prank call."

Zelenka frowned for a moment. No, they would not. Rodney and the rest knew that no one could come through from their end, and with no voice contact, they could easily assume the worst, just as he had for those few terrifying moments. Zelenka shook off the thought, then dug into his vest pocket, retrieved a small object and stuck it in the major's hand.

Sheppard stared at the tiny item. "Oh. Thanks." He positioned the earpiece in its proper place.

The gate shut down. Both men looked up as almost immediately, as someone else began to dial in.

"If it's Wraith, run," ordered Sheppard, aiming his weapon at the gate.

Zelenka knew that if that were the case, Sheppard would stay behind to provide covering fire. He'd made no attempt to move and Zelenka was positive the man hadn't sufficiently recovered from the force field's effects to run, let alone even get to his feet.

Instead, as the vortex flared out, the welcome voice of Dr. Weir filled their radios.

"Major Sheppard. Dr. Zelenka. This is Atlantis, please respond."

"We're both here," replied Sheppard immediately.

"Major. Good to hear your voice." Weir was unable to disguise her relief in his hearing his voice. "We couldn't reach you earlier. Is there a problem with the gate at your end?"

"Just running some tests," muttered Sheppard.

"And stupid ones at that," added Zelenka under his breath, but alas, his voice carried over the radio.

"What?" Both Weir's and McKay's voices collided.

"Nothing." Sheppard responded quickly. When Zelenka opened his mouth to refute it, the major glared murderously at him and shook his head.

"Major, Doctor." Beckett's Scottish brogue broke the tense silence. "How are the both of you feeling?"

"We've been better," replied Sheppard truthfully, although as Beckett continued his cross-galaxy diagnosis, Zelenka noticed that Sheppard left out the more graphic details of how he'd scraped apart his own skin in an attempt to assuage the ceaseless itching. He wasn't deluding himself, Zelenka knew, but sparing his friends the pain of knowing and not being able to help.

Zelenka heard a rumbling in the distance, and gazed upwards at the darkening sky through the treetops. The sun had been out only minutes ago! "Can we make this quick? Another storm approaches, and I would like to get back to the compound to test out the scanner."

"Yeah, just send the drugs through," remarked Sheppard dryly. He shook his head, then gawked at Zelenka in utter surprise. "What scanner?"

"Radek, you found something?" McKay sounded hopeful.

"The last file I was able to decode while the major--" Zelenka caught himself quickly. "The file spoke of a scanner that the Ancients used to track the progression of the parasite. I found it, but it requires the Ancient gene to activate."

"We're sending through the medication now, son," came Beckett's confident voice. Zelenka could pick up some other conversations in the background, then a stronger voice, one he didn't recognize, telling them to stand clear.

Stand clear of what?

Sheppard yanked Zelenka out of the path as a metallic case of some sort, followed quickly by another, came sailing through the flux. The cases came in low but fast, and tumbled to a halt just a few feet from where the two men were on the ground.

"Give a guy some warning!" Sheppard yelled into his radio.

"They had to clear the force field demarkation," came McKay's terse explanation. "They're okay, right?"

Zelenka brought both cases over to where Sheppard sat. Each man popped opened a case. Sheppard emitted a low whistle. "Gee, think I'll open up my own black market here," he joked of the selection of vials and syringes in the case. Zelenka found a laptop - one of the tougher military ones that could take just such a beating - as well as some other equipment - in the other specially padded case.

Sheppard snapped his case shut, eyeing the increasingly darkening sky above with a wary glance. Zelenka did likewise. The treetops above were blending in with the clouds at an alarming speed. "We will go now to the compound," said Zelenka. "Call us back in an hour…" He carefully studied Sheppard, who nodded silently in agreement. "We should be set up and can transmit the data back to you."

"We'll be waiting," said McKay.

"Godspeed," added Weir.

The gate winked out, followed a moment later by a heavy rumble of thunder. Zelenka automatically grabbed both cases, not commenting as Sheppard got to his feet and staggered unsteadily for a moment. He insisted he was fine, but it was terribly obvious that was a lie.

What worried Zelenka more was what he had seen in the one case. It was not an anti-parasite medicine, but something that he knew without a doubt could be terribly lethal.

PART 22

Zelenka was talking excitedly with McKay over the radio in the laboratory, although what the two men could be excited over, Sheppard couldn't fathom. The bulk of the database was toast; they were left with bits and pieces of encrypted files and they probably had less than a day until…

Sheppard turned the alien device over in his hands again. According to the file description, this was the scanner. Zelenka was positive it was ATA-activated. Sheppard was beginning to think the battery was dead, and he bet the warranty had expired, too. The thing was gray, triangular in shape but with blunted edges. There were some indentations on the top, but he'd poked and prodded it with no results. He let the item and his arm drop to the floor.

The trip back from the gate had been like running a marathon. If the monsoon rains hadn't caught them midway back, he knew he would have been soaked in sweat by the time he'd entered the compound. Every muscle ached, every joint felt horribly abused as though he'd been viciously twisted into a pretzel and then dropped onto concrete. It hadn't been this bad with his initial contact with the force field, but then repeated attempts could be damaging his body. Not to mention, the parasite population in his body had probably multiplied exponentially since his initial encounter with the force field. He wanted to believe that the force field had killed the damn things, but he could sense them reviving from their possibly stunned state – that weird pinching feeling, one that soon would escalate into the horrifying familiar itching.

Sheppard hadn't bothered changing into dry clothing when he'd come back. It didn't really matter. At least the rain had washed off all the blood from his back. He'd been worried about that, but not because of infection but that the scent of his injuries would attract that big cat. He'd noticed that the pawprints in the dome room indicated the cat was spending increasingly more time there at night, just biding its time until its prey made a mistake.

And he'd made a mistake. A big one. He'd caved in to the desire to end the itching and had left Zelenka alone. The one thing he'd sworn never to do - to not repeat the disaster on that desert world where Gall and Abrams had met horrible ends because of an error in judgment. Zelenka wasn't dead yet, but he would be. And in the end, Sheppard would leave the man alone, as he knew he would be the first to die. The scientist had to have been infected after Sheppard, which would explain the difference in the onset of symptoms. Or maybe the Ancient gene just made him a tastier morsel. He'd posed that question to Beckett and his team but Beckett felt the gene had nothing to do with it.

The second case had held a laptop with specialized medical equipment for taking blood samples, then transferring the image to the laptop. They'd sent that data via a wireless burst back to Atlantis. Beckett wanted to make sure they were dealing with the same parasite before starting any medication. Sheppard didn't know if that made any sense. The hours were ticking by, their time was dwindling and if by any chance they had to go back to the gate to get more medicines, Sheppard was certain that Zelenka would have to make that trip alone.

Sheppard eyed the scanner device again. He grabbed it off the floor, mentally cursing their constant hunt for alien technology so they could stay alive, but in the end, that search always seemed to take lives and give nothing back in return. The device's dormancy taunted him with its silence and, in frustration and anger, he threw the thing across the room, smiling darkly when it struck a wall.

PART 23

"Yes, yes, Rodney," Zelenka was already ahead of the anxious scientist. "There are no more files left to analyze or even find. I do believe that the last survivor must have tried to destroy his work. Probably not thinking too clearly at the time."

"That's the understatement of the century!" griped McKay. A sharp noise of something crumpling, like sheets of paper being mangled in angry hands, came over the radio – interference from the tremendous thunderstorm raging outside. "Radek," began McKay hesitantly. "I'm… I'm sorry. Dammit. If I were just there, maybe I could--."

"No, you don't want that," replied Zelenka quietly.

"You know what I mean," replied McKay. "I mean..."

"I know." Zelenka heard something smash in the other room, and so did McKay. "What was that?"

"I knocked a piece of debris off the counter." Zelenka cast a worried glance toward the dim entranceway to the other room. He knew that there was nothing truly breakable in the other room, except…

"Can I speak to Sheppard?"

"He is not in the most talkative of moods at the moment," Zelenka said with a heartfelt sigh. "He is not feeling too well after—" He caught himself quickly. "With the effects of the parasites. And, he is trying to get the scanner to work."

"Where the hell is Beckett with those results?" Zelenka envisioned that Rodney looked as annoyed as he sounded. He could imagine that deep scowl he'd been witnessed to far too many times just consuming the man's face. "Are you sure Sheppard knows what he's doing? He's not a scientist, you know. He wouldn't know an Ancient scanner from an Ancient pastry toaster. Maybe you two should just go ahead, start the medication. Time's getting—"

"—'m here." Beckett's voice cut in. The squeak of a chair being turned against floor, then McKay's abrupt, "About time!"

Zelenka listened as Beckett filled him on what little they were able to determine from the data they'd been sent. The parasite had mutated a tad from its initial image from the Ancients' records, and it looked just 'butt ugly' according to McKay's disgusted assessment. The drugs they sent might help, but Beckett wasn't sure as the parasite didn't match up to anything on Earth and without an actual creature to experiment upon… Zelenka found himself nodding at questions, then realizing he had to say "yes" or "no," and in the end, he asked them for a few minutes while they set up.

When Zelenka entered the outside room, Sheppard was still where he'd left him a while ago: seated but propped up in a corner, looking more miserable than before, if that was humanly possible. Surveying the room, Zelenka's bespectacled eyes settled on the scanner, which was hidden partially in the shadow of a counter on the other side of the room.

"Piece of junk." The major had been watching him.

Zelenka resisted the urge to berate the major for such an immature action. They couldn't afford not to try everything available, but then he scratched furiously at his own arm, and felt total sympathy at the major's frustrations. "It did not work?"

"Paperweight. Doorstop. Art deco crap." Sheppard leaned forward, placing his head on upraised knees, and then dug his hands forcibly into the back of his neck, no doubt tearing the skin once more. The itch was returning.

