Chapter 4:
Spoilers: Suspicion, Trinity and Critical Mass, maybe others
Beta: J.A.B. - with her help, I made my page quota! You rock, J.A.B.
A/N: Any resemblance to actual medical procedure is purely by accident.
A/N2: I'm using my author profile as a place to give story progress reports. Just FYI.
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Reminder as to where we left off:
McKay entered the infirmary and noticed two things. One was that Sheppard was still sleeping and the other was that Carson Beckett was standing in the middle of the room with a pillowcase in one hand and a grenade in the other.
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Dr. Carson Beckett looked sweaty and slightly ill as he stood in the middle of his medical domain.
"Carson!" Rodney hissed in a loud stage whisper.
"What in the bloody hell are you whispering about?" demanded Dr. Carson Beckett in a high voice as he balanced a grenade in one hand and an empty pillowcase in the other.
McKay noticed that Carson was clutching both objects the same way, as if the pillowcase was just as much a danger to him as the explosive device.
"How did that get here?" asked Rodney as he put his shaky hands to his damp forehead, his fingers splayed in anxiety as he clutched his skull.
"How the devil am I to know? Just tell me what to do with it!" Carson's accented voice was still elevated as he kept as still as possible, never taking his eyes from his prizes.
"I don't know!" Rodney took a hesitant step forward, and then danced right back. "Is it active?"
"I don't—"
"—know. Right, right." Rodney looked baffled and then brought his hands down with a sharp clap.
Beckett jumped, and struggled not to put a hand over his thundering heart. "Good God, Rodney! Are you trying to finish my heart attack?"
McKay wasn't listening. He was snapping his fingers in a rapid motion. "A balcony."
"Two halls away!"
"Window?"
"More!"
Rodney paused for a moment and just looked exasperated. "Carson, if you're not going to cooperate—"
Then more finger snapping from Rodney as he looked around. "One of your sample cases!"
"What? Are you bloody insane? That won't stop an explosion—"
"No, no, no, it'll work. It can't be active; or you'd be little Beckett bits by now." Rodney turned around in a quick circle like a dog chasing its tail. "Where do you keep them?"
Carson tried to speak and had to clear the large, dry lump from his throat. "Over there." He wanted to point, but he was still afraid to move his hands.
McKay almost tiptoed over to the empty sample cases. He was tentative about returning to Carson, taking small steps and holding up his left hand as if to shield his face.
"Rodney, I don't think your hand is going to help if this thing bloody well goes off!"
Rodney made a face and put the case down by Carson's feet. "I know, I know. I can't help it." The scientist unlatched the silver case and opened it to reveal its foam interior. "Now, just put it down."
"I don't think this will work," swallowed Carson as he started to bend his knees like an old man.
"It will work," insisted Rodney trying not to make his usual hurry-up motions with his hands. "Any time . . . now would be good!"
Things went well until Carson tried to let go of the grenade.
"What's the hold up? Come on, Carson!"
Carson's wide eyes lifted from the grenade to meet McKay's. "I can't let it go," he whispered in dismay.
"What?"
"My hand—I can't get it to let go." Carson turned to the pillowcase in the other hand and concentrated, sweat running down his face. "I can't let go of either one of them!"
"Okay, okay, okay. Let's just stay calm." Rodney put a hand over his mouth and studied Carson's tightly gripped hands. "Maybe if I just—"
Rodney warily reached out to pry at Beckett's fingers. He quickly became frustrated when the locked fingers wouldn't budge. "A little help here, Carson," snapped McKay in agitation.
Carson just made a strangling noise.
McKay bent in closer and started forcefully digging his fingers into the tendons in his friend's wrist. He tried once, twice and then really pushed firmly causing Carson to wheeze in pain.
And the grenade popped right out of Carson's hand and onto the floor with a clatter.
Both stood, dismayed, as it rolled to a stop a few feet away near one of the vacant infirmary beds.
"Rodney," whimpered Carson in a weak voice.
McKay turned his look from the grenade to Carson—and noticed that Carson was holding a small pin.
A grenade pin.
Seconds seemed to stretch out into minutes, but at the same time, Rodney knew time was running out. Fast . . .
The scientist leaped for the grenade while chanting, "Get it out, gotta get it out!"
Rodney turned as his hand closed over the deadly object, and turned to throw it at the doorway like a baseball player trying to catch the winning runner at home plate, in the bottom of the ninth inning.
Only to be blocked by a figure on crutches. "Hey, Doc, I was wondering if—"
"Get out of the way!" shouted McKay. He pitched the grenade and hoped the visitor could take care of himself.
Both Carson and Rodney hit the floor with bone rattling thuds, Rodney grunting as his back reminded him of his recent abuse in retrieving the equipment from the rock and water planet.
Major Lorne had only to take one look at what was in Rodney's hand, before he threw himself and his crutches to the floor. He skidded across the slick floor to the wall, his P-90 digging into his chest with a clink against his vest's zipper. Lorne just had time to cover his head as an explosion shook the empty hallway behind him.
At least, Lorne hoped like hell no one was out there.
