Day 7
Ford, Teyla, Elizabeth, Peter and Rodney stand around the Control Room in a misshaped circle. They've been avoiding the conference room for days now. Elizabeth's perch remains the same with every meeting, the small balcony overlooking the gateroom. She only occasionally looks directly at anyone; most of the time, her eyes pick a spot on the floor and lock onto it. When they first converged for the meeting, Rodney noticed Elizabeth's red-rimmed eyes had sunken within dark circles. As usual, she has her arms crossed tightly over her chest as if she's cold.
"It has been a week and we still have nothing," Teyla says almost angrily. She looks even more weary and haggard than Elizabeth, not something Rodney is used to seeing in the Athosian woman. "Could lightning have damaged or destroyed the other gate?"
Rodney shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. He's been up for days trying to figure out what's wrong and the only thing keeping him up right now is the control board he's leaning his butt against. He rubs his hands over his face, noting the stubble and realizes he probably shouldn't be judging Teyla's appearance or anyone else's for that matter. "Not possible," he snaps. "Naquadah can absorb massive amounts of energy. In fact, SG–1 once used a lightning strike to dial Earth's coordinates. The DHD, on the other hand-"
"Would not survive a direct hit," Elizabeth finishes. She looks up from the floor and her gaze locks with Rodney's. The full meaning of her words hits home: neither would Sheppard.
"He's fine," Rodney says forcefully. "We just need to get him back here."
Before dropping her gaze to the floor again, Rodney catches sight of unshed tears hovering in Elizabeth's eyes. He not only wonders when she last slept, but also if he misread her relationship with the Major. Rodney believed them to be simply friends…
"The DHD only affects an outgoing wormhole, correct?" Teyla asks.
"That's correct," Peter says. "Our problem is we can't dial any other coordinates. Our system is malfunctioning."
"Why?" Elizabeth asks quietly.
"Perhaps a power burst or overload of some kind," Peter says.
"Like a short," Elizabeth offers, this time looking at Peter. "A blown fuse."
Peter nods. "Exactly."
"Unfortunately," McKay starts, talking fast as usual. "We have no way of knowing what a blown "ancient" fuse looks like. And even if we manage to find it, we can't run out to the local Radio Shack for a replacement."
"So, what can we do?" Ford finally spoke up. He'd been uncharacteristically silent for the past week and like the others, probably hasn't had a wink of sleep. Rodney thinks the poor kid looks like death on two legs.
Ford and Teyla have spent much time together, in silence, Rodney assumes, since every time he's come across them, whether in the corridors or the mess hall, neither is speaking, they're both simply staring into space, mirroring each other's worried expressions.
"All we can do is keep trying," Rodney says at last.
Elizabeth turns away from them and looks down at the dormant Stargate. She hugs herself closer and shivers a bit before turning back to them. She locks eyes with Rodney. "I think you need some rest, Dr. McKay."
"What?"
"I want you to get some sleep.
Rodney huffed. "Are you kidding?"
Elizabeth shakes her head. "I can't have you getting sick with exhaustion. Not now. That goes for all of you."
Teyla steps over to Elizabeth and briefly touches her arm. "You're not giving up?"
After a long moment, Elizabeth lifts her head higher. "No. If Major Sheppard survived the lightning strike, he's quite resourceful and can take care of himself for the short term." She looks at the floor again. "If he didn't…" she trails off with another shake of her head. After some more silence she looks up again. "Get some sleep. That's an order." Then she walks out, leaving all of them to stare after her.
John opens his eyes slowly, dragging himself out of the dream realm. As his gaze begins to focus, his mind whirls at the sensual tingle traveling the length of his body. He can feel his toes buzzing. How weird is that? This is no pins and needles pain, this is…cool.
Not wanting to break the spell and loose this unimaginably pleasant feeling, John holds his body still, only letting his eyes take in his surroundings. A diffused golden light exposes a very low, polished ceiling. It looks like beige marble. His gaze lazily drifts right, seeing the top of a wall made of the same material but also draped with a maroonish colored fabric as a kind of decoration. The marble looks familiar and he remembers seeing…the pillars around the Stargate on 446.
Taking stock of his situation, John realizes he's lying on his back, pillows and a soft mattress under him and a heavy quilt pulled up to his waist. Though shirtless, he's warm and comfortable. His brain's foggy on how he got here; he could swear he was just dancing and kissing…John blinks slowly, relishing the memory of that tender kiss.
