Note: Another round of thanks to everyone reading and/or reviewing. Special thanks to drufan because I borrowed the review comment about Atlantis thinking John was on fire. See, I really do read all the reviews! You guys are a wealth of ideas! Also thanks to rogue1503 for the idea of Rodney's little spill. What would I do without you guys?

The Bad Luck Charm – Chapter 7

Rushing into the infirmary, McKay tried to come to an abrupt stop at the sight of the foam mess in front of him. The bed Sheppard had formerly occupied was now empty, even the mattress having been stripped off, and pushed back against the wall. Giant blobs of white foam were scattered and smeared on the floor and what remained of the bed. A pile of soggy sheets and blankets lay balled up beside the bed.

Unfortunately for McKay, about the time he had processed the scene and tried to stop his forward progress, he hit a stray glob of foam and completely lost all traction. Beckett came through the door just in time to see McKay's arms pinwheeling frantically as his feet did an uncontrolled, skidding dance all their own. Before the doctor could take so much as a step toward the flailing scientist, McKay's butt hit the floor with a resounding plop.

Regaining his composure, Beckett rushed over to McKay and knelt beside the stunned man. "Rodney, are you all right?"

McKay frowned as he turned to the physician. "Do I look all right? I just slipped and fell on my butt, Carson, and no, I'm not all right. Why don't you have any signs or people to warn you about that? If we were on Earth, I would sue you for everything you have and will have in the future and I'd win. I think I broke my tailbone." McKay winced as he reached his hand back to rub his lower back.

Beckett sighed. If Rodney was whining and threatening, chances were he was okay. "Let's get you up and have a look."

McKay pulled his arm back from Beckett's reach. "Oh, no, you don't. You are not looking at my butt. Not today or any other day. Get your kicks elsewhere, Carson."

"But Rodney, if you really are injured –"

"Just give me some Tylenol and I'll deal," Rodney moaned as he got awkwardly to his feet. "Is Sheppard okay?"

Beckett nodded as he put out a steadying hand. "Aye, we've got him cleaned up and Nick's recasting his arm. Kelly and Marcy are giving him a hand. That foam stuff got all down in his cast and it was getting soft around the edges. Plus, it seems to be a skin irritant and we needed to get it off his arm."

McKay frowned. "A skin irritant? That can't be good on top of the detergent reaction can it?"

Beckett shook his head. "Let's just say he'll probably be miserable for a few days. What is that stuff and why did it get dumped all over the colonel?"

"As I told you on the radio, it's a fire retardant foam, but I have no idea why it was released. Maybe Atlantis thought he was on fire . . . it was probably the hair. The funny thing is that there are six vents for that stuff in this room alone. I would expect an error that resulted in releasing it would do so from all six vents at once, not just one. Radek is running some checks for me to figure it out."

"Dr. Beckett, Dr. Strauhan needs you."

The two men turned around just in time to see Marcy disappear back through the door way. Neither of them missed the urgency in her voice. Hurrying after her, they entered Sheppard's room to find Nick finishing injecting something into the IV while Kelly strapped on an oxygen mask. The bed had him sitting about a forty-five degree angle and someone had attached a heart monitor, as well as a finger pulse oximeter.

"Nick, what's going on?" asked Beckett as he went quickly to Sheppard's bedside. Rodney lingered beside the door, wanting to see while not getting in the way.

"Oxygen levels started dropping suddenly and I was afraid we might have to intubate for a minute, but they're coming back up now."

"What's his level now?"

Kelly checked the monitor beside the bed. "He's up to ninety-two."

"Okay, let's give it a few more seconds. Any sign of what brought this on?" Carson asked, looking past Kelly at the monitor.

Nick began placing the stethoscope around his neck. "He was wheezing a bit by the time we got all that foam cleaned off him, so I've been keeping a close eye on him. I think he either inhaled a lot of fumes or maybe even a little of the foam itself. It's wreaking havoc with his skin, so I can only imagine what it's doing to his lungs."

