A/N's Note: I made a technical error in chapter twelve. There's no gate on the mainland, Sheppard would just fly out the hanger. I edited this chapter to fix that mistake and later on will edit chapter twelve. Thanks to those who pointed it out privately.
Rodney was pure motion, his legs and hands all going a mile a minute. He hadn't felt this strung out or twitchy since the time he'd stayed up all night preparing to defend his doctoral thesis with three full pots of coffee coursing through his system and zero sleep for two days. Of course, there had been the time he'd had to rebuild a nuclear bomb in record time with the Wraith running around and one of Carson's artificial pick-me-ups fueling him onward.
No, this was worse.
He made the twentieth circuit over the same piece of tile, despite his sore foot. "I'm dead. I'm so, so dead."
"You'll be fine," Ronon growled.
Rodney wagged his finger. "Oh, no. I almost killed the military commander of the freakin' Genii. The Genii!"
"He had it coming."
"Oh, thank you. I'm sure they won't hold a grunge after such a stellar argument in my defense."
"You saved Doctor Weir. He would have shot her if you had not intervened."
Teyla's soft voice had Rodney's attention, but it never stopped his need to wear away a path in the floor. "These people have very long memories."
The Athosian cradled her injured arm, her delicate fingers rubbing the fabric of the sling. "I am sure once things settle down, that they will understand the circumstances. They came to us seeking a new friendship."
Rodney paced past her bed on his way to complete another circle. "Then we neglected to inform them about our little plan to use the meeting as bait and almost blew up all of their leadership."
He pivoted around to begin another trek until an arm nearly clotheslined him.
"Stop pacing," Ronon ordered. Rodney huffed and puffed, but the runner gripped his shoulder to calm him. "You thought pretty good on your feet."
Rodney smiled nervously at the rare praise. "I did... didn't I?"
Teyla arched an eyebrow and gave Ronon a wry grin. "You should be proud," she said to Rodney.
His pride was short-lived though as the aftermath of the explosion settled in the pit of his stomach where he'd hid all his thoughts about shooting another human being. Genii or not… it wasn't something he ever wanted to do again. "I'm glad that we had the foresight to construct that reinforced table."
"We would have not let the colonel go out there unprotected," Teyla stated. She looked up at the both of them. "This is still not over."
Rodney stared at the floor, his guts twisting, while he rubbed at his temples wearily. His head pounded from the bombing and subsequent gun battles in such close quarters. "I thought maybe this time..." His voice trailed off at the failed plan.
The modifications to the lights had worked, but it hadn't mattered. The special equipment and software used to create the spectrum had been limited and they couldn't replace every single bulb in Atlantis. How many more times could they defend against an invisible monster?
Ronon walked over towards the wall and slammed his hand against it. "I hate waiting."
Teyla winced at the noise, her face betraying the pain she tried to conceal from the others. Ronon looked at her apologetically. She didn't say a word, accepting it with a nod. "They want all of us together for security reasons."
The Satedan bowed his head and looked towards the other end of the infirmary where Sheppard had been moved to. "I should check on---"
Ronon's sentence was cut off when the two Marines assigned to guard the colonel arrived in the room.
"Where are you guys going?" he rumbled.
The Marines paused; Sergeant Jones looked the runner in the eye. "We're going to watch over the Genii being treated."
Rodney joined his companion. "Um, don't you think you should be guarding someone? Maybe the guy in charge of the military with a big old neon flashing 'kill me' sign?"
Jones did an impersonation of a Puffin bird ruffling its feathers as he tried to act all important. "Colonel Sheppard ordered me to keep an eye on the Genii just in case one of them tried something.
Rodney glared at both grunts and looked over at Ronon whose nostrils were going to release a puff of steam at any moment. "Why the hell would he order something like that?"
The other Marine looked at his partner, the Marine's face betraying the anxiousness at staring down two irate expedition members. "Colonel Sheppard was very specific."
"Who's guarding him now?" Ronon demanded, stepping closer.
