UNDER GLASS
By NotTasha
A/N: thank you, as always for your feedback. I appreciate it very much. And to the reviewer who asked why I must torture you... I can't help it. It's in my nature.
CHAPTER 8: SCRAMBLED
They were in the open now, leaving the trees behind. Too exposed – not good. They ducked behind rocks as they moved, but it wasn't good. Ronon felt his skin tingle with the apprehension that the Wraith would catch them here. A stunner was fired, close to hitting him. Another zinged past Teyla, but she'd managed to throw herself behind the safety of boulder in time. She stumbled, trampling more heather weeds that only irately sprang back up after her assault. She got to her feet – knees bloody -- and kept moving.
They ran on, climbing and jumping and stretching to get over the next series of boulders.
Ronon let himself smile when he finally saw what they were after – he changed his path, leaving even the safety of the scattered boulders, to run straight up the open chute, with Teyla right behind him. They scrambled over the loose rock. It scattered under their feet. Another stunner was fired, and Ronon avoided a strike only because one leg almost went out from under him in the gravel.
And in a matter of a few moments they were there – the bottom of the overhang. They glanced to one another, and the Satedan gave the Athosian a knowing grin, before they both turned in opposite directions, ducked out of sight just beyond the overhang.
Sheppard fingered his radio, wanting to contact the others again, but knowing they were too damn busy at the moment – fighting for their lives. He wished he could be with them.
And, God help him, he wished he wasn't in this room. This stillness was killing him. To know that two of his people were running for their lives, while the third – the third was utterly stopped – and running out of time.
John couldn't bear it to watch Rodney die like this. He'd rather be anywhere. He wasn't doing Rodney any good being on the outside. God, all he'd managed to do so far was hurt him. If McKay was out here, the door would have been long open and they'd be out there – helping Ronon and Teyla.
"Wonder what they're doing," John said out loud.
"Who?"
"Ronon and Teyla," Sheppard responded, a little surprised that he had to supply that information.
"Running, fighting, killing and hopefully not getting killed," Rodney responded lightly. As his hands seemed to hesitate over the data-tablet. He frowned, confused for a moment, then suddenly chuckled, and wiped at his forehead.
"Getting somewhere?" Sheppard asked.
"Me?"
"Yes, you!"
"Somewhere, nowhere, anywhere…"
Sheppard couldn't contact the others, fearing that they might be holed up somewhere where silence was needed. No, he wouldn't give them away. "I should be there," he said quietly. His hand brushed at the P90, as he itched to get to work.
He made another circuit of the room. He felt tighter, almost as if the Wraith were at the doorstep. He glanced toward the door leading to the outside, and suddenly, it whisked open again.
Surprised, the weapon snapped into his hands and he crouched, ready to attack, aiming into daylight as fresh air streamed in. It took a moment for his heart to quiet.
Nothing entered except for sunshine and a soft breeze.
Behind him McKay laughed out loud.
A smile spread over John's face at that sound. He did it! "About time!" Sheppard called happily, turning back to face McKay. His expression fell, as he found the glass partition still firmly in place, locking in the inhabitant of the alcove. "McKay?" he growled.
McKay sat with the computer clasped limply. "Can't… get it…" he admitted resignedly, his voice muffled. "Blocked. If… if I could… think … clearly… I…" And he paused, and actually snickered. "Feels like my brains are… scrambled. Rather silly, isn't it?"
"Shut the main door!" Sheppard snapped pointing to the outer doorway. "What the hell are you thinking? Shut it down! Lock it!"
"Shut it, yeah. Lock down!" McKay answered, tittering as if this was a joke. "You shut it."
"This is the wrong time for…"
"Wrong time, yeah, wrong. It's all wrong." And McKay laughed again, but when he looked up to John, his eyes were troubled, frightened. "It's all wrong," he repeated as he lifted one hand and let it fall in a pointless gesture. "God, my head hurts."
John felt himself grow colder in spite of the sunlight. Crap… aw crap!
