Lorne had passed out for a few minutes from the pain. He'd suffered gunshot wounds in the past, but never as bad as this. The Wraith had shot him point blank in the thigh. The worst part was the look on the Wraith's face when it had pulled the trigger. Glee. A maniacal grin had spread across it's face when Lorne had screamed.
The Major wearily forced his eyes open, wincing as his wound throbbed.
"Perhaps now you will reconsider my offer." The Wraith said, still holding the gun, which was still pointed at the Major. Lorne shook his head weakly, ignoring his thumping heart and the agony coming from his leg. If anything, this had made him even more determined not to help the Wraith.
"Never." He whispered. The Wraith place the gun on a pipe where Lorne could see it. It was a threat. "Shoot me again. I don't care. I am never going to help you." Lorne glared at it defiantly, not letting his pain show. He meant what he said. He would rather die than see Atlantis fall into the hands of those… creatures. The Wraith stared at him for a few moments. Lorne was unsure whether it was angry or not, it seemed very calm.
"Very well." It said. At that it abruptly turned and walked out of door. It stopped in the hallway and glanced back at it's incapacitated prisoner, before doing something to the panel on the wall outside. Lorne couldn't see what, but suddenly the door hissed shut, blocking out what little light there was and plunging the room into darkness. The last thing Lorne saw was the Wraith's smug expression. At that point, Lorne realised the water was now covering his legs so that it was now several inches deep, the Wraith must have burst some more pipes while he was out cold. There was nothing he could do – he was trapped and the water in the room was slowly starting to rise. He listened to the rushing sound it made as it bounced off the metal pipes above his head and fell to the floor below. His leg throbbed, seeping more blood into the water surrounding him. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply for a while, before allowing himself to drift away.
"No!" He suddenly yelled. He jerked himself awake and ignored the stabbing pains coming from everywhere conceivable on his body.
'You got yourself into this mess,' he thought to himself. 'You're gonna get yourself out. Since when did you give up that easily on anything?'
Lorne realised that he was the only one that knew about the Wraith, therefore he was the only one that could do anything about it. Summing up all the strength he could, he struggled to his feet. The Wraith had tied his hands behind his back, but they weren't actually bound to anything holding him down. He managed to stand, but almost crumpled again when a jolt shot down his leg. Determined to beat it, he stood up again and tried to get his bearings. He knew roughly where the door was, and remembered that the Wraith had forgotten to take his gun with him. He remembered where that was, and moved towards that general area, trying to unbind his hands as he went. Fortunately, the binds were somehow coming loose and Lorne jerked his arms to try and free them, forgetting that one of them may be broken. The pain caught him off guard, and he collapsed face down into the water. He swallowed some and it made him choke, but he managed to crawl to his feet, still spluttering. With one last effort, pushing the aching in his arm to the back of his mind, he got his hand free.
'See? Don't give up yet.' He said to himself. He reached up with his good arm and felt for his 9mm along the pipe. He found it and picked it up, suddenly feeling a whole lot better off. He checked the gun for rounds and realised why the Wraith had left it behind. No more bullets. He remembered that he hadn't changed the clip in the gun the last time it had been used, which just so happened to be a time they came into combat with the Wraith. Lorne had used up most of the bullets. Luckily, he'd brought a spare clip with him, and reloaded the gun. 'Now I'm one-up on you, Gordon.' He thought, cheering himself up a bit.
Unfortunately, he now had no idea where the door was. His leg was throbbing, but he couldn't feel the warmth of the blood seeping through the coldness of his wet fatigues anymore. "I gotta get out of here," he muttered.
Although it was still very dark in the room, he could now just about make out a few fuzzy shapes. There were the hulking masses of the metal pipes. They'd been on his left when he was sitting down, they were now directly in front of him. The door had been more to the right, so that's where he figured he needed to go. He moved slowly, trying not to crash into anything, and eventually found the wall. He felt around for the door panel, and started to panic slightly when he couldn't find it. Eventually, his hands discovered the door controls, and he sighed in relief. He slid his hand over the top of it, waiting for the door to open. Nothing happened. He tried again, and got the same response.
"Damn." He said. "Gordon, what the hell did you do?"