No spoilers.

Domino Effect

"Must. Go. Faster!" McKay shouted. "They're coming around for another pass!"

The vice squeezing John's skull tightened as he concentrated on not getting them killed. "I'm trying, Rodney," he ground out. "Get ready to dial."

"I've been ready." McKay flinched as another blast shook the jumper. "Shield is down to thirty percent."

Green weaponsfire flashed around them again. John spun the jumper in a corkscrew, eliciting a string of curses from Rodney and a whoop from Ronon. The space gate appeared over the curvature of the moon, and John focused every ounce of energy into speeding towards it. They shot forward, twisting and tumbling away from the unknown enemy who'd decided to use them for target practice. McKay's hands were a blur as he dialed. A vortex of blue swirled, Teyla shouted into her radio, and suddenly they were hovering in Atlantis' gateroom.

John saw the gate shield coalesce as they rotated up into the jumper bay. Peeling his fingers from their death grip on the controls, he closed his eyes and just breathed. Every inch of his body hurt – his muscles were knotted, a spike jabbed deep into his brain, his spine cramped, and his stomach was threatening to rebel any second.

"Good job, Sheppard."

John hid a wince as Ronon's hand landed heavily on his shoulder. "Thanks. You guys okay?"

Teyla glanced around the cabin and nodded. "We are fine," she replied as she gathered the bags of grain she had traded for. "If this seed is as hardy as the Cameneleans promised, our harvest should be bountiful this year."

McKay sighed heavily as he poked at a few smoking crystals in the rear compartment. "Well, the jumper isn't fine. Who the hell were those guys?"

John pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to blink away the pain behind his eyes. "No idea. Let's hope they find another system to play in."

Teyla peered at him. "Are you well?"

"Fine. Nothing a shower and a hot meal won't cure," he assured her.

Ronon grinned in anticipation. "It's steak night."

"Really?" McKay dropped the crystals and snatched his gear. "This can wait."

"Do you think whoever fired upon us will attack the Cameneleans?" Teyla asked.

"Maybe. I'll have Lorne go take a look."

He keyed his comm and relayed orders to his second-in-command while the others cleared their belongings from the jumper. John stood, leaning against the console until his balance righted itself, then grabbed his pack and shuffled after his team as they tromped down the ramp. He was halfway down the ramp himself when he realized he'd forgotten his sunglasses. They were his favorite aviators, and he didn't want to lose another pair to the cleaning crew. "Finders keepers" took on a whole new meaning in Pegasus.

"I'll catch up," John called, heading back to the front cabin.

Something small and hard rocked underneath his boot. Already wobbly, he pitched forward and sprawled awkwardly over the command console, smacking his head on the controls. The blinding headache he already had exploded behind his eyes while the jumper powered up under his touch. His brain was trying to leak out his ears, and he gagged as he pushed away from the console and landed in the co-pilot's seat.

The world roared around him. He cradled his head in his hands, breathing slowly through his mouth until the nausea eased enough for him to slump back in the chair. He grimaced as he turned to search for the cause of his calamity.

"Way to go, John," he muttered, spying the jumper remote. "You know they're going to take that out of your check."

"Sheppard, where are you?"

John winced as Rodney's voice blared through his earpiece. "In the jumper."

"Why?"

"Because."

"Wow. What a stunning wit you have. You coming or what?"

"I'm coming." John climbed unsteadily to his feet and held on to the chairs until he reached the bulkhead door. Sparks flew from the crystal tray near his head. "Whoa!"

"What's wrong?"

John stumbled back to the console, placed a hand on it, and thought off. When nothing happened, he pressed the power button. "Huh. Jumper won't power down."

"Why is it on?"

"Not now, McKay," he sighed. Wondering when the hatch had shut, he pulled the release at the pilot's station. Again, nothing. He tried the primary and secondary releases in the rear, but the hatch stayed closed. "Okay, this could be a problem."

"What?"

John explained his mishap with the remote as he pushed at the controls. "Nothing's responding."

"That's because you broke it with your hard head," McKay huffed. "I'm on my way."