Zelenka picked up the scanner, relieved that it didn't fall into a million pieces when he did so. If nothing else, the Ancients made durable devices. He stared at it and held it up. He faced the rectangular bottom indentation at Sheppard. "What is this?"

Sheppard looked up, squinting. "What?"

Zelenka crossed the room quickly, knelt and held the scanner within inches of the major's face. "Did this light up before? With this image?"

Sheppard ripped the device out of the scientist's hands so fast that Zelenka was hard pressed not to count his fingers to make sure they all still remained. "Son of a bitch," Sheppard swore under his breath. "That knock against the wall must have done something."

"It is probably activated by your Ancient gene," mused Zelenka, wishing that the gene therapy had worked on him. There was so much he could have done - no, so much he could do. They were not dead. Not yet.

Sheppard held the device in both hands, just inches from his face. The excitement on his face reminded Zelenka of what he'd seen on teenagers back on Earth, the ones whose attention were raptly glued to those little handheld computer games.

Zelenka felt those memories wash away as a deep blackness encircled him. The shift in the major's eyes occurred in a matter of seconds and it was terrifying. Radek's life hadn't been all science; he'd seen the cruelty of communism and its remnants, seen those who had survived and the haunted looks that never left their faces no matter how much time and distance was put between what had occurred and the present. And now he watched as any remaining shreds of hope drained from the major's normally vibrant eyes until all that remained was utter desolation.

"Major?" Zelenka swallowed nervously.

Sheppard didn't look at him. He kept his bleak stare forced off to the side as he turned the device so Zelenka could see. Radek recognized the faint blue outline of the human body, what he had first seen lit up on the rectangular screen, but now… hundreds, if not thousands, of miniscule red dots filled much of that body. One arm, shoulder, chest and neck were nearly solid blocks of red. An almost total parasitical infestation.

Zelenka now recognized the true nature of that desolation: Sheppard was looking at his own death.

Sheppard thrust the device back into Zelenka's hand. The red dots vanished. Ancient gene required - it should be printed on the device, Zelenka thought dismally. Sheppard tapped at his ear, then drew his finger across the throat. Zelenka noticed Sheppard's earpiece was on the floor - again. He removed his own radio unit, realizing that Sheppard didn't want this conversation beamed to Atlantis, not that any of it had been anyway.

With a look of calmness that was a complete contrast to the horror of seconds ago, Sheppard grabbed his P-90 off the floor and held it up.

"Oh no," Zelenka murmured in a terrified hush.

PART 24

Elizabeth flinched very briefly when Rodney kicked at the chair in her office. He ignored Beckett's protest at that action, too busy suppressing the jolt of pain that went up his injured leg, but it couldn't stop him from worrying.

"We should send somebody to the planet," he insisted.

"You know we can't do that, Rodney." Elizabeth folded her hands together. McKay realized that was a habit of hers in times of great stress.

"Of course, it's a medical situation," he repeated sourly.

"We have no idea how they were infected with the parasite," Beckett pointed out again. "It's possible they accidentally came across it or unleashed something that is now rampant on the planet's surface so that if anybody goes through, the parasite will attach to any surface and that person can't return."

"But look at Ford and Teyla," argued McKay. "They're fine!"

"For the moment." Beckett leaned forward from where he sat opposite Weir's desk. "There's always the chance the parasite is lying dormant in them. We're running every conceivable test, but it takes time…"

"Which the major and Zelenka don't have!" Rodney snapped, turning on his heel, pacing over to a corner of Elizabeth's glass-encased office, ignoring the looks from the people in the communications area. "Everybody's over-reacting since that nanovirus incident." As if he hadn't… last will and testament time… saving kids…

"Even the major agrees we're to send no one, no matter what the outcome," said Elizabeth in a very even tone.

How could she be calm at a time like this? Sheppard and Zelenka were her friends too! "He's not a doctor," refuted McKay. "He's a soldier."

"Well, I am a doctor and I agree with him," snapped Beckett. He shook his head, sighing. "Rodney, d'ye think I want to leave them on that planet to die? We're doing everything we can."

"And they put us on hold!" That's what had brought it all to a head for Rodney – that Zelenka and Sheppard had done that to their friends on Atlantis – to him. Sheppard had hardly talked to anyone, letting Zelenka deal with virtually everything. Even when Sheppard had had that god-awful Wraith bug attached to his neck and was at death's door, he still was able to muster the energy to yell at McKay. Just what was going on at that planet?

Neither Elizabeth nor Beckett had a response to his question.

"What if the stuff doesn't work, Carson? Then what?" McKay pondered bleakly. "The nanovirus was humane compared to what the parasites are doing. Just a bunch of hallucinations, a headache, then bam, you pop a blood vessel and die. But the parasites…"

He'd read the 'hologram man's' account of the agony the scientists had endured before deciding to take their own lives. He'd read it, again and again, trying to find clues.

"If it comes to that, they won't die that way."

McKay locked eyes on the now very solemn physician. "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean they have an option," said Beckett.

"What? Fry themselves in the gate?" McKay shuddered. He couldn't help himself. Elizabeth bowed her head, a painful glint in her eyes. Who hadn't thought of that scenario since reading about it?

"Along with the anti-parasitical medications, I included morphine."

McKay was stunned. "You did what?"

"For the pain," Beckett replied, almost bitterly. "It will get intense, if the records are accurate."

"He won't do it, Rodney." Elizabeth looked up at him, sorrow in her eyes. "He won't leave Zelenka alone, no matter how bad it gets."

McKay was at a loss for words, because maybe for the first time in his life, he didn't know what to say.

PART 25

"Ever use one of these before?"

Zelenka stared at the massive black weapon. He'd never even really seen it used before, but knew the terrible damage it could inflict on a human body. He shook his head very gingerly.

"Dr. Zelenka?" Sheppard eyed him carefully. It was almost surreal how the desolation had vanished and the major looked almost… normal. He abruptly rolled his eyes in disdain. "I'm not going to shoot anyone," he remarked drolly, pausing to dig at the back of his neck.

"Of course not," agreed Zelenka but for a fraction of a second, he hadn't been so sure.

"See this?" Sheppard pointed at a small thing on the P-90. 'That's the safety. This way is off. This way is on. Trigger is easy enough. Just point and spray. Don't bother to try to aim."

"I don't understand," Zelenka said in worry. "Point at what? At whom?"

"At whomever or whatever you need to defend yourself from," replied Sheppard, placing the weapon back on the floor.

"Do you plan on leaving?"

"Not of my own volition." Sheppard gouged deeply at his back again, despite the pain the action obviously caused. He drew in a steadying breath before continuing. "Look, Dr. Zelenka, it's a foregone conclusion that if the medicine Beckett gave us doesn't work, we're toast, and we both know I'm going first."

Sheppard reached to one side and slid over a metallic case, the first one that had been lobbed through the gate. He popped the case open with an audible snap. Several folded pieces of paper were stuck haphazardly atop the vials. Sheppard merely plucked them out and tossed them aside.

"Major?" Zelenka opened the papers. They were the detailed pharmaceutical descriptions of the medication, in painfully small print with lengthy patches of words that he did not even understand. They all contained scribbled notes. Beckett's writing, his notes on what they should do in case communications were cut off. "Should we not wait for Beckett?" He grabbed his earpiece and reinserted it.

"Read 'em. Already took a gander at the warnings. It's an acceptable risk." Sheppard plucked one of the vials out of the foam cushioning.

"But there are precautions. What if--?"

"What? It's not like either of us are expecting." Sheppard grabbed a pen-like thing out of the case.

"Expecting what?"

Sheppard stared at him as though the answer was so obvious it flashing in bright neon letters on the wall. Aggravated, Zelenka quickly scanned some of the literature. Oh, that expecting… He looked up in dismay as Sheppard laughed.

"Such a Kodak moment," the major said with a smirk at Zelenka's discomfort.

"I… I…" Zelenka tossed aside the paper, feeling a flush creep across his cheeks. He felt like such a fool, but it was so… absurd. It was all so insane, stuck on an alien planet, dying of a parasitical infestation and he was worried about precautions… he laughed. More of a hysterical release, but one that didn't sound so bad when Sheppard's own laughter mingled with his, until abruptly, Sheppard's laugh turned to a sharp cry. He dropped the vial from his hands, his face contorting in pain, and clutched at the back of his neck. "Oh, Chr…" he hissed.

"The force field…" Zelenka offered hesitantly, upset that he could do nothing. "Its effects are diminishing?"

"Oh yeah." Sheppard had his eyes screwed shut. "Little bastards are all awake and they're pissed to the max." He squeezed at his shoulders so tight Zelenka was positive he'd soon see blood spurt out from self-inflicted injuries, but instead, a strange sense of relief just passed over the major's face.

He grabbed the vial and a syringe. "Um, 2700 milligrams, cut by two, three or four. Severe, makes it two, IM." He filled up the syringe.

"Do you know what you're doing?" Zelenka was still worried. Sheppard had earlier insisted that he be the guinea pig since he was more ill. And he wouldn't take no for an answer.

"Sure, I saw the first season of E.R.," Sheppard joked with a weak smile. He stabbed himself in the scratched arm and injected the drug. Dumping that syringe, he picked up the pen-like object from the case and handed it casually to Zelenka. "Epinephrine. One of the possible side effects is anaphylactic shock."

"Don't worry," Sheppard tried to reassure him. "If my tongue swells and my throat shuts, just stab me in the thigh with that. It's not like it's rocket science."

Zelenka stared at him in horror.

PART 26

Two minutes. No blue tongue, no ghastly wheezing like Billy Greene back in second grade. He'd had an asthma attack during third period English class and been carted off in an ambulance as every single kid in the class had plastered their face against the window, oohing and ahhing at the spectacular event and the fact that Billy had gotten out of the test. Hell, he could have one of those neuro or leuko penia things the microscopic-print literature warned about, but since he didn't know what the heck they were, he didn't care. He'd recognized the more mundane but nasty side effects and just crossed his fingers he'd avoid those, and that soon, the damned parasites would dropping dead like fleas in a Raid insecticide TV ad.

