Part 3

Teyla ran through the forest, ignoring the branches that smacked and grabbed at her. The foliage pulled at her hair and clothing, and slapped at her face and arms. She blocked out the sensation, determined the stings and scratches were not going to slow her down. Instead she focused on Ronon and the young guide running a frustratingly slow pace ahead of her.

It'd taken a near threat from Ronon to convince their guide to take them to the Tower. She'd seen the fear in the man's blue eyes. He almost feared the Tower more than the Satedan…almost. And even now it was taking great control on Ronon's part not to drag the man along—the problem was—they needed him to show the way.

Teyla's legs ached for her to go faster, to just burst forward to a pace she craved. There wasn't time for these delays.

Rodney was trapped.

Teyla grimaced as a large branch hit her arm, tearing skin and drawing blood. She must have groaned because Ronon glanced back over his shoulder. She managed to shake her head and he faced forward again, not asking if she was okay or not.

Her head buzzed with the sound of McKay's voice. His clipped, irritated words spilling out at her, berating her for not caring. His accusations underscored by real fear.

At the time, she'd been too busy dealing with her own fears. After all, he hadn't had a couple dozen drones aimed directly at him,had he? No, he'd just been safely situated below ground…until the earth shook.

Now, now he might be buried, hurt, lost or…

"There." Their guide pulled up suddenly, stopping so fast that Teyla would have run into him if not for Ronon's quick reflexes, grabbing her, catching her.

The trees ended abruptly, revealing a sharp incline that rolled into a small field and the entrance of the Tower.

"I will not go closer." The guide was already backing away from them, his entire body radiating his terror.

"It is safe now," Teyla reminded as her body adjusted to the full stop. "The Lord Protector is no more." She refocused on the guide. But the villager was already running again, faster this time, away from them and the fear bred in him by generations of his ancestors and centuries of brutal service to the Lord Protector.

"Think we're safe?" Ronon asked, ignoring the departing guide and helping her down the incline.

Teyla squelched her instinct to shrug off his help, instead realizing she appreciated it. "Does it matter?" She knew they had no weapons save for Ronon's knives, but from what she'd witnessed earlier in the village, she knew that was enough.

The feral grin on Ronon's face confirmed her knowledge as they started across the small field.

Teyla wanted to run again, but she knew they had to approach the Tower with caution and be as non-threatening as possible. Sweat tickled down the back of her neck, sticking tendrils of hair to her skin. She tried to focus on the Tower, searching for any sign of a threat to them. She felt Ronon's eyes on her.

"We'll find him," he sounded so confident, so certain-- like he always did.

"He tried to tell me." The words rolled out of her. "I was so concerned about the village, I did not take his situation seriously. I thought…" she couldn't say it. Couldn't say out loud that in her own fear and concern for the others,she'd just assumed McKay was exaggerating again.

Teyla looked up at Ronon and realized instantly that he understood. She could see the worry and guilt in his eyes and then, as quickly as it appeared, it was gone.

"Clear your mind of it," he reminded softly, almost as if he was talking to himself. "We will find him."

Rodney tried to remind himself that a full blown panic attack would be totally unproductive, but this wasn't like the last time—or the time before that even. It was more like that first time, years ago when… "No!" He growled the memory away, knowing it would only compound his fear and he certainly didn't need that right now.

Last time, trapped in the jumper at the bottom of the sea, he'd at least had something to do. Okay so it'd been the wrong thing to do, but that was beside the point, it'd kept him busy and he'd even conjured up Samantha Carter for company.

"Sam?" he whispered her name hopefully, peering around as much as his peripheral vision allowed in the impenetrable darkness. "Of course not," he sighed and shifted his head slightly.

The earth began to tremble again, debris shifting and settling about him in new ways. Dirt and dust rained down on him as he tried futilely to cover his head with his right arm. He couldn't seem to move it all the way. His fingertips merely brushed the tip of his nose.

Finally the shaking stopped again. Rodney exhaled sharply, angling his lips so his breath rushed up his face, clearing his nose and forehead of as much dust as possible.