He was trapped in the jumper. Rodney and Ronon – and the entire Marine contingent – were never going to let him live this down. He'd survived three days of tedious negotiations and a shoot-out with a crappy spaceship carrying serious weapons only to almost kill himself by tripping over a stupid remote and somehow getting locked in. Feeling like shit – completely humiliated shit – John rested his head on the console as he waited for rescue.

The small headache he'd developed on Day Two of trade talks was now a full-blown migraine, and something else. He'd never felt this bad before, not without having a Wraith to blame. John tried to relax, but the silence and dimness of the jumper bay weren't easing his throbbing head. His stomach rolled again, and he couldn't hold in a moan as the muscle spasms in his back and legs worsened.

"Ow!" John jumped at Rodney's irritated shout. "Son of a bitch! Why didn't you tell me the shield was on?"

"Sorry, I didn't know," John murmured, slumping back down.

"Sheppard!"

"Hold it down, McKay." John swallowed the rising bile and lifted his head. "I'm right here."

Rodney glared at him from about three feet in front of the jumper's windshield. "What do you mean…" His eyes narrowed. "What the hell happened to you?"

"I told you I tripped and hit my head-"

"The entire right side of your face is black and blue." McKay's forehead creased, and his voice filled with concern. "What's wrong?"

John pulled a small mirror from his vest pocket and gaped. It wasn't a bruise. Broken capillaries ran the side of his face – spider veins of blue and deep red that began at the welt near his temple and were continuing to spread toward his jaw as he watched. "Oh, God."

"John?"

"I don't know what's wrong, Rodney. Just get me out of here."

"Right." McKay's head dropped as his fingers flew over his tablet. "How long have you, um, felt, you know…bad?"

"Nothing but a headache until this morning." John sagged in his chair and slid his shades on. "This sucks."

"Damn," Rodney swore softly. "I can't seem to connect to the jumper's systems wirelessly. Can you pull the crystals?"

"Which ones?"

"As many as it takes until the power goes off."

John pushed to his feet, wavering slightly, then staggered to the rear compartment. He stared at the crystal array that McKay had been tampering with earlier. About half of the crystals were charred; several more sparked angrily. He reached for one, snatching his hand back as a blue arc leapt at him. He tried again and managed to work it loose before another small bolt of electricity stung him. He jerked away, and everything tilted when a wave of dizziness washed over him.

"Sheppard!"

He stumbled sideways then crumpled to his hands and knees as vertigo took over. His stomach churned violently at all the motion. The muscles and tendons in his back spasmed as he heaved.

"John!"

He ripped the comm from his ear and flung it away. Tears streamed down his face as the migraine squeezed until he thought his eyes would pop out. Muscles knotted in his sides. His joints refused to function. His arms trembled with the effort to hold himself up. Breathing heavily through his mouth, he waited until the spinning stopped then forced his body to move, crawling to the cockpit and slumping to the floor, exhausted.

A frantic squawk from nearby reminded him of the rogue earpiece. Spotting it under his chair, he snagged it with a fingertip and settled it in his ear.

"-there? John! Answer me, damn it!"

"Rodney?"

"Oh, thank God. What-"

John groaned and curled on his side as his stomach began to cramp. "Please, Rodney, get me out of here."

"Are you okay?"

"No. Something's really wrong. Please."

"Can you pull the crystals?"

Sparks popped and sizzled in both arrays, arcs flying between them, the stench of fried circuits curdling his stomach. "I don't think so, not without getting electrocuted."

"I need to get to the control room so I can work on this. Can you hang on?"

John clawed his way into the chair. "Yeah."

"I got this, McKay." Ronon stepped into view. "Go."

Rodney didn't move until John smiled weakly at him then he dashed out like he had Wraith on his tail.

"Hey, Sheppard."

John leaned back with a sigh. "Hey, big guy."

"You look like shit."

"You should stop spending so much time around Marines."

Ronon snorted. "Learned that from McKay."

"Figures," John murmured, closing his eyes as he tried to will away the bone-deep ache thrumming through his body.

"Why don't you just shoot out the window and climb through?"

