A/N There, nearly finished. I almost kept to the 15 chapters, but I just couldn't resist an epilogue of sorts, so shall we say 15 and a half?
Again, thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed so far. It means so much! Thank you, thank you, thank you. And Ellex and GA Unicorn (have you read Resources yet?)repaired all the holes and imperfections. Any that are left are mine alone.
In a final note, there is no relation between this story and the published SGA book Reliquary by Martha Wells. None whatsoever. I just liked the name, before the official version came out. I bet I had more fun writing this too, thanks to you guys.
Chapter 15
He is dreaming…
-
It is almost totally dark, and he is climbing a ladder. It is slick and damp when he puts his hand out to grab a rung, and his foot slips as he places it on the next step. He catches himself, and hooks his arms around the ladder to keep himself from falling.
His chest is sore and he has to gasp for air. His shins are bruised from slipping so many times. His vision has long since faded to a grey haze. The left arm feels all right, but he has long since lost feeling in the right. His fingers are cold.
He has been climbing for an age. One step after the next, after the next. There is an end, but he cannot see it. He remembers that he has to climb, so he does.
There is something heavy dragging at his shoulders. It would be easier to climb without the burden, and he prepares to let it drop. It is only when his hand meets burning skin that he remembers.
And for an instant he thinks he is too late, and he has let Rodney fall…
-John Sheppard woke in a frenzy. The ladder. He had been climbing a ladder, and Rodney fell...
He opened his eyes, and was assaulted by bright lights. People were talking, something beeped and an alarm screeched. Something was covering his nose and mouth, and a tangle of wires and tubes tying him down. A weight seemed to be pressing him into the bed.
He struggled.
"Colonel Sheppard," a woman said. Who? He didn't know. "John, it is all right. You are back on Atlantis."
The words didn't make any sense. What the hell were they talking about? They didn't understand, he had to go back and get Rodney, and they needed to get out of here before…
"Doctor!" the woman called.
He heard a clattering noise, but couldn't see anything past the glare of the lights. He needed that thing off his face!
Someone restrained his hand in a terrifying, firm grip. He fought against it, but was too late. Something cool tracked up his arm.
Instantly, the agitation faded. He knew that something terrible was happening, but now his muscles wouldn't respond. His eyes were heavy, and they drooped closed.
As soon as the light was gone, he felt the calm spread.
It was easier to hear the voices now. They were familiar and reassuring. He couldn't make sense of what they said, but he felt the words were important so he concentrated with all his fading energy.
"It is bad," said a far away voice. It sounded nervous and out of place here, and quiet, as though it was in the corner of the room.
"Aye," was the reply. This sounded closer, and weary.
"I do not understand how I can help."
The nearer voice sighed. "I don't know, Radek, but I'm trying everything I know here. Nothing I tried on the planet… oh, bugger it. McKay!" There was movement again, and the voice faded to a different area of the room, saying "Turn up the pressure, and get an inotrope on board, or his heart's going to…" The words vanished into incomprehensibility. There were the sounds of frantic activity elsewhere.
John felt a warm hand in his. He could feel the bright lights on his face, but he kept his eyes closed. The panic had almost disappeared.
Over the background activity, the first man from earlier spoke. "It does not look good."
The woman answered, "Dr. Beckett was going to ask if you had ever read anything about this in the database."
"Medical research is not my field. I am scientist. I would not know where to look."
"Colonel Sheppard told us that the people on the planet used something in their database to make a DNA virus. He said it was developed with a technique described by Tobiass in the Ancient database."
The words were beginning to sound far away, and John fought to stay and listen. This was important.
"Tobiass," the man's voice repeated.
"You have heard of it?"
"No, but I was working on Rodney's ideas for search algorithm for database, and I think I can search for authors of reports now…"
John couldn't fight it anymore. The voices faded into the darkness.
-He didn't want to wake up, but something was gently tugging at his consciousness. The first thing he became aware of was a familiar noise. His mind supplied the name. Carson Beckett.
The doctor was whistling tunelessly as he worked.
Hesitantly, John cracked an eye open. The glare had subsided, and the room was gently lit by a desk lamp.
Carson was injecting something into one of the IVs.
"Hi," John whispered. His throat hurt.