Beckett turned to Nick, watching as he removed the stethoscope earpieces. "How does he sound?"

"He's got a bit of a rattle, especially in the right lung. You might want to have a listen."

"Ninety-five," reported Kelly.

Beckett sighed as he pulled his stethoscope out of his lab coat pocket. "At least we won't have to intubate him. Keep him on oxygen and don't leave him alone."

"Don't worry, no chance of that," said Nick as he watched Carson listen to Sheppard's lungs.

Carson straightened after a minute and checked the monitor again. "All right, he seems stable again. Why don't you finish up and I'll be outside with Rodney."

Nick nodded as Carson took Rodney by the elbow and guided him back to the main infirmary.

"He should be all right now," said Carson, noticing the color seemed to have drained from Rodney's concerned face. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Rodney ran one hand through his hair, leaving a trail of it sticking up at an odd angle as he began pacing back and forth. "Yes, yes, I'm fine. Something's not right, Carson. I've been teasing him about the whole curse and bad luck charm thing, but I never actually believed any of it. Well, I still don't buy into the hocus pocus thing, but something is going on. Even Colonel Calamity doesn't have this much bad luck."

"I agree, Rodney. I still think . . . " Carson paused for a minute and stared at Rodney. "Colonel Calamity?" He shook his head. "Anyway, I think it's somehow related to the chemical being released into his system and his latest blood work shows the concentration building. Have you made any progress with that yet?"

"No. You're right that it's somehow interacting with the ATA gene, but I haven't identified how yet."

They both turned at the sound of hurried footsteps to see Elizabeth rush into the infirmary. "Carson, I came as soon as . . . " The expedition leader stopped short and her mouth dropped open as she spotted the foam mess. "Carson . . . what is that?"

The two men looked at one another and then back to Elizabeth. "Well, Rodney says it's fire retardant that was released due to some kind of malfunction. We don't know exactly what caused it yet."

"We do know it's slippery," complained Rodney as he rubbed his backside. When Elizabeth arched her eyebrows at him, he just waved his hand. "Never mind, just don't try running through it."

Elizabeth nodded and grinned as she figured out what must have happened. "I'll remember that." Suddenly realizing whose bed had been underneath the disaster, she began looking around the room. "Where's John?"

"He's been moved to the back room for obvious reasons. Fortunately, he was the only patient at the time. Nick's just recasting his arm." Beckett sighed. "The main problems appear to be that the chemicals in the foam have irritated the skin even further and he's having a bit of trouble breathing at the moment. Nick suspects either inhaling the fumes or some of the foam is responsible. I know he got some in his mouth."

"He didn't swallow any, did he?" asked Elizabeth, worry edging her voice.

"No, he says he didn't and he hasn't shown any sign of gastric distress. He kept his eyes closed and we irrigated quickly to be safe, so those seem to be all right as well, although the lids are a bit red and swollen."

"So, he's going to be okay, right?" asked Elizabeth hesitantly.

"Aye, he should be fine . . . eventually. Of course the recovery process just got longer and a wee bit more distressing."

"Naturally," she replied softly. Elizabeth looked inquisitively at Rodney. "I don't suppose you've made any progress on any of this, have you?"

"Well, of course I've made progress, what do you think I've been doing all this time, knitting? I just don't know anything for sure yet. Give me a little more time, and I'll have something." McKay snapped his fingers. "Let's meet in the morning, after breakfast."

Elizabeth nodded. "All right, meeting in the conference room tomorrow at 0800 and I want you both there. I want Teyla and Ronon there, too. We've got to find a way to protect John from all this . . . " Elizabeth moved both hands in circles as she tried to find the correct words.

"Bad luck?" filled in Rodney.

Elizabeth sighed and rubbed her head. "Bad luck," she admitted.

"I'm on it. Carson, let me know if there's any change?" requested Rodney as he started backing out of the infirmary.

