They were still on the floor when the antiseptic smells of the infirmary reached Rodney's nose. He barely registered the diminishing rays of the transporter before hands grabbed Sheppard's limp form and lifted him onto a gurney. Beckett was already out of breath, undoubtedly from jogging back from the colonel's room. Rodney tried to get up, but his blood covered hand slipped on the tile. Ronon yanked him to his feet by his shirt and they both stood and watched helplessly.
"Damn it!" Carson cursed upon seeing the condition of his patient."Vitals!"
"Pulse's thready at 120, BP's 60 over 40 and dropping!" a nurse hollered, pumping a pressure cuff.
Sheppard's shirt was cut away and a different nurse worked on the BDUs, the fabric ripping as she shredded them with scissors. Rodney was amazed by the speed of Carson's staff, all of them already gloved up, with instrument trays in place and a crash cart nearby. They hooked up Sheppard to several monitors, filling the room with beeping sounds.
The shrieking noise of too many loud alarms made his ears hurt. If the blaring whine of equipment wasn't enough, then the shouting to be heard over it was. People hollered about respiratory rates, low crit, temperature, and there was a terse argument over whether there was time for a central line.
Time was something Sheppard definitely didn't have.
"Careful, don't touch the tourniquet. I'll have ta remove it during surgery," Beckett advised, replacing another soaked bandage.
There was a tube in each of the colonel's arms, one with IV fluids and the other a desperately needed supply of blood. Rodney watched nervously while a nurse squeezed the dark red packet into the colonel's starving veins. Sheppard was at the mercy of medical razzle-dazzle; an oxygen mask to improve his pathetic breathing, tubes to refill every body fluid imaginable, and injections of voodoo potions.
"Carol get a cooling blanket ready," Carson briskly instructed one of his minions,then turned to another. "And Janice, get me four more pints of O Neg and ask Dr. Kim to get ready to anesthetize as soon as we wheel in."
Beckett peeled off his gloves and threw them in a bin, hurrying to scrub in for surgery.
Rodney was hot on his heels. He avoided all the bio-hazards that littered the ground in a frantic hobble. His stomach wouldn't stop bubbling with bile at the sight of bloody articles of clothing and discarded waste. He could only yell at the physician through a window as the irate Scot was busy stripping off layers of skin in an attempt to sterilize quickly.
"What the hell are you talking about? Cooling blankets! Sheppard doesn't have a fever, he's got a gaping hole in his leg!"
"Not now Rodney!" Carson snapped.
Rodney had only seen fire in the physician's eyes once or twice before, but he'd be damned if he would be summarily dismissed. "I'm not one of the pretty nurses that bow at your beck and call."
The harried doctor held out his hands for one of his med team to slip on surgical gloves. "I don't have time for this."
"Do you plan on turning him into a Popsicle? Is that your big plan to stop the geyser in his thigh? Because if not, may I suggest anointing him with oil or any number of other useless ways to fix...to fix--" Rodney waved his hand in the direction of the OR. "What the hell are you going to do?"
Beckett paused long enough for his face to falter and reveal its transparency. "Whatever I bloody can, lad. In fact, I'm gonna put him as close to hypothermia as I dare and slow down all that bleedin' so I can repair it."
Carson disappeared behind the magic curtain and Rodney almost followed, his forehead smooching the glass and his eyes trying to see past the closing doors. Unable to pursue any further, he turned around to see a member of Carson's covenant cleaning up the disaster area left in the wake of their arrival.
She had long strawberry hair pulled back into a bun, rosy cheeks, and blue eyes. The nurse glanced up from sweeping up the debris of the battleground. "Dr. Beckett will do everything thing he can to help the colonel. If you want me to tell you about the procedure, I could explain it to you."
"No, thank you, um..."
"Carol."
"Yeah, right. No offense, but my imagination doesn't need the benefit of a power point presentation. I can fill in every horrid detail myself. More fun that way."
