A big thank you to Lady Anne and pennydreadful for all the beta work. Apologies to all of those who left reviews who I didn't get back to. The bots at FF decided they hated me and did horrible things to me so I guess I ought to apologise to those of you to whom I replied more than three times...
Part 9
Sheppard snapped open his eyes. He was back in their room in the old house but couldn't remember how he had got there. He swore softly to himself and made to stand but was brought up short by the stabbing pain behind his eyes. He sank back to the bed with a sharp intake of breath squeezing his eyes shut against the relentless hammering inside his skull. Gradually, as the pain lessened, he became aware that someone was in the room with him.
He raised his head gingerly to see Amy standing in the doorway. She was holding a mug in her hand. "I brought you some tea," she said calmly and came over to sit next to him.
He settled himself slowly against the bedstead and reached out for the mug. His hand had a very slight and very unaccustomed shake to it. He took a sip of the hot liquid and then asked, "Can you tell me what the hell just happened?"
Amy gave him a long appraising look. "Tell me what you remember," she said.
"About how I got here? Not much," he admitted shaking his head. He took another sip of tea and continued, "I remember walking on the beach and then I thought I saw someone I know… someone from my team, a kinda friend. Then it gets a bit," he waved his hand as he looked for the right word, "crazy - then I woke up here."
Amy smiled. "Well, that's better than last time isn't it?" she replied calmly. "And if you try, you might remember more."
Sheppard said nothing, just stared at her and then dropped his eyes to the floor to avoid her sympathetic eyes. Christ what was happening here? He let his head drop forward and then groaned, "I can't remember, Amy, just tell me what happened!"
After a few moments observing the man in front of her Amy said, "You claimed that you could see someone. You had an argument with them, you tried to hit them and then you zoned out." The 'again' was unspoken but was clearly there. "It took me a good half an hour to get you to come back here. When we got back, you lay down and have been asleep," she checked her wristwatch, "for forty-five minutes."
Sheppard shook his head in denial. "No," he said softly, "that's not right. Something isn't right."
"I know, Shep." Amy crossed the space between them and sat besides him on the bed. She rubbed his shoulder with her free hand and smiled at him encouragingly. "It's called post traumatic stress disorder. We'll come through this, Shep, I promise."
"But what happened to give me PTSD? I don't even remember that," Sheppard voice was low and leant into her touch. "And it was so damn real. It was as if McKay was right there on the beach." He closed his eyes. If he tried he could even remember the sensation of slapping the infuriating Canadian on the back of the head.
"So, Kirk, you've found another alien priestess to romance? Or is she a Trulian slave girl, eh?"
McKay had waded straight in. No pleasantries, he'd just gone ahead opened his mouth and stuffed his foot right in it.
"Gotta say it though, Sheppard, your taste is improving. This one's a lot better looking that that Ascended bimbo you were flirting with." The Canadian rocked back on his heels looking insufferably pleased with himself. "So, you going to introduce to me to your lady friend or are you keeping your hallucinations to yourself nowadays?"
"Shut up, McKay, that's my wife you're talking about!" he yelled giving the infuriating man a slap across the back of his head.
Then the world went insane and he falling backwards into blackness, spinning, turning…
"But it was so real," he repeated and rubbed his eyes wearily. "Christ, what am I going to do, Amy? What if I don't get better?"
"Stop thinking about it, Shep," she ordered, "Drink up and when you're feeling a bit better come on down. Frau Aberhardt will be in to clean later and she'll need to get into the room."
Sheppard nodded and, with a brief squeeze of his shoulder, she stood up and left. He heard her walk down the creaking wooden steps and into the hallway, her brisk tread as familiar to him as the sound of his own breathing. He carefully set his mug down on the side table and lay back on the bed hands tucked behind his head. He stared at the ceiling and tried to remember.
McKay was sprawled out on the floor with Beckett hovering between him and Sheppard like a six-foot tall pissed off mother hen tending her brood. The Scot's anger was almost palpable but at the moment he couldn't decide who he was angrier at; Sheppard for getting stuck in the chair, McKay for being such a damn fool as to go in and try to rescue him or that impertinent young whippersnapper for driving McKay to the actions that had led to this. "I didn't sign on for this," he whispered to himself as he furiously scrubbed at his forehead.
Ford glanced anxiously at his watch and then, schooling his features into a confident façade, he looked around the room taking in Zelenka totally focussed on what he was doing. Ford felt helpless; theoretically in charge but with very little idea of what was actually going on. There was nothing he could do but wait. He noticed Beckett's expression growing darker as he hunkered down besides the unconscious Canadian. The young marine was fully aware at how angry the doctor was with him but he plucked up his courage to ask, "So, Doc, how's McKay doing?"
"I don't bloody know," answered the Scot shortly. "He appears to be in worse shape than the Major. There are clear signs of respiratory distress and his eye movements are becoming agitated."
