Teyla adjusted the grip on the box, her shoulders and arms still very stiff from the other day's sparring with Ronon. Her friend practically lived within the abandoned sectors of the city, only leaving to eat, run and visit the colonel. Yesterday, Ronon had nearly ripped an arm off of a Marine who had bumped into him in the mess hall; she had insisted they work out in order for him to release his tension and anger. The exercise session that followed was rough and filled with fury as neither of them held back as they normally would.
This was the first time Teyla felt her center focused and unburdened. She had spent over ten hours a day in the darkened maze of Atlantis with a team of nervous servicemen. The Marines were professionals; loyal and determined to complete such an imperative mission. Every noise, every shadow had been a false hope and as the minutes had ticked by with no result, the restlessness ate away at them all. The men did not want to let down their CO and frustration fueled an anger that was harder to keep at bay.
As each day passed without a capture, so did the rumors of the prey they stalked. She did not know what a ninja was and the batman was familiar to her, but these thoughts and ideas about what they were up against made the thrum of latent hostility within the search party that much more palpable. Teyla wasn't sure how much more any member could take of leaving the bowels of the city empty handed.
It was the worst kind of disappointment.
The guards in front of Rodney's room held out their hands, eyes flicking from motion detectors to her position.
Sergeant Robbins nodded at her. "You're clear."
"Thank you, Sergeant," she replied. Corporal Collins remained silent, his eyes intent on the empty space behind her.
Before Teyla could enter, the doors swooshed open making the three of them jump, all hands prepping their weapons.
"There you are. You're late," Rodney huffed, oblivious to the knee jerk reaction his outburst had created.
"I'm sorry. We were at the far west section of the city and it took longer to get back. I needed to shower and change before I came---"
Rodney waved a hand to quiet her explanation. "Yeah, yeah. All that matters is you're here. I've had enough already and was about to pummel him with anything I could find if I couldn't leave."
Going inside temporarily forgotten, Teyla followed the walking tirade into the next corridor. "What is wrong?" she asked, grabbing his elbow when he didn't slow down.
"What's wrong? Hmmm let me think about that. Could it be that I had to endure watching him battle the nurse over wanting to try using that archaic walker too soon? Or maybe it's trying to offer him some solace after he woke up from another nightmare, that, of course, he denies he even had. Oh wait, perhaps it's his constant mood swings."
Teyla held firmly onto Rodney's shoulder to halt his pacing. "Give him time."
"For what? He sleeps most hours, thanks to the machine of happiness. When he's alert, all he does is demand more information about an investigation that's at a standstill. If that's not enough, he tries to get out of bed so he can expedite the healing process," Rodney said, using his fingers to add invisible quotes. "I caught him before he collapsed during one of his attempts to hobble and he nearly bit my head off for helping."
Teyla set her box down and grabbed her worried friend by both shoulders. "John has been attacked, stabbed and poisoned. He's in constant pain, under heavy medication and his body is not in the shape he is used to. He's being targeted for death by an unmerciful hunter and for a man who values his control---John has lost it all. It's very difficult for him to deal with so many stressful things at once."
Rodney's tense muscles sagged in her grip, fervent blue eyes giving in to the worry within. "He sleeps with a gun. Did you notice?"
"And you carry one."
He looked down at the sidearm, his face faltering. "Yeah."
"It gives you empowerment and John a sense of security."
"I guess we're both poster children for false hope."
"We will find the person responsible for this and John will get better." Teyla picked up her parcel. "Until then, we must be a source of strength for the colonel. We must not add to his toil."
The scientist looked at the ground uncomfortably, his expression changing as he got a sparkle in his eye. "While waiting for you to get here, I got an ingenious idea. One that should help the search teams locate our ninja warrior and, remarkably, all it's gonna take is some spray paint!" Rodney gave a chuckle. "I don't know why I didn't think of it before!"
"That's good. I'll see if I can do anything to make John feel better."
"Good luck with that."
Teyla shook her head, knowing the challenge she was up against, and hoped her preparations would prove helpful for them all.
"Are those really slippers?"
Teyla didn't understand the indignant exasperation in John's voice. "They are so you don't fall when trying to walk around."
"I have a robe... now all I'm missing is a pipe," Sheppard joked.
She did not get the humor so she resigned herself to watching him stare at his covered feet. He wore a white scrub top and pants; the robe was just an unbuttoned hospital shirt to help prevent any chills. All his attachments were absent, save for the IV that remained to keep him hydrated and for his various medications. The colonel brushed away her offer to help, taking a deep breath as he methodically swung his bad leg over, grunting from the movement, until both limbs dangled above the floor.
