The chicu was tireless. Even though it was such a small creature it seemed to have an endless supply of energy. For three long hours, it led them from corridor to corridor circling in a seemingly random progress through the complex.
As the team stopped for a moment, Rodney took a power bar out of his pocket, and demolished it, almost before he had pulled the wrapper off. As he finished, the wrapper drifted to the floor. The little creature came over to where he was standing, and picked up the wrapper carefully with its tiny hands and turned to the man chattering up at him, its tone admonishing.
"Alright, then," Rodney said, sighing, "I'll clear it up, if you insist." He took the wrapper and stuffed it in his pocket.
Jada made an encouraging noise and then turned towards Jinto, ready to resume its search. But the chicu stopped mid-turn, before turning back towards Rodney. Its eyes were not on the man, but rather they were focused on the wall behind the scientist. The little creature turned to look up at Jinto, its eyes huge in its tiny face. It made a little chirruping noise, and then turned back towards the wall.
"Jada says, Dr Beckett is in there," Jinto said, pointing to the smooth surface of the wall.
"Didn't I tell you it was leading us on a wild goose chase," Rodney said
"Don't dismiss it, Rodney," John admonished, moving towards the wall, searching its smooth surface with his hands. "It was right before."
Just as he finished speaking, his hand encountered an indentation in the wall. He glanced back at Ronon, who nodded his acknowledgment and drew his gun from its holster on his hip.
Teyla also readied her gun, and turned to watch the corridor, guarding their backs. She also drew Jinto behind her, with the little chicu following his master, and cuddling into the boy's arms. Jada's large eyes looked at the weapons, and then looked up at Jinto with a worried chirrup. Jinto stroked the little creature's ears reassuringly, but he looked worried as well. Up until now, it had been an adventure. Even the last time they had burst into a room, it had seemed exciting. But this time, Jinto was very much aware of the tension emanating from the adults around him. Even Rodney had drawn his gun, and was pointing it, in a slightly vague fashion, at the wall.
"Everyone ready?" John asked quietly. They all nodded. "On my mark," he continued. Then he used his fingers to count down from three.
oOoOoOo
Michael monitored their progress through the complex. He had managed to acquire a very useful device that could pinpoint individuals even within such a populated complex as the one they were currently in. It was similar to the one he had seen used on Atlantis – only better. He allowed himself a self-satisfied smile before he turned to the prone figure of the unconscious doctor. He did feel a moment of frustration that he couldn't exact his ultimate revenge on the Scot. But at least he had what he wanted. The good doctor had worked beyond exhaustion, under the influence of the drug, to create a retrovirus that would make Michael completely Wraith again. To eliminate the human elements that had lingered in his DNA.
Now Beckett was slumped on the ground, somewhere between unconscious and comatose. Ideally, Michael would have liked to finish the work the drug had started. To make sure that the medic could never again tamper with who he was. But time was against him. The doctor's friends were already just a partition away. He couldn't linger to see if the man survived. He would have to leave Beckett's friends to pick up the shattered pieces.
At that moment, his thoughts were loudly interrupted as the hidden door to the room was thrown open, and Sheppard and Ronon burst through, their guns leveled and ready to fire.
Michael met John's eyes. Both pairs of eyes reflected the hatred one felt for the other. Their linked gaze was broken as Ronon let out a bellow and threw himself at the Wraith. Michael allowed himself a smile that didn't even attempt to reach his eyes, then with a wave, that enraged Ronon still further, he vanished through a hidden exit to the room.
As John and Ronon pounded uselessly on the now closed doorway, Teyla and Rodney hurried over to the slumped figure of Carson. Carefully and efficiently, Teyla started to check Carson's vital signs. She could almost hear his voice in her head as she went through the checklist he had given them. Somehow it seemed almost obscene to have to perform these checks on Carson.
With a final, frustrated thump against the wall, John admitted defeat.
"He's gone," he said, his voice echoing his frustration. Ronon grunted his annoyance.
"How's Carson?" John continued, turning to the others. He felt a moment of panic as he saw a look of fear in Teyla's normally calm eyes. "He's not . . .?" John's voice faded away before he could finish the question.
"No," Teyla responded. "But his pulse is weak and his breathing shallow. We need to get him back to Atlantis as soon as possible."
"But what about Michael?" Ronon asked. "Are we just going to let him get away?"
"I don't think we have much choice," John said with a sigh. "We can't go after him and risk losing Carson. Okay," he continued. "Let's get back to the 'Jumper and then back home."
oOoOoOo
Michael made it to his ship without hindrance. He half expected Ronon's intimidating presence to follow him down the corridor, but there was no sign of the Satedan. As he slipped through the entrance to his ship, and settled behind the controls, Michael breathed a sigh of relief.
Yet again, he had managed to elude capture by his greatest enemies. But his victory was not complete, not this time. His greatest foe was still alive, if only just. The man who had twice tried to alter Michael, so that the very fibre of his being was different, who had seemed his friend, and had yet betrayed him.
All Michael's instincts said to launch his ship and then blast the Puddle Jumper out of the sky. But he knew that wasn't possible. The repairs to his ship had been more or less completed, but it was still not fully battle-ready. If he engaged the Puddle Jumper, it was the Wraith who would likely end up limping home.
But that didn't mean Michael was giving up his wish for vengeance. He was merely postponing it. Until the next time, and until the odds were more favorably stacked.