Rodney couldn't tear his gaze from the floor, noticing the heavy droplets that stained the surface. Arterial blood was bright red, unlike the dark cuts from a bad shave or a freak run-in with a sharp edge.
He'd been so preoccupied with his own thoughts that he almost failed to notice Ronon memorizing the same square sections of tile. The runner's body was rigid and both hands were balled into fists.
Rodney had momentarily forgotten that this nightmare wasn't his alone. He wasn't much of a comforter, the whole being emotionally supportive was a skill he lacked. He swallowed, the dizziness of the past few minutes catching up to him. It had been what? Maybe six or seven minutes at the most since they'd broken into Sheppard's quarters.
Rodney shrugged, his face faltering at the cold hard facts and statistics of what Sheppard was up against."He'll be...um...well, you know."
He waited for a stoic reply or some mumbled old saying about great fights and the warriors who fought them. Ronon didn't answer him. In fact, the Satedan wasn't even on the same planet as he was. The hulking runner's nostrils flared and his jaw clenched so tightly that the veins popped along the man's neck.
"Good thinking...um...back there with the triage," Rodney said lamely.
No one was home in Ronon Land. Just heavy breathing, brooding and eyes that bore holes through the walls of the infirmary. Rodney wet his lips, seeking suitable words. He had decided to try offering more pearls of wisdom when his ears filled with a shuddering howl that made every hair on his body stand on end.
Ronon was punching the wall with one hammering thud after another. Rodney flinched, but ran over to try to stop the meltdown. The Satedan left three holes in his wake and eyed a table with plenty of stuff to throw to the ground.
Rodney surprised himself. "Go ahead. It'll make you feel better."
Ronon walked two feet and heaved the nearest instrument tray across the room. Rodney waved away the extra staff that came out at the sounds of destruction and Ronon silently collected himself.
"I should have stopped him," the Satedan growled.
"Stopped who? That...that...freak?"
Ronon fumed silently, his voice heavy and low. "I screwed up. Lost my chance."
Rodney ignored the increased throbbing in his foot and marched up to the larger man, anger flushing his cheeks. "Your chance? At what, revenge? Excuse me, but last I checked Sheppard isn't dead and talking about him like he is ...is...stupid. So, drop the whole vengeance spiel and face the fact that you made the right decision."
Ronon snarled and fumed, turning his back on him. Rodney felt the adrenaline leech out of his pores. Every muscle ached, each step felt heavy and he wanted to curl up in a ball and sleep for a week. He didn't realize his hands were shaking until he sank into a chair next to one of the gurneys.
His heart barely had time to slow down as the infirmary filled with the feet and voices of others. Rodney went to rub at his eyes when it dawned on him that his hands were covered in dried blood. When he looked up at the collective anxious faces of Elizabeth, Teyla and Colonel Caldwell, the huddled group stopped their barrage of questions at his haggard and hollow expression.
It didn't matter. Rodney didn't hear a single word through the haze and buzzing of a thunderous headache. Teyla went over to Ronon, and Caldwell and Elizabeth flanked him on each side.
"What happened, Rodney?" she beseeched him, touching his shoulder gently.
"I don't have the foggiest idea," he replied.
He didn't know how many ways he could spin what transpired in those three minutes. What else did they want from him? Rodney looked at his watch for the hundredth time and noted only two minutes had passed since last he checked. They'd been at this for hours. He squirmed on one of the gurneys to keep pressure off his foot and rubbed his arms up and down absently, suppressing a shiver. Teyla had suggested that he and Ronon change into scrubs instead of discussing things in blood-stained clothes.
"Explain to me again what he looked like," Caldwell insisted.
Again.
Rodney resisted rolling his eyes. "I. Don't. Know. Think Darth Vader meets one of your black ops guys in all their gear."
Caldwell crossed his arms. "And he was wearing a mask of some type?"
"Yes, a helmet, mask, or goggles. I can't recall, I was a little busy," Rodney replied tersely.