"Didn't you work with the nurse earlier today?" Teyla asked, holding onto the walker to keep it still.
"What can I say... I'm an over achiever," he replied, mustering up the energy to stand.
"If you push yourself too far, then all this will do is cause a set back. Dr. Beckett does not think you should be trying this for a few more days."
"Carson has good intentions. I just want to go over to the chair and sit up for a while."
Teyla knew he could be upright in bed just as easily. It wasn't a long distance to the large cushioned chair and the sooner she acquiesced to the colonel's desire for independence, the quicker he could relax. "Very well, but perhaps you should hit your pain medication device. It's very hard for you to move around."
"Don't want to depend on that," the colonel said, pushing off the bed slowly and settling his weight on both feet.
Teyla wrapped one arm around his waist as she guided him over to the walker, his weight leaning heavily against her frame. Sheppard's knees buckled just as he grabbed each handle of the walker, his arms straining to help keep him in a standing position. The metal legs of his walker shook and Teyla tightened her hold around him as he hunched over the support.
"I'm okay," he said.
She never let go of him, the muscles in his back taut and shaky. "Concentrate on your breathing," she encouraged.
"Yeah," he exhaled, stepping with his right foot and lifting the walker enough forward before moving his left one a few inches.
The rubber ends of the walker lumbered along the surface of the floor, and every time Sheppard moved his badly injured leg, the lines in his face doubled. Teyla rolled the IV stand and PCA pump along with her free hand, careful he didn't trip over them.
Clomp. Shuffle. Clomp. Shuffle.
It was a tedious trek with copious amounts of cursing that she didn't comment on. A few times John looked like he would keel over when he listed to one side heavily, but he would not be deterred. By the time he reached the chair, all the color had drained from his face and she placed her shoulder under his armpit to ease him down before he collapsed and fell over.
"Maybe you'll reconsider your pain relief next time," she admonished.
"No," he said, sinking into the furniture. "I'm on enough of it."
Sighing and still very sore herself, Teyla grabbed a folding chair and sat heavily in it. "There's a reason for that."
"Have you found his ship?"
"What?"
Sheppard cradled his bandaged arm against his chest and flexed his hand. "Voulsh's ship. Any trace of it?"
"Colonel Caldwell has searched for signs of it and has not been successful. He and Rodney believe it must use the same type of cloaking technology as his personal body armor."
"What about a power source? It's gotta give off an energy reading. Maybe he's hiding in his ship stashed near one of the piers."
"We think it conceals all power readings. He cannot hide forever and there have been no attempts to venture into the city or our motion detectors would have picked up his movements. Our measures have kept him isolated."
The colonel didn't give her eye contact, the frustration clearly obvious. John fidgeted in his chair and rubbed at the stubble on his cheeks. "Five days is a long time. He's going to get desperate and I'm sure he's low on supplies."
"He'll make a mistake and we will be there to catch him."
Her friend laughed. It wasn't filled with joy or amusement, but tinged with doubt and disbelief. "These 'people'... the Rashakash… I read the intel report on file. They have these dark scary underground caves with miles upon miles of hidden caverns. Do you know what they do with them? Drop one of their chosen kids off with a knife and tell the child to find their way back. No light. No water. Oh, and they let loose this animal that sounds like a wolf to hunt them down just to add to the difficulty."
"John."
"Every hour that the kid doesn't make it back, they release another creature to increase the danger."
"We won't let him harm you."
The colonel leaned forward and spoke in a snarl very rarely used. "I can't hide here forever, Teyla. Sooner or later, I'm going to walk out that door. Are you guys going to shadow my every step? This Voulsh's very reason for living is to kill me and when he's tired of playing games, he's just going to hurt anyone that gets in his way. "
Teyla took his hand. "You pledge to protect your people, John Sheppard, and we will do the same for you."
The pilot ran a hand through his unruly hair and didn't press the issue. Not wanting the rest of the night to dissolve into unpleasant thoughts, she remembered the box she had brought. "I have something to take your mind off of things."
She crossed the room to gather the items and pulled out a white folded up bag. Sheppard looked on in curiosity, both knowing he did not like to dwell on heavy emotional topics. Teyla walked over to the mini microwave that Rodney kept on one of his shelves.
"I think it's funny that Dr. McKay has one of these," she said, stuffing the bag inside before setting the clock.
"We all have our priorities," Sheppard muttered. "What are you doing?"
She smiled at him coyly. "Making popcorn."
"Popcorn?" Sheppard's eyes lit up. "Is this dinner and a movie?"