"No one. He said he was meeting with Colonel Caldwell and--"
Ronon took off towards the storage area, silencing Jones who was beginning to realize that this was possibly a very bad situation. Rodney's fingers hovered over his com, but then remembered he couldn't use it without alerting Voulsh. Instead of lashing out at the Marines with the anger that had begun to boil his blood, he wandered over to Teyla and placed a hand on her bed as she looked on with concern.
Ronon stalked back into the room, his face a portrait of rage. "He's gone."
Teyla grabbed Rodney's wrist, her expression mirroring his horror.
"Why...I mean...what the hell does he think he's doing?"
Sergeant Jones cleared his throat, his eyes darting back and forth between the parties. "You mean Colonel Caldwell didn't ---"
"No, he didn't!" Rodney seethed, cutting the sergeant off.
"Sheppard's going to try and finish this," Ronon stated.
"How? From his wheelchair?"
"He'll find a way."
"Sirs, what do we do?" the deflated Jones asked.
"You've done enough," Rodney seethed.
Teyla tried to get out of bed but struggled even before her feet touched the ground.
Rodney grabbed both shoulders and steadied her. "Whoa, you're not going anywhere."
She held on to his shoulder while she swayed. "We must tell the others."
Rodney pulled back the blankets as a hint for her to get back in bed. "And we will, but let Ronon and I do it. You're in no shape to move around."
She grudgingly slid back into bed, but gripped Rodney's bicep with surprising force. "Just stop whatever he's planning," Teyla pleaded.
The Athosian was one of the strongest people Rodney knew and he understood her frustration at not being able to help. He patted her arm awkwardly. "We will."
Ronon walked over and squeezed Teyla's shoulder. "We need to go."
She nodded. "You must hurry."
There was no need for her to reinforce the urgency that both men felt as they raced towards the control room.
He was going to steal some of Sheppard's happy juice after all this was said and done. Between placing constant weight on a foot he hadn't allowed to heal and the migraine from the explosion, Rodney felt he deserved it. Trying to keep up with Ronon had him out of breath and by the time they reached the control room, he knew there wasn't going to be time to regain it anytime soon.
"Well I don't care, locate him now!" Caldwell yelled at some poor tech hunched over a console.
When the colonel spotted the duo, he directed his ire at them. "Do you know what the hell Sheppard is up to?"
"No, we were just about to tell you he left the infirmary. Why, what's going on?" Rodney didn't like where this was heading.
Caldwell looked at them with an accusing expression, his eyes twitching in anger. "Staff Sergeant Riggs just told me Colonel Sheppard left the armory after taking a P90 and some C-4."
Elizabeth hurried down the small steps of the platform. "If you know anything about what---"
"We have an unauthorized jumper launch," Chuck interrupted her.
"What?" Elizabeth spun around.
"Close the hangar doors!" Caldwell ordered.
"I can't," the tech replied.
Rodney was instantly at one of the control panels, bewildered by the impressive protocols set up to impede efforts to stop him that the pilot had placed.
Chuck looked up nervously. "Nothing is responding."
"Colonel Sheppard! Is that you? What the hell are you doing? Return the jumper immediately!" Caldwell yelled over the radio.
"John... This is Elizabeth. Whatever you're doing please stop. I told you we'd figure something out."
Rodney desperately tried to counteract the measures Sheppard had put in place, his temper and fear skyrocketing at his inability to stop a damn thing. "Colonel, enough with this heroic bullshit. This isn't noble, it's suicide!"
"Can't you override him?" Elizabeth asked, gripping the panel.
Rodney shook his head, performing every trick he knew to try to stop this madness. "No...Not in time. He's used his command clearance and it'll take me too long to hack his password."
A display grid showed the jumper exit out of the launch bay and begin its course outside the city. The control room collectively leaned forward when Sheppard's voice echoed over the city PA.
"Voulsh. This is Sheppard. I'm tired of playing games, aren't you? So if you want to finish this just you and me, I'll be waiting. Come and get me."
It was too late. With the colonel's computer skills and a few lessons gleaned from his own geek talk, Rodney couldn't shut anything down before the jumper disappeared.