Zelenka was still staring at him as though he was some piece of abandoned luggage at an airport, and now the scientist was waiting to see if he'd blow up like bomb-laden suitcase, or just drop dead.

The scientist had reached to tap his radio earpiece to try to contact Atlantis, but Sheppard shook his head. With obvious reluctance, Zelenka acquiesced to his wish. A dying man's last request? God, he sure as hell hoped not. But if he reacted badly to the drug, there was nothing that anybody on Atlantis could do, and he didn't want that broadcast in surround sound over the gateroom. After he'd recovered from the Wraith bug bite incident, he'd found out that virtually the entire disaster had been played out in horrific decibels in both the gateroom and med labs. He didn't want Elizabeth or Rodney, or anybody else, to have to go through that again.

Four minutes. Beckett called Zelenka. Sheppard could tell from the grimace on Zelenka's face that he was getting a literal earful from Beckett when the physician had been told they'd started the medication already. What did Beckett plan on doing? Coming planet-side to smack him upside the head for being a bad patient?

Nope, he wouldn't make a good scientist – or a doctor either – no respect for proper procedure. That impertinent thought brought a twisted smile to his lips, earning him a worried look from Zelenka.

Five minutes. Damn. He could feel the sensation creeping in now, too fast for his liking. Past the shouldn't-have-eaten-all-the-Halloween-candy-in-one-sitting discomfort to the damn-bet-that-chicken-was-undercooked nausea. Why the hell was he thinking about crap like that from his childhood? What? He was going to see his life flash before his eyes now? If so, this might give him another day or so as he was still back in grade school.

Sheppard abruptly bent over, wrapping his arms around his midsection as a wave of cramps hit his stomach. Shit. He wasn't going to hurl right there, leave Zelenka with a mess, especially if this killed him.

He bolted from the corner of the room, through the dome room to collapse to his knees in the scrubby vegetation just outside the compound's entrance, and threw up as the heavy rain began to drench him. His mind oddly registered that oh yeah, he'd eaten a PowerBar not long ago. Should have spoken to McKay, Elizabeth, the others… told them not to give up, told them… another cramp hit him, and he gave into it.

PART 27

To Zelenka, there was definitely no doubt about it anymore: the planet was governed by Murphy's Law. Everything that could wrong, had gone wrong. First, the parasite, then no cure, and for such an advanced race putting up an outpost, they neglected to add living quarters of any kind! And of course, the gate shut down just as Zelenka desired contact with Atlantis.

Sheppard had practically knocked him to the floor in his quest to reach the outside, where he proceeded to throw up. Not a pleasant sight to witness, and even less pleasant for the major to experience. Zelenka hadn't seen anyone that sick since his university days, from roommates who had stayed out far too late and imbibed alcohol of dubious origin.

Zelenka had been able to do nothing more than just pace anxiously about with the P-90 in his hands. He'd run back and gotten it off the floor after he realized that the major wasn't going anywhere anytime soon, and they needed protection should any predator come along. He didn't like the P-90. It felt cold. A weapon of destruction, nothing more. He had to think a moment about whether the safety was on or off, but he was not going to test the trigger to make certain he was correct.

After a while, Sheppard had simply collapsed against the vine-covered side of the structure. The rain was pouring hard now, but he refused to come back inside. Instead, the major just leaned against the structure, arms wrapped around his middle as he rode out the last vestiges of the drug-induced nausea. He'd swatted away Zelenka's attempts at assistance so the scientist remained at guard, praying that the medication worked, despite its adverse effects.

In time, the sky began to darken and the storm's intensity increased, sending frightening multi-hued bolts of electricity across the sky above. Zelenka eventually helped drag Sheppard inside, where he just collapsed to the floor in the outside room, soaked and bedraggled, and he curled into a fetal position to alleviate the diminishing cramps.

Both men were soaked by the heavy rains, yet Sheppard refused a change of dry clothes. Zelenka managed to get him off the floor, to lie on top of one of the sleeping bags. He rolled up his jacket as a makeshift pillow for Sheppard. The waves of shuddering and panting were slowly abating, but what worried Zelenka was that he'd seen Sheppard vomit blood. That could not be good. Not at all.

Zelenka finally stopped his nervous pacing in the room when he realized his agitation was transferring to the major. Sheppard finally cracked open his bleary eyes, motioned with a hand, followed by a raspy request of "scanner." Zelenka quickly found the device and handed it to him.

And for the last half hour, Sheppard had laid there on his side, watching the scanner intently.

"I look like the United States," he finally said.

Zelenka sat down cross-legged in front of him, confused. "I do not understand."

Sheppard continued to stare darkly at the scanner. He sounded better, but not by much. "You know those satellite shots of the Earth. The ones where the U.S. looks like a lit-up Christmas tree, and Africa is almost pitch black?" Zelenka nodded. He'd seen many versions of them. "I'm like… the northeast U.S. All congested. Overpopulated." He held up the scanner for Zelenka to see. "I don't see any change." Zelenka stared at the screen, at the red that consumed far too much of the image. "I am sorry, major."

"Not your fault." Sheppard let his hand and the scanner drop to the softness of the sleeping bag. He shut his eyes.

Zelenka didn't know what to say. "I'll be in the other room for just a moment." He touched the major gently on the arm, which caused him to recoil slightly. "Sorry."

He went into the lab, stripping off his soaked clothing and putting on the other set that had finally dried out. It scared him to see that the red patch now encircled his waist and was working its way rapidly up his chest. He scratched furiously at it, but it did little good except to redden the skin even more. The itch was maddening, but he could maintain his thoughts, and thus far, the intense pain had not found him, but he did not believe that his luck would hold out for much longer.

A huge peal of thunder echoed overhead, and Zelenka could have sworn it shook the structure itself. A crackle of static erupted in his radio earpiece he'd just put back in. Interference from the storm?

"--in, repeat, if you can hear us, please respond."

"Peter?" Zelenka replied.

"Radek!" Grodin sounded incredibly relieved.

"I need to speak to Dr. Beckett, privately," Zelenka interjected rapidly, knowing that Weir and Rodney had to be nearby. He'd cut off Atlantis earlier. What good would it have done to relay a blow-by-blow account of Sheppard's misery? Within seconds, the familiar Scottish voice crackled over the radio. Zelenka did his best to explain what had happened, and relayed his concerns for Sheppard's well-being. Beckett couldn't offer any concrete advice on how long it would take for the medicine to take effect, or if it even would slow down the parasites. The physician wasn't overly concerned about the blood, believing that the prolonged vomiting might have torn small vessels in the throat or esophagus but Zelenka was sure that Beckett had held back some choice words after he explained the scanner and its depressing results.

"How much pain is he in?"

"It is difficult to tell," Zelenka replied softly. "The medication has weakened him. Of that, I am sure. And he does his best not to let all the pain show."

"If it gets too severe…" Beckett trailed off.

"I know." Zelenka had seen the morphine and there was more than enough to last them. "Is it possible the medication may take time to act?" he asked hopefully.

"We don't have anything that kills parasites in a one-two punch," admitted Beckett. "What you have right now has shown excellent results against acute toxoplasmosis as well as Plasmodium falciparum, both of which are earth-based parasites. If it can make a dent in this parasite's progress, there is a chance."

Zelenka sat down on the stool in front of his laptop, which was still hooked up to the Ancient database. There had to be something he could do. The third vault had never shown up, so both he and Sheppard surmised that the broken vial had been their last hope from the dead Ancients.

"Radek?" Beckett's voice intruded on his thoughts. "Rodney would like to speak to Sheppard."

Zelenka sighed, and then scrubbed his hands against his face. The itch was beginning to make itself known on his neck now. "I will get him."

PART 28

For the briefest second, he'd stood in front of the gate, waiting for the event horizon to arrive and stabilize. Would he feel it - if he stepped into that flux as it emerged violently from the core? But he'd shaken off the thought, then stepped face first into the force field instead.

Maybe that had been a mistake. Sheppard rolled over on to his back. The nauseous feeling had finally subsided, but in its wake, his throat felt as scorched as the Sahara desert in a firestorm. There'd been no contents in his stomach to toss up, save one measly PowerBar, but his body hadn't taken that fact into consideration, and he'd coughed up bile and eventually, the coppery taste of blood had assailed his mouth. God knows what damage he'd done to his insides but it probably didn't matter. He'd managed to catch some of the rainwater that had plummeted from the sky, at least enough to spit out the bitter taste from his mouth, but he didn't think he could put another drop in his stomach without going through the cramps again.

He felt like shit. Oddly enough, for the brief time he'd spent barfing up his guts, the itch and the accompanying pain had stepped aside for a while to give center stage to the intense cramps. The Ancient scientists had dealt with the overwhelming itch and the bizarre pain that accompanied it, but not the all consuming flu-like feeling he was now experiencing. Hadn't he read somewhere that more people died of medication errors than were shot to death? The cure was rapidly becoming worse than the affliction: the force field was like a fix, a momentary reprieve, but then back to hell. The anti-parasitical whatever had just torn a hole through his middle. He wasn't sure how much more he could take. Maybe just one tiny shot of the morphine, but…

"Should I get it?"

Zelenka's voice sounded close by. Sheppard opened his eyes to discover the scientist kneeling next to him, looking sorrowful, like a pet had just died.

"Get what?"

"The morphine."

"No. No," Sheppard repeated. His entire body hurt like hell, but if he went down that path... "Makes me loopy. I'll pass."

"You were speaking of it," Zelenka said, no doubt in response to his confused look. Had he been talking out loud and not merely thinking?

"Had it once before," Sheppard said, wondering if the scorched feeling in his throat would ever go away. "Next thing you know, I'll be telling you how Jane Tenney's father caught Jane and me… no, wait. Forget I said that."

