The moment they stepped through the gate, Ronon was on alert. He focused on using his senses. On the sight and smell of the place. His eyes drifted to the ground, seeking out tracks and signs, trying to separate the known from the unknown. But he didn't tune everything out. He heard Lorne call his name and turned to face the other man. "We should split up," Ronon stated.
Lorne looked surprised by that. "I don't know if that's such a good idea."
"Cover more territory that way," Ronon shot back. He wasn't going to argue the point. He was simply going to do it. Doctor Weir needed to be found, and he wasn't going to waste time exchanging pointless words.
"Maybe so," Lorne allowed. "But we don't know what we're looking for and you're the better tracker. I think we should stick together."
Ronon locked eyes with Lorne, seeing the major's conviction laced with worry. There was guilt there as well. "You track what you know," he said firmly. "Follow the obvious trail. Teyla and I will track by instinct. One of us will find her." He spoke curtly, feeling impatient with the need to get moving.
Lorne opened his mouth, by all appearances intending to protest, but instead he nodded. "All right. Keep in contact every hour."
"Good luck," Teyla said, smiling tightly at Cadman and Lorne.
"You too," Laura replied, then she saluted before turning to follow Lorne.
Teyla looked at Ronon. "Which way?" she asked.
He squinted against the brightness, focusing on a point in the distance. Raising one hand, Ronon gestured in that direction. "This way," he said, then he loped off feeling Teyla's quiet presence behind him.
OoO
After watching Lorne and his team step through the gate, John headed for the Chair room again. Zelenka was the only one there. Rodney had gone off to work on something without giving Zelenka any details. "So any progress?" John asked, as he moved towards the chair. He had an itch to sit down and tap into it again. He knew there was more there than they knew. He just had to figure out a way to get to it. Before time ran out. Inside his head John could almost hear a clock ticking away the seconds.
"Some,"Radek replied, absently. He gestured to the lap top screen he was focused on. "Is quite fascinating really, but we have yet to figure out exactly what it means for us."
"You mean whether or not it's something we can use to defend ourselves with?" John countered, grinning as he watched Zelenka pulling at his hair. It stood up in wild disarray and gave him a vaguely Einstein appearance.
Radek nodded. "Yes, that is what I mean."
John had moved to stand behind Zelenka to take a look at the figures and see if anything made sense to him, when he felt something drip from his nose. Raising one hand, John touched it then stared at his fingertips. Blood. Shit, he had a freaking nosebleed. Just perfect. He knew if he got caught with it, Beckett would call him back to the infirmary, John started backpedaling towards the door, pinching his nose. "I'll check back later!" he called out to Zelenka, who simply waved a hand at him in confirmation.
Once out the door, John stepped into the nearest transporter. He made it to his room in record time and sprinted into the bathroom where he grabbed a towel and used it to stop the bleeding and clean the blood off his hand. It took ten minutes. and by then, John's headache was more pronounced. He felt a bit lightheaded and exhaustion was making his muscles ache.
Contacting Gate control, John informed them he was in his room and to contact him if needed. Glancing at his watch, John realized it was a bit early given his normal bedtime, but that he might as well catch some sleep while he could. So he headed for the shower, letting the hot water relax him a bit. Then he dried off, pulled on a t-shirt, boxers and sweat pants, then popped one of the sleeping pills. As tired as he was, John knew he was too tense to sleep without it.
Slipping under the covers, John made himself comfortable and a few minutes later he was drifting into darkness.
The darkness twisted into something else. Into images that left John tossing and turning. Even though he knew he was dreaming, he couldn't control the fear that that spiked through his veins as he found himself trapped in a scene out of a horror movie. He was helpless to intervene as he watched Steve the Wraith suck the life out of Elizabeth from inside the cell they had kept him in. They were on the inside and John was locked out on the outside. It wasn't shielded this time and he wrapped his fingers around the bars, in a white-knuckled grip. He couldn't say a word, couldn't cry out and protest. He could only watch.