Elizabeth stared dumbly at the panel before letting emotion get the better of her. "How did he steal a jumper without a single alarm?"
"Excuse me, but the last time I checked the colonel was still suffering from a severe injury and was practically immobile. Anyone care to explain to me how he got around?" Caldwell asked.
Elizabeth didn't waste time, getting down to business. "We can investigate the mystery behind his Houdini trick later. What are we going to do about it?"
"Does he really think it's going to work?"
It was Ronon's turn to give Rodney an impudent glare. "It will. Voulsh will follow and the danger he posed to Atlantis will go with him."
"And Sheppard will do what? Hit the guy with his cane?" Rodney barbed.
"Elizabeth, this is Beckett."
"What is it, Carson? We're in the middle of a very serious situation at the moment."
"Aye, but I need you to come down here. There's something I need to show you."
The doctor's words made everyone shift uncomfortably about the possibility of more bad news.
"Sheppard's...we've got an issue with the colonel that needs to be---"
"So do I, Elizabeth, something urgent. I wouldn't ask if I didn't..."
"Alright. We'll all meet you there."
Rodney visibly slumped at the prospect of another hurried journey down the halls.
"I want a plan in place by the time we get over there," Elizabeth ordered.
No one dared to question how impossible that was going to be. Putting together whirl-wind, half-assed plans under pressure was just another day in Atlantis.
Colonel Caldwell was a man of action; while they hightailed it to the infirmary he was already redeploying men across the city and ordering a large security team to get assembled in the gate room. They hustled inside, the two Marines from earlier at attention with their arrival. He ignored the duo, furious at how easily they'd been duped, but ignored things since there would be time for repercussions later.
Beckett meet them halfway and hurried them over towards the storage room where Sheppard had been hidden away.
He stared at the physician for answers. "We've got a man to rescue, so why don't you make things quick."
Beckett walked over to a broken glass cabinet and waved his hand at the destruction.
Elizabeth looked at the physician in confusion. "I don't understand."
"I did an inventory once I realized it had been broken into. I think the colonel took some things out of here."
McKay peered at the busted out glass, snapping his fingers. "He grabbed morphine, right?"
Beckett stared at the group. "Aye, he took several ampoules."
"Wouldn't morphine knock John out?" Elizabeth asked.
"It would. But there are also several dosages of ephedrine missing."
"What? There's no way Sheppard would mix morphine with a stimulant... it's ludicrous. He may be crazy, but he's not suicidal," Rodney assailed.
Caldwell studied the grim expression of the physician and he put two and two together. "Could it work? Would the ephedrine somehow counteract the morphine?"
"Maybe. The morphine acts on the central nervous system to relieve pain and, in high doses, sedate people. Mixin' it with a stimulant might even enhance its properties, but the effects on the colonel's heart rate and blood pressure...it's bloody dangerous, if not deadly."
Caldwell had enough. "All the more reason to track him down and--"
"No. Let me go after Sheppard," Ronon urged.
"I'm deploying Lorne and a full unit of Marines to grab the colonel and hopefully once and for all kill this bastard before he has a chance to hurt anyone else."
"It won't solve anything. Voulsh has only one goal. He wants to kill Sheppard, but he'll cut down anyone in his way. Sending out a bunch of our guys will only create more casualties or send Voulsh into hiding until he strikes again," Ronon argued.
"The guy isn't invincible and the more we delay, the less time Colonel Sheppard has," Caldwell fired back.
"The best chance for Sheppard to live is to allow his willingnesses to put himself at risk to mean something. He'll draw Voulsh out with no gamble to anyone else. I'll go and back him up. End it now."
"Oh, for crying out loud, why don't you and Sheppard go start a club? It's bad enough that he went off and stole a jumper because we don't have a white stallion for him to ride around on, but you want to go and be his side kick."