When he opens his eyes, he sees Ashri's kneeling to his left—obviously the padding is on the floor, not an actual bed—eyes closed, brow furrowed as her right palm hovers over his heart. A soft orange glow, similar to the light in the room but a bit more focused, emanates from her palm. He figures she's the reason his body feels so wonderful.
Beyond her, passed his feet there's a large opening with nothing but darkness in the distance. John studies the space he's in, thinking it looks more like a small cave or den than a room. Ashri doesn't seem to notice he's awake and John takes a moment to drink in the sight of her, in reality. If this is reality. He thinks about that for a second, notices he's hungry and thirsty. Seems real enough.
Though loathe to disrupt the amazing tingles, John says, "Hi." His gravelly voice and the dryness of his throat shock him. It feels like he hasn't spoken in weeks.
Ashri abruptly looks up, her eyes wide and startled. With a sigh, she flashes a relieved smile that makes her eyes glisten and twinkle. The glow from her palm fades as she moves her hand to stroke his forehead—revealing an angry, but healing, fist-size burn on his chest.
Her touch sends a pleasant flutter through his belly as she brushes fingers into his hair. Her feelings for him are evident in her expression. So much emotion floods from her that John swears it speeds up his heart. He's never known a woman to look at him with so much devotion; it's breath-taking…and a bit scary.
Okay, so he's been out of the dating scene a while now; doesn't mean he's desperate for some crazed stalker chic…John shakes off the thought, trying to bury the cynic again. He smiles up at Ashri, trying to determine her actual age. Again he's struck with the innocence inside her, the openness in her eyes. She doesn't have a single shield, no walls in place, not a hint of skepticism. Everything she has, she's offering to him in that loving gaze.
She's not a child, however; that much is clear. Her dark hair is pulled back as it was in his dream, but now he can see faint strands of premature white at the left temple. There are ever so slight wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and almost imperceptible smile lines around her mouth. John estimates she's closer to his age than he previously thought; possibly early to mid-thirties. There are no scars or freckles that he can see in this light, but isn't that the point of candlelight? Her porcelain skin begs for his tender caresses.
Damn, look at me! Five months ago I would have been going all kinds of crazy seeing a woman from my dreams with a glowy hand checking me out like this. What a difference a Stargate makes!
John smiles, reaches up to take her right hand so he can kiss her miraculous palm. She tries to slip away from his grasp, but not soon enough for John to miss what she wants to hide. His heart thuds painfully in his chest and his stomach flops. He grabs her wrist hard, pulling her closer, twisting her arm and making her wince as he forces her palm into view.
The look of horror in her eyes is nothing compared to the betrayal John feels. He's dizzy and sick to his stomach. Ashri's palm looks like a Wraiths!
Heaving a disgusted grunt: "Get the hell away from me!" John shoves her with more strength than he realizes he has. The room is tiny, a small nook if anything and Ashri falls back and smacks into the stone wall. Holding her wrist with her other hand, fear and hurt wash over her face as tears drip from her eyes. Ashri rushes out through the opening and vanishes into the darkness beyond.
John presses his hand to his chest, sighing with relief that the wound isn't worse. He slowly raises himself to his elbows. His body aches, like he's had a really heavy work-out, but otherwise he feels…okay. His head reminds him of a nasty hangover and all his muscles burn, but nothing he can't push to the back of his mind. He checks his injury. His brows crease with confusion. It's a burn mark, not a left-over scar from a life-sucking Wraith hand.
Where's Rodney? Ford? Teyla? Did they just leave me here?
John sighs. This is bad. Ashri doesn't look like the usual Wraith. She looks human! She felt human when he held her in his arms. But that was just a dream, he reminds himself. John rubs a hand over his face, feeling the stubble on his chin and neck. The beard's at least a week's worth. So why hasn't someone from Atlantis come for him yet? Where's his team?
He saw Teyla go through the gate and McKay and Ford weren't far behind. He'd been right behind them, not a yard away, and then…John sits up, pushing some squishy pillows with silky material behind him. He can't remember seeing either McKay or Ford go through the event horizon. In fact, his memory suddenly, uneventfully ends with blackness. A lot of it actually. Then the fuzziness of the dreams. He remembers those as if he'd really been there.