Oh yeah, this was nothing like the jumper. He'd go back into the crashed jumper in an instant if he could, and that time the jumper had gotten stuck in the gate—that time he hadn't been alone. Yes, he'd like to be with them -- Teyla and the colonel (back when he was 'the major') and Ford (back when Ford was Ford). Yes, he'd rather be there and then. And then he remembered...No. No! What was he thinking? He wouldn't choose that scenario ever again. His memory of Sheppard with the iratus bug wrapped around his neck made him shiver.

Wait.

"I'm shivering?" he asked, focusing on the way his body now shook. "Oh no." He didn't feel cold, not really and yet, he couldn't make his body stop trembling. This was not a good sign.

"Calm down, Rodney," he rasped. "You can not go into shock right now. Don't even think about it." He tried to concentrate on something else, anything else. The projects waiting for him back in the labs on Atlantis. What kind of junk food the Daedalus might bring back the next time it arrived from earth. Anything but the fact that he was completely unable to move and could do nothing but worry and wonder if there was anyone left alive to search for him.

Shifting his right arm again, because it was the only part of his body he could move, his fingers touched the sole of Ergo's shoe again. He pulled back, grimacing. He didn't want to touch death.

Depression settled on him. "Bad luck," he muttered. The faces of those who'd died beside him, who'd died over the past two years, rushed through his mind. Why? Why did so many good men have to die? His heart constricted with guilt. Not that he had a death wish or anything,but he did have to wonder…why did he always manage to survive?

Loneliness swamped him as he desperately tried to stop shivering. If he could only squirm enough to free himself…he tried again to move, but he cried out as pain radiated up through his body. He pressed the side of his face into the cold, gritty floor and tried to breathe through the spasms. He didn't want to die, but he didn't want to survive alone either, he realized.

How long would it take to waste away here, buried and alone? He couldn't even see his watch to keep track of the long torturous minutes. Maybe it'd have been better if he'd gone out like Ergo. Fast. Instant. Just gone.

Without warning, the earth jumped violently beneath him, pressing him into the heavy debris as more poured down around him. He screamed in pain and fear.

"NO!"

He didn't want to die this way, without knowing if Sheppard or the others had survived. Not yet!

"Please!" he shouted, his raw plea as pain erupted through his head, his vision flared with bright light and then…there was nothing.

The furniture blocking the hallway turned out to be two enormous armoire type dressers. John grunted a curse as he worked at moving the second one. The first had slid easily on the dust slicked floor, creating an open path to the second. The second one, however, refused to budge.

Pressing his shoulder into the monstrosity, John ignored the rough, untreated wood scrapping his face and the cloud of dirt raining down on him and Carson. Behind him, Beckett apologized for another string of uncontrollable sneezing and John bit his lip to keep from snapping.

"God, what did they make this thing out of?" He took his frustration out on the dresser instead, as hestopped shoving and punched at the thing.

"Don't do that!" Carson grabbed at his arm, checking his hand. "I'm not fixing your hand if you break it."

"Sure you will." John flashed a grin and pulled away from Carson's grasp, shaking the smarting hand lightly. He peered into the darkness behind Beckett for any sign of Teyla and Ronon but they were nowhereto be seen.

He bet Ronon could move this sucker with no problem.

"Any change?" John motioned to the LSD, Beckett now held. The torch was wedged into a crack in the debrisabove them, held firm and freeing up both of them to work on clearing the path.

Carson wiped his free hand across his brow, smearing dirt and shaking his head even as he checked the device's screen. "No, just the two of us...wait." He paused suddenly as he swung his arm around and retraced his movement.

"What?" John demanded as Carson stepped closer.

"I swear I saw another..."

The tunnel seemed to lurch around them, cutting Carson off mid-sentence.

"Shit." John shoved Beckett away from him just as the armoirehe'd been trying so hard tomove for the last few minutes heaved over and came down at him.

Carson stumbled and fell, losing the LSD as he threw his arm up to protect himself from the crates and clutter caving in on him.