Steve kept his eyes focused on John as he fed on Elizabeth, not giving her even an iota of attention. Shaking her as if she were a limp doll or something as she screamed and screamed. Then, abruptly, there was silence. Steve grinned and whispered, "You should have made sure I was dead, Sheppard."
Nausea twisted in John's gut as he watched the aged and sunken shell that had once been Elizabeth Weir crumple to the floor. A nausea that was all too real and had John almost jumping out of bed in a mad dash to the bathroom. He emptied his stomach, which was pretty much empty to begin with, until he was gagging on dry heaves. He coughed so hard it made his ribs ache and John rubbed them carefully as he sat back against the wall. He didn't know how much time passed before he was able to get to his feet and brush his teeth.
He stared at his image in the mirror after splashing cold water on his face. He looked pale and there were shadows under his eyes and he knew that if he didn't pull it together, Beckett was going to put him back in the infirmary and John didn't have time to be off his feet right now.
Heaving a sigh, he stared at his hands, which were still shaking. He cursed himself and the dream. Ever since coming to the Pegasus galaxy, John had dreamed about the Wraith plenty of times. For a while it was pretty much every night. But he had never dreamed about them killing Elizabeth. Hell, in all his time here, John had never seen a Wraith kill a woman. Or a child. And that was something he hoped to god he'd never have to witness.
Pushing away from the sink, John dried his face and tried to figure out why the dream was shaking him up so. And why dream about Steve? The bastard was dead, John had seen his dead body and Beckett had done an autopsy on him. Dead was dead. So why Steve and why now? Maybe he should have paid better attention in his psych courses in college. John had mainly taken them because the teacher, Professor Kline, was hot and they had actually dated for a couple of months. Being careful not to get caught of course. Even back then John wasn't averse to breaking the rules, so long as no one got hurt.
But that was a memory he really didn't need to relive right now. It was a part of the past and John had to deal with the present and the threat to Atlantis.
Feeling a bit calmer, although he was trying to ignore the way his body trembled with aftershocks in the wake of the nightmare, John stumbled into the other room and got dressed. He'd only been asleep for two hours and as tempting as it was to take another pill, John wasn't sure he wanted to sleep right now. He didn't want to dream again. So he made his bed then stretched out with War and Peace. Maybe it would bore him back to sleep without dreaming.
Two hours later John gave up and headed back to Elizabeth's office. His internal clock was ticking louder.
OoO
Lorne studied the area they were standing in. Not all that far from the temple. He kept backtracking back around to it. There were no signs or clues to lead him in any other direction so Lorne kept coming back to the temple, hoping against hope to find something, anything. So far, nothing.
"Time for a break," Cadman piped up, holding up a powerbar and her water bottle.
"Right." Lorne grabbed a power bar of his own and took a bite. He was hungry, along with frustrated. But he didn't sit down on a nearby rock like Cadman did. He kept pacing and sweeping the ground. But there were no footsteps to guide him, there was nothing. Swallowing a curse, Lorne crushed the rest of his powerbar and was about to toss it when something caught his eye. A glitter of silver in the dirt. Falling to one knee, Lorne dug his fingers into the ground and a moment later he was holding an all too familiar object in his palm.
Laura had been watching him and now she was kneeling beside him. "Is that...?" She didn't finish.
Lorne nodded anyway. "Yeah...it is." He closed his fingers over it and rose to his feet. "Time to check in with Ronon and Teyla." As he spoke, Lorne tapped his radio. "Teyla!"
"Yes?"
"Anything on your end?" Lorne queried.
A moment of silence then Teyla replied, "Nothing definite." She sounded as if she were panting a bit.
Lorne figured that she and Ronon were still on the move. "I found something at the temple."
"What is it?" Teyla's voice conveyed surprise.
"Doctor Weir's necklace," Lorne replied. "The chain is broken."
Another moment of silence then Ronon asked, "Did you find anything else? Anything that might give you a direction to follow?"
Lorne shook his head, forgetting Ronon couldn't see him. He cursed himself then said, "No, nothing. We'll keep looking."
"As will we," Teyla said, then she clicked off.