Pushing the images aside, John checks out the nook. With its claustrophobic, slightly rounded walls and ceiling, maybe a 10x10 space all around with the bedding in the center, it kind of reminds him of the bottle on "I Dream of Jeanie"; though with less pink and purple. Still, it's quite lush with the richly colored silken fabrics loosely draped along the walls and golden lighting from numerous candles in colorful small jars: some clear others opaque like stone. The quilt covering him even looks handmade. If he didn't know better, John would swear Ashri had a subscription to Bedrooms By Design…he'd seen it on the shelf once at Home Depot.
So where's all the Wraith crap? The webbed doors and dreary colors? The guys with no faces and really bad white hair?
Not much of a cell given that there's a great big open wall; all that's missing is the bright green 'exit' sign. And over to his right, within arms reach, there's a small board—or miniature table with three inch legs—filled with delicious looking goodies. A silver cup and a mismatched stone pitcher are nearest. Beyond that there's a bowl of what looks like exotic fruit and vegetables.
John picks up the cup—lightweight and reminiscent of pewter—there's some liquid in it. He sniffs the drink then takes a sip: water. He gulps down the rest then picks up the pitcher with his right arm, feeling a bit weak in the left, and sloppily drinks straight from the big jug. It tastes like heaven.
As he's drinking, enormously refreshed and energized, realization smacks him in the face. He can feel the fire of embarrassment burning his cheeks and ears; his heart thumps painfully in his chest. Just as Carson told him in that first dream, Ashri's been taking grand care of him.
And as a thank you, he nearly broke her arm…and probably did break her heart.
Looking beyond the nook, John tries to see her in the darkness, but only a wall of blackness greets him. He needs to apologize and—surprising himself—really wants to, but that'll mean getting up and looking around a strange place...without his team…or his gun—which he doesn't see anywhere. He would much rather stay warm and comfy right where he is.
Still…the look on her face burns in his mind. The pain…the anguish…he felt that kind of pain before. He'd never wish it on anyone, well maybe an real Wraith, but John doesn't believe they actually have feelings to hurt.
No matter what, who or whatever she is, Ashri's been good to him. She deserves some groveling. Hell she deserves a lot of groveling and a big fat apology; probably a nice bouquet of roses and some chocolates too. But all John has to offer is the groveling and apology, so he might as well get to it.
He tosses aside the quilt, only then seeing he's quite naked. "Well, this could be a problem."
McKay's under the console as Elizabeth comes in. "I gave you an order, Rodney."
"Yeah, I'm disobeying." He stops working long enough to catch her gaze. "I can't sleep anyway. Can you?"
Elizabeth shakes her head and heaves a sigh. Any time she closes her eyes, even briefly, an image of Sheppard getting hit by lightning and falling into a pond plays in her mind on a continuous loop. She didn't have to be there, McKay's description had been clear enough.
The whole city seems to have fallen quiet with mourning. Teyla and Ford have not spoken out loud, but they have given up hope. But part of her can't let go. Without McKay's unending guarantees, she would have tried to say goodbye to John days ago. She would have cried and mourned her lost friend then gone on to suffer through the bigger picture.
The Stargate doesn't work. They are literally cut off from everything, except the mainland. They have limited power from the generators and no chance of making it to the Alpha Site should the Wraith decide to attack at any moment.
No. Elizabeth hasn't slept in a while. She still has hope. "So, any news, Rodney?"
"E equals MC squared."
"Anything recent?"
McKay raises himself onto one elbow. "There's a couple centuries of dust bunnies under here."
Elizabeth hugs herself and closes her eyes tight, fending off another round of the chills and a headache. She doesn't have the stomach or patience for casual banter. "Rodney!"
"Look!" McKay's voice cracks as he rambles quickly. "You should know by now my sarcasm is nothing more than a defense mechanism to avoid discussing distressful topics and/or giving bad news." This sudden outburst and flurry of words is actually a welcome change for Elizabeth. It's what he adds that just might break her heart. "I can't find anything wrong with it."
Elizabeth drops her head, feeling the pounding at the base of her skull increase ten fold. But McKay's still talking and she needs to pay attention. She looks at him again. "Not only that, we're getting a drain on the other systems as well. We're losing power."