Beckett looked up from the injection, and smiled wearily. He looked exhausted, with deep shadows under his eyes. "Good evening, Colonel. How do you feel?"
Sheppard didn't answer. He guessed it was probably obvious. He didn't remember why he was here, but he knew the memories would come back. They always did.
"Rodney? I let him…"
Carson's smile faded a little. "Don't worry. We got to you in time. Zelenka's foray into medical science was pretty close to finding a needle in haystack, but he did it, and I'm sure Rodney will be fine. He's in the ICU at the moment, so you can't see him, but I'm going to check on him after you."
"He didn't fall?"
Carson shook his head and dragged a chair to the bedside. He sank into it so they were at equal height. "So that's what you were dreaming about, lad," he said quietly, and placed a tired hand on John's shoulder. "You did it. I've no idea how, but you managed it. With lungs full of crap, and a fever of 104. You're going to have to go some to beat that performance."
John nodded. Already he felt his eyes dropping closed.
"Go back to sleep," Beckett said, and John, never one to disobey doctor's orders, gave up and slipped back under.
-Someone was clattering around the infirmary. There were muttered curses from across the room, and someone yelped. From around the room came the sound of a dozen different voices saying 'shh'.
It was too late. John was awake now. He cracked his eyes open and was greeted with sunlight streaming in a window. He couldn't see what had caused the disturbance from where he lay, but he was aware of a gentle hand resting on his. The hand's owner said, "Hello."
He didn't have the energy yet to turn to the source of the voice, but he recognized it. "Teyla?" He was surprised how rough his voice sounded.
"How do you feel?" she asked as she placed a sliver of ice on his lips. His mouth accepted the moisture readily.
He thought about saying 'ok', but his throat hurt, and his head throbbed and his muscles ached. He compromised with, "Better."
He shifted his head slowly to gain a better perspective. Teyla sat at the side of the bed in Carson's seat from last night. She didn't seem too badly affected considering their adventures. She was as beautiful as always, and smiling calmly.
Behind her, Ronon lounged on one of the plastic infirmary chairs. His chin was on his chest and rattling snores filled the room. Obviously whatever had disturbed the peace of the infirmary wasn't loud enough to wake him.
Seventy-five percent of the team accounted for. "Rodney?" he asked.
Teyla's smile broadened and she nodded towards the bed on the opposite side. She adjusted the plastic tubing for the oxygen as he turned onto his other side.
Rodney lay on the next bed. He was pale, and too still. There was an oxygen mask on his face and his eyes were closed. He was connected up to various monitors with undulating lines and flashing numbers. Clear fluids ran into drips on both wrists. John ignored it all, and concentrated on the rise and fall of the chest with each breath.
Carson spoke from desk behind Rodney's bed. "He'll be all right. Give him a couple of days, and he'll be driving me to murder to get out of here." The doctor still looked tired, but it wasn't the bone-weary exhaustion of last night.
John let his eyes drift from where Rodney lay, to the source of the disturbance under Beckett's care.
Major Lorne was leaning against one of the examination couches. He had his weight on his left foot, the right raised off the ground to take the weight off the plaster cast up to his knee.
"Hello, sir," he said guiltily, his face flushed.
"Major," Sheppard said. He took in the injured ankle, as well as the incipient embarrassment. "Report."
"I… well… I…" Lorne stumbled to start, then swallowed and started again. He stood straighter, but still did not put any weight on the injured leg. Carson muttered something indecipherable under his breath from the desk. "I led a group of Marines to go retake the Jumper that was left with the Traders."
John couldn't help it. He yawned. Carson noticed, and snapped tetchily, "Make it quick, before the Colonel falls asleep. Get to the good bits."
Lorne seemed to take the advice to heart, or he was just a little nervous of Dr. Beckett at the moment. "We met almost no resistance, sir. Those who did come out were inept. They had a lot of weapons, sure, but didn't seem to know how to use them. They fired way off target, from open positions. We recovered the Jumper without causalities."
Carson tapped a pencil against the table top pointedly.
Lorne glanced at the doctor, and then finished in a rush. "On the homeward journey I piloted the recovered Jumper. They hadn't managed to get past the gene activated systems, so it was just a matter of scraping off some of their debris and…"
The tempo of the taps increased.