"The colonel is just trying help you remember things so we can identify who attacked John," Elizabeth reasoned with her seasoned, calming tone, but her eyes spoke volumes of how much emotion she was holding back.
Caldwell perched a hip on one of the opposite beds, after the group had taken over a section of Beckett's lair. No one wanted to leave, just in case anything happened, but they needed a place to go over eyewitness accounts.
"Why don't you scour Sheppard's room for fingerprints or DNA. I know, send Zelenka over there to collect evidence. He's always talking about all those forensics shows," Rodney grumbled, tensing as a nurse entered, only to grab a file from one of the desks.
"He was wearing gloves and you're not gonna find anything." All eyes were on Ronon who had, until now, been a silent, sulking observer unless forced to give his account.
Elizabeth beat everyone to the punch. "Why's that?"
Ronon never moved from his place, standing next to the far wall in order to watch the entrance to the infirmary and keep his focus on the closed section of the OR. "Because this guy's too good."
"Oh, great deduction skills there," Rodney insulted.
Ronon rocketed to his full height at the barb, his eyes betraying his fury. Teyla interceded by stepping in front of him. "Maybe we should ask why someone would want to kill Colonel Sheppard."
Elizabeth sighed. "I don't know who would on this expedition. John's well liked, there's been no beef with anyone that I am aware of."
"Perhaps a recent argument with someone or a grievance concerning the newest promotions?" Teyla suggested.
"I can't imagine that anyone would want to murder John over something like that. First off, everyone here has a clean bill of health and passed all psychological evaluations. Secondly..." Elizabeth began to pace. "I don't have a second one because it's a ridiculous idea."
"I don't know, people have gone nuts in less stressful type environments," Rodney injected.
"Why's irrelevant if we can't figure out who," Caldwell stated. He looked at the circle. "I've got a team from the Daedalus going over Sheppard's room for anything that may lead to tracking this guy down." He looked over to the civilian expedition leader. "And with your permission, I think it advisable that Major Lorne be placed in charge of the investigation."
She nodded in approval. "Any word back from him?"
"Nothing new since the last check in," the Colonel responded.
Ronon brushed past Teyla and moved in front of the senior members of Atlantis. "They're wasting their time."
"Care to elaborate?" Caldwell's tone grew weary.
"He wasn't a Marine or any other of our guys." The Satedan paced as he talked. "His protective gear was alien; his moves and techniques superior to anyone on this base."
Rodney couldn't hold his tongue. He needed an outlet and picking on the biggest, scariest man in the room was one way to distract him from counting every second that passed with no word from Beckett. "And you know this from the sixty seconds you tangled with him?"
"He took Sheppard down," Ronon rebuked.
Rodney didn't try to conceal his bitter sarcasm."Yeah, and the colonel wasn't exactly in optimum health either."
"You think someone off world got past all our defense systems, evaded security and tried to kill Sheppard?" Caldwell's disbelief, reflected both the insidious nature of such a plot as well as a whole new threat level.
"I'm saying that this was a professional and he's not going to be easy to find," Ronon warned.
Teyla looked to her friend. "Do you think the colonel is still in danger?"
Ronon answered her, but glared at Rodney as he spoke. "He's in danger as long as the intruder is out there."
Rodney jumped to his feet, wincing as his injured foot took the brunt of his weight. "Why were you looking at me when you said that!"
"Because if you hadn't frozen up, I could have stopped him!" Ronon snarled, quickly closing the distance between the two of them and using his height to full advantage.
Rodney stood toe to toe with the runner and forced himself to peer up without cowering. "I was trying to help Sheppard! While you took your time to debate what was more important to you. Getting into a brawl or saving a friend."
"Survival, McKay. You don't have what it takes to think on your feet in the heat of battle."
Elizabeth pulled Rodney away by the elbow. "Enough! This bickering isn't going to help us at all."
Teyla placed her hand on Ronon's heaving chest. "She is right, there is no blame here."