This is not what she wants to hear. Without power, they'll be dead in the water…literally. Elizabeth sighs. "Okay, let's take a step back. What do systems have in common."
"Aside from keeping Atlantis functioning? They're all…"
He stops suddenly and Elizabeth raises a brow, waiting. Something in McKay's demeanor changes, there's even a hint…just a hint of a smile. No not a smile, a grimace. But she's seen this look before. It's what she considers his 'light bulb moment'. Something has occurred to him that he hasn't thought of before. Usually Elizabeth would become very weary of that look, but today it makes her heart beat just a bit faster. "Yes?"
"Electrical. In theory. The Ancient technology is-"
Dr. Carson interrupts over the intercom. He's gone city-wide instead of using the headset which instantly puts Elizabeth on alert. "Doctors Weir and McKay to the infirmary. Doctors Weir and McKay report to the infirmary immediately."
Elizabeth locks eyes with McKay then spins on her toes and heads out. She can hear him scrambling up after her.
With the quilt wrapped around his waist, gripped closed with one fist and carrying a single small candle in his other hand, John makes his way down a couple of steps from the nook and into the dark cavern. He can tell it's big, by the sound of it. Besides that it simply feels huge.
Something brushes by John's face, a brief wisp of feathers on his nose. The wake of the bird, or whatever it was, sways the flame of the candle. John looks up, seeing only darkness, but knows there's more than one creature living overhead. He can hear the clicking of claws and the flap of wings.
His bare feet are assaulted next, by a warm fuzziness that vanishes the moment he looks down. Okay, birds eat mice…that's a good thing. Not that he knows if this place has either, but it makes him feel better to be able to relate to something around here. As he steps forward, John discovers floor to ceiling pillars—reminiscent of ancient Greece—mostly by almost running face first into them since he doesn't have any extra feelers; unlike the others in this dwelling.
As he first left the nook, he caught sight of some elaborate artwork on the wall to his right and an image of that young anthropologist popped into his head. That kid would love to see this place. Moving cautiously forward, or more to the point keeping the ever dwindling light from the nook at his back, he stumbles into a chair and stubs his big toe. John cringes at the pain, but keeps his cool. A rustling noise overhead pulls his attention and he hears a definitive, "Whooo." He shrugs. Owls are cool.
The sound of water pulls his attention to the left and he turns, raising the candle. A few feet away, there's a pond of black tar. Or at least in the miniscule light it seems that way, though a glimmer of memory nips at the back of his mind. He tries to reach for the thought, but it vanishes.
Stepping away from the table, he holds the candle out and sees ripples in the water. Moments later, a few bubbles break the surface, followed by Ashri. John can only see the right side of her face as she stands in profile with the water up to her shoulders. She wipes her hands over her face and slicked-back hair, then drops her head a bit and sighs sadly.
Unconsciously, John takes a step back, feeling like he's intruding. He almost turns to go into the nook, but suddenly, she's rising sleek and wet from the depths. And ohmygod…she's naked, very naked…exceptionally naked…and her long, wet hair is clinging to all her curves…oh man, I did not do her justice in the fantasy department! And she keeps coming…and I'm all naked!
John gushes a sigh that extinguishes his candle, but the dim light from the far away nook is more than enough to see by now. As X-rated thoughts flash through his mind, John's frozen in place, wide-eyed as his Lady Godiva glides out of the water. Oh, she's definitely human!
His body betrays him, reacting to this erotic vision in an instant. His mouth dries as his breathing becomes shallow. He grips the quilt even tighter and nearly loses his hold on the flameless candle when she steps completely out of the water, glistening all over.
Ashri doesn't look at him, if she even knows he's there. But she must know; he's standing in silhouette against the only available light, gaping like a fool. She doesn't acknowledge him, however; instead, turning her back to him to retrieve a heavy white wrap-robe from the boulder-lined edge of the pond. She slips into it after ever so slowly pulling her hair aside, exposing her flesh without a hint of embarrassment. John's breath catches and he bites down on his lower lip to contain a heated groan.
But as she closes the robe around her, hiding her luscious form from his greedy eyes, a disappointed whimper does escape John's throat, completely beyond his control. He's transfixed by her, his feet pretty much stuck in concrete and he can only stare as she sits in the chair farthest away from him at the other end of the long table and ever so sensuously pulls her wet hair over her left shoulder exposing her long graceful neck.
