I apologize for the long wait between updates, guys. I promise I've got tons of free time, so expect this story to be finished soon (we're looking at maybe 6 chapters, possibly more depending on demand).
Enjoy!
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-----SGA-----
Five minutes earlier…
"Doctor Weir!"
Quite the popular person today…Elizabeth ran towards Chuck, trying to focus on all aspects of the current situation. An airborne virus was circulating through Sector Four. John and SGA-6 were also in Sector Four. The virus was contained, but she had just given Lorne the order to blow a wall of debris keeping the virus from escaping.
This was not a good day.
"Yes, Chuck?"
"I've been monitoring life signs," he began, pointing at the white dots that represented John and SGA-6, "And look."
Elizabeth stared at the screen and caught on to Chuck's meaning fairly quickly. The four dots indicating SGA-6 were fading. "What's happening? Is the virus affecting them?"
Chuck gave her a grave expression. "I think so. We've seen before that when parts of the body are failing—particularly the immune system—the dots tend to indicate those sorts of changes."
Elizabeth nodded. SGA-6 is dying…And suddenly, before she could contemplate it further, the dots disappeared.
"No…Are they…?"
"Atlantis' life signs detectors are still functional ma'am, even in that area of the city…They're gone."
Elizabeth exhaled.
That left only John.
-----SGA-----
Choking…
CHOKING.
He coughed. Bringing his hands up to his mouth he continued to gag, dry heaving air.
Atlantis had tried to save him from something. The door was closed shut behind him.
He rolled over onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. The coughing fit subsided. His lungs hurt. Carefully draping one arm across his ribs, John crawled towards a nearby table.
His head was pounding. Five hundred drums beat in harmony in his skull, echoing over and over again with the same frequency and the same decibel.
"This sucks," he called out, checking to see if his hearing was still impaired. And still no voice met his ears.
Grabbing a metal leg, John hauled himself upwards, leaning against a chair. Finding his balance quickly now, John hoisted his body onto the metal fixture and took a look around.
The room wasn't completely bare. There were two long tables covered by white sheets, a few cabinets and an overhanging light fixture dug into the centre of the ceiling. No other doors though. The lone chair.
That was it.
Sighing, John noted the dried blood on his arms and hands. Head wounds bleed a lot…he thought, trying to console himself. That's a lot of blood though…
Lazily glancing around the room, John's eye caught something in the top corner of the room. Something that could save him. Something that could finally get him out of this situation.
He smiled.
Staring straight back at him was a security camera.
-----SGA-----
Teyla coughed.
Hacking up dirt and dust, she bent over and tried to expel everything she just breathed in. The explosion was abnormally loud considering the distance, but she did not question it.
"NO!"
That was Ronon, she registered, trying to see through the smoke. "Ronon?" she called, venturing towards his voice.
"Yeah, over here." It seemed he could hear her easily enough. Maybe it was because she was closer to the blast...
And then he came into view. "What are you doing here?" she asked, turning around to check on Major Lorne and his team.
Ronon placed his hands on her shoulders and whirled her around to face him. "We have to get out of here. Atlantis detected a virus in this sector. It's airborne. Now that the debris is gone, it will fill this entire sector and might reach the control room."
He pushed her backward, towards the center of Altantis. "Get going," he growled, pointing in the other direction.
And then Cadman's voice carried through the air.
"It didn't go all the way through!"
Ronon's eyes grew. Teyla watched him run around the corner. She raced after him, unable to leave him alone with this new information.
"What happened?" That was Major Lorne.
"Well, sir," Lieutenant Cadman replied, "I didn't use enough explosives." She blushed, embarrassed. "Sorry, sir. I misjudged the depth of the debris." Cadman cringed, noting the pieces of nearby walls scattered along the floor. "The fix-its are gonna have a field day trying to repair this mess."
Teyla swallowed, unsure if this mistake could stop the virus that Ronon was talking about.
"Major Lorne," Teyla ventured, "Ronon just informed me that there is an airborne virus in Sector Four. If we blow the wall, we will also be infected."
