A/N: Dang it - now I want to go kayaking. I can hear my boat calling me from the garage. Must use calming moodra. "Ohkayakpaddlemehooooooooommmmme. Ohkayakpaddlemehooooooommmmme." Crap, not working...

Chapter 14

Lorne, Ronon, and Stackhouse exited the elevator on the lowest level of Atlantis and jogged down the long hallway that led to the loading docks. One of his men up in control was keeping him updated on their escapee's progress via surveillance cameras, and when it was reported Sheppard showed up on the helipad it surprised Lorne. They were in the armory gearing up when that came over the radio.

Ronon glanced at Lorne, his eyebrows raised. "He's a pilot?"

"Apparently," Lorne replied as he strapped his side-arm on. "Huh." It was a good thing it was out on a routine perimeter check at the moment, or else he'd have bigger mess than he already had.

A moment later Ford reported seeing Sheppard running into the woods from where he had his head stuck out of the air duct. The team Lorne had ordered to that side of the facility were directly below him on the steep, rocky slope and wouldn't be able to reach Sheppard in time. There was the sound of a gunshot a moment later and Lorne nearly came unglued. "Stand down, Lieutenant!" he snapped into his own radio.

"Just fired a warning shot, sir," Ford replied.

Sure you did, Lorne thought.

"I'm going to have to head back – too much of a drop," Ford replied. "How the hell did he do it?" he wondered out loud.

Well, he understood why he did it, Lorne thought as they jogged down the hall. They turned into the loading dock and went for one of the smaller safety doors. He saw the looks people were giving the man at dinner – between that and the encounter with psycho Barbie he would have bolted, too. He couldn't blame him, but damn it, couldn't he have waited just a few more days? There was a quiet revolution starting on Atlantis, and a few days would have made one hell of a difference.

Lorne's lookout in control reported that the target was in the boathouse now so he just slapped the safety bar and flung the door open. Ronon had a big tranquilizer pistol in his hands, Stackhouse one of rifles, and he had a P90. They ran the hundred yards to the boathouse and pressed their backs against the wall. Ronon glanced down at Lorne and nodded, and Lorne crouched down and opened the door. A second later they both spun around, Ronon towering over the major from where he crouched and Lorne using the light on his weapon to scan the boathouse.

"Oh, man, he took my boat!" Ronon said a second later as he shuffled around Lorne, pistol raised, and into the building. Lorne stood up and he and Stackhouse followed him in. Ronon charged to the opposite door and pulled it open. He disappeared briefly, then came back, the pistol pointing at the floor. "He's already out in the bay."

"Determined bastard," Lorne muttered as he found the bank of light switches and flipped them on. Stackhouse jumped onto the nearest boat and Ronon started untying lines. Lorne ran over to the bay door controls and flipped the switch before running back to the boat. He jumped onboard just as Stackhouse fired the engines, and a minute later they were backing out of the berth.

"He didn't grab a spray skirt," Ronon said and frowned somewhat smugly. "He's never kayaked before – we should be able to scoop him up easily."

"Good," Lorne replied. "Then I'm going to kick his scrawny ass all the way back."

The boat cleared the doors and Lorne joined Stackhouse in the cab to operate the spotlight. Ronon went to stand out on the bow, and they proceeded somewhat slowly as they scanned the waves. Then Ronon pointed out towards sea. "Shine the light that way," he yelled. Sure enough they all caught the flash of a white paddle blade a moment later. They clearly saw him glance back and almost go over.

"Let's go collect him before he drowns," Lorne said and Stackhouse opened up the throttle.

Ronon came back into the cab. "Don't get too close; you're liable to swamp him, and he isn't in dry gear." The he and Lorne exchanged raised eyebrows. "Swamp him," they said at the same time. "But don't hurt my boat," Ronon added.

Stackhouse nodded at them and pulled away at the last minute, throttle still open. Then he swung back around and Lorne picked out the bottom of the kayak with the spotlight moment later. "That should take some of the fight out of the stupid sonuvabitch."

-oOo-

The hull of the boat came dangerously close to his head, then a moment later John felt hands grab the straps of the paddle vest and he was being roughly hauled out of the water. He'd actually hit the point where his teeth quit chattering, and he was glad he couldn't feel anything as he was dropped heavily onto the deck of the boat. He rolled onto his back and looked up at the major, and the anger he could feel pouring off the man was fully expected. But the disappointment wasn't, and that made him feel like a total ass. Briefly.