John's fingers ache to touch that silky skin. To kiss that curve of her spine.
Keeping her back to him, Ashri twists her hair, ringing out excess water. A puddle forms below the chair and with every drip, John's grip on his quilt weakens. Icicles, hockey, rain… He's trying to imagine anything…everything to get his mind of the burning desire pumping through his blood. Ice cream…licking the ice cream off her supple—stop it! He shakes off the images…remember the palm! Remember! She's at least part Wraith!
After a several moments of painful silence, John regains control of his brain, perhaps not fully functioning, but he clears his throat and manages to find his voice. "Uh…Hi. Remember me? The jackass from before."
Ashri doesn't stop what she's doing, doesn't turn or give a hint that she's heard him.
"Look…" John continues, licking his dry lips. "I'm sorry about what happened. Really. Really sorry. It's not personal." Oh, that's good…way to make her feel better. Good job, John. No wonder you're still single.
His feet seem to be under his control again so he takes a couple of steps toward her. "I don't want to sound ungrateful for the hospitality and all…but…could I have my pants?"
Ashri's hands stop moving over her hair. After a moment, John sees her hang her head, like she did in the water. He's afraid he said something to hurt her again, but doesn't know what else to do. He can't walk around here naked.
Sure you can.
No. It's not gonna happen. No matter what, he needs his clothes.
John's about to move closer to her and ask again when a soft orange glow rises in the four corners of the enormous cavern. John looks around, but can't see exactly where the light is coming from. Not that it matters because within moments, the cavern walls are energized with a familiar pale blue light. One he's seen before…in the control chair of Antarctica. The golden glow fades leaving the bluish light within the walls, revealing an elaborate, Ancient-made temple. For a moment, John can swear he's back in Antarctica, only warmer and…naked.
"Wow. Did you just..." He looks around the giant open space; finally seeing the glowing eyes of the whooter perched on a rafter way, way up and finds he's once again a mouth-gaping fool. "This is cool."
John turns in a slow circle, taking in everything he can about the place. It reminds him of the church cathedrals from history books, except no windows…that's a bit odd. And of course, no church he's been in has glowing walls.
It's the other residents who give him pause, however. McKay and Beckett would go nuts seeing all the birds perching up on the rafters, some of them mortal enemies, but seemingly oblivious to that fact. And…is that a cat? John squints, eyeing the prospective feline lounging up high with all the birds, its tail playfully flapping at one in particular…the owl!
Feeling a crick in his neck and his jaw muscles tightening due to his mouth simply hanging open, John pulls his attention back down to eye level. Did he really see that correctly? Did Ashri actually turn on the lights…just by thinking about it? And if this is a temple built by the Ancients, and she can control it, then that must mean…she has the gene! Which means, she can't be a Wraith…right?
John sees his clothes neatly folded on the end of the table nearest to him, his hand gun on top, boots and P-90 on the floor. As he reaches for the clothes, Ashri stands up and walks quickly to the right of the cavern, obviously trying to give him some space so he can get dressed. Again, John feels the need to apologize. She's going out of her way to make him comfortable.
Without a backward glance, Ashri goes up to the far right wall opposite the pond and walks through it! John stumbles and nearly falls over as he pulls on his boxers.
Elizabeth stomps through the infirmary door with McKay right on her heels and she nearly tramples on an unconscious Lt. Ford lying a few feet inside. In his hurry to keep up, McKay bumps into her shoulder. "Sorry."
Waving him off, Elizabeth kneels and checks on Ford. She finds his pulse. "Dr. Beckett?"
"Aye. Sorry, 'bout that, Dr. Weir." Elizabeth looks up, seeing Carson place an oxygen mask on an unconscious Teyla.
"What's wrong?" Elizabeth asks.
Carson leaves Teyla's side, motions to McKay and the two of them lift Ford onto another bed. "Lt. Ford brought Teyla in a few moments ago. He said one moment she was talking to him, the next she simply dropped in the corridor without warning. As soon as we got her on the bed, he collapsed." Carson puts a mask on Ford as well.
A nurse takes Teyla's temperature with an ear monitor. "Hundred–three point two."
"That can't be right," McKay says, brow creasing with worry.
Carson listens to Teyla's chest with a stethoscope. "Heartbeat's slowing. Bradycardia. And look at this." He lifts her hand, the fingertips are bluish.