Zelenka looked disappointed. Instead, he held out the radio earpiece, the one Sheppard kept shucking like a bad penny. "Rodney needs to talk to you."

Hadn't they already talked? After the nanovirus incident, Sheppard had found both Zelenka and McKay in the lab getting royally snookered on some Athosian-blended variety of hooch. Rotgut was more like it. Sheppard had tried a shot glass of the purplish liquid, and that had bumped off a few million brain cells right then and there. Zelenka seemed oddly accustomed to the brew, and Sheppard had always meant to ask him about that, but what he really recalled was that Rodney McKay made a lousy drunk, the kind that couldn't stand steady on two feet, and wailed on about past failures and crap like that. Well, he remembered that much of it, as well as how McKay had a really hysterical laugh when he got drunk. They'd all gotten pretty plastered, toasting to the memories of the dead, and discussing their own deaths, and then Zelenka had brought up Rodney's 'saving children' monologue. He wished he could remember the rest. He definitely remembered Elizabeth's glare the next morning at the briefing when both he and McKay had shown up with royal hangovers.

"Major?"

Sheppard looked up again. He must have drifted. He took the earpiece. "Rodney?"

"Major, is that you?" asked McKay incredulously.

Sheppard realized his voice still hadn't recovered. "Coughing up your internal organs has that effect on a guy," he tried to joke. "What's up?" God, what a lame thing to say.

"I… I just wanted to check on how you were… doing."

It was so damn tough to make small talk when death was just around the corner. "You know, I hope people aren't hanging around my quarters like vultures looking to steal my stuff. I'm not dead yet."

"I had no idea you were a Monty Python fan," replied McKay.

Yeah, he was okay with sidestepping the real issue. He was still alive, after all. "Oh, you'd be surprised."

"Probably just a dead parrot fan." McKay made a sound of regret. The infamous 'ex-parrot' sketch ... so much for avoiding death.

"I'm rather fond of the crunchy frogs skit myself," recalled Sheppard, but he didn't really want to talk. All he wanted to do was just lie still while he had a momentary lull from the itch. Just pass out. He was exhausted but he felt so miserable that his body wouldn't let him pass into unconsciousness. He could hear McKay nattering on about the Ministry of Silly Walks; it was absurd, but it gave McKay something to talk about besides reality. Sheppard rolled back over on his side. He was still wet, but not as soaked as before. Much of the moisture had been sucked into the sleeping bag beneath him. Although he was thirsty, he was worried that even a swig of water might bring back the nausea. He was probably dehydrated already, but maybe if he dehydrated enough, the parasites would dehydrate as well. Or, with his current luck, they'd just hang on to the bitter end, and suck every drop of moisture from his corpse before moving on to the next meal.

"Major. Major!" Rodney's voice was sharp in his ear. Crap. He'd drifted off again.

"Just give these drugs some time to work." Sheppard hoped he sounded positive. He didn't feel it. "Uh, Ford and Teyla. Can you patch 'em through?"

There was a moment of awkward silence and he knew that McKay realized that Sheppard was talking to those close to him, in the event that the drugs failed. It sucked.

The talk with Ford and Teyla was tough. Both of them were trapped in isolation, showing nary a sign of the parasite, yet Beckett couldn't risk their release. Teyla still held out hope for Sheppard, and said as much, but he'd heard the slight quaver in her voice, the unspoken fear that he wouldn't be returning. Ford knew the drill; had been through it before in his career, but wasn't happy at all, although Sheppard suspected part it also had something to do with being trapped in a room with Teyla. They didn't really say goodbye, just left those words unspoken, which was probably for the best.

He was sent over to Weir, just her - no public transmission in the gateroom this time. In a short time, the conversation had steered back to the nanovirus incident. She had to be feeling guilty about the decision to not send any help to the planet, but he had firmly agreed with her in this instance. It was ironic that now the shoe was on the other foot. If he'd been back in Atlantis and it had been his teammates trapped on the planet, he would have done his best to save them. But now… he knew why Elizabeth had made those calls with the nanovirus, which at the time had seemed unfeeling, but the welfare of the entire city was at stake. He heard a catch in her voice, a hint of desperate emotion, but she managed to contain it. They briefly discussed what might happen, but the itch was coming back, worse than before, and he regretfully signed off.

PART 29

Beckett sat down wearily in a chair at the lab station. He'd finished going through the decontamination process, something he could have avoided as any of his staff could have gone in and taken more blood samples from both Ford and Teyla. The two needed contact, a friendly familiar face, even if it was Beckett behind the faceplate of a HazMat suit. Ford jokingly accused him of being a vampire since they'd taken so many samples. Teyla quietly withstood the multiple tests, wondering only if there was any chance for the two men. Both were worried sick over the fate of their friends.

He'd given them all the information straight; they deserved that much, and he had the suspicion that Sheppard had done his best not to let his teammates know the true extent of his situation during his last communication, but even Beckett felt obliged to temper any too graphic descriptions.

When would they get out of isolation? Beckett had no idea. It all depended on what happened on that faraway planet, and if the isolated pair showed any symptoms.

What Beckett really needed was a sample of the actual parasite, not just a photographic image and pitiful half-notes that didn't even give any kind of concise medical description of the creatures or even how they were created. And why were only Sheppard and Zelenka affected? Had they come in contact with something the others hadn't? It couldn't be related to the Ancient gene, because Sheppard had it, and Zelenka didn't. The variables were endless. While he'd hoped that being bitten by some insect could be a factor, Ford had evidence of some bug bites, Teyla didn't, and neither Zelenka nor Sheppard could recall any bug bites. Yet all four of the team had been in close proximity of each other throughout the mission, so what had caused the infection?

Beckett shoved aside the questions and began preparing the blood samples for another round of tests.

PART 30

McKay stepped out onto Atlantis' balcony by the gateroom. Dusk was settling in, with its cool air and strong winds that rustled through his hair like invisible fingers. It reminded him of an ultra-jumbo version of Toronto's CN Tower, only minus the nets and cages to prevent people from jumping off. Guess the Ancients never had that problem, mused McKay darkly. A palatial canvass of reds, blues and purples splayed across the horizon as the sun set. Another day over on Atlantis. Sheppard loved the variety of sunsets the new world had to offer. If he got in the mood, he could talk endlessly about the incredible vistas he'd seen back on Earth, the cloud formations, what they meant and which ones you could fly through – or not – and even knew the Latin names for them. To McKay, clouds were more of a scientific component, and he didn't have the same emotional context that Sheppard felt for them. It was precipitation levels and ice crystallization to McKay.

He couldn't remember which planet they'd been on, but they'd left just as the sun began to set. Sheppard had remarked on how stunning the pink and gray combination of clouds had been, reminiscing about some time he'd been in Kansas or one of those dreary Midwest states, which in turn had Teyla describing even more glorious sunsets on another world that yet to visit, but one that Sheppard decided should be on their agenda one day. Ford had tried to keep up with the chat, and McKay hadn't stood a chance as no one wanted to hear why clouds were that particular vivid shade of red, and all he'd really wanted to do was just get off that planet because the mosquitoes were coming out and they always went after him first.

A brisk wind swept in from one side and he averted his head. He spied a lone figure at the far end of the balcony. The person held their arms tight to chest but not because of the winds.

McKay hesitated, wary of interrupting Elizabeth's privacy, but at the same time he was desperate to talk to her about the disaster that was unfolding.

"Elizabeth?"

He instantly sensed her discomfort, but she didn't look at him. "Rodney," she stated very simply, and he noticed her wipe a hand near her eyes.

"Um, never mind." He started to leave.

"No, stay." She drew in a breath, forcing a smile. "Beautiful sunset, isn't it? Reminds me of when I was once in Greece."

Did everybody see the beauty in clouds but him?

"Never got there," he replied, refusing to be distracted. He focused on her. "If the parasites progression follows the historical patterns…"

"I know." Elizabeth looked down at the surging ocean far below. "They'll be dead by sunrise."

Rodney felt cold, and not because of the increased wind. "There has to be something we can do."

"We are… but I don't know if it's enough," she admitted, glancing at him before going back to studying the darkening sky. He could have sworn he'd seen a misty quality to her eyes.

"Dammit," Rodney swore, staring at her but she didn't move. "We get through all this crap with the Wraith and now the major and Zelenka are going to die from some stupid parasite!"

"There's still hope."

"Is there?" questioned Rodney harshly. "You heard how bad Sheppard sounded on the last call. He's getting worse by the minute."

"John won't give up."

No, Rodney knew the major was a fighter. He suddenly realized that he never called Sheppard by his first name. He always fell into calling a person by however they were introduced to him, which invariably included titles. Colonel O'Neill – he'd still call him that even though the man had somehow been promoted, not that O'Neill had said much to him on his brief visit to the Antarctic except some snarky remark about him being Canadian. It had been months working with Elizabeth before they fell into a first-name basis. But Sheppard… it was always Major, or, if McKay got really ticked, 'Sheppard,' yelled loud and with venom.

And although McKay now considered Sheppard his best friend – which was really sort of weird as he would never in a million years have thought he'd find common ground with a military pilot – he knew that life on Atlantis would be miserable if Sheppard didn't return.

And Radek. Oh god, his first time off world and he was going to die. Just like Gall and Abrams, only more horribly, because help was just a step away and there was nothing they could do but sit and wait.

This was… it was like when O'Neill had been infected by that nanovirus. He'd read some of the reports from the SGC, anything that related to the nanotechnology the SG teams encountered. The SGC had just left O'Neill on that world to his fate, with no plans of retrieval, because they couldn't risk Earth. And now, they couldn't risk Atlantis.

McKay felt frustrated and guilty that he couldn't come up with a solution – after all, he was the brains of the team, he should be able to find something. Heck, Sheppard probably would have blown himself up a half dozen times over the way he touched objects on alien worlds without knowing what they were.