"What?!" Parrish yelled. "You mean we could've just killed ourselves?"
"Yes," Ronon bluntly interjected, "You could have."
Lorne was having a hard time processing all of this new information. "There's a virus? But what about the Colonel? And SGA-6? How do we get them out? And is it deadly?"
Ronon addressed him. "Don't know. Need to head back to find out."
And with that, he turned on his heels and began a brisk walk back to the control room.
"Uhh…" Lorne stuttered, unsure of how to handle this. "Let's head back, then. Cadman, gather everything up. We'll have to see what's going on."
Teyla followed suit, preparing herself for what was to come.
-----SGA-----
"The debris is still intact!"
Rodney cringed. It unnerved him every time Zelenka made a discovery without him.
Elizabeth continued her game of ring-around-the-rosie and made a stop at Zelenka's station. "They didn't break through?" she asked breathlessly.
Zelenka smiled back at her. "No, approximately forty-five percent of the wall still remains. Atlantis has not locked down that area, so—for the moment—it is holding."
"Finally!" Elizabeth replied, "Some good news."
"Dr. Weir!" That was Chuck.
"Yes?" Elizabeth called out, running towards him.
His look gave her tremors. He was deadly serious. "I've uploaded visual footage from the area." He pointed at the screen, his finger slightly shaking. "It's SGA-6."
Elizabeth steeled herself, expecting unmoving corpses. She was right. Lieutenant Waldon's team all laid face down on Atlantis' stark grey flooring, immobile statues in a grotesque still painting. The virus killed them within minutes.
"And John?" she asked, catching a slight nod of Chuck's head out of her peripheral vision. He pressed a button somewhere in front of her.
And there he was. Bleeding, wounded and angling his right arm over his midsection for support and to ease his injuries. And he was smiling at the camera.
Elizabeth exhaled. "He's alive!" she called out loud enough for Rodney and Zelenka to hear. "Chuck, can you move the camera? Let him know that we can see him and know where he is?"
"Yes, we have limited power, but that's doable."
"Good." Elizabeth watched as the visual swayed from side to side, following the eye of the camera. John seemed to get the message as his smile grew a little before he slumped into the table next to him. He needed medical attention as soon as possible. "How do we get him out of there?"
Rodney's voice entered her ears, her eyes still focused on John now faintly waving at the camera, "We can't flush the virus out of the area until we repair the ventilation system which has been compromised. And we can't enter the area because of the virus. So," Rodney turned his head, "Zelenka, go fix the ventilation system."
"Excuse me?!" the Czech retorted, frustrated. "You were the one who tampered with the system! You fix it!"
"I'm fixing the power conduit so there's no more explosions! Now get to work!"
Zelenka folded at that, realizing that they had two problems to overcome. Fixing the ventilation system would allow Atlantis to expel the virus into the atmosphere and render its effects useless as it traveled away. Without fixing the power conduits, however, explosions could grant the virus access to more vital parts of Atlantis and infect more people. SGA-6 was proof of the deadly effects and Radek couldn't let others succumb to the same fate.
"Fine, but you better be quick."
"Yes, yes, Road Runner quick, now get a move on."
Zelenka ran out of the control room to gather his sets of tools from his lab. By all accounts, this would be a quick fix. So long as nothing else went wrong.
-----SGA-----
Oh, something else had definitely went wrong.
Zelenka was standing over the ventilation system control station and things did not look good. When Rodney had altered the power flow earlier that morning, he did not anticipate the sudden surge of electricity from the city. The electrical surge had impacted both ends of the circuit—Sector Four, as evidenced by the explosions, and where it originated, the ventilation system.
Pieces lay strewn all over the floor as sparks flew from the console in front of him. Zelenka swore.
He tapped his ear piece, "Rodney."
A few seconds pause. "Yes, yes, what is it?"
"We have another problem."
"Oh, golly gee, what could it be? Please don't tell me the surge blew the ventilation console."
"Fine, I won't tell you…" Rodney didn't respond. "But that's precisely what happened."
