Sleep was something Elizabeth had learnt to go without since the expedition began. When they'd still been in Antarctica she'd been able to get an average of six hours a night, less as more discoveries were made and Daniel Jackson joined the team. When they arrived on Atlantis, sleep seemed to become an optional thing for the scientists that had come with them, and they seemed to believe that it must be the same for her. At first she tried to get a solid eight hours a night in a proper bed, but emergency after emergency made that near impossible. After that, she'd started catching power naps in her office, it cut down on travel time every time a scientist needed her to sign off on an experiment that had to begin 'immediately'. So now with a crisis going on in the city, Elizabeth was okay with the lack of sleep, constant hours of work and the biosensors going off in the small hours of every day.
The journals in front of her were old beyond compare, the pages threatening to crumble every time she touched them. Dating them had been her first job, trying to find the ones most relevant to when the villagers began disappearing. Once she'd managed that it became the long task of translating it and writing it down either on the computer or by hand. Having always preferred the feeling of pen and paper and the therapeutic feeling of scribbling out any mistakes, Elizabeth had chosen to write it down by hand. So far, she'd found very little to help them. The accounts written down showed a very similar series of events to what they were enduring now.
Pushing the book away and sitting back, Elizabeth pushed her fingers through her hair and reached for one of the oldest journals. The Language team had taken most of the books, attempting to find anything of use, only to return some of the oldest when they found they were written in a different dialect of Ancient; something they couldn't quite understand. Opening it and looking through, Elizabeth began to see the phonetic patterns, the way the words were written was different, but the language itself was almost the same. After a few minutes of reading, Elizabeth picked up her pen and began writing down what she was translating, focusing more when the Ancient lab John's team had discovered was mentioned. Losing herself in the text, Elizabeth didn't hear John and Rodney burst into her office mid argument.
"We're not going back to Gishcar, Rodney."
"Colonel, you're not listening to me. The data is corrupted; we need to go back. You do know what that means don't you, corrupted means it's useless, we need another copy to see if there's anything useful in the database."
"I know what corrupted means," John ground out as he sat down, "but we're not going back. One mission to that place was enough." Reaching over the table and plucking some the sheets of paper from Elizabeth he began to read through, ignoring Rodney's on going rant and attracting Elizabeth's attention at the same time.
Looking up, Elizabeth took the in the two men in front of her. "What can I do for you gentlemen?"
Seizing his opportunity, Rodney launched into the argument as to why he needed to go back to Gishcar, only to be interrupted by John a few minutes later. "Hey wait," he said tapping Rodney on the arm, "take a look at this." Pushing the papers at the scientist, John reached over the table for the journal.
"This looks like experiment data and results," Rodney's voice was confused as he read through the papers, before looking up at John. "Where did you get this?"
"Don't look at me," he said before pointing at Elizabeth.
Seeing the questions bubbling up on Rodney's lips Elizabeth jumped in first, "It was from this," she pointed at the book, "it seems to be an account of some type of experiment that was done, but on what I'm not sure, there's no direct translation."
"This is what I'm missing," Rodney muttered, a hint of astonishment in his voice, "this is the experiment that they ran on the compound that we saw. Where's the rest of it?" Rodney asked, not looking up from the papers he was holding.
Elizabeth looked slightly offended at that, sputtering out an indignant, "I've not translated it all yet."
"Well, why not?" Rodney asked, seeming genuinely confused at the lack of progress.
"It takes time, Rodney. This wasn't written by someone who spoken Ancient as we know it. It's an older form."
"Can't-" Rodney started, only to be cut off by John.
"How about we get out of Elizabeth's hair and let her translate that journal, that way you get the information quicker." Elizabeth stifled a smile as John grabbed Rodney by the collar and half dragged him out of the room before sitting down and reading the journal.
