I should probably point out that I have little or no knowlege about most things medical. I try to stay vague enough I don't make really big mistakes or I try to do a little background research, but if I goof or present something in an unrealistic way, I apologize.

Thanks again for all the reviews. Love 'em to death. Keep on talking to me.

Chapter 4

Kavanagh sat staring blankly at the turquoise rock. He'd heard from some of the other scientists that Sheppard had gotten sick at lunch and been whisked off to the infirmary, but they didn't know anything else. He was dying to run down there and see what was going on, but there was no way to do that without raising suspicions. He had been far to vocal in certain circles about his feelings for a certain major. He couldn't suddenly act like he cared now. But still...he needed the information for his research. He had to find a way...

"Dr. Kavanagh?" Beckett poked his head in Kavanagh's office. "Could I have a word with ya?"

Kavanagh slid the stone into the open top drawer of his desk and slowly closed the drawer as he stood up. "Dr. Beckett, what a suprise. By all means, come in." Kavanagh motioned Beckett in and to a chair in the cramped corner on the other side of his desk. "What can I do for you?"

Beckett sat in the chair, obviously uncomfortable. "I...uh...need yer help. You may have heard that Major Sheppard is ill."

"Yes, Dr. Sampson was just telling me the major got sick at lunch today. We were all wondering how he is?" Kavanagh smiled, reminding Beckett of a weasil. He had to resist the urge to shudder with disgust. Every time he looked at Kavanagh, he was reminded of the time Jumper One was stuck in the gate and Kavanagh wanted to activate the shield to be sure he saved himself. Creepy, creepy little man.

"Well, the truth is that he's not doin' very well. He's been exposed to some sort of...toxin or poison, we think. I thought you might be able to help."

Kavanagh's stomach clenched with fear. Did they know? How could they know? He had to remain calm. He could get rid of the stone and they would never be able to prove anything. He evened his breathing and tried his best to appear calm. "And how is that, Doctor?"

Beckett placed a sheet of paper on his desk. "This is the results of Major Sheppard's bloodwork. You'll notice the presence of an odd compound," he pointed to the paper. "I need a chemist to help me make some sense of it and try to find a way to treat it or neutralize it." Beckett looked at Kavanagh hopefully, half expecting him to say no.

Kavanagh almost jumped for joy at the request. He couldn't believe his luck. He hadn't had any idea what the stone would do to Sheppard. Apparently, when it got warm, it must have passed on this chemical that was now in his blood. and causing him to be sick. Now he would have a chance to study both the chemical and the effects under the guise of helping Major Sheppard. Talk about having a run of good luck. He had to put a lid on his excitement and seem calm and concerned. That was not going to be easy.

"Of course I'd be happy to help. Perhaps you could fill me in on Major Sheppard's symptoms. It would also help if I had a sample of his blood so that I might run some tests on the compound myself."

Beckett smiled, the relief showing on his face. "Thank you. I'll fill you in about the major and then I'll get a blood sample for ya. I appreciate your help."

"No problem, Dr. Beckett. Anything for the major."

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John Sheppard knew nothing but pain. He hadn't for several hours, although he had no idea how long it had been. Time was meaningless. He found out long ago that he had to focus on the pain to have any hope of bearing it. If he focused on it, he could sometimes feel a slight twitching before the agonizing wave of intense muscle spasms began. Knowing where the rolling pain would come from somehow made it easier to ride. He shifted positions again. Sometimes there was enough time between the peak of one wave of pain and the next to adjust his postition and prepare. And then again, sometimes there was no warning and the agony caught him off guard. Those were the times he thought he might scream. Maybe he was screaming now, he really didn't know. He really didn't care. Shifting again. Pain rolling through his abdomen and down into the groin. He desperately clutched at his midsection, willing the pain to subside. It did, only to be replaced by a stabbling pain in his lower back. He leaned back against the pain and felt it spreading forward into his chest. He desperately tried to suck in air, but just couldn't seem to pull any into his lungs. He wondered briefly if he was dying and found the idea strangely comforting - at least the pain would stop.

The pain shifted from his back and chest to his arms and shoulders and he found he could breathe again. Missed opportunity. He remembered brief flashes of McKay, Beckett, and Weir. He was sometimes vaguely aware of voices, touches, movement...but usually had no conscious recognition of the events around him. He was totally isolated...alone in the dark with the endless pain that would not let him rest. He was exhausted, but he knew there would be no sleep. He had to keep moving...rolling and shifting with the pain. Maybe the next time the pain clutched his chest in a vise that would not let him breathe, it would last longer...at least long enough to pass out.

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McKay and Weir walked into the infirmary, immediately looking toward Sheppard's bed. As expected, Beckett was there checking IV lines and vitals. Sheppard was still twisting and shaking under the covers, in constant motion. The two looked at one another, each thinking the same thing. They had been sure that exhaustion would have kicked in and Sheppard would be sleeping. They were disappointed to find him still in agony. Beckett saw them standing in the door and motioned them over.

"I don't suppose..." Weir began.