"Damn it!" Zelenka held his ear piece away from his head, the Canadian's yell hurting his ears. "Okay, okay…it'll be fine. How bad is it?"
"Uhh…" Zelenka nudged what he thought was the button to turn on the power to the console. "Pretty bad."
"How long will it take you to fix it?"
"Rodney, I don't know, it's very—"
"Estimate!"
Zelenka exhaled, frustrated. "This will take hours, maybe days. The entire console was nearly blown apart, Rodney."
A longer pause. "Okay, here's what we'll do. I'll fix the power conduits and you do what you can. I'll come help you after I'm done here."
"Fine, fine." Zelenka stared at the wreckage before him. This was bad. Without a working ventilation system, Atlantis could not control the pathogen. Nor could the city vent the substance into the outside atmosphere.
"Might as well get to it." Zelenka sat down next to the console and plugged in his laptop. This was going to be a long day.
-----SGA-----
They could see him.
John's smile faded as the pain started to come back to him. Sweet, they can see me. He put his hand to his head. I could use some aspirin though…
He was feeling hotter than normal—probably due to the blood loss. I thought blood loss made you feel colder? His thoughts were jumbled and all over the place. It was difficult to stay focused on one thing at any one moment.
Come on guys, how would be a good time to get me outta here.
His body was very, very tired. He didn't get a good sleep the night before and now his body was battered, bruised and way too sore. Even the thought of the great round of golf he had earlier couldn't lift his spirits.
Utterly exhausted, John's eyelids drooped and his breathing slowed. A nice sleep right now would do wonders. He would wake up in the infirmary with Carson working his magic and the painkillers coursing through his veins…he hated taking the drugs, but what he wouldn't give for some of those right about now. His eyes closed and his body began to prepare for sleep. His thoughts drifted and his mind was coming to a complete stop at the finish line…
The lights grew insanely bright. Almost to the point of inducing blindness.
"Stop it!" he screamed, but the words only rattled in his head. His speech was useless.
The lights stopped. The hell was that?
John scooted backwards a little, falling out the chair. He jostled his ribs and curled his arm tighter around his abdomen. He moved backwards slowly, his back rubbing against the wall. If only he had a blanket, and random lights weren't blinking at him, he'd snuggle in for a nice sleep.
He noticed the red blotches and swirls traveling around his arms, some splotches on his tactical vest. The bleeding had stopped, but it was still damn near everywhere. Staring at the myriad of patterns, his eyes became transfixed as he imagined twirling loops on a rollercoaster and exotic tattoos. "Oh, what a wonderful world…" he tried to say aloud, his breath escaping him soundlessly.
The mind was a funny thing. A very funny thing. John tapped his skull. Funny stuff, you are. The walls were already blurry when he made his way in here, but now they were downright terrifying. The predictable crevices in them every few feet were now indistinguishable from the entire mass—and it seemed to be closing in on him. John glanced left and saw the wall moving towards him.
His head swung right and this time, a giant black blur stood in the center of his vision. Ever see The Blob, McKay? he thought, watching the goopy image change shape.
He smiled goofily, tapping his skull once more with his pointy finger. Funny stuff, indeed.
-----SGA-----
Another alarm sounded.
"Oh, you've got be kidding me!" Rodney shouted, tapping three different consoles at one time. How he did that with only two hands, Elizabeth couldn't even fathom.
"What's going on now?" she sighed, jogging over to the physicist. It was like a cascading waterfall of horrible news.
Rodney stopped and stared at her. "Remember how Zelenka just called and said it was going to take him a long time to fix the ventilation system?" Elizabeth nodded. "Well, it's created an even bigger problem."
She walked around to the console he was currently working on. Rodney had relieved a poor young female, Asuka?, from her command in the 'Gate room—"Go get me a sandwich! And no pickles!" he yelled at her—believing he could work faster. Elizabeth didn't doubt his methods. It was his tact, or lack of it, that unnerved her.
"What's the problem?" she asked, preparing herself for the worst.