"What part of 'stupid shit' do you have trouble comprehending?" Lorne yelled, the veins in his neck standing out. "Jesus!" He ran a hand through his hair and stomped into the cab of the boat.

John just curled up on his side and drew his arms and legs up – now that he was out of the water and the breeze was catching him, the chattering and shivering was returning. With a vengeance. A second later he saw a flash of red as the kayak joined him on the deck. He could feel Ronon's anger, too, and a moment later the big guy was kneeling down next to him. "At least you grabbed a cheap paddle – if you had lost my good carbon shaft, I'd have to throw you back," he growled as he started unzipping the paddle vest.

"W-w-w-wish you w-would," John muttered back. He tried pushing Ronon's hands away but was about as coordinated as a trout at the moment.

"Quit fighting," Ronon said as he pulled the PFD off and tossed it aside. "We've got to get you dry." Lorne showed up a second later with a couple of folded blankets. But he set those aside and started to help Ronon pull John's wet clothes off.

"Hey, I h-hardly know y-y-y-you guys," John said weakly. He still couldn't feel his hands or feet, and he felt really tired, but it still didn't keep him from struggling feebly. He managed one semi-descent kick.

Lorne grunted. "You're not my type," he said as he pulled John's boots off. "Damn it, knock it off. We're trying to help."

"I'm n-n-not going b-b-b-back," John growled.

Then Ronon just flipped him onto his stomach and pinned him there. "The more you struggle and fight, the greater the chance you can go into cardiac arrest from hypothermia. So quit!" John tried to lift up but Ronon slammed him back down. "Don't make me trank your ass again."

When Ronon raised his voice it was damn impressive. John quit fighting, but his shivering was getting painful and his arms and legs were starting to hurt. His cheek was pressed to the deck, and it felt oddly warm. "Don't want to g-g-go back," he whispered as he squeezed his eyes shut.

"You're going to be holed up in the infirmary for a few days, and that is probably one of the safest places to be right now," Lorne said as he helped Ronon pull John's wet jacket off. "The docs will do anything to keep you out of Chaya's hands." Ronon grunted in agreement. Lorne looked up at Stackhouse. "Sergeant, call Keller and have her send a med team down to the loading dock. Let her know we're bringing him in with hypothermia."

"Yes, sir."

Lorne returned his attention to John. "Can you sit up?" John tried, but he just couldn't do it. They got him upright and pulled the soaked fleece shirt off, and then wrapped one of the blankets around him before they pulled his pants off. They got the other blanket wrapped around him and helped him into the cab, out of the wind. John sank down into one corner and curled up on his side, and the only thing they could really see of him was his chin and chattering teeth.

Stackhouse brought the boat right up to the loading dock and they waited for the team to show up with a gurney before they moved John. Ronon and Lorne had to practically carry him. As soon as they got inside Keller had the head of the gurney propped up a little and was uncapping a thermos. She only filled the cup halfway and held it to John's lips. "Drink," she said as the little group double-timed down the hall. Lorne and Ronon followed behind, and Ronon had the pistol shoved through his belt like he was some wild west gunslinger.

John lifted his head and tried to hold the cup as well as they rolled along, and he was shocked at how pale his long fingers were. They damn near looked blue against Keller's hand, and he swore faintly when they connected with the hot cup. He took a sip, and as far as he could tell it was just hot water with sugar in it. But damn, he could feel that first swallow all the way down. He greedily gulped down the rest and Keller refilled it.

By the time they got to the infirmary John had finished off the thermos and was squirming from the ache in his arms and legs. Carson was there, waiting, the scowl on his face frightening to behold. He, Keller, and a couple nurses transferred him to a bed and swapped his blankets out for fresh, dry ones and a set of scrubs. They wrapped him up like a mummy and got more warm liquid in him, and the pain from his shaking was bringing tears to his eyes.

Carson got one arm unwrapped long enough to give John a shot of something. Then he tucked the arm back amid folds and shook his head. "If you weren't such a scrawny bugger, you'd be handling this better," he said. Then he scowled at him. "Are you bloidy insane?"

"I call it self-preservation," John whispered as he closed his eyes against another wave of painful spasms.

