RATING: PG-13 for Language
SEASON: Sometime during the 5th Season, before "The Shrine"
DISCLAIMERS: The characters, setting, etc, all belong to Sony, MGM, Gecko, the Sci-Fi Channel... not me.  I own nothing.  
SUMMARY:  The team goes in search of an Ancient Outpost on a planet where the buffalo roam
FEEDBACK: Yes please! comments and suggestions are greatly appreciated.
DATE:  posted September 11, 2007, updated October 31, 2008

Where the Buffalo Roam
By NotTasha... buffaloed by this story

PART 1: HOME ON THE RANGE

They stepped through the event horizon, alert for trouble.  Sheppard scanned the immediate area as Ronon and Teyla twisted about, looking for where danger might be lurking.

The search ended rather quickly.

McKay stood beside Sheppard, slowly letting his P90 drop.  “Huh,” the scientist said softly as the Gate closed behind them.

Ronon sucked his teeth a moment, and also let his weapon fall to his side.  “Yeah,” he grunted.

Teyla tilted her head toward Sheppard who shrugged.  

“So…” he said as he examined their surroundings.  “Guess we don’t have to worry too much about an ambush.”

They were in scrub land – cliffs in distance, crumbly earth beneath their feet.  Sour-looking grass dotted ground that had been carved long ago by a river.  Now, only a slip of a stream cut through the area.  It was a bleak and bare place.

The sky was a milky color that diffused the sunlight, making them squint.  The air held an unpleasant chill.  John sighed, pulling at the zipper of his jacket.  “Doesn’t look like there’s anything here to see.”

Rodney sighed as he clipped his P90 to his vest and brought out his tablet.  He worked the device as he spoke, “There’s supposed to be some sort of outpost here.  The database didn’t offer much.  Didn’t you say people lived here?” he glanced to Teyla.

“Yes,” she responded.  “The Madaket vacated the planet a few years ago.  They lived near this gate.”

“If you can call it living,” McKay muttered as he prodded his computer.  “I mean, what the hell could you do here?  There’s nothing.”

“They were ranchers,” Teyla responded.  “They raised cattle.”

“Cows?” Sheppard inquired.

Teyla furrowed her brow, trying to come up with an animal Sheppard and McKay would understand.  She looked toward Ronon.  “Bigger,” she tried.

“Buffalo,” Dex threw in.

“Asian, African or North American?” McKay inquired as he kept his attention on the computer.

Ronon grimaced, obviously not ready for an inquisition. “Bill,” he ground out.

“What?” McKay lifted his gaze to give Ronon an incredulous look.

Ronon looked toward Teyla for help, but she just smiled at him.

“What are you talking about?” McKay persisted, and Sheppard pretended to examine the horizon.  “They’re billed?  Like some sort of duckbilled plati-buffi-pus?”

“That’s seriously messed up,” John commented with a smirk.

“And they were bigger than cows?” McKay went on.  “What sort of freaks were these?”

Sheppard glanced at Ronon, enjoying the irritation that seemed to grow on the big man with each question from McKay.

With a groan, Ronon clarified, “Lt. Cisco has a picture of one on her wall.  A Buffalo Bill.”

“Hickok?” McKay went on, his interjection sounding a little like a hiccup.

When Ronon growled, Sheppard decided to help.  It would do none of them any good if any of them ended up in the infirmary.   “Football,” he informed, then added, “American football.  None of that cheesy Soccer football.”

“I know!” McKay shot back.  “Just because I’m…”  He thought better of completing the sentence and went back to the computer, poking at it petulantly.  “I happen to remember your favorite pastime outside of golf and flirting with every woman you find.”

“Speaking of which…” Sheppard raised an eyebrow.  “What were you doing in Lt. Cisco’s room, Ronon?”

Ronon’s foul mood seemed to change at that question and he grinned toothily at Sheppard.  “She was showing me her Bills memorabilia.”

The colonel chuckled.  Teyla rolled her eyes.

Oblivious, McKay went on, “And if they want to be correct, they should call that mascot a bison.  There are no native buffalos in the Americas.  The term ‘buffalo’ technically refers to either African, or Asian Water Buffalo.  Calling the American Bison a ‘buffalo’ is just laziness.”

With a look of irritation, Sheppard cuffed the man.  Rodney let out a yelp of surprise, and stumbled to get out of reach.  Ronon grinned as McKay ducked again, probably expecting the same from him. “I’m just sayin’,” McKay muttered, scrubbing at his head.  “It’s not a buffalo.”

Sheppard stepped out of the way, careful of what must have been a pile of dried manure from the creature in question.  “Must have been a damn big buffalo,” Sheppard stated.