"To put it bluntly, Atlantis can not only not filter the pathogen from Sector Four, but it also can't filter oxygen through the rooms. We can only manually seal the entire Sector, which is what we did. The fans aren't working at all. Without fans, there's no oxygen. Without oxygen—"
"John won't be able to breathe," Elizabeth gasped. He would be losing oxygen, even now. She quickly stole a look at the monitor and watched John. He was leaning up against a wall, his hand tapping on his head. He grinned, but wasn't looking at the camera. He was staring at the wall. "How long?" she asked, turning back towards Rodney.
"I'm going to say about ten minutes. With his injury, possibly less." He began rapidly tapping keys. Elizabeth couldn't keep up with his movements.
"What can we do?"
Rodney's eyes grabbed hold of her worried gaze. "I don't know." His voice sounded defeated. "I can't vent the virus. Not even manually, until Zelenka fixes the system. That will take hours, at the very least." He started hitting his Tablet with more force than necessary. "The room John is in is located almost in the center of the Sector. We can't blow a hole in the wall to get him out either. There are rooms above him, below him, and on all sides. It would take too long."
Rodney looked up again. "I don't know what to do…" he said, exasperated. Elizabeth had never seen Rodney like this before. His voice had cracked. Rodney McKay without a solution was not Rodney McKay at all.
Elizabeth took control. "Okay, so we can't get him out within the next ten—"
"Eight and a half," Rodney interrupted.
"Eight and a half," she agreed. Now was not the time to get agitated. "Can we prolong his oxygen intake somehow? Can we give him more oxygen instead of trying to get him out of there? Where is he?"
Rodney tapped another few keys. "He's in a…OH MY GOD!" Elizabeth drew back, surprised. His eyes had lit up like fireworks on the Fourth of July. First of July, she reminded herself. Always helped to profile her expedition members.
"What is it, Rodney?"
"He's in a room that used to be used for patients with minor injuries. This was before they moved the facility nearer to the tower where Carson's infirmary is now." His fingers scurried like terrified mice and his eyes bulged like saucers. "There has to be something in there he could use. Maybe a spare oxygen mask or something?"
Elizabeth grimaced. "I don't think we'd ever be so lucky."
"It's worth a shot. We need to communicate with him somehow." Rodney checked his watch. "Six minutes left until the room is out of oxygen."
"How? We don't have audio at all and he can't see us."
"No, we don't," Rodney said, smacking more keys. "We have something better."
-----SGA-----
Breathing was becoming more difficult.
The goopy black mass was trying to swallow him whole, its body moving closer, and closer, and closer.
John squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again, trying to stop the whirlwind of images from making him dizzy. The goopy mass receded, now a goopy black square. That helped…a bit.
Then John saw something he never imagined he'd ever see. The goopy black square started talking to him. With words. Giant, white words.
JOHN, SEARCH THE ROOM. YOU ARE LOSING OXYGEN. FIND SOMETHING.
Okay, that's a new one. The goopy square stopped moving—for now—and John could briefly tell that it was some kind of video screen. Words flowed across it quickly.
HURRY. YOU ARE RUNNING OUT OF TIME.
The lights started blinking off and on again and this time, John couldn't tell if that was Atlantis or Rodney. "Okay, okay, I GET IT!" Pressing his back harder against the wall, John unsteadily rose to his feet.
The hell am I looking for?
He pushed forward, nearly tripping over his own feet, and grabbed one of the two tables. With further effort, he shuffled his body along, gripping the white fabric covering it. This isn't just any table, his mind told him, This is an examination table.
The giant black goopy square told him he was losing oxygen. Was there something here he could use to fix that?
The lights increased their intensity again, the piercing glow striking his eyes. Atlantis, he thought. The city was trying to keep him awake. The lights continued their dance, his eyes now having adjusted to their temporary illumination before flickering out, but not the deathly brightness.
"I'm moving, I'm moving!" he shouted even though he could not hear the words. He made it to a cabinet sitting next to the examination table. Hauling open the top drawer, he gazed inside. His mind warbled and his step faltered. It took every ounce of strength he had to grab hold of the table and stay upright.
There was nothing inside.
Take two.