"We'll find her," Laura said softly, as she drifted away from Lorne and started searching the area again.
Lorne nodded as he pocketed the necklace. "We'd better. Colonel Sheppard will be pissed if I come back without her. I don't think he likes being in charge of Atlantis."
Laura chuckled. "Yeah...can't say as I blame him. I'd hate to be the boss of McKay." She grinned at Lorne then moved out again.
"I hear that," Lorne replied, then he moved to follow.
OoO
"She must have put up a struggle," Teyla stated, as she followed Ronon up a low rise. As she climbed her eyes darted here and there, always scanning her surroundings. Something she had learned from childhood.
"Or she tore the necklace off to leave as a clue," Ronon countered, not breaking stride. "She's smart."
Teyla agreed with that. "She is. Perhaps we should turn back and look another way." They had traveled for miles with Ronon never wavering from the path he had chosen, yet Teyla had seen nothing to suggest that this was the way Doctor Weir had been taken.
Ronon stopped now and turned to look at Teyla. "My gut is telling me to go this way." Raising one hand, he pointed below. "There's smoke that way, maybe we'll find someone to talk too."
"Maybe," Teyla allowed. She was beginning to believe that there was no one on this world. It felt deserted, which worried her. For that would mean that Doctor Weir was truly gone. But when she crested the rise to stand beside Ronon, she saw the smoke and hope fluttered inside her. And hope was all they had left. "Let's go," she said, moving out first.
Ronon said nothing. He simply fell into step beside her.
OoO
John took care of every report, filed everything that needed to be filed, got caught up on emails, then he headed for the labs. Rodney was there, looking as worn out as John felt. "Where's Zelenka?" he asked.
Rodney glared at him over his coffee cup. "Sleeping. He fell asleep an hour ago and started snoring so I sent him to bed."
"Did you get any sleep?" John was worried about that. During the last Siege Beckett had been forced to pump too many of them full of stimulants to keep them going. Rodney and Zelenka included.
"Four hours," Rodney replied. He rubbed his eyes then studied John a moment. "You look more tired than I feel. Guess I don't have to ask if you slept."
John made a face. "Three Hive ships will be here in less than two weeks. I don't think anyone is getting much sleep, Rodney. Pretty much like the last time."
Rodney didn't look impressed. "I thought Beckett gave you sleeping pills?" The moment the words were out Rodney looked like he wanted to swallow them back.
"How would you know that?" John demanded, suspicion coloring his tone. Elizabeth would know about it, but no one else other than Beckett. He didn't like the thought of Rodney knowing his personal business. Friend or not.
"I know everything," Rodney shot back, with a flippant wave of one hand. "You should know that by now."
John considered arguing the point but he knew they needed to focus on defending Atlantis right now. When the Hive ships were dealt with and Atlantis was safe again, then John could threaten to beat the truth out of McKay. Or, better yet, threaten to have Ronon do it. "How are you guys coming on the shields and stuff?"
Rodney's face fell. "Nothing new. We need you in the chair again soon. And by soon I mean now would be good."
"Need a rain check," John replied. A part of him was itching to get in the chair, but he had a check-up with Beckett in twenty minutes and he needed to grab something to eat first. Plus he knew that sitting in the chair would wear him down and he couldn't afford to do that until after the check-up. "I'll come by in an hour," John promised.
"Bring me food then," countered Rodney, scowling. "And something chocolate would be good."
John rolled his eyes. "I'll think about it," he said, as he headed for the door. But he'd bring back something. He wanted to make sure Rodney and Zelenka were in tiptop form. They needed to be able to think fast and focus. Everyone's life depended on it.
A quick trip to the mess hall and John managed to eat most of a muffin, swallowing it down with a glass of milk. Then, snagging a mug of coffee, John headed for the infirmary. The sooner he checked in with Beckett, the sooner he could get back in the chair.