John cracked his lids open. "Didn't think about it. I wonder-"

"Don't waste your time," McKay interrupted, panting heavily. "We reinforced the windshield after Ronon shot the last one out. Bulletproof glass now."

"My gun doesn't use bullets," Ronon retorted.

"It's also not inside the jumper." Rodney heaved a sigh. "I'm here. Let's see…"

John tuned McKay out as he babbled about control systems and overrides. Sweat slicked his face and soaked his shirt, and he moaned as shivers racked tender muscles.

"Colonel?"

He pushed up enough to look out the front. Lorne gazed worriedly back at him. "I'll be fine, Major. Carry out your mission."

"Yes, Sir."

"And remember, cloak as soon as you exit the gate. Those guys didn't bother to ask questions before they opened fire."

Lorne nodded sharply. "Understood." He and his team loaded onto Jumper Twelve and headed out.

Ronon stepped as close to John's jumper as the shield would allow, his face drawn with concern. "Sheppard, you're bleeding."

John gingerly felt around the swollen knot on his forehead, but his fingers came away dry. "I am? Wh-" Before he could get the question out, a warm trickle oozed over his top lip. He dabbed at it, tracing it back to the left side of his nose.

"Did you hit that side of your head, too?"

"No," John whispered, panic rising in his chest as the trickle turned into a gush. He tasted blood when he swallowed and a touch to his tongue stained his fingers.

"What's happening?" McKay asked.

"Sheppard's nose is bleeding," Ronon answered. "A lot."

"Mouth, too," John said, pulling gauze from his pocket and pressing it to his nose. "This is more than a migraine, isn't it?"

Ronon nodded. "Looks like Bedrasa Blood Fever."

"Doctor Keller and I are on our way," Teyla cut in. "Ronon, are you certain?"

"Yeah. Melena's sister had it. He's got the markings on his face, both eyes are red, and he's sweating and shaking so hard he's about to fall out of his chair."

"John, do you have a rash on your chest or arms?" Teyla asked.

"Um…" He squinted at his arms then down the front of his shirt. "On my chest."

"Muscle pain? Headache? Nausea?"

"Yes, to all three."

"Are we all going to get it?" McKay asked.

"It is possible," Teyla answered, "but only if you were bitten by an insect that carries-"

"Insect?" Rodney repeated. "You were bitten by an insect, Sheppard? When?"

John sighed. "I don't know. I don't remember getting bitten by anything on Camenel."

"It is usually spread by the res'eq fly, an insect so small that you probably would not have noticed it or felt its bite," Teyla replied. "John, my people have an herbal drink that eases the symptoms of Bedrasa. It is not a cure, but it will help you feel better. I will return as quickly as I can."

"Thanks, Teyla." John wiped the blood from his face, and his jaw dropped when he checked the mirror again. The whites of his eyes were blood red. "Aw, that's gross." He grunted and clutched the console, his breath hitching as cramps raced from his calves to his thighs.

"Hang on, Sheppard." Ronon's voice was calm, but carried undertones of fear. "McKay, you need to hurry."

"I'm trying! Everything's scrambled. The jumper won't recognize the control room commands."

John moaned, hunching over as his abdominals throbbed wildly. The pain that shot through his chest wrenched a gasp from him that ended in a whimper.

Ronon paced in long, furious strides. "McKay said the shield was at thirty percent earlier. Can I shoot it down?"

"Good thought, but not quite enough fire power for that." An idea glimmered in the back of John's mind, and he groaned when it finally took shape. "I'm an idiot."

"What is it?" McKay asked.

"What happens if I shoot the crystals?"

"I'll spend a month replacing them, which I'd probably have to do anyway based on the damage you described."

"Just a minute, Colonel." Keller jogged into view. "Rodney, sparks are still flying in there. What effect will gunfire have?"

"It's dangerous," McKay admitted, "but I'm not sure we have a choice. I can't get the shield down from here, and I still have to figure out how to open the hatch."

"I'll get him out." Ronon pulled his blaster. "Don't forget to duck, Sheppard."

"Got it."