And everybody was being so stoic about the impending deaths. Even Sheppard - like death was just an on-the-job hazard! Maybe it was in the military, maybe it was in any Stargate program, but it didn't mean they had to accept it.

His fears coalesced brightly in his mind as a hand touched his own.

"I hate this, Rodney." Elizabeth didn't sound like the unflappable leader who had taken over 100 people to a distant galaxy.

"It sucks," said Rodney bluntly.

"Where did you pick that up?" asked Elizabeth. Changing the topics, he wondered, or…? McKay paused. He'd never really used to say that, it was… "The major." Crap, sucks, pissed off. Pretty tame words really but McKay was sure that Sheppard knew a whole slew of unprintable words that he just chose not to use, but wondered if on that distant planet, they were more than appropriate right now.

"The major actually used that word in one of his reports," remarked Elizabeth.

"You're joking?" McKay's eyes widened in surprise.

"In regard to you," she clarified.

"He what?" Rodney was mortified. "He said I sucked?"

"Not quite." Elizabeth smiled sadly in remembrance. "In regards to S27 6L4."

"6L4?" McKay pondered a moment, then narrowed his eyes as the memory of planet popped into his mind. "Oh, that 6L4! 'Just walk across it, Rodney. It's only mud.' That stuff sucked me in up to my waist. I could have suffocated!"

"Yes, he noted that in his report, and as I recall, he did apologize," reminded Elizabeth gently.

"Um yeah," McKay conceded easily. "Ford wanted to call it Mud World."

An uncomfortable silence developed between the pair – an oddity in itself – as the wind picked up. Someone had once said that a person dies, they never truly die if someone else keeps the memory alive. Rodney always thought that was a crock. A memory is nice, but it wasn't much different than a photograph. Stagnant, one-dimensional, not prone to ticking him off or making him laugh at the most inopportune moment. He'd changed since coming to Atlantis, and he knew it was due in part to the friendships he'd made.

Elizabeth cocked her head, tapping at her earpiece. She squeezed his hand, then released it. "Needed in the lab. I'll let you know..."

McKay watched her head back in to the base, then looked up at the darkening sky, realizing his soul felt as desolate as the heavens above.

PART 31

Zelenka sifted through another clump of debris. Both he and the major had already searched both rooms thoroughly after being informed of the parasites' existence, but they had found nothing of any consequence. The room was rectangular in shape, with an alcove off to one side, but the area was mysteriously devoid of any living quarters. It made no sense, even if all the equipment had been 'beamed down' in just one second. He looked at the walls and the scattered equipment, most of which did not work, pondering the true depth of the complex. Were there other rooms, and if so, why had Sheppard's touch not activated access to them? He did not like that there were so many questions and so few answers.

He glanced over at the quiet laptop that was still connected to the Ancient database. While Rodney's algorithm had proven very helpful in cracking open the initial data, it provided no more assistance, so Zelenka had 'tweaked' it – making some radical changes that would no doubt raise the Canadian's blood pressure, but, too bad. At worst, it could do no harm, and best, might turn up more buried data. He had lost count of how many times he had tweaked and tested the algorithm.

Zelenka sighed as he finished examining the last clump of debris. Nothing. Just garbage. He looked past the oblong counter built into the middle of the room to where Sheppard lay in the outer room. Zelenka's eyes widened in alarm when he saw only the sleeping bag crumpled on the floor.

He rushed into that room, panic thankfully evaporating when he instantly spotted Sheppard sitting up in one of the corners, head bent to upraised knees. Arms wrapped around his neck, trying to constrict the pain.

Zelenka approached cautiously, mindful of the last time he had approached Sheppard like this. He did not need another blow to the face. "Major?" he asked, keeping the safety of a few feet between him and the major.

Sheppard didn't look up, but did at least respond. "What?"

"Just… is not important." Zelenka gazed up in worry at the ceiling. Flashes of lightning illuminated the alien skylight, sending bursts of diffused light down to the floor. It would no doubt be awe-inspiring if not for their dire circumstances.

"Just a few more hours."

Zelenka swallowed nervously at that vague statement. "Until what?"

"Second dose," answered Sheppard.

"Of that drug you took that made you so sick?" Zelenka could not believe the major was contemplating another dose, particularly since the first injection had shown no positive results.

"Carson said… the effects could be cumulative," said Sheppard, as if he could read the scientist's apprehensive thoughts.

"It could kill you," worried Zelenka.

"And your point is?"

Zelenka remained silent, not wanting to speak aloud what both of them knew. Sheppard wasn't going to be around for another sunset. "Perhaps I should try it instead."

"How bad are you?" Sheppard asked.

"It itches terribly," replied Zelenka, thinking back to the pink eye and those few days of misery that made him scratch furiously at his back again. "But not so bad that…"

"You claw yourself apart?"

"Exactly." Zelenka sat down in front of Sheppard, wishing he could offer some help or modicum of comfort to the man, but more and more, it was becoming apparent that they were both doomed, a thought that actually depressed him.

"I did not think I would die like this."

"Who would?" Sheppard clenched at the back of his neck with both hands.

"Perhaps in a lab explosion," said Zelenka drolly. "Or like my cousin Vleta. One minute here, the next--" He slammed a fist abruptly into one hand. "Gone. A tractor trailer rig struck her automobile."

"Sorry." Sheppard offered quietly

"It was long ago," sighed Zelenka, recalling the day his parents told him that favorite cousin would no longer be visiting them. He shifted, finding a more comfortable position on the floor. "No, perhaps die in bed with gorgeous fashion model."

This remark actually caused Sheppard to raise his head slightly. "Really?"

"A man can have dreams, can he not?" mused Zelenka.

"Why not?" agreed Sheppard with a weak laugh.

"There was this redhead in Prague," continued Zelenka, the hint of a smile touching his tired eyes. "Her personality was as fiery as her hair. A brilliant biochemist. Ah, but she would not give me the time of day. So, I went to the Pegasus Galaxy to forget about her."

Sheppard frowned.

"I am kidding," replied Zelenka. "At least about the Pegasus Galaxy part. You? Perhaps that Jane Teeney lady you spoke of?"

"God no!" Sheppard actually sounded mortified. "Geez, I'd rather stick my hand in a hornet's nest."

Zelenka waited for more elaboration on this curious statement, but Sheppard fell silent, either unwilling to continue the current topic, or just not in the mood. More the latter, Zelenka realized dismally as he Sheppard leaned into the wall, exhaustion lining his face.

A crackle hissed in his ear. Interference from the raging electrical storm outside, or was Atlantis trying to contact them?

"Hello?" Zelenka stood up.

"--one there?" came a distorted voice.

"Yes, we are still here," replied Zelenka. Had that been Rodney or Peter? "Atlantis?" He tapped at his radio again and was greeted by a loud burst of static.

"Zelenka?"

He turned to Sheppard, who now had his head against the wall, hands pressed to eyes. "Water?"

"Yes, a moment." He thought he heard fragments of a voice echo in his earpiece as he went into the other room and retrieved his canteen. Kneeling down, he unscrewed the top and put the canteen in one of Sheppard's hands. If the major was feeling well enough to drink water, perhaps there was a chance they would make it out alive.

Zelenka felt his hopes dashed when instead of drinking it, Sheppard merely poured the canteen's contents into his eyes. He let the container drop uselessly to the floor. Before the major pressed his hands back against his face, Zelenka saw his eyes, and he quickly turned away, lest he betray the horror he couldn't keep off his own face.

The rims of Sheppard's eyes were bright scarlet. The Ancient database had said that the one unfortunate soul who had reached that advanced stage of the infestation had, with his own fingers, literally clawed out his own eyes in a futile effort to stop his agony.

"…ing trouble reaching… "

"Bad storms," Zelenka replied back, trying to think, trying not to panic at what the future held for them both. Perhaps the major was right. He should try the second dose or… Zelenka's eyes drifted toward the small case several feet away from Sheppard. If this was truly the end, then being 'loopy' was far preferable to the intense suffering. Surely the major was still cognizant enough to realize this logic.

"… Sheppard?" Rodney's voice again, sounding horrible.

Something began to beep in the other room as more thunder rumbled heavily overhead. "Someone answer the phone." Sheppard's inane request.

"I'll get it," Zelenka sighed and he went into the laboratory, not at all enthused about what he expected he would find on the computer display. Hs jaw dropped open as he saw a series of images, remarkably similar if not the same, to what he'd seen on the scanner when Sheppard held it in his hands, flashing across the screen.

Zelenka dropped on the stool in front of the laptop, quickly typing away for the program to repeat certain commands. The sequence of the database displayed again, corrupted, but with a sequence of images, showing a human form almost engulfed in red, but in the next sequence, the red began to dim, some of it fading to pink. An error, or a solution, pondered Zelenka as he stared at the images as though the winning numbers to the nightly lottery were running across the screen and he held that special ticket.

Had the Ancients found the cure after all?

Rodney's voice suddenly burst in his ear. "Please shut up!" Zelenka responded. "And listen to me. I am sending a data transmission through now. There may be a cure."

"..found a cure!" Rodney nearly yelled in his ear.

"Yes, no, I don't know but we can both work on this together."

"How… did the…?" Static cut off Rodney.

"I altered your algorithm and it--" Zelenka ignored Rodney's incensed remarks, thankfully censored by the storm's powerful lightning bursts. As if McKay hadn't circumvented prescribed methods himself when the need arose!

"Did you receive it? Please respond." Zelenka crossed his fingers. He wasn't superstitious but by God, if anything helped.

"Got it." McKay's relieved voice rang clear. "About Sh--"

There was a huge burst of static, then nothing more than silence, save for the increasing storm outside and that odd thumping noise he realized had started up a moment ago. After listening carefully, he realized the noise wasn't the storm, but something else entirely.