"Because, I'm in here," McKay tried to stifle his giggle. "And you're out there, and you can't go because of me." He grimaced, breathing unevenly with suppressed laughter. But when he looked up at Sheppard, he seemed to be pleading for something.
Hypoxia. Any pilot was aware of that danger, feared it – it was the thing of nightmares. Oh damn, McKay. Sheppard stiffened, wishing there was anything he could do. All he could manage was to place one hand against the door. Hypoxia. He didn't dare voice his concern, for what difference would it make if he were to say it out loud.
And besides, McKay already knew – Sheppard could see that fear in his eyes.
"I can't do anything," McKay admitted. "Not a thing. Not a thing."
"You'll get it," Sheppard consoled, hoping now – beyond hope. Oh God, it can't end this way!
"Can't think… can't hardly move. I can't do… nothing." And he laughed again. He bit his lip in an attempt to silence the sound. "But you, you can do something…something… anything…" McKay continued, doggedly. "You… you have to help… Ronon… and Teyla. I…" And he swallowed thickly, trying to get out his thought. "I'll…"
No! Not now! "You'll keep working on opening this alcove!" Sheppard demanded, slapping the transparent door violently, hoping to wake his friend from this state. "And get that other door down! That's an order!"
McKay stared downward, his eyes still tracking the data on the display, but his hands were limp beside the computer. The representation of the control panel on the display remained dim. His chest heaved at the attempt to find any remaining oxygen, jiggling with an unwanted giggle.
"Rodney!" John shouted, kicking again at the door. It glowed blue in annoyance, making a soft thrum.
"Won't do any good," McKay softly mocked, his eyes focusing on the transparent door. "This material… is amazing. Wish… wish I could figure out how they do that. Be a good thing to have in Atlantis. Wouldn't that be just great?" He gasped. "Could glass-in a balcony or two. Fit a jumper with a glass bottom maybe." And he laughed again, looking humiliated at his inability to stop.
"You have to fix it, McKay!" But it was obvious, even to John, that there was nothing to be done. Rodney was out of time.
"Tried…" Rodney gasped out. "Tried…"
Even John found it was getting harder to breathe. "Rodney," he called again, but his voice had lost all its fire. He dropped down to his haunches beside the man. "I know." And they were just inches apart, still separated by the clear door.
On the other side of the partition, Rodney just breathed. "My head hurts," he said softly, furrowing his brow, and laughing again, a painful short sound. "And I'm so tired."
"Rodney…you have to find the way," Sheppard pleaded. "There has to be another way."
And they came – the Wraith. Stomping up the mountainside as if this was a romp – closing in on their targets. The faceless drones led, with the males close behind. There were still seven of them, Ronon realized with relief. Oh, fewer Wraith would have been fine – but only if he or Teyla had been the ones to reduce the forces. They'd both delivered some pretty solid hits on their foes, but not enough to stop them.
Seven Wraith behind us, Ronon thought, means no Wraith heading toward Sheppard and McKay.
He waited, glancing to Teyla, who waited as well. The group of seven came up the hillside, scaling over the stones as if they were nothing. Ronon hated them. He hated everything about them – their dead faces, their clothing, the way the walked, even the stones they touched as they moved over them. He especially hated the heather they stomped – a weed that smelled curiously of Earth's broccoli. He felt the loathing boiling in him, as they came closer. His heart raced from the climb, and the storming emotion. He slowed his breathing, forcing himself to calm down.
They came closer. He could almost see the rotted teeth of the closer male as he opened his mouth in a ghastly grin. They came into the chute and were close – close enough.
He wanted them dead. He wanted them all dead. And he had the means to accomplish it.
He held his breath.
"There has to be another way," Sheppard repeated.
And for a moment, neither man said a thing. John leaned against the glass door, pressing his forehead against the door not far from where Rodney leaned his own. He watched his friend within, struggling. Rodney hadn't stopped trying, John realized, even though his lips were turning blue, even as hypoxia was inebriating him. The scientist's eyes still roamed, as if searching for an answer, then Rodney raised his gaze to meet Sheppard's.