Thoughts of the Hive ships weren't his main focus, however. Thoughts of Elizabeth were. John kept waiting, hoping, that Lorne and the others would check in. Better yet, that they would walk through the gate with her. But he knew he had to give them time to find her. John wouldn't allow himself to believe that they wouldn't. Soon Elizabeth would be back in Atlantis and John could hand over the key, so to speak. It was telling, to himself, that he was anxious for Caldwell to get here. That way he could take off through the gate himself. Well, once he convinced Beckett he was good to go.
Which John had a feeling wasn't going to be easy, and he had that thought confirmed the moment Beckett caught sight of him. "Morning, Doc," John offered in greeting.
"Colonel." Carson's response was somewhat stilted. "You're looking a mite tired."
"I've had better nights," John allowed, knowing that lying wouldn't get him anywhere. Not that telling the truth appeared to be scoring him any points either, judging by Beckett's expression. So John focused on his coffee mug and was about to take a sip when it was plucked from his hand. "Hey!" John made to retrieve it but Beckett handed it off to a nurse.
Blue eyes glaring, Carson focused on John. "The last thing you need is caffeine, Colonel. You're having enough trouble sleeping, or have you forgotten?"
John knew it was a rhetorical question, so he didn't respond. He just glared back then sat down on the exam table when Beckett gestured to it. He suffered through having his vitals taken, then his ribs poked and prodded, along with his shoulder. He answered every question asked honestly, but rather curtly. After a time Beckett turned away and began scribbling on John's chart. John watched for a moment then asked, "Are we done?" He really needed to get back in the chair.
"How much sleep did you get?" Carson asked, point blank. He set aside John's chart and moved to face him, waiting for a reply.
"A few hours." John still felt it was best to tell the truth.
Carson nodded. "How many pills did you take?"
John sighed. He had a bad feeling about the exchange going on between them, but he still answered honestly. "Just one."
"Why didn't you take two? You need the sleep." Carson's tone was sharp, but his eyes conveyed concern.
"What I need is to figure out a way to protect Atlantis from the Wraith that are coming! Sleep can wait!" John was snapping at Beckett and he regretted it. Which meant apologizing. "Sorry..."
Carson waved away his words. "I understand we're under the gun, Colonel. All the more so with Doctor Weir missing. But that doesn't change the fact that you're still recuperating."
John scrubbed a hand over his face and mumbled, "I know that." He knew it better than anyone. He knew his own limitations, just as he knew how hard he could push. Right now he needed to push.
"Any word from Major Lorne?" Carson asked.
"Nothing yet." John forced a smile, wanting to ease the tension between them. Tension he knew he had created. "Look...I need to get back to work. Caldwell should be here some time tomorrow and Rodney needs me in the Chair room." A hand on his chest stopped John from sliding off the exam table and he stared at it, then at Beckett.
Carson looked grim. "You're not going anywhere for a while, Colonel," he stated. "Just settle yourself comfortably and you might want to be removing your boots."
John stared at the doc as if he'd suddenly grown two heads. "Why would I want to remove my boots?" He knew what Beckett was suggesting, but he wanted to hear it out loud so he could protest it properly.
"I'm going to give you a little shot of something to help you sleep...without dreaming." Carson spoke carefully, nudging John down onto his back all the while.
Surprise warred with anger inside of John. He wasn't sure how to respond to that. He felt unsettled by the fact that Beckett could read him so well. Which meant he was broadcasting too much. Which was a sure sign of just how tired he really was. Cursing himself, John let Beckett push him down against the pillows. If he couldn't keep control over himself, then he needed to get some sleep. Maybe this was for the best. "How long are you knocking me out for?" John queried, as he watched Beckett preparing a syringe.
Carson swabbed John's arm with an alcohol wipe. "You should sleep for six to eight hours," he replied.
"No!" John felt panic flash through him and he was sitting up, pushing Beckett away from him. "That's too long." They had too much to do and nowhere near enough time to do it in.
"You need the rest, Colonel...or you'll be no good to anyone!" Carson snapped. And it was enough out of character for John to freeze and take notice. A heavy hand fell on John's shoulder. "Once you're rested you can focus better on the problems at hand. You know I'm right, Colonel."