Rodney continued his tirade of protests that the runner greeted with stony silence and a heated glare. Elizabeth tried to calm the irate scientist down, the wrangling for verbal dominance a backdrop to Caldwell's own internal struggle. The mainland presented itself with a new battery of problems, the biggest being wide open space with miles and miles for this assassin to hide and wait.
Cat and mouse. Voulsh had proven time and again who held the upper hand in that game, but it was his duty to protect the colonel, even from his own brash foolishness. He kept his face neutral and looked Ronon in the eye while Beckett joined in the fray of arguing.
The runner meet his gaze head on and dared Caldwell to trust in his judgment. Overwhelming, brutal force won many wars. Their Marines were the best, but this battle was different; had been from the get go.
"What do you suggest?" Caldwell asked.
Ronon's eyes brightened. "I go in, find Sheppard and we kill Voulsh. I know how Sheppard thinks and I can find him in time. I'm sure he has a plan and I'll just make sure it works."
It wasn't exactly a the full blown tactical design he had hoped for, but Caldwell nodded. "Alright."
"Are you out of your mind?" Rodney snapped. "Aren't you supposed to be the smart one?"
Elizabeth stared at him incredulously. "Colonel?"
"We don't have a lot of time. I'll have a team on stand by to back you up," Caldwell instructed.
Ronon looked at Rodney. "Are you going to complain or fly the jumper there?"
That question flustered the physicist but he crossed his arms and nodded. "I'll fly."
"I'm goin' with ya...we have no idea what shape he'll be in when you find him," Beckett volunteered.
"Fine, you can come too, but you'll follow my lead. Let's go." Ronon took off without looking back.
Caldwell knew he was about to face Elizabeth's wrath about his decision, but the fact that she didn't fight him on it let him know that deep down, she knew it'd been the right call.
Sergeant Jones walked over hesitantly. "Excuse me, Dr. Weir?"
"Yes?" Elizabeth answered.
"Dr. Biro wanted me to inform you that Ladon Radim is awake and wishes to speak to you."
Elizabeth looked at him before her mask of stoicism slipped back into place. "Why, of course. Inform him I'll be right there."
It looked like their guests wanted a few answers and, for once, Caldwell was glad that Elizabeth bore the burden as leader of the expedition.
Sheppard knew exactly where he wanted to go, the canopy of treetops a blur of greens and browns. This section of the planet was covered in woods leading to the foothills, an area he'd camped out in once when he'd searched for a place for a survival exercise last year. It was the perfect spot for what he had in mind and he slowed his trajectory until he spotted the rockier land east of the mountainside.
The area was filled with groups of large oak-looking trees that reached into the heavens like skyscrapers. It was a densely populated area except for a few tiny clearings that would've been suicidal to land in. This left very little choice in parking spots except for a hidden patch between two ancient, towering trees.
The branches could easily snarl the jumper, but he expertly landed it just before the ascending terrain. Sheppard had aced parallel parking in Driver's Ed the first time and this was like squeezing an SUV into the space between two compact cars along a narrow alleyway.
No one else had the skills to pilot the jumper into such a confined space. He let go of the controls and stared at his hand when it trembled.
"Gotta go for decaf next time," he mumbled to himself.
Sheppard used the console to brace himself and stood up slowly, the muscles in his thigh quivering slightly. He clipped his P90 to his vest, patting down the pockets to double-check the extra ordnance. There was no telling how much time it would take for Voulsh to catch up, so he grabbed his cane and dragged his carcass out of the jumper and into the daylight.
Sunspots lashed out at his retinas, the world grew stark white around him and he swayed from the ultra brightness. The head rush was unexpected and he slapped a hand against the bulkhead of the jumper to keep from sliding down to the ground. He took long, deep breaths to gain his equilibrium and opened his lids, the fuzzy glimmer reverting back to the recognizable shape of the woods. There was no need to cloak the craft since he needed it to be a road sign for his would-be assassin to follow.
He pushed off from the jumper, his cane wobbling insecurely in his grip since the hickory stick wasn't meant to take on the full burden of all his weight. He parked his ride as close to this location as he could, knowing he couldn't handle a long trek.