“They were known to be of impressive size,” Teyla confirmed.

“And delicious,” Ronon added.

Sheppard frowned at the cow pie, not happy about having to cross a mined field.  “Yeah, well, apparently some of them are still around.  Step carefully.”  He lifted his head and asked, “Which way do we go?”

For a moment they were quiet as he surveyed the land with Ronon and Teyla.  McKay’s head was bowed over his computer as he poked it, frowning.

Finally, Ronon declared, “There’s a building over there.”  He pointed.

Sheppard squinted where Ronon had indicated.  Yes, there was a shape alongside the narrow river.  He nodded.  “Figure we could start off with that.”

“Fine,” McKay muttered. “Let’s go, because I’m not coming up with anything here.”  He secured the computer to his pack and they started moving toward the little building.

As they moved, they passed the remains of a building, little more than a foundation left in the dirt.  Scrubby half-dead grass dotted the land, separated by plops of dried dung.

The bleakness of the place left an empty feeling in Sheppard’s chest.  He angled the group closer to the little river so that it might offer them change of scenery, but the river wended its way dully, hardly making a sound.  It was not a pleasant place.

Sheppard watched the water for a while as they moved upstream, and he frowned.  “So, what happened to the ranchers?” he asked.

“The Madaket were well known for the quality of the meat they raised,” Teyla explained.  “They were quite adept at raising squams.”  She tipped her head toward Rodney and clarified, “Bison.”

“I’ve had a few steaks over the years,” Ronon said, almost a boast.  “Mostly just when I had some money.  Once I even got the really good stuff – the shimmo quality.”  He frowned as he gazed out at the ruined land again.  “Too bad you can’t get it anymore.”

“What happened to them?” Sheppard asked again as he kept the group moving.

Teyla explained, “The Madaket became rich and increased the herds of squams until there were too many to be supported.”

“Overgrazing,” McKay muttered, kicking at the spoiled earth, and groaned as he knocked into an old clod of manure.  It went to dust.

“I believe they tried several different chemical treatments to bring back the ‘good grass’,” Teyla continued.  “But it had the opposite effect.  The grass died.  The land has not yet recovered.”

“What?” McKay spoke up.  “So, it wasn’t their fault for putting too many animals on the land?  It has to be the fault of science?  And, just because they used a ‘chemical’ treatment, it’s inherently bad?  I don’t understand why people say that all the time.”  He moved his hands in irritation as he walked.  “For the most part, chemicals make our lives so much better.   Think of where we’d be without them!  Now, I do admit that…”

Teyla interrupted, “And with the lack of good food, the squams grew lean, and then a disease ran through the herds.”

“So it wasn’t the Wraith or the Replicators that sent people packing?” Sheppard asked.

Teyla shook her head.  “The Madaket left on their own accord.  Their livelihood devastated, they had no choice.”  She glanced around saying, “And apparently they took everything with them.”

“Well, there’s still a building up there,” Sheppard said, nodding to their destination.

“Two buildings,” Ronon said.  “There’s another behind it.”

“Okay, two buildings,” Sheppard allowed. “Maybe one of them is the outpost we were looking for.”

Teyla nodded as she kept her eyes ahead. “The buildings do not appear to be of Ancient design.”  She glanced to McKay.

Rodney poked at the data tablet, frowning when it blatted at him.  “No power signature,” he muttered. “No life signs either.  You’re probably right.  They look pretty rustic.  I don’t think this is what we’re looking for.” With a sigh, he returned the tablet to his pack.

Sheppard shrugged.  “Well, there’s nothing else in sight, so we might as well check them out.”

“Seems like a long walk,” McKay grumbled.

“Buck up,” Sheppard responded.  “Your feet work, don’t they?”

“Not as well as his mouth,” Ronon added.

McKay grumbled, and they kept their pace toward the buildings, and the lake that was revealed just beyond.

As they drew closer, the buildings came into focus.  “The closer one must be a powerhouse or a mill or something,” Rodney pointed out.  “It’s situated to make use of the river.”

“And that would be a greenhouse,” Teyla stated, indicating the next building.  “Where do you want to start?”

“Does this have to take all day?” McKay asked.  “I have things to do and I’d rather be investigating an outpost,” he whined.

“If you find the outpost, we’ll check it out,” John responded.  “You found it yet?”

Rodney gave him a disgusted look and dropped his head.  “Not yet,” he muttered.

“Fine, so let’s see what we have here,” John returned.

“Okay, fine.  Just… keep me away from the plants,” Rodney countered.  “I have this serious aversion to greenhouses ever since…”

“Gotcha,” Sheppard returned.