John did know, but he wasn't ready to concede defeat. Not quite yet. "What if something happens and I'm needed?" he argued.
"I can give you something to wake you up," Carson shot back. "Any other objections?"
"Yeah...one. Rodney needs me in the Chair. We might be able to use it more defensively than we originally thought." John was pretty sure he had Beckett with that one.
But Carson shook his head. "I'll contact Rodney and tell him where you are and why. You get some rest then you'll be able to focus. Besides which, with you out for a bit Rodney can pretend he's in charge and that should be amusing."
John winced. "Okay...knock me out." He knew he wasn't going to win this battle. Ultimately, Beckett was the man in charge when it came to any and all medical issues. So he was beaten and John knew when to give up. Besides which, a part of him yearned for sleep. He settled back against the pillows and held out his arm.
"Just a pinch then," Carson crooned, then he was swabbing the injection site before reaching for a blanket.
"Wow...works fast," John slurred, feeling a warm heat flushing through his veins.
Carson chuckled. "That it does."
John watched him spread the blanket over him only to remember something. "Boots..." he mumbled, even as his eyelids drooped closed and darkness washed over him. Vaguely he heard Beckett mumble something and felt tugging at his feet. Then John was swirling into black.
OoO
Lorne tapped his radio and resisted the urge to shout as he repeated Teyla's name for the tenth time. He waited but got no response, just like before. Looking over to Cadman he said, "We've lost contact with Teyla and Ronon."
Laura snorted. "Really? What was your first clue?" She was more sarcastic than snappy.
"We should go back." Lorne wasn't one to concede defeat, but he knew they weren't going to find Doctor Weir and a part of him wanted to be back in Atlantis where he could do some good. The Wraith were coming and Sheppard needed him. The man was running Atlantis and doing his own job and he hadn't even fully recovered from being injured yet.
"Do you think Ronon can find her?" Laura countered, even as she turned back towards the direction of the gate.
Lorne shrugged. "If he can't, then she's lost to us anyway." And that was harder to say than he had expected. Doctor Weir had earned his respect and Lorne couldn't imagine Atlantis without her. Atlantis wasn't about any one person, per se. But without Weir and Sheppard and McKay, Lorne doubted the place could survive. Together those three were the heart, soul, and breath of Atlantis. Lorne didn't want to go back without her, but he knew it was time to go back. To do what he could do. "Let's go."
Laura fell into step beside him. "Ronon and Teyla will find her," she said firmly. "I can feel it."
"Woman's intuition?" Lorne queried, almost managing a grin.
"Something like that," Laura allowed.
Lorne was willing to accept that. But he found himself reaching one hand into his pocket to clutch Doctor Weir's necklace. He prayed to God it wasn't going to be all that was left of her.
OoO
The smoke led to an old man.
Ronon studied him from across the fire. He looked about a hundred years old, all yellow skin with sagging wrinkles that looked etched into an almost pattern on his face. Gnarled hands clutched a walking stick made from a tree root and sparse white hair covered his gnarled skull. His eyes look frosted over and Ronon wondered for a moment if he were blind, only his eyes seemed to track them.
Teyla spoke for them. "We are searching for someone, a friend. Perhaps you have seen her."
"Perhaps," the man allowed, and his voice was surprisingly strong and clear.
"She is not from here and her clothing would be different. She was wearing black and red and she is slim with dark hair." Teyla leaned in as she spoke, reaching out to touch the old man's hand. Trying to connect to him.
Ronon had seen her do this often. Sometimes it was sincere as now, sometimes she did it in the hope of neutralizing a bad situation. But she was taking too long to get the answers they needed. "Have you seen her old man?" Ronon prompted.
The old man looked at him and grinned, reveal a mouth empty of teeth. "I do not always need to see to know," he replied.
"Know what?" Ronon challenged, a bad feeling making his gut twist.
"They take new blood to the mountains, that way." The old man pointed towards where the sun was sinking in the sky.
Teyla touched his shoulder, to draw his attention to her. "Why would they take her there?"