John took a steadying breath and used the chair and console to stand. He blinked the sweat from his eyes then pulled his .45, grimacing at his shaky aim. A thousand knives stabbed his brain as the gunshot reverberated through the jumper. He gritted his teeth and kept firing while sweat poured down his face and his stomach lurched. Electricity spit and crackled at him. The gun grew heavy in his hands then clicked on empty. Power surged for a second before the jumper went dark. John's muscles seized fiercely, and he cried out, crashing to the floor.

Distorted voices shouted in his ear. Glass shattered. Twitching helplessly, John fought to stay conscious until gentle hands touched him. With a relieved sigh, he surrendered to the darkness.

xxx

Fever gripped John tightly and refused to let go. He thrashed as his temperature climbed dangerously, chasing disjointed dreams and snatches of conversation. Lights had been dimmed to almost black, but still his head pounded mercilessly. He gasped as the thin sheet covering him was pulled back and cold compresses were tucked around him.

"No," he whispered, pushing weakly at the hands near his arms. "Cold."

"Shhhhh," a voice responded. "We need to get your fever down."

He cried out as his body twisted and trembled uncontrollably, his IV lines banging harshly against their poles. Strong hands massaged muscles that were hard knots of steel while a damp cloth caressed his face. The rash spread over his body like wildfire, but regular blood draws were out of the question after the first puncture bled for an hour. During his lucid moments, Teyla would help him sip the herbal drink her people made which eased the pain and nausea.

As the fever raged, John swung from shivering violently to soaking wet with sweat. By the second day, his temperature hit a peak of one hundred and five.

John jerked awake as something clattered in the distance. A small form hovered nearby, hidden in the shadows. His heart raced as his eyes darted around the darkened room. He shifted, feeling a tug in the crook of his elbow and the back of his hand.

He'd been captured, drugged. He had to get away. He rolled on his side and slipped over the edge of the bed, silently pulling the needles from his arm, not noticing the blood welling up and splashing to the floor. He was weak and unsteady so he gripped the rail of the next bed and took one step then another before cramps hit suddenly, forcing him to his knees.

"John?" a feminine voice called. "What is wrong?"

"Who are you?" he growled. "What do you want with me? Where's my team?"

The small form stepped toward him, hands reaching out. "I am Teyla. You are ill, John. Please let me help you."

"Don't touch me!" He scrambled backward, squinting at the silhouette. "I don't know you!"

She hesitated then knelt in front of him. "Yes, you do. We are very good friends. I know you are in pain. Please, do not be afraid."

John recognized the words, but they jumbled in his head, making no sense. She reached for him again, and he gasped when a flicker of light illumined green skin and a feeding maw in her hand. "Wraith!" he screamed, lunging at her.

She caught him easily. "John, no! You are delirious. It's me, Teyla."

He clawed and scratched at her, flailing wildly until he connected with her head. She let go with a grunt, and he crawled away frantically then ran into a solid mass.

"Sheppard?" a huge being with snakes on his head lifted John to his feet. "What-"

"Let me go!" John shouted. "I'll kill you if I have to."

"He is hallucinating, Ronon," the Wraith said. "Help me get him back to bed."

He kicked and fought, but the mountain refused to let him go, manhandling him to the bed and holding him down.

"Where is my team?" John yelled.

"We're right here," the mountain said calmly. "And you're bleeding all over the place."

The Wraith reappeared, bringing more creatures with her. Some were tall and willowy, others short and gnarled. Sharp things pricked his skin. Cloth wound around the throbbing places on his arm. Garbled words flitted around him, but he couldn't catch them. Hands were everywhere, poking, prodding, shifting. Darkness stalked him, leered at him as it darted between the beings hurting him.

He screamed for help until something cool hit his veins.

Then the blackness swallowed him whole.

xxx

John drifted in and out of consciousness for the next couple of days. Depleted of energy and fluids, the best he could do was blink woozily whenever anyone moved into his field of vision. Someone was always at his bedside. Teyla shared updates on Torren and life on New Athos. Woolsey ran through staff meeting notes. Ronon plotted practical jokes on the new batch of recruits due to arrive the next week. Lorne gave a report on the Cameneleans – no sign of trouble from the crappy spaceship. Rodney bitched about incompetent scientists, bad coffee, too much work, and lazy-assed colonels who couldn't stay awake through perfectly good rants.