"We have already eaten, but I did bring one that Rodney always vetoes when we all try to choose."
The pilot wiggled in his chair trying to sneak a peek at the DVD she concealed in her hands. "McKay hates all the good stuff. What are we going to watch it on? There's no TV."
Her grin widened. "I borrowed a lap top from Dr. Zelenka, the one with the wide screen."
"He lent you his baby?"
"Now if you can get back to bed, we can watch it."
"You just want me in bed so you can have your way in my weakened condition," he joked.
Teyla quirked an eyebrow. "If you do not behave then I'll take it back." She peered down at the item. "Top Gun."
Mentioning the title of the movie had the colonel the most animated since his injury and the two of them made slow progress to get him situated. He breathed heavily from the exertion, but his spirits were brightened by the prospect of watching her surprise and he made sure to take only a small dosage of his morphine in order to stay awake for the whole thing. Teyla moved the chair and pushed down the railing, placing the computer on the side of the bed so both could view it.
Teyla quickly realized that Top Gun fell into the same category of films as the one about the speeding bus, the guy trapped in a tower with terrorists and the robot that protected the boy from another time. She never did understand why the killer terminator was evil in one film then good in the next one.
All the flying planes were interesting and Teyla wondered if the colonel molded himself with the lead role.
"Do you identify with Maverick?"
Sheppard chuckled. "Don't you start, I hear enough about that from McKay."
"But didn't you once brake one of the jumpers and let the other ship pass you by before shooting it down?"
The colonel did the thing where he bobbled his head from side to side before answering. "Yeah, once. It worked though."
"Did you fly such craft like those in the movie?"
"I never had a wing man, but my fighter was very similar." He snuggled his head among the pillows, eyes drifting shut as he spoke. "Jets are fast and cool; I used to test them on my world, but I prefer choppers."
She rested her arm near his shoulder, keeping her tone soft. "The ones with the blades?"
"Yeah. There's something about seeing the sky with your own eyes instead of an instrument tray," he murmured drowsily.
The lights were dimmed and she picked up the lap top and quietly placed it on the a table, before pulling the sheet over his form. She debated whether to hit the button on the PCA machine without his permission and decided it wasn't her decision. The night nurse usually came by around three AM to check on the machines and ensured that he was comfortable during the late night.
She stretched her back, her joints popping and stood up to get ready for sleep in Rodney's bed, when a hand grabbed her arm.
"Thanks," he mumbled, his eyes still closed.
Teyla squeezed his hand. "Sleep well tonight."
Before she settled for her own night's rest, she was relieved to hear the sound of the PCA release its medication. She prepared for her normal nightly meditation, centering herself cross-legged on the bed and allowing herself to hope that the next day would bring an end to this terrible ordeal.
How many times could he fail during one mission? He pressed his side, rubbing a thumb heavily over the black exoskeleton that covered up the stitched up skin and inflicted pain over his wound in punishment, savoring the burning sensation.
Sheppard was alive.
Voulsh fingered the chord securing the colonel's metal tags and vowed to never give up the symbol to one man's defiance to death. Sheppard's people hid him away but they did n't understand the depth of his resolve. Tapping into the city's communications informed him of his target's status but would not devolve his current location.
The hunt was taking place on both sides as the 'Lantean teams became more unpredictable and ceased using mathematical patterns that were easy to predict. They tried to lure him in other directions while others lay in wait to follow. He would not fall for any ploy, avoiding their tactics.
He designated each team with a number, recognizing stilted voices during breaks in silence as well as odors, slight differences in gait and individual heights. Teams One and Three were searching south while units Two and Four were in the area he vacated an hour ago.
Which left the unpredictable Satedan, whose efforts became a constant distraction. He longed for vindication in the runner's intrusion of his mission, but a dead body would only make his final objective harder to obtain. It was time to acquire more reconnaissance and finish the job. He'd never been this close to the populated areas since the security measures had been implemented. His helmet's heat signatures were blurred, even after he adjusted the sensors to no avail, forcing him to use normal vision. They were jamming his equipment with something short range.
When a unit of soldiers rounded the corner, he flattened his back once again to avoid detection. Much like the Kemida chameleons, many troops passed by him, unaware of how he blended into the background. It was unit Four, led by the one called Lorne. His team had been most persistent of them all.
Major Lorne carried the weight of command without reservations. Some men preferred obeying orders that the structure of the military offered; serving through obedience and never having to make the tough choices. Most of the soldiers posted at Atlantis did not fall into that category; all of them had been hand picked for the expedition for their leadership and skills.