The old man shrugged. "To trade with the others."
"Others?" Ronon snapped.
"Others," The old man repeated. But that was all he offered.
Ronon had no patience for this. "What are they like?"
The old man studied him a moment then said, "Look a lot like you. Big and strong and angry."
"Thank you," Teyla interjected, before Ronon could reply. She gave Ronon a look that told him to back off, then she patted the old man's shoulder. "We appreciate your help," she said, then she stepped away. "How long will it take us to reach them?"
"Couple of days, maybe less. They scatter themselves." The old man went back to stirring the soup he had in the pot over the fire, letting them know their talk was over.
Ronon started walking. When Teyla fell into step beside him he said, "Trade her for what?" He had his own thoughts on that but he didn't want to go there.
Teyla looked troubled. "I do not know, but we must move quickly."
Ronon's reply was to start running.
OoO
John came awake to the sound of voices. Arguing. It took him a moment to identify them as Beckett and McKay. He heard his own name mentioned and managed to peel his eyes open and call out to them. Or rather, croak at them. It was enough to bring Beckett to his side.
"Dammit, Rodney...you woke him up!" Carson groused, before plastering a concerned smile on his face as he turned his attention to John. "Colonel...how are you feeling?"
"Great," John drawled, though it still sounded like a croak. Damn sedatives always gave him cotton mouth. He was grateful when Beckett raised the bed then held out a glass of water. John drained it, and then scrubbed at his eyes with the heels of both hands. "What time is it?"
Carson sighed. "If you're asking how long you slept, just under five hours. Thanks to Rodney!" A glare was directed at McKay who had moved to the other side of John's bed.
Rodney didn't look the least bit cowed. "Forgive me for being concerned about a friend!" he snapped. Then he ignored Beckett to ask John, "You're better now, right? Because we have a lot of work to do."
"I'm fine," John stated firmly. He glared at Beckett, daring him to say otherwise. But they were all spared that when John's radio went off. He realized it was on the night stand and he snatched it up and fitted it in his ear. "Sheppard here."
The gate tech replied, "Major Lorne is returning, Sir. I thought you would want to know."
John shoved the blanket to the side and slid off the bed, fumbling with his shoes. He didn't want to ask the next question. "Is Doctor Weir with him?"
"No Sir." The answer hung in the air.
"Be right there," John stated, and tapped off. He shoved his feet into his boots, gave a look at Carson that brooked no argument, because he was leaving and that was that. Carson didn't look happy but nodded at him and John headed for the door.
Rodney was right beside him. "This isn't good, is it?"
John glared at him. "Don't wish for bad news, McKay," he muttered. Then they were stepping into a transporter and a moment later they were in the gate room, climbing the stairs just as Lorne and Cadman stepped through the Gate. John strode over to meet them. "Report," he ordered.
"Yes, Sir. I'm sad to say we didn't find Doctor Weir," Lorne said.
"We can see that!" Rodney interjected, and got glares from everyone.
John focused on Lorne. "What happened?"
Lorne looked grim. "I wouldn't have come back except we lost contact with Ronon and Teyla. I guess they moved out of radio range. Since we couldn't find Doctor Weir and with everything else that's happening, I figured it was best to come back."
"Yeah...you figured right." John wanted to be out there himself, but he couldn't fault Lorne's logic. They would all have to rely on Ronon to find Weir. "So...no sign of her?" He could at least hope.
"No, Sir." As he spoke, Lorne was digging in his pocket. He pulled something out then offered it to John.
Staring at the silver chain, John felt his stomach clench. He knew it was Elizabeth's necklace. As he took it from Lorne, John studied it closer and he felt his breath catch in his chest. The delicate heart charm was stained with blood. John snapped his eyes to Lorne and the other man nodded. He had seen it. Not a good sign, but John wasn't going to accept what it could mean. Not until he heard from Ronon.
But Rodney was studying the necklace too and he had turned alabaster white. "Oh...that...that's not good. Is it? Not good...not good."
John said nothing. There was nothing he could say.