PART 32

Elizabeth strode into the communications area in time to witness Rodney growling menacingly at the computer console in front of him.

"Were you able to reach the major and Dr. Zelenka?" She paused just behind Rodney, to his side, looking down at what he was working on, hoping it was good news.

"For a brief moment, yes." Rodney didn't look up.

"Communications were cut off again," interjected Grodin. The Englishman had barely left his outpost since the mission had gone to ruin, save for some brief snatches of sleep. Come to think of it, who had gotten any sleep lately? "There's the strong chance that the storm is causing this problem, but there's definitely something else at work because the P-MALP we sent through should be boosting the signals. Maybe even something at the Ancient outpost itself."

"Zelenka seems to be holding on," Rodney said in a strangely level tone. "I haven't the faintest idea about Sheppard, although if things were going to hell in a handbasket, I'd like to think Radek would let us know." Elizabeth knew Rodney was hurting – and badly. She'd watched the friendship evolve between him and Sheppard since they'd come to Atlantis. A relationship forged through the common bonds of keeping Atlantis alive, but much more. She didn't want to contemplate what the major's loss would mean to the base, and those who had become close to him, herself included.

Rodney was drumming his fingers impatiently against the console's hard surface. "Come on, come on," he spat at the computer. Something finished. "Finally!" He turned in his chair and stabbed another button. "Carson, did you get that?… Carson? This isn't the time to be taking a break!"

"Don't get your knickers in a twist!" Beckett's irate voice snapped back.

"Well, excuse me," shot back Rodney sharply, "But some of us—"

Elizabeth quickly put a hand on his shoulder, startling him. "Does he have everything he needs?"

"Yes, but—" McKay protested.

Elizabeth leaned forward and tapped the button. "Carson, just let us known as soon as have something."

"I will, Elizabeth," he promised.

She studied McKay, who looked about as lost as a person could get without just dropping into a black hole and vanishing entirely.

"We'll get through this," she insisted quietly, although inwardly she found it hard to back up that sentiment.

Rodney barely nodded in response. He continued to stare bleakly at the images that Zelenka had sent through. Without any prompting, he began to explain to her what they were looking at. It wasn't Sheppard's results off the Ancient scanner, but those of a man who had died centuries ago. He'd been infested with the parasite, but subsequent images indicated a reduction of sorts, giving them the tenuous hope that a cure had been found. Beckett called back a minute later. He was cautiously optimistic about that supposition, asking McKay to dig further into the file. What they needed was not the end results, but how the survivor accomplished it. Rodney began to work on breaking down the file, and soon determination and obsession took over, giving Elizabeth the chance to slip back unnoticed to her office.

Her glass-enclosed office, where she couldn't truly vent her outrage at the argument she'd had in Beckett's lab less than half an hour ago. She'd gone down there, expecting news of some sort, but instead walked in on a vehement argument between Beckett and Dr. Mejyers – over the parasite - a microscopic creature on a planet millions of miles away that Mejyers, one of their top biologists, felt could destroy all of Atlantis' ecosystem were it allowed to come through the gate.

Mejyers was a brilliant scientist, she knew that from his records, but his flaw was that he could become far too focused on an idea. Fixated was a better term, but his fellow scientists usually tempered that error. However, he was as a fast as a striking cobra when it came to arguing his points, which left little leeway for Beckett to respond.

Elizabeth knew how to deal with this kind. He might have been a cobra, but she was the mongoose: and they inevitably won the battle. By the time she was done with him – explaining that until the parasite was eradicated, neither Zelenka nor Shepppard could even leave that planet – Mejyers was whipped. At least he had the good graces to be embarrassed about his outburst and even apologized for his words. Beckett was still bristling at the implication that Mejyers made to abandon the two men.

God, she just wanted to hit something. The thought of punching out Mejyers during his righteous indignation phase had been hovering in her thoughts, much to her horror. She was not a violent person. No, when this was all over, she'd simply go for a long run and then let exhaustion push her into a welcome sleep.

Her eyes pulled away from Rodney and the others in the communications area, back toward the laptop in front of her. She hoped that she would not have to access one particular file on the computer, the one that she and Major Sheppard had devised many months ago, of tactical information, promotion sequences and more, in the event that he died on a mission.

PART 33

He wanted to just press the heels of his hands deep into his eyes until he ground the accursed itch into oblivion. The other alternative was tearing his eyes out with his own fingers but he just wasn't there… not yet, but he now understand what had driven that one man to such a horrid and irreparable action. Yet no matter what he did, the parasites would just blithely follow the path through that hole at the back of the eye socket. A bone he'd never bothered to learn the name of back in high school biology because he figured he'd never need to know it later on and besides, Sally Shaffer had been busy flirting with him while they dissected a rubbery dead frog so it wasn't some dead skull's bones he was interested in at that point.

Now some damn horde of alien parasites were just inches away from moving into his brain and laying a zillion eggs or turning into some grotesque squiggle of worms that would turn his brain to a pile of mush or crack open his skull or—

"Stop that!"

Two hands roughly pulled his hands away from his face, and away from the wall that he was leaning against. Zelenka was kneeling in front of him, a tight grip on both wrists.

"Stop what?" Sheppard yanked his hands away roughly and slumped forward.

"Bashing your head against the wall."

Sheppard frowned. It took a few seconds to realize he had been doing just that, which accounted for the dull, focused ache in the back of his head. "Does it really matter?" he asked bluntly.

"Yes, it does," said Zelenka evenly. "I also can't work with that noise."

How could he make Zelenka understand that the pain provided a distraction from the maddening itch? That walking into that brutal force field back at the gate, as much as it hurt, gave him a brief respite from the encroaching insanity, and that any long term damage from that action, well, it just didn't matter, not with the time he had left?

Sheppard pressed his hands into his eyes again, but forced himself to stop before he did any real damage. When he looked up, Zelenka was staring uncomfortably at him. He did that all the time now. "What now?"

"Your eyes are red."

"Bloodshot red? Or 'rimmed with the red of madness' red?" asked Sheppard wearily, quoting the text he'd read in the Ancient file.

"The latter," came Zelenka's bleak but honest assessment.

Sheppard hadn't even known why he'd bothered to ask – he'd known. The itch was so intense that he couldn't even focus anymore. He diverted his gaze from the angry red patch on Zelenka's neck, knowing all too well what lay in store for the scientist, then he cast a dark glance at the door, thinking of what lay beyond.

"No," said Zelenka firmly.

"What does it matter?" replied Sheppard bluntly. Oh god, hadn't he already asked that? The brain cells must be turning to mush already.

"Even if you did make it to the gate in this storm, the field would render you unconscious," pointed out Zelenka. "Then that big cat would eat you. At its leisure, I might add."

Sheppard leaned back, letting his head fall back to strike the solid wall behind him. The deep pain spread out, its dark fingers digging into his head, but it gave him a precious few seconds away from the excruciating itch that had enveloped his neck and head with a horrible tenacity. "Damn, I hate that." Zelenka gave him a puzzled look. "Logic," finished Sheppard. Another surge of the aggravating crawling sensation circled around his sore eyes and he ground his hands into the sensitive skin.

"Wait, wait." And Zelenka was gone.

PART 34

Zelenka knew that Rodney would call back as long as the communications held up. Rodney was never one to give up, and although only a few on Atlantis really knew it, the scientist was very loyal to his friends. Zelenka was positive that the man was just glued to a console in the gateroom, trying to find them a way home. If only the days were longer, as the storms seemed to be a nightly occurrence, but then, they were only supposed to have been planet-side for several hours, not days.

After he'd lost the connection to Atlantis, he'd cocked his head, trying to figure out the thumping noise from the other room. Could something being trying to get in? Like that huge cat? Zelenka rushed into the other room, staring in trepidation at the outside door but his attention was rapidly drawn to the corner where Sheppard sat.

He had to pull Sheppard away from the wall so he wouldn't crack his skull open against the hard surface. It was one thing for the man to scratch insanely at the itch, but to damage his head like that was something else entirely. He realized that the major wasn't thinking clearly as he had gone without any real sleep since they'd walked through the gate. The major's eyes now looked worse Sergeant Carstairs' case of conjunctivitis... the vivid red, the puffiness. He had… Zelenka felt like kicking himself. Why had he not thought of that sooner!

"Wait, wait," Zelenka said urgently, and he went into the lab room. He'd left his utility vest atop one of the sleek metal counters that rimmed one long side of the room. The vest was too hot and heavy for this world as far as he was concerned, and the edges of it black fabric now rubbed infuriatingly against the extremely sensitive skin at his neck.

His fingers wrapped around the tiny object in the vest pocket and he dashed back to Sheppard. "For the zere oogjes, as Dr. Klasjaak called it," he said, uncapping the tiny bottle.

"Zero what?" muttered Sheppard, focusing reddened eyes on the tiny plastic bottle.

"The pink eye, conjunctivitis," Zelenka explained with a tiny smile at the major's confusion. "The eye drops helped with the discomfort." Sheppard grabbed the bottle. "Two drops in--"

"Screw that." Sheppard squeezed liberal spurts of the liquid into both eyes, and pressed his hands back into his eyes.

"Better?" asked Zelenka hopefully.

Sheppard screamed in agony.

Zelenka watched in shock as Sheppard's fingers abruptly curled toward his eyes. "NO!" Zelenka quickly grabbed both of the major's wrists before the man could do the unimaginable.

Still crying out in pain, Sheppard lunged forward, trying to break Zelenka's tight grip. The smaller scientist slammed into the floor, pain spreading out from the back of his head down to his hips from the sudden impact. He refused to relinquish his grip but Sheppard had other ideas. One hand yanked free in a violent motion.

Zelenka's world exploded into a haze of blinding stars and pain when Sheppard's fist connected brutally with his face. He barely registered the major's other hand pulling free. The major stood to get away, but his foot caught on Zelenka's outstretched legs and he pitched forward.