"Are yae sure you aren't being suicidal?"

"That'd work, too," John replied. He leaned his head back into his blanket monk's hood as he felt the painkiller start to kick in. When he opened his eyes again he saw the doctor watching him. "I had to try," he barely whispered and lowered his gaze. A second later he felt a hand settle lightly through the layers of blankets over his shoulder.

"I know," Carson replied quietly and gave John's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "I'll keep yae in here as long as I can."

Keller arrived with another steaming mug, and this time he caught the scent of tea. Good – hot sweet water was just … awful. He kept his hands wrapped in the blankets as he accepted the mug. Made it awkward to drink, but it kept his hands from burning like a mother. And a good thing it wasn't mint tea – that stuff made him, well, loopy, and he was starting to feel disjointed enough from the pain killer.

"Drink that and try to get some rest," Carson said.

"Thanks," John said quietly and actually managed a hint of a smile that didn't look like a grimace. He was really going to owe both of them at this rate.

Carson sighed wearily before he said, "You're welcome, son." Then he excused himself, and as trudged past the two ever present guards at the door he was rubbing his neck.

John couldn't help feeling guilty and did grimace. Keller sat on the edge of the bed and kept him company as he drank his tea. He was halfway done before she finally spoke to him.

"Ronon is really pissed at you for stealing his kayak," she said gravely. John's head came up, and when he saw the gleam in her eyes he relaxed a little. "When you get out of here, I strongly suggest you wait awhile before taking any more Aikido classes from him. It could be, um, painful."

"I'll remember that," John replied and took another sip of tea. That she felt he had a chance for future classes was oddly reassuring, but the little trapped animal voice in the back of his mind reminded him it was just talk. He was still a prisoner, and he knew that wasn't going to change any time soon. When he finished the tea he handed the mug back to her with a quiet thanks. He was able to settle back then and felt secure enough to doze off for awhile.

-oOo-

Sometime later John was awakened by a commotion out in the main part of the infirmary. He had a moment of panic when he couldn't move, then remembered he was still wrapped in blankets. And he realized he was warm again, almost too much so. He was working his arms free when a wave of roiling emotions hit him from the other room, and a second later Kolya came striding in trailed by three armed men and Carson. A coldness settled in John's gut that had nothing to do with his dip in the ocean earlier. Kolya's eyes met his from across the room and all John could think was, oh, fuck.

"He can't be moved yet, colonel," Carson replied as he bulled past one of the armed men and got in front of Kolya. Keller came to the doorway, then, and appeared just as flustered as Carson. The group did stop and Kolya just looked down calmly at the doctor. "He needs at least another twenty-four hours before …."

Kolya was fast. He drew his Beretta and pistol whipped Carson heavily across the face. The doctor when down hard. Keller yelled his name and dashed into the room. Kolya just stepped over the doctor as he put his gun back. "Bring it," he said to his men as he jerked his chin briefly in John's direction.

John was struggling to get free of his blanket cocoon before they got to him, and he was growling so softly he felt the vibration more in his chest than anything else. He just got his arms completely free when the soldiers were on him. One was that Ford kid, and his eyes were bright as he grabbed one of John's arms. John about yanked him off his feet, then someone had his other arm and they yanked him off the bed. His legs stayed tangled in the blankets for a moment, but he was squirming and a second later they were free. He braced his legs and despite still feeling shaky from painkillers and hypothermia, he really started to struggle. He knocked Ford into an empty bed, but the third guy was there immediately to take his place, and he was a lot bigger than the kid. Then the back of John's head exploded and he started to go down, only to be brought up short by the grip the two men had on his arms. His sore shoulder protested, but the agony in his head overshadowed it and any other complaints. He was hoisted roughly to his feet, and a second later his jaw was being clenched in a very strong grip and his head was being raised. Kolya's dark eyes locked on his.

"That was a very foolish stunt you pulled earlier," Kolya said through his teeth. He gave John's head a shake before he let go. "And now you give me no choice but to cage you. Take it away."

They started dragging John past Carson and Keller. He could see Carson was sitting up, his eyes not really focusing, and his left cheek was bleeding heavily. That made John find enough coordination again to start struggling against his captors. Suddenly Ford was right there, and the last thing John saw was the butt of the lieutenant's P90 coming at him.

End Note: Kolya's gonna get it. Kolya's gonna get it.