"Yes, Rodney, of course," said Beckett.

"You know, maybe you should cast one of your voodoo magic spells or rattle some chicken bones or something. It couldn't hurt at this point." Rodney turned and headed back to his lab, limping slightly as he muttered to himself about people spreading their bad luck.

Elizabeth looked up at Carson. "Voodoo magic?"

Beckett just sighed loudly. "Just ignore him. That's what I try to do."

"Can I see John?"

Carson nodded. "Aye, Nick should be about done now and I'd like to check on him. Come with me." Beckett led the way to the back room with Sheppard.

Elizabeth was a bit surprised at Sheppard's appearance. His face, neck, and the visible part of his arms were bright red, with a couple of raised welts in his left arm. His eyelids were swollen so that they were capable of opening only a slit. An oxygen mask covered most of the rest of his face. His hair was damp, but still managed to spike up in the back in its typical carefree fashion. Nick was just adjusting John's newly casted right arm in a sling, while the pilot's left hand gripped the bedrail. His face looked deep in concentration and she wasn't sure if he was focusing on breathing or on working through the pain.

"John?" She called softly as she walked up to the bedside. Nick smiled from the other side of the bed.

"I think we're finished, now, colonel. I'll give you a minute to get settled and check back to see how your pain is. The bad news is that I can't give you much more than I already have because of the respiratory problems."

"I'm good," came the muffled reply from under the mask. "Thanks, Nick."

Nick nodded and looked up at Elizabeth. "He's all yours . . . at least for a few minutes."

Elizabeth returned Nick's smile. "Thanks, Nick." She watched him and Carson leave the room and turned back to John. "Hey you, I see you've gotten yourself in some more trouble."

John just nodded very slightly.

Elizabeth frowned, bringing her hand up to touch his face, until she saw how red and irritated the skin looked. She let her hand drop, afraid she would hurt him. "Does it hurt or itch?"

"Both . . . burns and itches," he replied before wheezing in a deep breath.

Now that she was closer, she could hear the rattle when he took in air. "Rodney and Carson are trying to figure out exactly what's going on. Just hang in there."

She could see him try to smile under the mask. "I'll be okay . . . just ugly for a while."

Elizabeth couldn't help but laugh. "John Sheppard, if there is one thing you could never be, it's ugly."

oOo

Elizabeth looked across the table at Carson and John's team, hoping that they could come up with something to help the pilot. "Carson, why don't we start with you since I'm sure we're all anxious to hear about how John is doing."

Carson nodded and folded his hands on the table. "I'm glad to report that his condition has improved. His lungs are much clearer and we've just changed him over to nasal cannula from the oxygen mask. We've started him on some stronger medication for the reaction and the dermatitis is looking marginally better this morning as well. The colonel is still experiencing some burning and itching, but he says it's better than it was last night."

"What about the concussion? Is that still causing him any problems?" asked Elizabeth.

"Well, he still experiences a bit of occasional disorientation and he's got a headache, but that might also be attributed to the amount of medication we have him on or a reaction to the foam he was exposed to, or even a combination of these factors. The man's been through the ringer lately."

Elizabeth sighed and nodded. "I think we'd all agree with you there. Rodney, do you have anything?"

Rodney smiled smugly. "Actually, yes I do. I was going through the sensor readings with a fine-tooth comb last night looking for what caused the foam to be released. There was a very faint energy signature being emitted from the infirmary that spiked momentarily just about the time of the accident. When I back-tracked the energy signature for several days, it's movements coincided with the colonel's movements, so I ran a little scan this morning. As near as I can tell, he's giving off a very faint energy reading that is connected to the Ancient gene. It's like a . . . a . . " Rodney waved his hands around wildly for a few moments as he thought. "It's like a variation of the energy given off by Ancient devices when they're activated and it seems to be getting stronger."