"Well, he's going to be busy isn't he? Zelenka said he's gotta find the control area in the VR interface of the programme and shut it down from inside right? He'll do that no problem – he's the genius, remember?" Ford tried to force some cheer into his voice, to build confidence in the rest of the team.
"Aye, but this looks like more than just someone working hard. I'd need an ECG to confirm it but it looks like he is in a highly agitated, stimulated state," replied Beckett laying a hand on McKay's forehead. "Teyla, can you pass me that bag near your feet?"
Teyla nodded and then carefully pushed the bag that Beckett had indicated the short distance over to him with her feet without interrupting her scan of the perimeter. It was full daylight outside and the temperature in the outpost was climbing steadily. Her eyes rested on the unconscious marine lying in the dust near the door.
"So, what does that mean? Agitated? Is he like having a hallucination in there?" demanded Ford.
Any answer Beckett might have given was interrupted by Zelenka. "All of you, step back towards me please." His voice was low and urgent and they obeyed him without question, casting nervous glances at each other as they gathered into an increasingly tight knot around the Czech scientist.
"Dr Zelenka, what has happened?" As she spoke, Teyla wiped at the perspiration that was beginning to run down her temples. She was closely flanked on either side by Ford and the remaining marine and the temperature was becoming unbearable.
"Activity has spiked. Something is probing at our interface programmes. I don't know what Rodney has done in there but he has stirred up hornet's nest." Zelenka didn't look up from the data pad he was working on and carried on typing, patches of sweat darkening between his shoulders as he stayed one step ahead of the programme that was hunting him down.
"Aw Christ, Rodney lad, what have ye done?" asked Beckett imploringly, letting his hand fall away impotently from McKay's forehead.
Twisting to look over his shoulder Ford asked, "Dr Beckett, is Dr McKay alright?"
Ford could see McKay's breathing was becoming increasingly laboured and a light tremor that was running through him. Shaking his head the Scot replied, "No, he's not." The trembling was becoming more and more pronounced. "Right, that's enough. Radek, how can we get him out there? He was in terrible shape when he started out on this damn fool plan and he's even worse now. I don't know how much more he can take."
Zelenka threw a sideways look at Beckett and began to swear. He wracked his brains, calculated, estimated, analysed, evaluated, questioned and then finally took a leap of faith. Muttering to himself in his native tongue, he split his attention between two datapads; one controlling the defensive programme and the other, the one that McKay had interfaced with the Ancient control chair. His fingers flew as he worked, shifting his attention from one to other and then back again.
He barely heard Beckett shouting at him.
"Radek! Are ye listening to me? His temperature's skyrocketing; he's going to go into convulsions soon - we've got to get him out of there now." Beckett reached out to grab Radek and was stopped by Ford grabbing his wrists.
"No, Doc, he's the only thing between us and the hallucinations and believe me, you don't want to go there." Beckett pulled against the strong grip of the younger man for a few long seconds. Then, seeing the sense in what he said, Beckett sat back on his heels and turned to his unconscious friend lying on the floor.
Without shifting his attention from the datapads for a moment, Zelenka said, "Just give me some more minutes. I am trying to re-initialise the original interface programme which should allow Rodney to find Major Sheppard more easy. If this does not work, then we take him out…"
Ford swallowed. If they took out McKay then they were effectively giving up on Sheppard. He turned and stared at his oblivious commanding officer as he lay in the control chair.
McKay was back in the gate room on Atlantis. He could hear the storm raging outside. What the hell had happened? He'd located Sheppard and was preparing to extract him when suddenly all hell had broken loose. The sky had changed, Sheppard and his alien dream chick had disappeared and then, without any warning, he was back in Atlantis. He spun around examining his surroundings. "Shit, this is NOT happening, please tell me this is not happening," he tried to keep a handle on his panic as he desperately tried to access the programme.
He heard something, someone behind him.
"Dr McKay," growled a low gravely voice. A sense of dread swept over him as he turned slowly to see the figure that had haunted his nightmares slowly walk towards him.
"Oh no, this I don't believe," McKay backed away from the Genii commander hands held up in front of him in denial. When each arm was grabbed he nearly jumped out of his skin. He was dragged forward by the Genii soldiers to stand in front of Kolya.
"Oh god, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. This is not happening," gasped McKay as the Genii commander turned to him with a cruel smile.
"What are you doing here?" asked Kolya moving closer to McKay.
He could remember the answer he'd given…
"My understanding -- I'm being held hostage."
"This is not real, I refuse to believe this!" Rodney shouted.
"I mean here in Atlantis. Why did some of you stay behind?" continued the Genii.
McKay tried to step backwards. "I don't believe this!" yelled McKay, "This is NOT real, I REFUSE TO BELIEVE THIS!" His voice cracked as he shouted. He struggled against the strong arms holding him. He heard the echo of his words.