The nurse checks Ford's temp and hands. "Same. Even the fingers."
"What the hell's going on here?" If she doesn't get some answers soon, Elizabeth isn't beyond hurting someone. "Carson?"
"Sorry, Dr. Weir. Just a moment please." He turns to the nurse. "Continuous O2, saline I.V. and EKG. Get started on the blood work." The nurse nods and gets to work as Carson turns to Elizabeth and McKay. "When Lt. Ford first brought Teyla in, I thought it was fatigue. The poor lass has been having a rough time of it with…the Major missing."
Elizabeth blinks heavily. She and Teyla share that problem. Perhaps the two of them should have tried to comfort each other, but she didn't feel comfortable with that idea. Elizabeth didn't begrudge John female companionship, in fact, she couldn't think of a better match for him; but at the same time, the constant rumors around the city—not to mention Bates' continuous innuendo—tightened a knot of jealousy in her gut. Not that she had romantic inklings about her and Major Sheppard. No, she has Simon…she plans on getting back to him someday. Perhaps jealousy isn't the right word…not that it matters now. Lost in her thoughts, she almost misses what Carson's saying.
"Then when I saw the Lieutenant drop, I realized it had to be something else."
"Such as?" McKay asks.
"I believe we're seeing some sort of bacteria or viral infection."
"Infection?" Elizabeth and McKay say at the same time.
"Aye. And it's nothing like I've seen before. At first blush it looks similar to sleep depravation: sunken eyes, weight loss…"
McKay snaps his fingers. "I thought Teyla looked a bit…drawn today. Ford too."
"Aye," Carson says. "I saw them in the mess the other day then again for breakfast this morning. They both looked a wreck, but when I asked they simply told me they were tired. I ordered them to get rest."
"You didn't call them in for a check up?" Elizabeth can't believe Carson could be so neglectful.
"They were supposed to see me this afternoon, but neither showed. I believed they were taking my advice and getting some much needed sleep. Then suddenly here they are."
Elizabeth feels a fiery ball of fury seeping through her body, leaving her quaking slightly. She can't lose anyone else. She can't! "Carson, what are we looking at here?"
Shaking his head, Carson makes an uncertain face. "I can't tell you that, yet."
That's not what she wants to hear. "Is this something they got on planet Luminance?"
McKay narrowed his eyes. "Nonononono…we were all checked out-"
Carson raises a hand. "All three were cleared, Dr. Weir."
Elizabeth arches a brow. "Is anyone else sick? Maybe someone they both came in contact with upon returning to Atlantis?"
"Not that I'm aware of. Dr. McKay how are you?"
"Fine."
Elizabeth scrutinizes him. "You're sure." And Carson sticks the temperature reader in McKay's ear until it beeps.
McKay waves Carson away. "I said I'm fine."
Elizabeth wants other doctor's opinion. "Normal."
"Then I don't understand. If only Lt. Ford and Teyla are ill…"
Carson crosses his arms over his chest. "We'll need to check everyone. At least make a city-wide announcement giving the symptoms: high fever, sudden weigh loss, blue tinge to lips, fingers or toes. I just hope we don't get overrun with hypochondriacs. No offense, Rodney."
McKay glares at Carson. Elizabeth nods. "I'll be clear."
"What if no one else is sick and it's just Ford and Teyla?" McKay asks.
Carson shrugs. "That'll at least narrow it down a bit. We'll have to track their movements, food in take…have either been to the mainland this week?"
"No. Teyla's…no." Elizabeth says, not feeling the need to elaborate. "And Lt. Ford's been working with Dr. Zelenka and McKay."
"How's Radek?"
McKay shrugs. "Haven't seen him since yesterday."
Carson nods. "Very well. Let's get him in here first thing. Then if it turns out that only these two are ill, we'll have to assume they did catch something on the last mission. Something that slipped by the usual return tests."
"I hope that's not the case, doctor." Elizabeth says somberly.
"Aye. Without access to the planet, we'd have a difficult time finding any kind of cure."
John's strapping on his leg holster, nearly dressed when the energy in the walls starts to fade. Only a couple minutes have passed since Ashri disappeared through the wall. He grabs his shirt, noticing a recent patched-up hole on the front left side that matches exactly with the burn mark on his chest. When he pulls it on, he touches the spot and a faint memory of intense pain lashes at him from the depths of his mind. But he can't deal with that now. The soldier in him knows he has to track down Ashri. She's the one with answers he desperately needs.