The Major looked at Beckett quickly before finishing in a rush "…and I tripped on one of their scanners, and broke my ankle."
Beckett muttered something about "fool military types who go on missions even when they're supposed to be on light duties," as he harassed Lorne, hopping along on crutches, out of the infirmary.
Sheppard couldn't help but smile. Weariness settled back in, and he was lulled to sleep by the gentle beeps of Rodney's monitors.
-The next time Sheppard woke, the infirmary was dark. Nurse Sorenson was injecting something into the IV again. She was one of the old school who took no nonsense from anyone. Rodney was terrified of her.
"Good evening, Colonel," she said formally. She finished the injection and moved to the next bed.
Rodney lay there, but he was not as still as before. He shifted restlessly in his sleep and pushed the oxygen mask off his face. Sorenson emptied another syringe into the little port on the IV, and then tsked under her breath as she replaced the oxygen mask. Sheppard wondered if he might have imagined the gentle pat she gave the scientist's shoulder, before she bustled off towards the nurses' station.
McKay mumbled something, and shifted. A hand rose up to his face and pushed the oxygen mask away again.
"Hey, Rodney," Sheppard hissed. "McKay, stop it, or you'll have the Wicked Witch of the West on your case." He glanced to the corner that the nurse had disappeared around.
Instead of settling, Rodney became more agitated. He knocked the oxygen mask off his face, and the plastic tubing looked in danger of tangling and pulling straight out. John remembered his nightmares, and guessed that Rodney was reliving his own horrors.
Sheppard checked for Nurse Sorenson again, but she was nowhere to be seen. He sat up slowly, but still had to pause for a moment to recover from the head rush.
Rodney flailed an arm, and tried to free himself from the metal sides of the bed. One of the IVs came loose, and began oozing blood.
One foot at a time, John swung his legs off the bed and onto the floor. They managed to hold his weight, which was a pleasant surprise, and he only stumbled once between the beds. He sank thankfully into a hard plastic chair.
"Hey, Rodney," he whispered. He balled up a piece of cotton wool from the bedside table and stuck it to the bleeding site. Then he gently replaced the oxygen mask. "Leave that there, or the Witch will have your hide." He directed Rodney's hand back to the bed.
The mumbling settled, and McKay's sleeping calmed again. The infirmary was silent. John settled back into the chair, his hand resting on Rodney's shoulder. For a moment, before he fell asleep, he wondered who he was trying to reassure.
Carson's voice woke him from a light doze.
"Good morning, Colonel Sheppard," he said.
John blinked awake. He felt better; he took a deep breath and was rewarded by only a gentle twinge of protesting ribs.
"Carson," he said.
"Is there something wrong with my beds that you choose to sleep on the visitor's chair?"
John smiled guiltily. "Nope." He did not move his hand from McKay's shoulder, or make any move toward his own bed.
Carson didn't comment, but continued to potter around the sunlit infirmary.
John looked at the sleeping form. Rodney looked awful, there was no getting away from that, but he slept peacefully. There were still dark rings under his eyes, and his face was too pale. But someone had replaced the disturbed IV, and cleaned up the blood while John slept. He suspected it was the same person who had tucked a blanket around his legs. He wondered if Nurse Sorenson was showing a gentle side at last.
"Would you like breakfast?" Beckett asked. "I'm sure I could rummage together something."
John thought for a moment. He was hungry. He nodded, and Carson whistled as he left on the hunt for breakfast.
The noise must have disturbed Rodney as he opened his eyes slowly. He looked about in something like panic, and John said, "Rodney," to catch his attention.
The frightened eyes flickered to Sheppard's.
"Welcome to the infirmary," John said.
Rodney didn't answer. He looked about the room in silent panic.
"Welcome back. Carson will be here in a bit, so if you need anything, he won't be long. Don't let him give you anything but the good stuff. Because I think this whole experience means we're owed it." John knew he was babbling, but he just didn't feel comfortable if Rodney was being quiet. "Seems some of Zelenka's algorithms worked and they found an answer. And Carson says you're going to be alright now…"
"Sheppard, stop talking," Rodney said, and grinned sleepily.
John grinned back and settled into the chair.
Yes, they were alright now.