Rodney grinned and crossed his arms, soaking up the surprised expressions around him. Teyla finally reached over and touched his arm. "Are you saying the colonel is giving off an energy reading? How is this possible?"

Rodney's expression fell just a bit. "Well, I haven't actually got that far yet. All I know is that it's connected to the Ancient gene and it's similar to that of Ancient devices. As near as I can tell, as the level of the chemical from the mark builds up in his system, the energy being released is also increasing. I'm not sure what role, if any, it played in the other events, but in the case of the foam, I think it somehow triggered the release."

"If that's true, then maybe we should get him out of Atlantis. He's surrounded by things controlled or affected by the Ancient gene as long as he's here." Ronon pushed his chair back, making the others wonder if he was about to run grab Sheppard and carry him off somewhere.

"I think that's a good idea," said Carson. "I was discussing the possible gene connection with recent events with the colonel this morning and I got the distinct impression he doesn't feel safe here any more."

"Duh, I wonder why?" said Rodney, rolling his eyes and sighing.

"Rodney!" said Elizabeth sharply. "What do you think Carson? Is he in any condition to go to the mainland for a few days? It really might be safer for him until we figure this out."

"I know, lass, but he can't travel just yet. I need his lungs cleared up before I let him get that far away. Maybe tomorrow, he's improved quite a bit since yesterday."

"Teyla, could you check with your people and see if they could arrange a place for John and you to stay for a few days? You could help keep an eye on him and visit your people at the same time."

"I would be happy to and my people will be honored to have Colonel Sheppard," said Teyla as she nodded to Elizabeth.

"I need to go as well," said Carson. "The colonel is still very weak and I'll need to keep an eye on his concussion symptoms and the medications I have him on."

"I'm going," said Ronon in a very commanding voice. No one missed the fact that he wasn't asking.

Elizabeth smiled a bit at the support. "Well, all right. It looks like John will be well looked after. Rodney, I guess you know I need you to stay here and work on this."

Rodney sighed, but the corners of his mouth twitched as he fought off a smile. "Yes, yes, I know. My expertise once again strands me in the city as I work to save the day, or in this case, the colonel. Just the cross I bear."

Elizabeth widened her eyes for a second before quickly looking down. "Oh, yes, Rodney, what ever would be do without you?"

Rodney smiled smugly again. "I really have no idea."

oOo

He was cold and his mouth was dry, too dry. That, combined with the constant, throbbing ache throughout his body made him think of torture. He'd been tortured by people who didn't necessarily want to hear the screams their actions produced, so they used gags. Gags combined with screaming tended to dry the mouth out, sort of like his was now. Fear began to creep in.

His nose itched. When his hand came up to scratch and his fingers brushed against something foreign on his face, he instinctively tried to grab it and get rid of it. Someone latched firmly onto his wrist, restraining him and escalating his fear. John immediately began to pull away and struggle, his heart racing as fear welled up in his chest and he fought to open his eyes. He needed to see the enemy, because more hands were now on him, holding him down.

"Colonel, take it easy lad, it's just Carson. You're safe, we won't let anyone hurt you."

John slowed his frantic squirming at the sound of the familiar voice and finally managed to get his eyes open. Even his eyes felt dry and he had to blink several times to bring the infirmary into focus. Recognizing Beckett, his movements finally stilled. "Sorry," he tried to say, not sure if the hoarse moan was recognizable as a word.

Beckett let go of John's wrist, letting him slide it back down beside him. "Amy's gone to fetch you some water, colonel. Let me sit you up a bit." Beckett raised the head of the bed a few degrees and Amy returned with the promised water. John didn't argue as she held the cup for him, but anxiously drank from the straw, bent over at the top so she didn't have to tilt the cup. Most of the time such action made him feel like he was about four, but right now he was too tired and too thirsty to care what it looked like. He gulped greedily until she pulled the straw from his lips.

"That's enough for now, colonel, you don't want to get sick on us." Amy smiled and set the cup on the table.