He picks up his vest, finding another whole in the same spot as his shirt, but throws it on and clasps it into place anyway. Lastly, he pulls on his boots. Sitting at the table, he glances down at his P-90, he sees something's not right with it. Done with the boots, he picks up the gun to inspect it, but the walls darken, leaving only the minimal light from the nook.
Enough of this. John pulls the flashlight off the P-90, picks up his hand gun and heads for the mystery wall. Standing in front of what looks like solid rock, not even part of the Ancient temple, but polished stone like inside the nook, John holds the flashlight between his teeth then presses his free hand against the rock…and his hand goes through.
Interesting. A hologram maybe?
As when he first walked through the Stargate, John takes a deep breath, closes his eyes and steps forward, arriving a second later inside a long passageway. Harsh, cold wind whips around him, slapping light drops of rain onto his face as the roar of a storm echoes in the tunnel. Cautiously moving forward, John sees flashes of white-hot light bouncing on the rock walls reminding him of a strobe light.
A few yards down, there's an opening. Rain and thunder pound away at the planet outside as multiple lightning strikes hit the ground while more lightning spider-webs the night sky. It's an electric free-for-all; like sticking a knife in a toaster.
Incredibly, John sees Ashri standing in the middle of a field, face skyward, letting the rain pummel her. Lightning flashes all around but—amazingly—she doesn't flinch or get hit. John shoves the flashlight into his pocket.
The storm is exponentially worse than the day he and the others arrived. In the beginning, only a few sparks lit up the pastel sky, which McKay attributed to random static discharge. This planet's atmosphere, as well as plant life diverged from that of Earth, something they'd not seen before. Still, McKay insisted it was safe enough for the time being and they set to explore an inconclusive power source. Nearly an hour later, the lightning storm seemed to be hunting them down and John called an immediate retreat.
With every flash of lightning, that memory of intense pain nips at his brain again and John actually forces himself not to flinch. Seeing Ashri standing out there in the middle of all the danger makes his stomach flip-flop. For a nano-second, he debates saving the obviously deranged woman, then grudgingly braces himself for the onslaught and runs to her. "Are you trying kill yourself?" he shouts over the storm.
Ashri lowers her head, looks at him with those enormous brown eyes, again exposing every emotion right to him. Surprisingly, he still sees the unconditional love in there. Even after the way he treated her. That's what makes it unconditional, idiot! But then her gaze drifts down to the gun in his grip. Closing her eyes, she lifts her face to the rain again.
John glances at the gun. Cursing like the military man he is, John clicks on the safety and shoves the gun into his thigh holster. Lightning slithers and strikes, getting closer to them every second and John once again has the distinct impression the lightning is actually seeking him out.
No time for pleasantries. He grabs Ashri by the shoulders and gives her a good shake. "We're both going inside. NOW!" Then he roughly turns and propels her toward the passageway.
Only then does John see that the passageway entrance and thus the cavern-temple itself is inside the mountain behind the Stargate. "Very cool." Lightning breaks through John's momentary awe and he grabs Ashri by the upper arm, pulling her inside the mountain.
Ashri wrenches her arm out of his grip and slams her right palm against the rock face next to the opening. A quick glow from her hand and the door closes before them, leaving them in utter darkness. John pulls out and flips on the flashlight then touches the spot they just came through...it's solid. He turns to Ashri, but she's already gone.
John steps through the hologram wall and into the cavern. The golden lights are up, but not the blue walls. Ashri's walking away from him. But what's strange is that she's completely dry. Not a trace of rain. John checks his clothes and hair, he's dry too. He glances at the wall. That's just weird...I like it. He wonders if Atlantis has this many fascinating attribute hidden within.
However, he grumbles silently, right now he's got to deal with the crazy lady. "You know, just because we had a spat doesn't mean you need to go out and get all lit up." He makes a big gesture of pointing at the passageway…and the storm beyond. "If that's your way of getting attention-"
Ashri slowly turns her head, looking over her shoulder at him, and even though he knows her feelings for him run deep, he can swear at this moment, she's telling him 'I-can-kill-you-with-this-one-look.'