"I'll get you yet, Carson Beckett," the Wraith whispered under his breath as his ship moved lazily into orbit round the planet, preparing for departure. "And when I do, you will suffer yet more for what you've done to me. You and all your friends."
oOoOoOo
More than once on the journey back to the Puddle Jumper, John was very glad of Ronon's strength. Carson was solidly built, and his unconscious form was a dead weight to try to carry. Ronon had taken the task upon himself. He shifted the doctor's body easily from one position to another as he half-carried, half-dragged him along the corridors.
Jinto was in the middle of the group, cuddling his pet chicu, seeking comfort from its warm body as well as giving the little creature comfort too. The boy's eyes were huge in his face. John felt sympathy for the boy. He had not had the sheltered upbringing that many boys of his age on earth would have enjoyed. But John still wished that he could have spared the boy more nightmares. But without Jinto, without his chicu, they would not have found Carson.
John was glad when they made it back to the Jumper. They had been getting a lot of strange looks from some very strange creatures on their way. Only a threatening look from Ronon had stopped one of the creatures challenging them, and Teyla's gun had stopped another from asking questions.
So, all in all, it was relief to get back to the safety of the Puddle Jumper, and to be able to slip into the familiar seat behind the controls. By the time Teyla and Ronon had got Carson settled, and as comfortable as possible, John was ready to take off. Ready to go home.
oOoOoOo
The first time Carson drew closer to consciousness, it was Teyla who was watching over him. He tried hard to focus, to see beyond the gentle smile on her face, but he was too exhausted to do anything other than return her smile with a tentative one of his own before unconsciousness overtook him again.
"How is he?" John asked Teyla as Carson closed his eyes again.
"He is holding his own," she replied, choosing her words with care.
"That doesn't sound too encouraging," Rodney chipped in. "Is he going to die on us or not?"
"I am not sure," Teyla replied, sighing as she spoke. "I can find no physical reason for his weakness, but it is almost as if his body is worn out, and does not have the strength to fight."
"What the hell did Michael do to him?" John asked, running his fingers through his hair as he spoke.
"I don't know," Ronon responded. "But I know what I'd like to do to him."
"I'd be right beside ya, big guy," John said, slapping the other man on the shoulder.
"And I'd be right behind you," Rodney said, making the others laugh, unintentionally.
"You're safer when you're in front of us, Rodney," John drawled. "At least then we can see which way you gun is pointed."
"Thank you very much, Mr Sharp Shooter," Rodney retorted. "You're the one that shot me, remember."
"Yep," Sheppard grinned. "I never miss what I'm aiming for."
Ronon snorted his approval.
Teyla simply shook her head.
oOoOoOo
The next time Carson woke, there was a heated discussion ongoing.
"So you see," Rodney said, in the voice he used to explain things to the hard of understanding (or at least those he thought of as being hard of understanding). "They eat lots of rubbish, like haggis, and black pudding, and deep-fried mars bars."
"Don't knock haggis," Carson grumbled, still not fully awake, but feeling the compulsion to defend his national dish. "It goes great with neeps and tatties."
They all turned to look at him, just as his eyes started to close again.
As he started to drift back into the grey world of unconsciousness, he heard Ronon's voice rumbling.
"What are neeps and tatties?" the Satedan asked, his interest in food never far from the surface.
Carson smiled when he heard Rodney's reply.
"It's what the Scots call potatoes and turnips," he answered Ronon. "It's to make the dish sound more exotic."
Carson couldn't think of haggis, neeps and tatties as exotic. They were just one of his favourite meals.
Just as unconsciousness started to claim him again, the Scot had a sudden thought. He knew there was something he wanted to say to the others, but his mind was so befuddled, that he couldn't think straight.
"I'm dying," he suddenly mumbled, as he remembered Michael's words.
"What?" Rodney said, leaning closer to hear what his friend was saying.
"I'm dying," Carson repeated. "Michael gave me a drug, and it's killing me."
"Don't be ridiculous," Rodney said, his voice tinged with fear. "I know you feel awful now. I know what withdrawal feels like, but you'll get better, though it might not feel like it just now."
"No," Carson said, more strongly now. "You don't understand. Michael said I would die. He said the drug would kill me, eventually."
Rodney turned to Teyla with real fear in his eyes.
"You're not going to die, Carson," he said. "We won't let you. We need you around to save us when Captain Invincible here," he motioned to John, "gets us into our next exciting adventure. And only you know about all my infirmities."
"Did Michael say what this drug is?" Teyla asked, trying to dampen down her own fear.
"No," Carson answered, his eyes fluttering shut as he spoke. "But I took a sample . ." His voice trailed off as he slipped fully into unconsciousness.
"Where's the sample?" Rodney asked, shaking Carson. "What did you do with it?"
When he got no answer, the scientist started to frantically search Carson's prone body. Teyla started to search through the jacket Carson had been wearing, which she had removed to make him more comfortably.
"Have you found anything yet?" John asked, from the front seat. He wouldn't allow himself to think that Michael might have won. And even though they'd managed to rescue Carson, the Wraith had still defeated them.
"I have found something," Teyla said, but her voice was tinged with a note of regret. John turned to see why. In her hand, held carefully between two fingers, was a vial that had held the sample of the drug. But the vial was now in several jagged pieces, and the liquid it had contained had seeped out and soaked into the lining of Carson's jacket.