Beckett shook his head. "He's about the same, except I think he's gettin' weaker. We had to start a second IV to fight the dehydration. I don't mind tellin' ya that keepin' them from rippin' out or gettin' tangled with him thrashin' around like that has been quite a battle."

"Did you talk to Kavanagh?" asked McKay, grimacing at the thought of his friend's life being in the arrogant, self-centered sciientist's hands.

"Aye. He's working on it now. I checked with him just a few minutes ago, but he doesn't really have anythin' yet. He informed me that his tests can't be rushed."

"Yeah, whatever," muttered McKay. Somehow he couldn't see Kavanagh inconveniencing himself to save the major some pain. Useless twit. He really wished he'd taken the time to get a chemistry degree along the way.

"What about you two? Did you find where Major Sheppard went running this morning? "

"Well," sighed Weir. "The teams found where they think he went. All the rooms and labs in that area were searched, but they didn't find anything that looked hopeful. Rodney even went down there and had a look. There just wasn't anything that looked like it could be the answer."

"Could it be something he came into contact with yesterday or the day before? Would it have to have been today?" asked McKay.

Beckett thought for a second. "I suppose it could have been before today. Some toxins take a while to accumulate in the system. It looks like we should start bactracking. We need to sit down and trace his movements yesterday - everything he ate, drank, or came into contact with."

Sheppard shifted positions a little more violently, rattling the bed and drawing their attention. Beckett was at his side in two steps. Sheppard groaned softly and his eyelids fluttered as if trying to open. Beckett leaned over close and put his hand on the major's shoulder. He noted the soldier's body was still shaking and trembling. "Major, can you hear me?" Sheppard just moaned and kicked his legs under the covers, quickly drawing them back up to his chest.

"Waterrrrrrr," he mumbled almost incoherently as he thrashed around.

The nurse who had been sitting with him handed Beckett a cup of ice chips. "Afraid to give you any water, major. You can't seem to keep it down. Try this." He slipped a small ice chip into Sheppard's slightly open mouth. Sheppard made a low sound that sounded more like satisfaction than pain. He moved his legs under the blanket, almost as if he was running in place laying in the bed. Then he kicked his legs out sharply, drew them back up, and rolled over on his other side, his back to Beckett.

"Carson, please do something. How much longer can this last?" whispered McKay.

"Aye, I've been thinkin' about that. I..." Beckett hesitated. "I'm thinkin' about trying a very low dosage of muscle relaxer to see if we can lower the intensity of the cramps. I want to start out low, though...in case we have some kind of negative effect. I asked Nick to come in early tonight. I'd rather have two of us here in case somethin' happens."

McKay and Weir both looked relieved. "Oh thank God! When?" asked McKay.

Almost as if on cue, Dr. Nick Strauhan strolled into the infirmary. Spotting Beckett and the others, he joined them quickly. He stood for a moment, watching Sheppard roll around in the bed, his face contorted with pain and wet with sweat. Sheppard grunted as he flopped over to his back and arched up against the pain. Beckett watched the major closely until he dropped back to the bed and began breathing again.

"Carson...?" Nick looked questioninly at Beckett.

"I'll explain...my office." The four of them headed for Beckett's office.

Beckett brought Nick up to speed on what had happened that day and his decision to give Major Sheppard a mild muscle relaxer. Beckett was obviously not comfortable giving meds when he didn't understand the toxin that was plaguing the major, but he felt he had to do something. Even if Sheppard recovered physically, he knew there could be psychological ramifications from being isolated in extreme pain for an extended period of time.

Nick and Carson worked together with two nurses to hook Sheppard up to monitors - heart, blood pressure, pulse. It took all of them to hold Sheppard still while pulling his gown down and connecting the leads. Elizabeth found she couldn't watch him struggle against the medical team trying so desperately to help him. He was isolated in his own world of pain and the realization made her blood run cold in her veins. She hugged herself against the chill as she looked away. The problem was that she could still hear the rustle of covers as he struggled and the strangled groans of pain.

"Okay, I think we're ready," stated Beckett unsurely. Suddenly, the room seemed crowded with all the people standing around Sheppard's bed, watching his agony and waiting on a possible solution. "Let's do this." Beckett glanced beside the bed to make sure the crash cart was nearby - just in case.

Nick picked up the syringe that lay prepared on a tray near the bed. He looked at Beckett, who nodded to him, then injected the contents into Sheppard's IV port. Replacing the empty syringe, he stood back and waited silently with the others. They all watched, willing Sheppard's anguished movements to slow enough that he might get some relief. It took several minutes, but finally the movements did begin to slow and the shaking seemed to decrease in intensity. They all began to relax and even dared a few small smiles.

McKay slapped Beckett on the shoulder. "Okay, maybe I was wrongwith all those voodoo magic cracks. I'm just glad...Carson?" Beckett's smile was slowly fading as he stepped up to the heart monitor for a closer look. Nick was already focused in on it.

The movement caught the attention of the others and the lightening mood of the room suddenly darkened again as they fell silent. Watching the heart monitor, they realized that the rate was too fast and was continuing to increase.

"Tachycardia," stated Nick.

Beckett nodded and pointed to the screen. "Bloody hell, we've got atrial fibrillation. I knew this was a bad idea."

TBC