"For someone so smart, he didn't have a clue what to do," Ronon said, loud enough for everyone to hear. He jerked away from Teyla and resumed his spot against the wall to seethe.
"I'm placing guards outside until we find our suspect," Caldwell said, tapping his com to give instructions.
Elizabeth held out her hands to calm the agitated parties."In the mean time, let's everyone just cool it. We're all upset here."
Rodney ignored her words and marched towards Lorne as the major entered the highly charged room. "Did you get him?" he demanded.
Lorne's stiff jaw revealed his answer. "No, we didn't."
Ronon directed his anger at the man."What are you doing here? Shouldn't you still be tracking?"
Lorne grimaced at his angry words. "My team had just gotten back from a three day, off world mission before this happened. After several hours searching we decided to re-group and discuss getting a schedule of teams to cover Atlantis." He looked at Colonel Caldwell. "This is a big place. It's going to take time and we need to create a grid so the guy doesn't slip through any cracks."
"I agree." Caldwell moved towards the major. "We can meet in the control room and map out the best tactical way to cover the base."
"I'll find him myself," Ronon stated, brushing past them with a hand on his blaster.
"Wait!" Elizabeth didn't allow his size to intimidate her, blocking his path. "We don't need anyone else getting hurt. I don't want you going off alone."
"I'm not the one who's gonna get hurt," Ronon responded and walked past her.
"Don't you want to wait on news on John?" Teyla interceded before he left.
Ronon hesitated. "We have to kill this guy, or it won't matter either way."
The group let the runner go, but it didn't relieve any tension left in the room. Caldwell turned to Elizabeth. "Let me know when you hear from Doctor Beckett."
"We will," Elizabeth answered as the two soldiers left to plan out a better method to hunt down Sheppard's attacker.
The room grew somber with the exodus of the gun toting, let's kill first and damn the consequences mantra of certain members. The low hum of machines and the quiet patter of medical staff in other sections of the infirmary made Rodney's eyes heavy. He resisted, refusing to be seduced by the pull of exhaustion and the toll of stress. At some point he hopped back on the gurney, lost in a sea of regret, anger and doubt. His head found a place against the wall, eyes shut to cut off the matching worried looks of his companions.
Somehow he drifted off, his dreams and nightmares filled with every gory detail of three minutes imprinted forever into memory. His subconscious would dissect and pick apart what could have been done differently. He would deny it to the bitter end, but guilt found a place to curl up deep inside and it began to gnaw away.
Rodney had never been allowed to see Sheppard following the treatment of the retrovirus. It'd been the colonel's orders and Carson had followed them to the letter. Rodney didn't give a rat's ass about the slow transformation and all its sideshow horrors, but a certain Lt Colonel did care about the perceptions of others, even his friends. Thinking back to those days, he recalled bitterly that Ronon had bullied his way to Sheppard's bedside and eventually had been allowed to stay.
It wasn't until he heard Sheppard's screams during one of the more painful periods, his DNA slowly reverting back to normal, that Rodney understood the reason was to spare them all. He thought that nothing could top his imagination of how ill Sheppard might have looked, tethered to so many machines.
Until now.
He was sick to his stomach even with the relief upon hearing that the colonel had pulled through. It was hard to believe that under all those tubes and wires, lay the military commander of the expedition. All the artificial means to keep him alive made the pilot appear so unbelievably fragile. Sheppard's left leg was propped up with pillows underneath a blanket. A second heavier wool one was pulled up to his chest where a myriad of wires snaked out from under his hospital gown.
Sheppard's right arm was swathed in bandages from his wrist up to his elbow. Rodney had never even noticed the additional injury and that made the pit of his stomach churn.
"What the bloody blazes are ya doin' here, Rodney?"
He nearly jumped out of his skin at the Scottish accent. "Just checking to make sure for myself."
Carson blocked his view with an angry, reddening face. "I told you that the colonel would be in recovery for several hours until he was settled in enough for visitors."