He fell to his knees, gripping the sides of the cabinet as he fell. He wouldn't be able to make it to the other cabinet. The lack of oxygen running through his blood had made his body too tired, too exhausted. He was unfit to even stand up again. This would be his last shot.
The bright light shot up again, reminding him to stay awake and concentrate.
He tugged on the bottom drawer, his strength fading. His lungs started to burn. The drawer eased open.
There were several items inside. Latex gloves, he saw, a big box of them. Carson uses those…he couldn't focus. Next item. His breathing labored, short breaths coming out now. He couldn't fully inhale anymore.
A mask. An oxygen mask. It wouldn't do much good by itself, but it wasn't alone. It was attached to a small oxygen tank. Scuba diving, anyone? John thought, chuckling to himself before launching into a coughing fit.
When he recovered, he grabbed it quickly and put the mask on. His body, sapped of energy and strength, fell to the floor and the canister started to roll away. Were the mask not already attached to his head, it would have rolled out of reach.
Almost there…he gave up moving his legs. They were dead weight. Grasping the valve, he struggled to turn it, to release the precious oxygen hidden inside the canister. Come on!
It was slow going. It would turn slightly every time he tugged, but he couldn't breathe anymore. The mask had actually worked against him, reducing his intake of any remaining oxygen in the room. He twisted the valve again.
And again.
And again.
Just when he was about to give up, the valve gave way and fresh oxygen flowed into his mouth, winding down his throat and into his lungs. He gulped a huge breath and started coughing. The burning sensation was subsiding, but still lingered.
He looked up at the ceiling, his body a pathetic mess, twisted and spread out in all directions on the floor. The bright light stopped shining.
John tried to smile. He tapped the floor with his right hand, his left hand holding the oxygen mask to his face. Good going, ol' girl, he thanked the city silently. You knew this was here. He patted the oxygen tank. You knew I'd need it.
He reached down and caressed the floor as one would caress their significant other.
His mouth formed the smile.
Love you too.
-----SGA-----
Elizabeth breathed a huge sigh of relief. "Oh thank God."
John had found an oxygen tank. Rodney's guess had been spot on, though the chances of an oxygen tank just happening to be in there made her skeptical. What were the chances of that?
Fate was certainly kind to John Sheppard.
Elizabeth wouldn't have it any other way.
"Okay, that should buy him some time. Good job, Rodney." she said. Rodney had accessed some kind of video panel embedded into the wall of the room. Now, however, it was her turn to seize Rodney's gaze. "Now what do we do?"
"I told you," he started, "There's nothing—"
"We're back!" Lorne called, rushing into the Gate room. Parrish, Simmons, Cadman, Teyla and Ronon strolled in behind him, the whole group gasping slightly from their brisk pace. "The wall wasn't fully breached by the explosives, so…"
"That's alright, we know Major," Elizabeth called back. "The topographical map told us all we need to know. We ran into some further problems, however…"
"Oh?" he queried, and bounded up the steps followed by the others.
"Colonel Sheppard has no oxygen in the room with him. He has secured an oxygen tank, but that will only buy him a few hours, maybe a few more. Rodney has told me we cannot vent the pathogen until we fix the ventilation system." Her faced hardened. "That, too, has experienced its own power surge. The resulting explosion decimated the console. Dr. Zelenka is working on it, but it won't be fixed in time."
Lorne processed the information and then looked thoughtful, a light bulb lit in his head. "What if we get a puddle jumper and—"
"No good," Rodney cut him off. He'd been doing that a lot lately, Elizabeth reflected. "The room he's in is surrounded by other rooms. We'd have to take out a significant portion of Sector Four and we'd have to do it without injuring John."
"Well, what about SGA-6? Lieutenant Waldon's team is closer to the…" Lorne's voice slowed at the questioning look from Rodney. "What? Did I miss something?"
"Major…" Elizabeth started and she knew he deduced what she was about to tell him. "The pathogen…it killed them within minutes. They had no chance." Her voice wavered, but kept its calmness and authority.