There was conviction in that gaze, a brilliance that couldn't be snuffed so easily.
"You know how to do it," Sheppard said, more a statement than a question.
Rodney gulped down another breath and smiled broadly.
"What?" John demanded. "Out with it!"
It took a moment, and Sheppard felt his heart race as McKay fought for air. He giggled, and frowned, ashamed of himself for it. Trying again, he got out, "California."
Sheppard puzzled at this non-sequitor, and then a realization hit him. "I tried that," he said quietly, almost whispering as he met McKay's gaze. "Rodney, I tried to remove the crystal, but it didn't work."
McKay swallowed, breathing as if he'd just run a marathon, breathing as if he was running for his life, breathing but the oxygen was gone. "It will work – Just didn't try… I didn't try…hard enough…before. It'll reset -- everything. It – will -- work…"
Sheppard paused, watching as Rodney strained to breathe. His head rested again against the door. His lips trembled with effort of trying to keep living.
"Are you sure?" John asked, almost pathetically.
McKay didn't voice an answer; he just stared back at Sheppard, glaring as if the man had just spouted off the stupidest comment of his life.
That was enough. Sheppard scrambled across the room to the control panel. He fell on his knees, glancing up again the gunk that covered the Ancient's crystals. The Wraith tech was an abomination, a desecration of the Ancient tech. John quickly found the British Columbia shaped crystal and glanced up to check on Rodney.
The form in the alcove didn't move. Head pressed to the window, mouth open, Rodney just slumped. The computer slipped from his lap to thunk quietly beside him. He was completely motionless, even the labored breathing seemed to have stopped.
The Satedan met Teyla's gaze and nodded. Together they turned away from the Wraith and opened fire – straight into the rocks that hung above. And then, almost as quickly, they spun away into what protection they could find as it all came loose in a cacophonous blast.
The shattered rocks roared -- falling, clattering and tumbling and rocketing down the chute. The drones stood stock-still, as if unable to process this strange calamity. The slow-witted creatures never moved and were obliterated as if they'd never existed. The males took a second to understand what had happened– but even that was too long. Eyes wide, they twisted about, attempting to jump aside – to no avail.
The rocks came down on them like a wave. Stones and debris, dust and fragments consumed the Wraith, wrapping around them, pulling them down. Boulders bounced, pounding the half-living flesh, scrambling them to nothing. The bodies rolled and bounced away with the rocks, wiped away as if a big hand had swept across the mountain, with the announcement, "Be gone!"
And in seconds, the tumbling roaring shattered overhang was gone. The debris kept rolling further down the hill, clattering and smashing the victims to smaller bits as it went
There was no time. With one quick motion, John pulled back on the crystal, twisting it as he moved it, trying desperately to cause little disturbance as possible to the gooey stuff that coated everything. He pulled it clear of its housing, yanking it away as quickly as he could.
The response was immediate. First – the unmistakable crack of electricity – combining with a pain-filled, but muffled cry from McKay. The lights on the control panel winked out, unnoticed. John watched, unable to take his eyes off of Rodney, who arched painfully, gasping for air that wasn't there.
"I'm sorry, Rodney," Sheppard whispered, holding the crystal between his thumb and forefinger as if he could crush it. The horrible jolt continued. John stormed toward the cell, as Rodney convulsed. He felt so damn helpless and worthless – utterly impotent. No! No!
And then, just as he reached the door, it was over. The surging sound of electricity simply stopped. In all , it had lasted no more than a couple seconds, but it had felt like a lifetime to Sheppard – two lifetimes.
Rodney, who'd stiffened in the throes of the electricity, slumped again against the door, looking heavy and lifeless.
Sheppard let out a breath. It was over, he decided, still squeezing on the crystal as he stood – as he waited.
"Please," he uttered. "Please."
But, the door didn't open – and Rodney didn't move.
TBC - Ah... this can't be good