An alarm started not long after, faintly sounding in the battered ears of Lorne, McKay and Beckett.
Stunned, all three men stayed as still as possible as items fell off the shelves of the infirmary. Extra stuff being stored in the hallway became airborne confetti. Bits of paper gowns and toilet paper floated down to cover the floor like a pristine, multicolor snow.
After the confetti and dust had settled, the Major rolled onto his side, clutched his broken left leg, and groaned in pain. "McKay, what the hell was that!"
"Yes, um, that was a grenade," replied the scientist as he shakily regained his feet, his left hand on the small of his back. He tried to help Carson up, but the doctor was still too shaken to stand.
Their ever-present radios began to chatter with rapid-fire questions, the voices faint and tinny.
"I know that! Where did it come from? And why the hell didn't you radio someone? You were just standing around holding a live grenade. Damn it!" Lorne pried one hand away from his leg to touch his radio. "This is Lorne in the infirmary. We need some help here."
Then he returned his hands to his leg, a grimace on his square face.
"I wasn't just holding it! I had a plan, but Carson distracted me with all his high pitched girly squealing." The white face of the scientist blushed slightly. "I, uh, didn't think of the radio. Huh. Carson, why didn't you remind me?"
Carson just rolled his eyes and shakily crawled over to Lorne. He helped the soldier ease into a sitting position with his back to the wall, and his throbbing leg straight in front. Lorne's hands never left the leg as he moved, his left leg bitching the whole time.
"What the hell happened, Doc?"
Carson took a moment to collect himself as he ran his hands through his hair. "I was coming to check on the Colonel when I noticed the pillowcase on the floor." The hands moved from his hair to prod gently at the Major's leg, checking for new damage and pushing the P-90 out of the way. "I didn't think much of it . . . thought someone had dropped it on the way from the shelves."
The doctor gestured to the slightly askew silver racks that held the linens for the beds, as Lorne groaned in pain and shoved Carson's questing hands away from his leg.
"I picked it up a-and out rolled the device. Right next to the Colonel."
The three men turned to look at Sheppard in his bed, still sleeping. The Colonel's face was turned slightly away from the infirmary door, so all they could see was the long line of his neck and his ear.
"Huh, he would still be sleeping," griped McKay. "We're risking life and limb here and he's living it up in la-la land."
Carson heaved himself up from the floor and retrieved Lorne's crutches. "Up you go, Major. I'll be better able to see if you've damaged yourself if you're on one of the beds. And please take off your weapons."
"I'm fine, Doc," protested Lorne as Beckett took his right arm and pulled. "Did you see anyone? Before you saw the pillowcase?"
Carson shook his head as he helped the Major sit on the bed, and then he laid down the crutches. "Not a soul. I was updating some of the off world team charts and having a taste of coffee to keep myself from falling asleep in the middle of it."
McKay snorted. "Well, you're awake now."
"Aye, that I am," responded the doctor with a wobbly smile as he gathered himself to examine Lorne's leg. "Now, Major, let's get all this equipment off and have a peek."
Lorne heaved a sigh and began unzipping and unclipping.
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It didn't take long for Lorne to be faced with worried and angry faces.
Dr. Weir was leaning toward being concerned over the incident, but now that she could see that they were all okay, she was starting to get her dander up.
"McKay, what have you done now?" asked Weir sternly as she eyed the pile of debris in the hall and the infirmary.
"Me? Me! I've just blown up some paper products sitting in the hallway—which I might add—is a big no-no. It's a fire and safety hazard."
"But—"
"But? I kill a few paper gowns and some toilet paper and this is the thanks I get? Hey, I saved Carson, the Colonel and the Major," McKay huffed in disgust. "You blow up one small solar system and suddenly every explosion is your fault," he muttered to himself.
"Do you know how long it's going to take to requisition more toilet paper? Or paper gowns? Do you?" asked Weir with a straight face.
Rodney just glared at her.
Ronon and Teyla, on the other hand, started off angry the moment they walked through the infirmary door.
"Where were the guards?" demanded Ronon, his form looming over the smaller Major as he lay on the infirmary bed with his leg propped up on a pillow.
Teyla just tilted her head and gave Lorne a look that reminded him of his mother when she was very disappointed in him. Her usually curved lips were in a flat line of barely suppressed fury.
It made Lorne glad that his sessions at stick fighting with the Athosian leader would not resume until his leg was completely healed. Maybe he could dig himself out of this hole with her before then. Maybe she wouldn't beat his ass over this . . . he hoped.
"All the suspects were locked up," the Major tried to defend himself. "The only one who wasn't locked up was Shay."
Ronon suddenly turned on his heel. "I'm going to see Shay. You coming?" he asked Teyla.
Teyla looked over at the sleeping Colonel, and then to the still sweating McKay.
"Yes, I think I will go with you. After the Major has called for a security team for the infirmary."
Ronon nodded and folded his arms across his wide chest. His hot gaze tried its best to burn a hole right through the Major's head.
Lorne sighed, tapped his radio, and requested the security team. "I'll also send a couple of my guys down with you to see Shay."