Beckett had been watching John, noticing that he seemed to be shivering. "Are you cold?"

"Yeah. I'm always too hot or too cold any more."

Beckett nodded. "I know, lad. We'll get this sorted out eventually. Amy, could you fetch the colonel another blanket?"

Amy nodded, returning with the requested item about the time Beckett finished checking his patient's IV and the bandage covering most of his forehead. The two of them worked together to spread the blanket over Sheppard and tuck it in around him.

"Thanks," he murmured, welcoming the extra layer.

"Let me know if you need anything else," Amy said as she smiled and nodded to Beckett. She then left the two alone and returned to her other duties.

"So, how'm I doing?" asked John as his eyes darted nervously up to the ceiling.

"Better, although I imagine you don't particularly feel that way." Carson glanced up at the ceiling, following Sheppard's gaze. "Rodney thinks he has the foam system where it can't discharge until we get this figured out, so you should be safe."

John looked back down to the doctor. "Sorry, guess I'm a little on edge."

"Perfectly understandable. Do you need anything for the itching or for pain?" Beckett studied Sheppard closely, knowing he would probably brush him off.

"I'm good."

"I hate it when you do that because I never know if you really are or not. Why can't you just tell me how you really feel?" Carson frowned at Sheppard in exasperation.

John paused for a second before answering. "No, I really am okay. I itch and ache a little and my arm hurts some, but it's not bad. You know I don't like to take any more meds than I have to. I hate this fuzzy, disjointed feeling, like I'm not all there."

"I know, colonel. I know. Just please let me know when you're hurting. There's no need to suffer when you don't have to."

John nodded. "I can do that. Hey, didn't you have a meeting this morning? Has Rodney figured out what's going on yet?"

Carson sighed and pulled up a stool, perching on the edge. "Aye, we did meet this morning. You remember that I told you the chemical being absorbed from the mark seemed to be interacting with the Ancient gene. Rodney has determined that you are apparently giving off some kind of energy that is similar to what is released when an Ancient device is activated. He thinks this is somehow interfacing with Atlantis and causing things like the foam release. We discussed it and decided that it might be best if – "

"Hey, Carson, is he awake yet?" Rodney stomped loudly across the room, Teyla and Ronon behind him. "Oh, you're awake. Good. You actually look marginally better, not quite so much like you've been roasted over an open fire. You're breathing's not so noisy as before, either. Maybe you don't need that muffler after all."

John looked at Carson with his mouth hanging slightly open in wonder to find the doctor with a similar expression. How could anyone talk that much or that fast? "Rodney . . . did you need something or did you just come to make fun of me?"

Rodney looked at Carson, his eyes wide. "You didn't tell him yet?"

Carson rolled his eyes as dramatically as he could to make a point. "Well you hardly gave me time. He just woke up and I was trying to explain things when you busted in."

"Oh," said Rodney. "Well, that's okay, I'll tell him. We've arranged for you to go to the mainland and stay with Teyla and the Athosians until we get this figured out. Ronon wants to go because he's your self-proclaimed protector and Carson's going so he can practice his voodoo on you. We thought it might be a bit safer if we got you away from all this Ancient technology."

Normally John would have balked at such a suggestion. Atlantis was his city and he hated anything that drove a wedge between him and her. But the last few days had taken their toll, leaving him physically and mentally exhausted and hurting. He had to get a break soon. He felt like he was starting to lose it. Wraith and Genii he could fight. How do you fight bad luck or a jinx or a curse or whatever the heck this was? He needed help.

"Okay, when do we leave?" John asked, resigned that he had to get away to preserve his sanity, if nothing else.

His team looked a bit stunned at his ready acceptance. Ronon stepped up to stand beside McKay. "I didn't think you'd go for it, Sheppard. I figured you'd think of it as running away."

Sheppard met Ronon's gaze and held it. "It's not running . . . It's a strategic retreat against insurmountable odds."

TBC