A heavy smack, followed by a dull thud, filled the air.

Zelenka rolled over, hands clasped to his bruised face, but his eyes widened in stunned disbelief when he saw Sheppard face down on the floor. He rushed over to the man's side and knelt beside him, but a creeping paralysis took hold. All he could do was stare helplessly as blood began to pool out insidiously from under Sheppard's head.

PART 35

Why not just send a puddle jumper through? Because the gate was surrounded, literally, by a forest of too-close 60-foot-plus high trees that were probably older the combined age factor of the personnel on Atlantis. Why not send through a team in HazMat suits? Because there was no guarantee that they could return. Sheppard was adamantly against anyone risking a rescue attempt, and Elizabeth sadly agreed. There were a number of volunteers but there was no way Elizabeth was going to risk more lives.

Rodney ran his hands through his short hair. His fingernails scored against his scalp, but the slight pain helped him focus on the task at hand - a task he was failing to complete. He'd been called a genius for most of his life, but it wasn't doing him any good now. Incomplete data, corrupted information. Just tormenting tidbits of data to sadistically let him know how brutally his friends would die.

Rodney got up from his chair and with deliberate determination, strode over the short distance to the dial-up pad. Damned if he was going to let Sheppard perish on that world without a last word. He pounded in the symbols, aware that everyone was staring at him.

When aliens were trying to invade Atlantis, the gate seemed to activate far too quickly, yet when they needed to rescue people, the process seemed mired in cold molasses.

The gate opened, but he felt as cold as the blue light that bathed the floor below. "Major?" Rodney practically shouted but didn't care. Loud static burst over the gateroom's speakers.

"Rodney." Elizabeth was at his side. He hadn't even seen her arrive, but she wasn't going to stop him.

"We can't just leave them there like that," he said in a harsh whisper. "They have to know…." That they were doing all they could.. that they cared, that their loss would be devastating, especially to him.

"They know." Elizabeth's solemn words sounded so final, like the last nail being pounded into a coffin before the body was consigned to uncaring depths of a cold grave.

More static. Raucous and annoying.

"Come on, guys," Rodney encouraged, losing the battle to hide the desperation in his plea. "Please answer!"

A shout came over the radio, the sharpness of the panicked voice chilling everyone who heard the cry. "—have a medical emergency! I need Beck--!"

A deafening noise blotted out the rest.

"Zelenka!" cried Rodney. "RADEK!"

Rodney barely heard Elizabeth immediately instructing Peter to do something to get the signal back, but it was over. The gate shut down, its silence sealing the men's fate.

Rodney fell into the chair behind him. "Oh god, they're dead." The blast sounded just like an explosion, but from what, his mind couldn't comprehend. He felt a grip on his shoulder, gentle yet firm. He knew it was Elizabeth but the very fact that she said nothing confirmed his worst fears.

PART 36

A flash of white lightning bathed the room just as Zelenka carefully rolled the unconscious man on to his back. Its stark burst of light illuminated the major's pallor and the crimson blood that coated nearly half his face.

The life-giving liquid still oozed from the scalp laceration where the major had struck his head on the counter's sharp corner.

Zelenka frantically checked for a carotid pulse. If blood was flowing out, then Sheppard had to be alive. Dead people didn't continue to bleed, did they? He offered a shaky prayer of relief when his fingertips found the precious pulse.

An intense new sound drew his attention to the high ceiling. The rain was coming down in violent torrents, as though the planet was trying to drown itself. More lightning and thunder filled the night sky as the storm's ferocity escalated into unbelievable proportions.

Static tore through Zelenka's earpiece. Atlantis! Then a voice. Rodney.

"Atlantis!" Zelenka shouted. "I have a medical emergency. I need Beckett!"

A tremendous explosive sound tore through the sky outside, a sound so deafening that Zelenka clamped his hands over his ears as a blinding burst of red light filled the sky above and bathed the interior of the room. He'd even felt the floor tremble under his feet, and for a brief moment, he wondered if someone had dropped the bomb, and would he, as well as the major and the structure, be swept away in a nuclear blast? The sky turned to black again as the storm continued to drench the structure.

A massive crashing echoed in the distance. It kept up for several seconds until only the noise of the torrential rain remained. Zelenka released his breath. Whatever disaster had occurred, it had thankfully not been too close to the building.

He tapped his earpiece, frantically calling back to Atlantis but there was no reply.

He turned his attention back to Sheppard, who had not reacted at all to the storm's unrelenting fury. The major's eyes were red and swollen shut. Zelenka wished he'd had water left, something to rinse out the eye drops to which Sheppard had reacted so badly, but none remained. A sharp bark of laughter escaped from his lips. Dying from lack of water had been the last thing on his mind, and he'd let Sheppard use as much of the bottled water that they had on hand. They could always get more from Atlantis, and ironically, if the rain didn't stop, Zelenka felt the entire installation would soon be underwater.

Within minutes, Zelenka had gathered the emergency battlefield dressings from both his and Sheppard's tactical vests. Fortunately the scalp laceration ran parallel from the eyes so Zelenka was able to press one bandage against the deep wound, and then wrap it and Sheppard's swollen eyes with the other. Zelenka did not think bandaging the eyes would do any good, but if the major were to suddenly awakeb, it would stop him from inflicting more damage.

If he were to awake… The major was out like light, which in itself was a contradictory statement. When a lightbulb blew, it was gone: to be replaced with a new one.

Perhaps it would be better if the major remained unconscious, to then slip quietly into death. With no hope of a cure, to awaken only to die miserably would be beyond cruel.

Zelenka checked Sheppard's pulse again, relaxing only a mere fraction when he detected it beneath the warm skin. He stared at his hands, now stained with the sticky liquid. He stared at the door beyond, wishing he could go outside to wash off the blood, but he knew the large cat waited just outside that door. They were patient predators. Wretched beasts. It did not matter; he wiped his hands off on his pants.

He looked down in deep worry at Sheppard, unsure of what to do next.

PART 37

The nanovirus incident had been instrumental in teaching them about how to deal with contagion. An isolation room had been created so that if someone became ill from an unknown disease they could be contained – and not activate the city's self-defensive lockdown mechanism.

Now, Elizabeth stood on the 'clean' side of the unbreakable glass of that room, behind which were Ford and Teyla, still prisoners of the unknown parasite. Rodney stood beside her, a downcast expression dimming his normally vibrant eyes. Beckett was there as well.

They knew that at 0300 hours Atlantis time, the storm patterns on the distant world should dissipate; that is, if it followed the pattern they'd seen established since Sheppard's team went to that planet. At that time they would send a MALP through in the hopes of re-establishing contact.

"And the MALP will go, what? Ten feet before it gets stuck?" came Rodney's acerbic assessment. "We would have used it the first time if it would have worked any better."

Ford stepped up to the glass, fire burning in his eyes. "Request permission to go back through the gate, ma'am."

Elizabeth shook her head. "Permission denied."

Ford persisted. "I'm stuck here. I could be stuck in here indefinitely, right? If I go through the gate, I can help the major and Dr. Zelenka. For all you know—" and his gaze locked on Beckett "—we could be immune to that parasite."

"Or it could be dormant in you, or maybe you're not even infected at all." Beckett sighed. "We've been over this countless times."

"Then we'll go through in HazMat suits!" Ford paced frenetically past the large window.

Rodney shook his head and Elizabeth could have sworn he'd snorted in disgust as Beckett told the young soldier why that wouldn't work, citing parasites like Cryptosporidium and Schistosomiasis, water-born protozoans capable of surviving outside a host. Elizabeth had to shake her head before the young man got started on a lecture on the differences between ectoparasites and endoparasites. She'd learned more about parasites in the last 24 hours than she'd ever wanted to know, especially after she'd listened to Branford describe the lifespan and the incredible length of some intestinal worms.

"I'm willing to take that risk!" Ford's loud retort drew Elizabeth back to the present.

"Well, I'm not," she responded levelly, crossing her arms against her chest. "We may have already lost the major and Dr. Zelenka. I'm not losing any more people."

Ford looked ready to explode, until Teyla, who had been standing quietly beside him, laid her hand gently on his arm. His tension seemed to defuse as she stepped up to the glass. "What are the chances that they are still alive?"

Beckett looked grim. "In regards to the parasite, based on what historical data we have on hand, I believe that Dr. Zelenka may have today, but…" He shook his head sadly. "But with the request for emergency medical help that he made, I think it may be too late for the major."

Even Carson's belief in their survival had dwindled. Elizabeth still held out a flicker of hope, the kind of faith that people had when they sat vigil at the side of hospital beds where loved ones lay, their imminent death proclaimed by the doctors.

But they would send the MALP through in a matter of hours, and continue to try to raise the two men until they realized it was time to grieve and move on.

The silence that permeated the air was oppressive.

PART 38

Zelenka stared at the images on the screen, watching again as they flashed by, as another 'tweaking' of the algorithm searched for new information. Nothing. He sighed and gave into the insane desire to scratch at his neck, scoring the skin with his fingernails. No matter what he did, it was impossible to alleviate the itch. No wonder the major had acted the way he had.

Glancing down to the floor, Zelenka studied Sheppard carefully. He'd been torn about trying to break down more information in the database and keeping vigil at Sheppard's side. He could not leave Sheppard alone, especially if he were to die. No one should die alone.

He'd rolled Sheppard onto a sleeping bag and dragged him into the laboratory, then made the unconscious man as comfortable as possible. Zelenka had laid him on his side, remembering that people who suffered concussions often awoke with nausea. He remembered much from the first aid course they'd all been required to take before embarking on the expedition, but the course had always ended with the doctors assuming responsibility for the patient.

The scanner turned over in his hands again as he studied it once more. He'd held it every way conceivable, trying to get it to activate for himself, but it would not work for him. While he knew that the image of the parasites' progress within his own body would probably make him ill, as a scientist, he had to know.