Ronon shook his head and left the infirmary with Lorne shouting after him to wait. Teyla was close behind him as the four-man team of Marines arrived for the security detail.
"Damn." Lorne touched his radio to contact the holding cell guards. "Heads up, guys. There was another attempt on the Colonel. Since Shay was the only one out of custody for any length of time, he's the prime suspect. Ronon Dex is coming down to talk to Shay now. Whatever you do, don't let anyone in or out of the holding cell."
Shay would need serious medical help if Dex were allowed to speak to him without the benefit of the bars.
A hesitant voice came back. "Uh, sir, we have a problem."
After the explanation, Lorne cursed as he thrashed around trying to get up from his bed and get his crutches.
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Lt. Hernandez was stunned when the big warrior named Ronon Dex almost burst into the cell room. His sergeant, McFeely, jumped to his feet and stood braced next to his team leader.
"Shay!"
Now it was Lt. Tuck's turn to jump up as the loud voice yelled at his medic. "What is going on?" he asked as he stepped up to Shay. Cash, Killip and Bitterman also came in closer to their teammate.
Dex paced back and forth in front of the flat bars, trying to figure out how to get in. "Your man there is the one trying to kill Sheppard."
Tuck gasped at the accusation. "Who? Keith? He couldn't—wouldn't hurt a fly."
The large warrior lunged at the bars and tried to grab at the medic through the gaps.
Tuck grabbed Shay by his jacket and pulled him out of reach.
"You're my meat," snarled Ronon at the medic as the two soldiers backed away from him. Ronon turned his head to look at the guards, his large hands still on the holding cell. "Open this thing. Now!"
The guards shifted uneasily. "Sir, we can't do that. Major Lorne—"
Ronon came away from the cell with a snarl that made all the guards quickly scuttle away.
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"Sir!"
"What!" snapped Lorne into his radio, as he tried to totter around to gather all of his equipment and get out of the infirmary.
The mic remained open and Lorne could hear the sounds of flesh hitting flesh, and the howls of something animalistic.
"Sir, it's Dex . . . he's gone crazy! He wanted the cell door opened and—urk!"
The voice was gone and there was a fair amount of choking over the channel.
"Dex! Dex, let go of my guard!" yelled Lorne. When there was no answer, he grew desperate. "Teyla! Are you with Dex?"
"Yes . . . I am attempting to help your guard. Ronon! He is turning blue!"
There were more sound of fighting and scraping over the open mic.
Then gasping.
"The guard has been released. It would be best if I had more help here."
Lorne muttered to himself about taking a long deserved vacation as he keyed his mic for another team to be sent to the holding cell.
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John Sheppard woke slowly.
The first thing to return was his hearing. He could hear the mutterings of people nearby, with a faint thread of anxiety mixed into their voices.
Then the feeling in his arms, legs and body hit and he felt the coarse sheets of the infirmary bed under his bare forearms.
He shifted slightly and breathed in deeply only to aggravate the wound in his side. The breath hissed out slowly as he remembered what happened.
The mission, the shooting, the pain—then darkness.
"Colonel?" Beckett's voice, concerned but also professional.
Sheppard could now smell the infirmary—rubbing alcohol, latex, washed linens, and the warm scent of the humming equipment.
There was also something he couldn't place. It smelt like dust, and as if something had been burning.
"Sir?" Lorne's voice, rigid and hopeful.
John opened his dry eyes to see Lorne, Beckett and four Marines on one side of his bed. McKay, Ronon, Teyla and Elizabeth were on the other.
"What the hell," Sheppard croaked as he tried not to shrink back at the sight of everyone staring at him—and standing so close. His eyes crossed briefly, before he blinked and focused on Lorne.
Lorne was beginning to wish he hadn't gotten out of bed that morning. He stalled a moment by resettling his crutches. "Sir, I'm glad you're awake."
"Almost wasn't," growled Ronon.
John turned his head slowly from Lorne to squint at the Satedan and wondered where the ex-Runner had gotten his rapidly forming black eye. "What?"
"Now, let's give him some time to gather himself," broke in Beckett. "He's going to be a little groggy after all he's been through."
Sheppard pushed that comment away by raising a weak hand as he worked up enough spit to talk. "What's going on?"
"We had a suspect for your shooting, Sir," responded Lorne, a soulful look on his face. "Shay was here with you in the infirmary, and after he was taken to the holding cell, the Doc here found a grenade—"
John choked a bit on his own spit. "Shay? Grenade?"
Lorne ignored the choking and plowed on, hoping just to get it over. "All the others were supposed to be in the holding cell. I told the guards that no one was to get out, for any reason—"
"Major," said Sheppard when he could speak again despite his abused vocal cords. "What has happened?"
"They were having bathroom breaks, Sir." Lorne looked miserable as he said it. "Damn bathroom breaks. Not only did Shay have access, but McFeely, Mawyer, Grant, Bitterman, White and Ellmore."
Sheppard's dark hazel eyes blinked at the Major. "And the guards were . . . where?"
TBC
Hey, not much of a cliffhanger this time. Sorry!