"Oh. I was helping with things"
"Like what?" Kolya was invading his personal space.
"This is not real, I refuse to believe in you. GO AWAY!!" he shouted.
"You know -- make sure everyone got out OK."
"Isn't that the work of someone ... less important?" Kolya was staring at him appraisingly.
"This is a programme. This is not real, don't you get it, you are not REAL!"
"You'd think so, wouldn't you?"
He knew what Kolya was going to say next; the words were engraved in his memory.
"You have a plan, don't you?"
He couldn't access the programme, something was shifting away from him, changing the access points. He stared at Kolya.
"I've got lots of plans about lots of things."
"I'm interested in the plan you have to save the city."
He struggled against the hands that held him, "This isn't how it happened, let me go."
"I never said anything about saving anything."
Kolya put his hand on McKay's shoulder and smiled as he said, "Not yet." He nodded to one of the soldiers who drew out a vicious looking knife.
McKay fought with all his strength knowing exactly what was coming next but it was useless. The soldiers holding him dragged him forward and bent him awkwardly over one of the consoles holding out his arm.
"NO! This is not real," his voice choked off into a sob as the knife was deliberately thrust into his arm and he began to scream.
Beckett had one hand placed on McKay's chest and the other was lightly pressed against the pulse point on his neck. "Christ, his pulse is racing. Breathing is becoming more and distressed. Radek, we don't have much time."
Zelenka was so focused on his work that he didn't even register Beckett's words.
McKay's trembling was becoming severe, he began to convulse.
"Christ, Teyla, help me, the last thing we need is one of these cables being torn out." Beckett and Teyla knelt either side of McKay and tried to keep enough slack in the cables connecting him to the chair.
Ford stared at McKay and then turned back to Sheppard. He made a command decision. The hardest one he'd ever had to. "Get him out of there," he ordered pointing at McKay.
"Stop!" shouted Zelenka, "I've got it."
The relentless push of the knife was gone and his scream died... Rodney fell forward as the hands restraining him disappeared. He knelt for a few moments cradling his arm and then examined it; there wasn't a single mark on it. He looked up, Kolya and the other Genii were gone. He was in the outpost, only this time it was good as new with no sign of damage. It took him a second to realise what had happened.
He scrambled to his feet and raced over to the control panels. "Zelenka, you are a genius, you found the interface. Now all I have to do is get to Sheppard before Agent Smith finds me again," he muttered as his hands flew over the controls.
Beckett looked up from McKay's now still form. "His breathing's back to normal. The convulsions have stopped. Looks like things are going better in there," he said hopefully. He looked at Teyla where she was sitting across from him and gave her a tight smile.
"What did you do, Zelenka?" asked Ford.
"I located and started backup programme – I think it should give Rodney space and time to work in the VR as was supposed to be before left running for 10 thousand years," replied the Czech tiredly. "But he still has only another hour before our power is gone." He didn't look up from his data pad and continued pre-empting the shifts in frequency, blocking the signals, keeping them safe, buying them time.
Sheppard heard voices from downstairs and sighed deeply. He pushed himself off the bed reluctantly and walked slowly over to the small sink in the corner of the room. He let the water run cold and splashed it over his face hoping to clear his mind a little. He looked up and stared into the little wooden-framed mirror above the sink, wondering what the hell had happened for him to end this messed up. Rested his hands on either side of the sink he looked at the water spiralling down the drain and then reached out to turn off the tap.
He looked up to the mirror again and when he did he saw the face of hallucination – McKay – standing behind him.
"Pleasedon'tsayanythingandjustshutupandlistentome," the Canadian blurted out.
Sheppard spun around again to look behind him but there was no-one in the room behind him – just in the mirror.
"And please don't do anything suspicious, either!" exclaimed McKay in an irritated voice. "Just carry on washing or primping your hair, or anything, and just listen to me, please. Nod, if you understand."
Sheppard glared at the mirror – even as a hallucination McKay was annoying as hell. Against his better judgement he nodded and then reached for his shaving kit that lay in a heap on one side of the sink.
"Look, we don't have much time. I'm assuming from your reaction earlier that you don't know where you are. Well, you're in a control chair on Planet Hellhole. You're in a virtual reality interface between the chair and the weapons system and I need you to help me get you out of it."
Sheppard stared back at him. He could almost accept this – it was better than madness. Then he realised he was speaking to a man in a mirror who wasn't there. "Why should I believe you? Why shouldn't I believe what my wife says? That you're a hallucination arising from PTSD," muttered Sheppard through the shaving foam.
The face in the mirror gaped at him. "Your, your what?" spluttered McKay at last. "How can you believe that? She's dead, Sheppard, you told us yourself. She's dead."
OK - only one more part and an epilogue to go. Hope you are enjoying this and if you have any feedback or comments all is welcome.