Zelenka moved slowly off the stool, his muscles protesting the abuse from the brief but violent struggle with Sheppard. Kneeling down next to the man, he carefully lifted one of the major's hands and pressed the fingers against the device. It lit up, a reddish haze consuming much of the body. Zelenka blinked, concentrating. The red did not look as vivid as before. In fact, he could swear the color saturation was definitely on the washed-out side. He went back and checked the images on the laptop that he felt should be engrained in his memory by now and studied them. Could it be? Could the parasites be weakening?

Might the injection of that drug finally have begun to take effect? He wished he knew the answer, but the scanner did not tell him if the population had decreased, at least not in any easily discernible manner besides color.

He cast an apprehensive gaze at the medical kit he'd brought into the lab. He could take a blood sample, compare it to the ones that the major had done earlier on himself. He'd wanted to help, but he hated needles with a passion. No, he had to put aside that aversion, at least for today, if they were to survive. Rummaging through the kit, he found the small, sharp little metal things for pricking the skin. Doctors always stuck those in the finger, where of course it hurt the most! Zelenka thought about it, then carefully pulled aside the back of Sheppard's T-shirt. The major had already torn the skin there; it was red and swollen now, so perhaps he would not feel it. Zelenka quickly jabbed the skin, flinching as blood oozed from the puncture.

The instructions Beckett had sent along with the portable microscope were easy to follow, but it still took longer than he'd anticipated. He uploaded the blood sample information into the laptop, then compared it to the earlier samples, which were infested with the hideous little creatures. There was a definite shift in the samples. If he read it correctly, the parasites were dying! If the drug was working for Sheppard, then it could conceivably rid him of the parasites as well. He scratched at his side again; the itching was escalating, but at least he could say he was not suffering the 'crawling' feeling that Sheppard had complained of to Beckett. He knew he should take a blood sample from himself for comparative purposes. He shuddered, awkwardly glad that no one saw his reaction. He hated needles, which is why he had avoided it until now, and Sheppard had seen no need to experiment on both himself and Zelenka in the event something went horribly wrong. As if it hadn't already.

Zelenka picked up one of the lancets – he finally remembered the name of the nasty metal things - closed his eyes and jabbed a finger.

PART 39

The headache was the first thing Sheppard became aware of as consciousness slowly returned. It felt like a heavy, tight band that wrapped around his head, squeezing vice-like against his skull, especially on one side.

Yet the headache soon felt trivial when he drew in a deep breath. Every cell of his body screamed for relief as muscles he hadn't even known he had ached fiercely. Sick. He felt so sick. Eyes. His eyes had burned, as though he'd poured acid into them. He reached for them but hands gently but firmly gripped his wrists, holding them away with incredible ease. "Do not," came a calming voice. "How do you feel?"

Like shit, he wanted to reply, but his throat felt like it had been scorched with a flamethrower. Worse, he felt like he was in the middle of a full-blown case of flu and been hit by a bus – no, a tank – flattened and squashed into the ground so that not a single fiber of his body remained untouched by the misery. Attempting to move was a big mistake. Nausea gripped his stomach and he took several steadying breaths. Part of it had to be due to the blood. He could smell it – that sickly stench of copper. Feel it, slicked down his face from… memories of the unrelenting itch, he'd poured in eye drops, then indescribable pain. "Oh god." Panic set in and he felt his heart begin to race.

"Major, calm down." That voice again, and hands that prevented him from discovering the awful truth.

"Eyes?" he gasped, shocked at how weak his voice sounded.

"A reaction to the drops, I fear," came the response. "But do not worry. Your eyes are still there, just bandaged."

"Zelenka?"

"Yes. Do you remember what happened?"

Snippets. McKay at the briefing table, coffee mug in hand, griping about alien power supplies and walking casts… Elizabeth telling him to stop tormenting McKay but it really was too much fun to stop… asking Zelenka if he'd like to go off-world and grinning as the man became speechless… force fields… parasites… a relentless itch. "Yes," he replied numbly. Parasites. Hideous death. Why the hell did he wake up?

Sheppard reached again for his eyes but this time Zelenka did not restrain him. His fingers tentatively ran over the field dressing wrapped around his head. An intense discomfort lingered behind that large bandage, and he feared that if he removed the coverings, he'd find out he was blind.

He groaned as the injury on one side of his head angrily made itself known to him. He pulled his hand away from the blood-saturated dressing. "You struck your head and knocked yourself out," explained Zelenka, probably noticing his tense reaction. "I believe you have a concussion, and I think that the laceration will require stitches."

Sheppard didn't respond. Instead, he just curled inward as a wave of nausea rolled over him. He rode it out, grateful that it hadn't gone too far. He was positive he had nothing left to cough up except stomach acid. "How long?" he finally managed.

"Over an hour," replied Zelenka. "Major." A hand tentatively touched his arm. Sheppard flinched at how much that light touch hurt. "I am sorry to prod, but I must know how you feel."

"Like I'm dying," he replied bluntly. A sharp laugh escaped his parched lips. "Probably because I am."

"I do not believe that is the case."

"What?" Sheppard was confused.

"Do you still itch?"

Unrelenting headache and muscles aches, a stomach he wanted to disown, and now his hands felt tingly with that pins and needles sensation, but… "No," he replied, stunned at this revelation.

Zelenka seemed downright ecstatic at his response as he detailed what he'd discovered during the time that Sheppard had been unconscious. The words 'scanner' and 'stupid assumption' filtered through the foggy haze that was wrapping its shroud more and more around his thoughts. Something about blood samples but no thanks, already gave at the office, or at least on the job. Zelenka was droning on excitedly … sorta like McKay did when he got on the scent of some cool new Ancient tech toy. He knew he should be listening, paying attention to the words and their meaning because their lives depended on it, but it was too much effort. He could feel the pain fading away, an indefatigable darkness encroaching in on all sides of his mind, and he welcomed the emptiness that it brought.

PART 40

The moon's large orb blanketed Atlantis' ocean with a soft white glow. Elizabeth gazed into the vast distance, watching the rippling waves in their never-ending quest to reach shore. It would be several hours before dawn's first light peaked over the horizon, but only a few hours until the same event occurred on another world, enabling them to send a MALP through.

The control area was oddly quiet considering how on edge everyone remained. Peter dialed up the distant world every half hour, hoping against the odds that they could re-establish contact with the missing men. But each time, the result was the same: no contact.

Elizabeth returned to her office, aware of how everyone studied her as she passed by. They were waiting for her to make the final pronouncement, but she couldn't. Not yet. She owed both Sheppard and Zelenka another chance.

Shutting her door, she called Beckett.

"Yes, Elizabeth?" Beckett sounded fatigued.

"We'll be sending through the MALP at 0300 hours," she said first, knowing he'd ask in the event that something had changed. "How are Ford and Teyla doing? Is there any chance they'll be released from isolation soon?"

"Physically, there's no change. Both appear as healthy as when they'd left for the mission," replied Beckett, almost dismally. He was thrilled his two patients were showing no signs of the parasite, yet he hated not having an actual specimen of the microscopic creature so he could find a cure. He hesitated a moment. "Psychologically, they're showing the stress of not knowing and being unable to help."

"I know," said Elizabeth.

Beckett continued. "Should… Should the major and Dr. Zelenka not return, I would like to keep Ford and Teyla in isolation, just for a few more days. I know it will be rough on them, but we have to consider the safety of the population."

"I understand," said Elizabeth, unconsciously nodding in agreement. It pained her to enact protocol such as this, but it was necessary. She had hoped that she wouldn't lose any friends in this kind of situation. Rodney had nearly perished in the nanovirus incident but luck, science and bravery had saved them all.

Elizabeth glanced through the glass surrounding her office, studying Rodney, who sat at one of the control consoles, still working - in vain, many people silently thought - on the Ancient's database segments. "Carson, I'm worried about Rodney."

"Aye, he's running himself ragged." Beckett didn't sound much better himself, but didn't add anything further. They both knew how close Rodney was to both men. Elizabeth had never expected Rodney to become friends with anyone from the military, as he'd never been shy in his opinion of how the military treated scientists. While Zelenka would be sorely missed by the scientific community, Sheppard's death would have an impact on everyone. He was the military leader who, on more than one occasion, had put his own life on the line to save the rest. She honestly didn't think there was anybody on base who could come close to taking his place.

It felt cold and heartless to be thinking about their deaths when they truly didn't know the men's fate. Rodney was making himself sick with worry that Zelenka or Sheppard could have possibly set off a boobytrap at the compound, or that maybe it was the storm they heard, as even tremendous storms did severe damage. Nobody could forget the tsunami that had nearly destroyed Atlantis and who's to say that world didn't suffer equally as bad weather? Elizabeth had tried to dissuade him from that train of thought, to even go back to his room to catch a nap until the next dial-up, but the man had adamantly refused to relinquish his post at the console. He was letting guilt guide his actions now; guilt that he should have forced Sheppard into taking a more seasoned scientist with him, someone who had field experience.

"Elizabeth?" Beckett's concerned voice intruded. "I'm sorry I haven't been able to do more."

A tired smile crossed her face, although she knew he couldn't see it. "It's not your fault, Carson. Lord knows there was always the chance of this happening. We've been lucky so far."

"For what it's worth, Elizabeth," said Beckett. "I agree with your decision."

"Thank you," she replied. She knew that the decision to allow no rescue of the two men - one strongly backed up by Sheppard himself - was unpopular and given the length of time the situation had continued, she'd already heard rumors of discontent from some sectors. She could deal with that. What worried her was how the base's personnel would deal with the end result, and especially, how Rodney would handle it. She looked out at the control area again. McKay was staring bleakly at the gate.

She signed off with Beckett, then put her face in her hands, praying for a miracle.


NOTE: Next, Day Four...