Even though Colonel Caldwell had stepped into Sheppard's shoes in assuming command, the guys still looked to him for guidance. It filled Lorne with pride at the willingness of everyone to give over 110 in their pursuit. No one ever complained about the longer shifts, the tighter security. They all held the same goal.
To find the bastard.
It was their second shift in the same day, another eight hours of a time-consuming search. His team did eight hours on, two off, than an additional six in extra duty, while the other teams had a late dinner meeting with Dr. McKay about new ideas. There was always something different, adjusting the grids, redeploying the men in other ways. They configured the city's sensors to wreak havoc on thermal technology and help prevent the assassin from using his toys to get around.
The physicist had requested flour of all things a few hours ago; thousands of pounds of white dust to sprinkle the ground of the empty sectors where they could follow any footprints made afterwards. It was an unusual idea, one they even pondered, until everyone realized that they didn't have the provisions.
The other ridiculous suggestion, well, that had merit.
His men passed the first checkpoint around the outskirts of the city when he noticed Sergeant Murdock lingering behind. He turned around ready to bark orders about double-timing it, when the bullish man pulled out a can of spray paint.
Before Lorne could react, Murdock pressed the nozzle sending out a wide spray of red that misted the air and covered the brick wall. He was furious, didn't they just have a conversation about informing the rest of the team when something didn't feel right? The wet substance splattered the floor and coated the front of an object just two inches away.
"Major..." Murdock shouted.
Lorne watched in horror as the Sergeant's jaw popped out of its hinge unnaturally and he grabbed his P90 as the burly man's head twisted at a sharp angle, the bones snapping.
"Target the red paint!" Lorne screamed, firing at the moving patch of color.
Lorne rolled to the floor as blue streaks from an energy gun missed him and fired again from his belly.
Private Cratos and Sergeant Braise were hit in the chest by the enemy's energy weapon.
"We need back up in sector six-five-three. We have located the target!" he shouted, scanning for the red moving smear.
The chest plating covered with paint, dove to the floor, the assassin camouflaging the mark with the floor.
"Aim for the ground!"
Captain Lewis shelled the tile with his P90, riddling the entire surface of the floor with bullets. Four more Marines came from the other hallway, anxious faces searched for something to aim at, while they shielded their bodies behind the corners.
The ground smoldered with dust and smoke from the obliterated floor and Lorne could hear the coms squawking with chatter as more Marines came to their aid.
"Hold your position. Our guy is cloaked... If you see anything red, shoot on sight!" he ordered.
The MPs behind him inched closer to cover their CO and he didn't even have time to chastise their bravery. Lorne trained his weapon a few inches above the ground, eyes searching for any movement or distortion in the air. He chewed on his lip, knowing even more reinforcements were on the way. Maybe the flour idea wasn't so bad after all.
Lorne raised the barrel of his automatic to fire at every square inch in front of him, when the ground simmered. The fluctuation was moving away from his position.
Lorne pointed at the minuscule light refractions, heading right towards the Marines. "Fire at your twelve o'clock!"
He couldn't shoot his weapon in fear of hitting his own men and the Marines in front of him had to do the same, forced to aim at the floor again. P90s rocketed the small space and Lorne could barely hear over the roar.
He watched in awe as bullets impacted with something, the cloak shimmering at the area struck by the projectiles. The blob surged forward and he watched in horror as his men were disarmed, weapons wrenched from their grasps, their body's reacting to invisible blows.
Blood sprayed from one guy's throat, the cast off covering his buddy. The blood-covered Marine engaged in hand to hand, only to be stabbed, wounds appearing along torn parts of his shirt until he collapsed.
"We need reinforcements, target is heading north towards sector six-five-four!"
All the guys that held the area went down, some were bleeding and others knocked unconscious. Lorne rushed up to cover the gaping hole of a corporal's chest while another nearby moaned in pain.
"We need med teams here! We have several men down. I repeat we have several men down!"
He tried to soothe the whimpering of the Marine beside him, red smeared all over his hands. "You hang on, soldier!" he ordered.
The target was gone, escaped into the city.
"Lock down all sectors! Secure all corridors," he radioed.
They could keep the assassin from gaining access to the general population and their quarters, but there was no telling what Voulsh would do. The hunter could back track into the unpopulated areas or find a place to hide out until he found Colonel Sheppard. Lorne noticed that the Marine dying before him wasn't in possession of his radio. The assassin was now closer to his goal and had the means to eavesdrop on all their communications.
Thank you to all of those who have been so supportive, your comments are like cookies.