As he passed the control room he asked Chuck to keep everyone out of her office so she could work in peace. He had a good feeling about the book that was sat on her desk. However, it was a decision he soon came to regret, instead of doing sweeps of the base with his security teams he was stuck dealing with the members of the expedition, mostly scientists who Rodney sent every half hour to see if Elizabeth was done yet. The report of two more personal going missing only managed to damped John's already flagging spirits. Even when Carson arrived with his reports on Dr. Bonadan and Lt. Simms, John found no relief, the details of his reports on the bodies turning even his stomach as he read them. Dr. Bonadan's left arm had been dissected, and under closer examination that Carson had conducted, the bones showed tool marks. Carson had speculated at something similar to Vernier calipers. A similar experiment had been done on Lt. Simms left leg. Both bodies showed the same effects to the skin, and blood tests showed that they had been drugged with something, Carson was still working on analysing the compound he'd extracted, however, he did mention that it seemed very similar, if not identical to the compound Dr. Bonadan had discovered. This time though, it was inert, the element that had allowed it to produce energy was missing.
The sun had risen and was beginning to set again by the time Elizabeth finished the journal. Thankfully not all the pages had been used, the last third remaining blank. Standing and stretching out her protesting muscles, Elizabeth made her way across the catwalk, handing the sheaf of papers to the scientist that had been lurking around for the past hour, too afraid to go back to Rodney empty handed again. The young man smiled gratefully as he took the papers and ran down the stairs. She wandered over to John and stood next to him as she listened to him briefly explain everything that had happened while she'd been in her office.
"I need coffee," Elizabeth grumbled.
Hearing John mutter, "I can imagine," she was about to head to the commissary when the gate room was subjected to what they could only describe as black light, the space in front of the gate suddenly darkening, yet still casting shadows across the floor. There was a thump before the light disappeared and on the floor where it had been lay Tom Quill. After a second of staring in shock, both John and Elizabeth rushed down the stairs, Elizabeth already calling for a medical team. The marines' eyes were open when they reached him, his foot decimated by the experiments he'd endured. Out of instinct Elizabeth reached out to take his pulse, yelping in shock when his head rolled to the side and he reached out. Briefly looking at John, Elizabeth reached out and took the marines' hand feeling as his fingers squeezed slightly and his lips began to move. Bending her head over his mouth she tried to make out his whispers, only just able to understand his words. After a moment his hand went slack in hers and when she leant back, Elizabeth could see his lips had stopped moving.
"Is he?" she asked John, watching as he took the man's pulse.
"He's alive," John said in vague amazement, "but I don't know how long for." Rocking back on his heels he made way for Carson and his team to get through, watching as Elizabeth did the same, both of them following the team to the infirmary.
"What did he say to you?" John asked as they stood, waiting for Carson.
"He said 'whispers. Whispers at night'. I don't really understand what he wanted to tell me."
By the time Carson came and spoke to the two of them Elizabeth was almost asleep, her head resting against the wall, only opening her eyes fully when she stood up to talk to the doctor.
"He's alive," Carson started, "but he's on a ventilator. By the time we got him here, he'd stopped breathing and was in cardiac arrest."
"Will he live?" John asked, receiving his answer when Carson shook his head.
"His kidneys have begun to fail. The substance we found in the others is in his blood as well. It seems to be acting as some kind of paralytic. We've put him on dialysis to try and filter it out but it doesn't seem to be working. Once his kidneys fail, the rest of his organs won't be far behind. Sgt Quill is in coma and I don't think he's going to wake up. For now though, there's nothing we can do but wait," he said, watching as they looked down, disappointed that they couldn't do more. "You need to sleep," Carson added, seeing Elizabeth's shoulders slump in exhaustion, "You too Colonel Sheppard."
"I'm alright for a few more hours," John said.
"Aye, you might be for a few hours but then you'll crash. No, you both need to sleep, doctor's orders," he finished, internally grinning when he saw defeat in Elizabeth's eyes before shooing them both out of the infirmary.
"I'll stay on watch until after the 2 am 'window'," John said, referring to the time the disappearances had taken place.
"Thank you, John," Elizabeth said before she turned down a different corridor to her quarters, collapsing onto her bed fully dressed, only just awake enough to pull her boots off.
