Space Headache
"Weightlessness lost its charm three days ago, McKay. You were supposed to go get the cavalry and come right back." John pushed off the wall and did the backstroke down the hallway toward the station's command center. "You'd better not be dead. I'm going to be really pissed with you if you are."
He swiped at the door controls and floated through the command center to the environmental console. Oxygen still within normal parameters. Temperature a little cool for his taste but bearable. Next he confirmed power levels hadn't dropped any further. The tail of the comet that swiped the orbiting research facility had damaged the outlying sections causing a power relay to explode, and the resulting system overload blew the artificial gravity generator. A bulkhead slammed shut, separating John from McKay. Rodney cursed and ranted for three hours before admitting that he couldn't fix the damage without some specialized equipment from Atlantis.
Where the hell was McKay?
As far as John could tell, the bulkheads that had shut were to protect against a hull breach, but none of the sensors he could find showed a hull breach and he had been in contact with McKay as he'd made his way back to the dock and left in the jumper. Why hadn't he returned?
Three days had been plenty of time for John to explore the inner ring of the station. He'd found a few spartan living areas and a couple of labs in disrepair, but nothing that would help his current situation. He had a few PowerBars and a couple of MREs in his vest, but only one bottle of water.
He'd drunk the last of it that morning.
The headache had begun early the day before. At first, John chalked it up to not enough food or water, but what had started as a dull throb between his eyes suddenly exploded into a spike through the center of his head. What he really wanted was to lie down in a dark room to keep his brains from leaking out of his ears, but the damn weightlessness had other plans. He'd never had migraines before, and even now with his eyes threatening to pop out of his head, light and sound didn't bother him. He wasn't sure if the nausea was from the pain or the zero g environment.
John clawed his way out of the command center and back to the bulkhead that had trapped him here. He pushed to the floor, lay on his back, and propped his legs on the wall, wedging the heels of his boots underneath the door controls to hold himself down. Closing his eyes, he breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth as his stomach rolled. Tears leaked from the corner of his eyes when the headache ratcheted up another notch.
"Hurry, Rodney," John whispered.
"Sheppard?"
John flinched, yelping at the voice in his ear. He flailed and floated upward, swallowing against the rising bile.
"Sheppard, are you there?"
John pushed off the ceiling and angled for the door controls, clutching them for dear life. "McKay?"
"Oh, thank God. I thought for sure you'd be dead by now."
"I will be if you don't hurry up and get this damn door open. Where the hell have you been?"
"I've got two teams working on it." The door vibrated as something mechanical whirred and metal screeched. "We've started cutting on the door, too, just in case."
John let go of the controls and curled into a ball. "What took so long?" He turned his face away from the door when his stomach rolled again. Torched metal was not a pleasant odor.
"Gate malfunction. You know, I leave Atlantis for a few hours and the whole place falls apart. If I've told them once, I've told them a thousand times—"
"McKay!" John snapped. "Focus."
"Right. Sorry. The short version is someone, who shall soon be on the next ship back to Earth, accessed some files on an unsecured terminal and let a virus loose in the system." McKay's sigh was loud and long. "It took three days but I finally got the system clean and the gate back online. We got here as soon as we could."
"Keller let you come?"
"Um, I… Well, I didn't exactly ask. I had to come. To see." McKay cleared his throat. "I wasn't sure you'd be… That is, I thought that you might… We don't leave our people behind, you know."
John smiled. "I've heard that." He couldn't hold in a moan in as he bumped into the wall. He rested his head against it.
"Are you okay?"
"Nothing a gallon of water and a bottle of aspirin won't cure."
"Bit of a headache?"
John huffed a laugh then groaned. "Words can't describe. I've gone without food and water for longer than this and never had my head hurt this bad before." He squinted at the door – two cuts made, two to go. "Ronon and Teyla?"
"Covered in spots but recovering. Keller had to practically sedate them to keep them from coming."
John covered his eyes and took a couple of deep breaths, feeling like his head was splitting open. "How does the station look?"
"Like someone filled it full of buckshot. Holes everywhere. But most of it seems superficial. Other than the generator overload, the damage is minimal."
"No hull breaches?"
"One in the cargo bay, but it's been sealed. I'm sure there's a way to open the door from the control room, but since I'm out here…"
"Yeah, yeah." John braced his forehead and palms against the wall as the vise around his head squeezed tight. "You've got to get me out of here, Rodney."
"I'm trying, John. I'd be working on the generator myself except I can't stop my hands from shaking. I think I had a few too many stimulants." McKay's voice was ragged, hoarse. "You've got to hang on a little longer. Can you do that?"
"I can do that." John hoped he wasn't lying.
"I got an email from Jeannie today. She said that Madison is feeling much better and they're sending a fresh batch of cookies. Assuming one of Caldwell's lackeys doesn't eat them all."
"And I'm sure you're going to split them between Teyla and Ronon."
"Why would I do that?"
"Because you got them sick."
"Me?" McKay squeaked. "I'm not sick."
"So it's just a coincidence that you return from visiting your family, including your niece who has chicken pox, and two days later Teyla and Ronon come down with it?"
"Yes."
John snorted in derision. "You don't believe in coincidence, remember?"
"Oh. Yeah, um… So you think I should— Hang on, Sheppard. Are you sure, Radek?" After a long pause, McKay said, "Sheppard, Radek thinks the generator is operational. You might want to get on the floor."
John gripped a sconce and shoved himself down. "Ready."
"Radek, go."
Seconds later, the gravity kicked in. John's entire body slammed down, and sparks exploded behind his eyes. He cried out and rolled on his side, clutching his head. The next few minutes were a blur of voices and hands, and when John's vision cleared, he found himself in the rear of a jumper, headed home.
A med team whisked John to the infirmary where Keller gave him a thorough examination, fluids, pain meds, and a dark room with a soft bed. He was asleep before the door closed.
He awoke the next day to soft humming. When he stirred, thrilled to note his headache was gone, a spotted face with a warm smile and concerned eyes appeared over him.
"Hey, Teyla."
Her smile grew. "Hello. How are you feeling?"
"Much better. You?"
"Much better as well. Doctor Keller says I am no longer contagious and the," she waved at her face, "spots should fade soon."
John fumbled with the bed controls until the head rose. "McKay and Ronon?"
Teyla laughed as she handed John a cup of water. "Once the stimulants left Rodney's system, he – I believe you call it 'crashed' hard. He is still asleep. Ronon is on his way. He said he had to get something first."
John slurped the water, relishing the feel of the cold liquid roll over his tongue and coat his throat. He promised to never take it for granted again. The door opened and Ronon strolled in, covered in spots and carrying something.
"Whatcha got?" John asked.
Ronon waggled his brows and extended the package – a plastic pink container filled with cookies.
"You stole McKay's cookies?"
Ronon plopped in a chair and pried the top off. "Yep. Want one?"
"Sure." John selected the biggest one in the box.
Teyla reached in and took two. Then took two more. "For each day I spent here."
Ronon crammed one in his mouth and stuffed three others in his pockets.
"You planning on leaving any for McKay?" John asked.
Ronon shoved in another cookie. "Nope."
John peeked in the box and grinned. "In that case, we're gonna need some milk."
Unfortunately, this site won't let me include the link here so for more information on space headaches, search for it on the National Geographic website or PM me. Written for tridget. Thanks to kristen999 for the beta. All faults mine.