After hobbling for several feet he was forced to hold onto his cane with both hands, his weapon dangling from his vest. He took one tedious step at a time, the narcotics flowing through his system making him feel like a battery hooked up to a massive alternator. Despite all the fun volts pumping up his system, he found his ability to keep his body upright increasingly difficult. He limped heavily, trying to avoid clumps of shrubbery and dense overgrowth. The 'path' merged with rockier soil, his boots crunching over silt and rock as he got closer to the group of large boulders ahead of him.
He tried to ignore the nagging little voice in his head that sounded a lot like Rodney and all of its belligerent insults over what a crazy stunt this was. He could barely walk, wasn't in shape to defend himself against any type of hand to hand and it was beginning to get difficult to concentrate.
This was the right thing to do but this tête-à-tête needed to be over with as quickly as possible. Sheppard knew his team wouldn't sit idly by as he threw himself to the wolves and deep down he hoped that it took them too long to put a plan in action. He didn't want to cause them grief needlessly and prayed that they would forgive him, since they were the very reason he had to do this.
From a tactical standpoint he gave himself a small percentage chance in his weakened state, but enemies had often overestimated his chances before. This time, he relied more heavily on luck, surprise and a good deal of C-4 for any kind of advantage.
His weight began to tilt forward as his left leg crumpled from too much pressure, the cane slipping out from under him with the momentum. He fell, every bone in his body shuddering with the impact, from his wrists, down his elbows and painfully to his knees.
"Good one, John!" he yelled, landing on his P90.
He breathed in dirt and his ears filled with the rapid snare drum of his heart. He could feel the blood pound away in his veins and a buzzing accompanied the wailing thumping.
Sweat ran trails down his face and he coughed after swallowing a mixture of grit and soil. Time was running out and he still had things to take care of if he stood a chance.
Get your sorry ass in gear.
He was on his hands and knees and moved his right boot until it gained purchase on the loose dirt. Then he stabbed the rubber end of the cane into the ground and hauled himself up, his good leg taking the brunt of his weight. He wrestled with his walking stick, his arms shaking as he pitched his body up, dragging his useless left leg with him. He grunted but got back to his feet, listing sideways until he was standing once again.
Just a few more meters and he could begin setting up his last stand and lean on a nice steady hunk of rock. The sun beat down on his back and he gimped over, one agonizing hobble at a time. He knew the odds were slim to none of winning, but going out fighting was better than waiting for death.
If the assassin wanted honor so badly, he'd take the asshole down in a blaze of glory and show him how overrated it really was.
It took more time than he wanted to make his way back to his ship. The brief seconds after the explosion were not enough to finish off Sheppard. Too many bullets, too many people in his way, all fighting to prevent what was rightfully his to fulfill. He fought his way out in the midst of the confusion, away from the glare that illuminated his presence.
He'd almost allowed anger to overpower his carefully controlled state of mind.
This job had cracked his training; after so many years of hunting, emotion clouded his judgment. He had felt outrage at the loss of control, at another chance stolen from him. A profound darkness descended over his heart as heavy as the pain that wracked his body from the shelling of the projectile weapons.
He deserved death, he deserved shame from his multiple failures. It was one thing to be beaten in combat, to be killed by another hand. Any enemy capable of defeating one of their kind earned respect. He didn't fear death, but to die while his goal was left unfulfilled, that he could not stand.
His Master's words filled his mind. "What are the Rashakash without duty? He is an empty soul in search of meaning. Our hearts beat only as servitude to our destiny."
It'd been ironic that Sheppard's voice had brought him back from the brink. Voulsh's pulse thrummed with renewed vigor at the challenge. The colonel was truly a fellow warrior--- this was a genuine showdown. The 'Lantean wanted this battle as much as he did.
He guided his craft away from Atlantis and towards the final confrontation. He hadn't felt this enthralled in a long time; maybe this was the way it was supposed to end. He could not decide which way he would kill Sheppard and, clutching the metal trophy piece around his neck, he wondered what he'd take this time to commemorate the encounter.