Elizabeth could tell during the meeting that something was up. John had seemed distant, less focused even than was usual in these meetings that she knew he found deadly boring. His attention had been elsewhere for most of the meeting and he'd looked slightly flushed, maybe a little glassy-eyed. She'd wondered if he was coming down with something. She'd started to worry in earnest when she caught him seemingly struggling to get to his feet after the meeting but, true to form, he'd brushed off her concern, insisting that he was fine and just needed a bit more sleep. Distrustful of his explanation, she'd followed behind him as he'd headed for the transporter, catching up in time to see him stumble, flinging out a hand to catch himself on the wall. She'd been about to call Carson right there and then but suddenly he'd righted himself, seeming to shake off the dizzy moment, and strode away, heading for his quarters.
Unable to shake the feeling that something is wrong, she follows after him and sees him suddenly stagger, swaying momentarily, and, before she can even reach out to him, he drops; simply collapses on the spot like a puppet whose strings have been cut, landing on the floor in a boneless tangle of limbs. It happens so suddenly, so swiftly, that it's all she can do to call out his name in shock and for a moment she is frozen in place, time seeming to stand still. Then the world starts spinning again and she rushes forward, dropping to her knees beside his still form, her heart beating loudly in her ears as she fumbles for a pulse.
"My god.."
She jerks her fingers away reflexively as they brush his skin; he's burning up, heat radiating off him. Biting her lip, she presses her fingers to the hot skin of his neck and is relieved to find a pulse, beating rapidly beneath her fingertips. She taps her radio earpiece.
"Carson!"
There's a short pause, and she's suddenly aware that she's breathing heavily, and then Dr Beckett's voice crackles in her ear.
"Yes, Dr Weir? What can I do for you?"
"I need you at the transporter near the conference room," her words are clipped, precise and to the point. "Bring a gurney; Colonel Sheppard just collapsed."
She hears a muffled curse and for a moment she is ignored as Beckett calls out instructions to his staff. The sound brings her back to herself with a jolt, reminding her of her responsibility to everyone else on the base. She looks up from the prone form of her military commander and finds a row of concerned faces peering out at them from the control room. She taps her radio again.
"This is Dr Weir. Major Lorne to the Control Room, please."
"Elizabeth?"
"Yes, Carson?"
"I'm on my way to you now. What are the Colonel's symptoms?"
She turns her attention back to the unconscious Colonel. He looks almost peaceful, his face relaxed as if asleep. His skin is flushed, the hair at his temples damp.
"He has a temperature. He seemed to be feeling ill during the staff meeting and had trouble standing unaided. He said he didn't sleep well last night."
"Alright lass, you say he collapsed? What precisely happened?"
She sighs, the memory of Sheppard's sudden collapse still fresh and vivid in her memory. "He just fell, Carson. He just stopped walking, swayed a bit and the next thing I knew he was on the floor!"
A flash of light from the nearby transporter draws her attention. Seconds later the doors slide open and Carson steps out, his eyes dropping immediately to where Colonel Sheppard lies crumpled on the floor. He kneels swiftly beside her, muttering that the gurney is on its way, and is immediately focused on his patient as she sits back on her heels, giving him room to work. She is mesmerised as she watches Carson feel for a pulse, pull back John's eyelids to check pupil reactions. Sheppard doesn't move, doesn't react in any way. He is utterly, utterly still.
She shivers as her mind replays his collapse in slow motion, glorious Technicolor. One minute he was walking away from her, the next minute lying motionless on the floor.
There's a clatter of wheels as the gurney arrives and suddenly the corridor is full of chaos and motion, Carson issuing instructions to his team as they collapse the gurney down next to the Colonel. Firm hands are on her arm, nudging her to her feet, drawing her back from the commotion.
"One, two, three, lift! Careful now.." Sheppard is utterly limp as they place him carefully onto the gurney, his limbs swinging loosely. She watches helplessly as a nurse lifts his dangling arms into place and a strap is pulled tight across his abdomen, holding his arms to his body.
"Dr Weir?" She jumps a little as Major Lorne walks across from the control room. He assesses the situation with a quick look, taking in the gurney and its occupant, and he turns his gaze to her questioningly. It's a welcome distraction, the need to take control, to stay on top of things.
"Major Lorne. Colonel Sheppard is indisposed, I need you to fill in for him." Her voice sounds stronger than she would have expected it to.
Lorne simply nods, the epitome of the efficient soldier.
"We have two teams off-world, due to report in today. Can I leave things in your care?"
"Yes, ma'am." With a last look at his unconscious CO, he turns on his heel and heads back to the Control Room and she's pleased to see an immediate reduction in the amount of onlookers as Lorne takes charge, the on-duty techs returning to their consoles. The gurney rattles as Beckett's team lock the legs in place.
"Carson?"
The Scot is all business, fussing over his patient as his team start the gurney moving. "He has a fever, love. I need to get him to the infirmary and start treatment to lower his temperature." He gives her a reassuring smile and then is gone, following the gurney towards the infirmary.
Elizabeth is left standing alone, the silence suddenly loud after the chaos of the last few minutes. She looks at her watch. 7 minutes. It seemed like a lifetime. She takes a last look around her and follows in Carson's wake, heading for the infirmary.