John's not usually one to back down from a confrontation, but that glare could melt Antarctica. He raises both hands defensively and keeps his distance. "My mistake." Ashri turns from him and continues deeper into the cavern.
The lights begin to fade again, a bit faster this time. John steps over to the corner and looks down at the lamp seemingly buried in the floor. Once again, his jaw drops open…sometime soon it might simply unhinge and fall to the floor. He does a double take on Ashri and raises a questioning finger. "Hey-"
Ashri slowly turns again, nailing him with the same killer glare. John shakes his head and scrunches his face. "Later then."
Carson's checking on Ford as Dr. Weir and McKay watch over Teyla with worry. McKay's actually holding Teyla's hand in his, leaving the Scotsman with some hope that the scientist has compassion for others than himself hidden deep down. Very deep down. Carson snickers at that thought. He knows full well that McKay has deep feelings…for someone specific; though he'll never admit it.
Carson checks Ford's temperature again. It's gone up two-tenths of a degree. He checks the man's pulse. "I fear they're getting worse."
"Her hands are cold," McKay says.
Dr. Weir motions for him to move so she can take the woman's hand for herself. "He's right." She then places Teyla's hand between both of hers, trying to warm it.
"So are Lt. Ford's," Carson says. "They have diminished circulation."
Dr. Zelenka enters the infirmary in a rush. "Dr. Beckett?" he asks, his accent unusually heavy.
Carson leaves the Lieutenant's side and quickly assesses Radek's appearance. "Radek, how are you feeling?"
"Sleepy. You're call woke me from the best dream I've had since-"
McKay waves an impatient hand, instantly crossing his arms and looking down his nose at the other scientist. "Yes, yes. He looks fine, Carson."
Carson checks Radek's pulse and takes his temperature. "What is the meaning of this?" Radek asks, suddenly alarmed. He peers past Carson, finally seeing Teyla and Lt. Ford. "What's happening?"
Dr. Weir speaks up. "We don't know, just yet. Have you heard of anyone in the city being sick?"
Radek pulls off his glasses and cleans them on his shirt. "Other than the sleepless nights…no. Not a peep."
"Okay, then," Carson says. "Sorry to wake you."
"Is there anything-"
"No," Dr. Weir says sharply. Wincing at her own tone, she lifts a soft smile. "Thank you, Dr. Zelenka."
Radek nods and leaves quietly, glancing back just once with a sad look for Dr. Weir. Seems everyone in the city knows how hard she is taking Major Sheppard's loss. For someone as skilled in politics as Dr. Weir, her lack of diplomacy these days concerns Carson deeply.
"Okay," Dr. Weir starts. "Whatever's wrong with Ford and Teyla, it's not contagious."
"I won't say for certain, but I tend to agree, Dr. Weir."
"So, they caught something on Luminance," McKay says definitively.
"We don't know that for sure, Rodney," Dr. Weir says, shooting him a look.
"Well, for arguments sake," McKay says. "Let's assume I'm right, as usual. Why am I not sick?"
Dr. Weir rubs her temples. "Consider it a miracle and get back to work on the Stargate."
"No, really," he looks at Carson. "Why am I not sick?"
Carson takes a deep breath and makes a face. "Perhaps the gene-"
Cutting off Carson mid-sentence, McKay says, "Elizabeth, you don't look so well."
With a mind-numbing glare, that even cools Carson's blood, she retorts, "Thanks."
"He's right, Dr. Weir. Why don't you have a seat? Let me take a look at you."
"I'm fine." She rubs the back of her neck. "Why is it so hot in here?" Then her eyes roll back into her head and she falls forward.
McKay's there in an instant, catching her under the arms and resting her head against his shoulder. "Elizabeth!" With a gentleness Carson's never seen in McKay before, the scientist carefully cradles Dr. Weir under the arms and knees then easily lifts her onto an empty bed. "Does she…?"
Carson's immediately on the other side of the bed listening to her heart and looking into her eyes with his pen-light.
"Carson?"
He hears the concern in McKay's voice and looks up, telling him to wait a moment. Carson lifts her hand, checking the fingertips. "I don't believe so."
"Then what's wrong with her?"
He checks her temperature, finding it normal. Then he looks up at McKay. "When was the last time she ate?"
McKay grimaces, shakes his head and mumbles under his breath. "Damnit, Elizabeth."