Lorne's eyes became downcast. The others grew silent, not even their breathing was noticeable. To the Major's credit, he collected himself very swiftly. "Then we need to reach the Colonel some other way."
Rodney spoke up without being prompted, "And how, exactly, do you propose we do that, Major? We can't reach him by puddle jumper, we can't dispose of the virus, the Daedalus isn't due for over a week and a half, there is nothing we can do."
Elizabeth observed him. His earlier self doubt had affected him quite severely. She suspected he had tried everything he could possibly think of, but the answer just wasn't there. She suddenly felt intensely sorry for Rodney McKay, and, subsequently, for John Sheppard.
"No, really," he continued, pent up rage flying at Lorne, "Do you have some master plan here? Some concealed miracle? Are you religious Lorne? Because no one's going to magically come down from the sky and scoop Sheppard up! No one's going to waltz in there and drag him out of the room to safety! He's as good as DEAD."
Elizabeth's eyes lit up. "What did you say?"
Rodney hastily pivoted ninety degrees in her general direction, "I said Sheppard's dead. And I can't do anything to help him this time!" He threw his Tablet to the ground, a deafening crash accompanying its short flight.
"No," she began, now staring hard at the face of Evan Lorne. "You said, 'No one's going to waltz through there and drag him out of the room.'"
Rodney deflated. "Okay, yes, I did say that—"
"The Tallinns!" Lorne practically shouted. "The phasing technology!"
"Yes," Elizabeth said. "Looks like we're going to be meeting them a lot sooner than we expected, Major."
"I'll grab my gear and get a Jumper ready." He was already on his way out of the room. "Cadman, Parrish, Simmons, let's head out."
Ronon stepped forward, Teyla not far behind him. "I'm coming too," he said gruffly, intent on not being left behind.
Elizabeth shook her head, a small smile on her lips. "I suppose I can't leave you on the wayside twice in a row, Ronon." He nodded and jogged after Major Lorne. Teyla opened her mouth to reply, "Go grab your stuff, Teyla." Her mouth shut instantly. "Let's hurry this up."
"Yes, Elizabeth." Teyla bowed slightly before running off to catch up with Ronon.
"Elizabeth—" Rodney started.
"No." She shook her head again, a hard frown replacing her good-natured smirk. "You fix the mess we have here. Fix the power conduits and help Radek with the ventilation system. We may not need the phasing technology the Tallinns have to get John out if you two are quick enough."
"But—"
"Rodney. Please, do as I ask." Her voice was tough, firm, authoritative. She needed Rodney here.
"Alright," he reluctantly agreed.
"Chuck, prepare to dial the PSX-487. We have a date with Theoron and his people."
"Yes, ma'am."
"And send for Carson." Chuck nodded and picked up his comm. to contact the doctor.
Elizabeth was all ready to go. She would put the tactical vest on in the Jumper. She did not carry a weapon; a leader carrying a weapon was seen by some cultures as an act of war or hostility. SGA-2, Ronon and Teyla would be enough to accompany her.
Theoron was an intriguing individual, one she couldn't wait to meet. Lorne had informed her that he was indifferent toward the Atlantean's war with the Wraith. Major Lorne was someone she trusted wholeheartedly when it came to getting an impression off of someone. She would formulate her own impression when she met the man, but she was sure it would be no different. She had not laid eyes on Theoron and already he reminded her of several diplomats back on Earth. The IOA, for one: uncooperative and apathetic when it came to races other than their own.
If Elizabeth was going there to negotiate for the invisibility technology, she was almost certain Theoron would refuse. In fact, she was still sure he would refuse her. But she was going to the Tallin homeworld to negotiate for something far more critical: the technology to save John Sheppard's life.
She would not come home empty handed.
She gathered her wits about her. This would be a challenge she could not shy away from, one she would refuse to back down. Checking the monitors, she watched John's unmoving form, his chest rhythmically moving up and down in small, strenuous patterns.
He would not survive long this way.
After all the times he had saved Atlantis, that he had saved her, she would finally get to repay some of that debt.
Hold on, John, she thought towards him.
I'm on my way.