Slowly, John's temperature returned to normal, but the migraine and body aches remained even after he drank the Athosian remedy until he was practically floating in it. The rash disappeared along with the nausea, and solid food improved both his strength and his mood.

"Hello, John." Teyla stepped in when the nurse who had been checking his vitals opened the privacy curtain. "How are you feeling today?"

"Better." He grunted at the twinge in his shoulders when he scooted upright. "How's your head?"

Teyla smiled as her fingertips brushed the fading bruise on her temple. "I am fine as I have told you more than once," she chided lightly. "Are you hungry?"

"Starved. What have you got?"

"A turkey sandwich with mustard, chips, a bowl of mina berries, and water."

His stomach growled appreciatively when Teyla rolled the tray table to his bed. "No dessert?"

She laughed as she pulled a cookie from her pocket with a flourish. "Oatmeal with extra raisins."

John grinned as he reached for his favorite cookie then pulled back with a wince when cramps rippled up his arm and across his chest. He fell back against the pillow, panting through the spasms. "How much longer is this going to last?" he asked.

Teyla set the cookie on his tray and lifted his arm, kneading the knotted muscles with expert fingers. "Once the fever dissipates, the other symptoms typically fade quickly. Perhaps another day or two."

He exhaled in relief as the cramps finally stopped. "Thanks."

Teyla patted his arm gently then popped a handful of berries in her mouth as she took a seat. "You are welcome."

She chatted while he ate, telling him about Woolsey's new assistant who had arrived that morning on the Daedalus and was already making Rodney's life hell. John chuckled at the thought, knowing he could expect a nice long visit from McKay later in the day. He winced as the pounding headache ratcheted up a notch, making him squint even in the dim light.

Teyla pulled the privacy curtain closed. "Rest, John. One of us will be here when you awaken."

He closed his eyes with a nod and pushed the tray table away. He was asleep in seconds.

xxx

"Well, look who's awake." The chair screeched across the floor as McKay dragged it in place and dropped in it with an aggrieved sigh. "That woman is going to be the death of me."

John stretched gingerly, still weak but thankfully pain free. "Which one? There are so many to choose from."

"You're hysterical," McKay said dryly. "Really. I'm laughing on the inside."

Ronon walked behind Rodney, whacking his head lightly as he passed, and perched on the next bed. "Try being nice to her."

"Who?" John asked.

Teyla rolled her eyes as she sat on the foot of John's bed. "Hannah, Mr. Woolsey's assistant."

"She's a tyrant," McKay groused.

"She is perfectly lovely," Teyla retorted. "And very good at her job."

Rodney folded his arms over his chest with a derisive snort. "You'll see," he warned John. "Just wait until she badgers you for requisition forms and personnel reviews and a thousand other bits of inane bureaucratic nonsense."

John propped his hands behind his head and grinned. "Maybe she'll have it all out of her system by the time I'm back on duty."

"Thought Keller was releasing you today," Ronon said.

"She is, but only to my quarters. I have a few days before I'll be ready to go out in the field." John waggled his brows. "She'll have taken all her frustrations out on McKay by then."

"You suck," Rodney mumbled.

John laughed at McKay's grouchy expression which only served to egg the man on.

"That woman hates me," Rodney whined, a smile twitching on his lips as Teyla giggled and Ronon chuckled. "Nothing I do is good enough. Yesterday, she had the audacity to tell me that the vacation request I turned in was filled out wrong. The same form I've been filling out for five years."

"Was she correct?" Teyla asked.

"That's beside the point."

John burrowed deeper into the bed as the easy banter of his team swirled around him. He was exhausted in a healing kind of way, and he slowly drifted to sleep to the sounds of laughter and friendship.

Written for the sheppard hc flashfic challenge. Prompt: traps/trapped. Thanks to my beta, kristen999. All faults mine.