"So... so he's out of the woods, right?"
The physician's expression softened at Rodney's fear. "Aye, he's out of immediate danger, but he'll be in the ICU for a while."
"Excuse me, Dr. Beckett."
Both men turned to one of the nurses who had assisted earlier during the trauma.
"Yes, love."
"His temp has risen to 95 degrees and his BP is hovering around 80/60. Do you want me to keep running two liters every half hour?"
Carson wandered over towards his patient and Rodney followed, despite the warning glare he got from the nurse. The physician studied the monitors and checked the blood pressure cuff as it automatically inflated. Despite the readouts he placed the back of his hand on Sheppard's forehead, frowning. "Increase the saline to four units every half hour. Keep running it and the O Neg under a warmer for the next few hours. The faster his body temp gets back to normal, the better I'll feel."
She nodded and Carson didn't hide his displeasure at seeing Rodney still lurking. "Rodney---"
"You really did freeze him?"
The doctor sighed. "Aye. Had to do somethin' to slow down his blood flow."
"Are you sure you repaired everything? I mean what if you missed some vessel and he's still leaking blood right under your nose?" Rodney pointed at Sheppard's wan face, his sunken eyes and pasty white pallor. "God, Carson, he looks like...I mean, I've seen dead bodies with more color."
"He lost a lot of volume in a very short amount of time. We were barely able to keep up with replenishing the hemorrhaging durin' the surgery."
Rodney blanched and held onto to the bed rail to steady himself. Carson put a reassuring arm around his shoulders. "We're giving him several more units to bring his pressure back up. As I told all of you after the operation, it's going to take another four or six hours for all his stats to reach acceptable levels."
"And his leg? I mean the whole solider commando thing aside. I'm not sure how the Air Force feels about limps or canes or you know..." He looked up in a panic. "There isn't a chance he might lose it? I mean it wasn't purple, not that I could tell with the pants and the blood and the..."
A hand squeezed his shoulder. "Calm down, Rodney. This is the reason why you were supposed to stay in the waiting room."
"You're avoiding the question. God, I knew it. I told Conan that tying the limb off was dangerous and that you said never to—-
"Rodney," the physician hissed. "Keep quiet. This is a recovery room."
Rodney stared at the frail looking man cocooned by so much stuff. This couldn't be the same animated guy who got up at the crack of dawn to run and could be seen cruising the hallways late at night or keeping tabs in the control room at the most obscene hours.
"The femoral artery was nicked and I was able to tie it off, then I inserted a mesh shunt to repair it. I still have several neuro checks to conduct when he's awake. I feel safe in sayin' that with physical therapy and time, he should make a full recovery." Beckett pursed his lips. "Now that you've gotten a look, it's time for you to go to bed. There's nothing you can do right now."
Rodney didn't budge, checking readouts he didn't have a clue about and unable to come up with a reason to stay.
"Where are Elizabeth and Teyla?" Beckett inquired as he gently guided Rodney away.
"There's no rest for the weary. Seems we still have a Genii meeting to deal with and Teyla went somewhere to search for Chewbacca."
The two walked through the stillness of the infirmary, Rodney hobbling heavily, unable to ignore the throbbing of his foot.
"You need a new set of crutches?"
He shook his head no, knowing that normally Carson would be upset over the loss of medical supplies. "I'll find them."
"Get some rest, Rodney. You've had a rough couple of days."
It was disconcerting to see two Marines guarding the entrance, knowing that a real danger still lurked the city. He gulped, his stomach twisting inside out over the thought that the danger was still at large. Rodney walked back to his quarters in a haze, one question still nagging him.
Despite what Colonel Caldwell said, there was still one word that dogged his thoughts.
Why.
Motivation, reason, purpose. It was the foundation for all scientific theory. Simple cause and effect. If they could uncover the motivation, maybe they could gain insight into what they were up against. Rodney hoped that their desire to capture their newest enemy was greater than what drove the intruder to try to kill Sheppard.