“And there’s always the possibility that I’ll have some sort of allergic reaction to pollen and…every plant I’ve ever owned has died.  I water them, I fertilize them, I try to talk to them, but what can you say to a plant?  A cat will at least respond to you.  I just don’t have the knack to…”  McKay stopped suddenly and looked up at the others.  “I have issues,” he admitted.

“I know,” Sheppard stated as he turned to Teyla and Ronon.  “I guess that means you two get the death house of plants.  Mr. Green Thumb and I will check out the mill.”

So they separated, each group moving toward their selected buildings.

PART 2:  GLASS HOUSES

The second building had glass windows that covered most of the structure -- a greenhouse, set beside the lake to take advantage of the water.

Ronon frowned as they reached it, noting a change in the manure that dotted the ground.  “Fresh,” he stated as he carefully stepped over it.

Teyla nodded.  “So it would appear,” she commented.  “Since the squams roamed wild, it must not have been worth the trouble to collect the remaining animals and take them along when the Madaket departed.”

Ronon smiled.  “So, I might still have a chance to get a steak or two,” he stated as he kicked at a bit of grass.  “Would make this mission worthwhile.”

“True,” Teyla admitted.  “Otherwise we’d have little to show for our time.”  Standing in front of Woolsey and making excuses as to why nothing was found – well, that was just uncomfortable for everyone.  “Perhaps we can find something within the greenhouse,” she said hopefully.

“Doubt it,” Ronon responded sourly.  “Gotta say, I don’t like plants any more than McKay.”

Smiling softly, Teyla asked, “And what have plants done to you?”

“Just don’t care for them,” Ronon answered tersely.

“Broccoli in particular,” Teyla said, a playful lilt to her voice.  “I have seen how you regard it in the mess hall.”

“It’s no good,” Ronon replied.  “Don’t know why anyone bothers with it.”

“There are some who enjoy it,” Teyla continued, and they were silent for a moment as they turned to the building.  "You must admit, it’s impressive that the windows have remained intact.”

“No kids around to smash them out,” Ronon responded.  “I know I would have.”

“I have no doubts,” Teyla responded.

Ronon cocked his head at her.  “And you never did anything ‘bad’ when you were a kid?”

Teyla smiled.  “I was known to be rather… wild in my childhood.”

“I can see it.”  They slowly made their way around the greenhouse, searching for an easy entrance. “I was the terror of my town," Ronon told her.  "Old ladies used to shake their fists at me when I walked past.  Used to steal fruit from the vendors.  Teased the girls.”  He paused, and glanced at her and added, “But only the pretty girls.”

Teyla shook her head and told him, “And I used to tease the boys, but only the particularly troublesome and unpleasant boys because they deserved it the most.”  She touched the side of the building.  “It’s very green inside.  Something is still growing.”

“We’re not the only ones to notice.”  Ronon stepped carefully to avoid another fresh pile of manure.  “Figure the squams have been standing around wanting whatever’s in there.  Too dumb to figure out they can just bash down the windows."

“There is little out here for them,” Teyla commented, gesturing toward the dry land.  “I suppose this was like a dream to them.  It is somewhat sad, don’t you agree?”

“Sad for who?” Ronon responded.  “I’m sure the plants are happy.”  He stopped when they reached a door.  “Figure we should check it out?”

Teyla nodded, and he tried the handle.

The door creaked noisily and they were instantly hit by a wave of hot, humid air, welcome after the cool temperatures around them.  The door didn’t fully open.  Ronon had to put his shoulder into it to force it all the way.

Quickly, they stepped within and drew the door shut behind them to seal in the warmth.

An earthy odor surrounded them.  The space was completely overgrown.  Long tables ran the length of the room, but the furniture could hardly be seen under the green growth.  Vines twisted their way skyward, threading up the building supports, twining around the legs of tables, knotting around every structure in the room, heaping up the tables and clotting the floor in green, green, green.

There was no place to step.  The greenery covered everything in a living, uneven mantle.  It had hardly allowed them entrance, and now that they were inside the greenhouse, there was nowhere they could go.  So they stood, motionless, staring into the twisted pile of vines.

Somewhere beneath it all, they could hear the gentle trickle of water running through the building, feeding the growth.

“So,” Ronon said, shuffling uncomfortably on the vines.  “See anything?”

Teyla sighed, and then said, thoughtfully, “It is unusual that Madaket chose these plants.  I don’t think they are native to this planet.  They do not seem familiar.”

Ronon shrugged.  “Probably brought them in because the regular grass was dying.  Had to try something new.”  He grasped one of the vines that had climbed the wall beside him.  “Seems to be pretty strong stuff.”  He gave it a yank.  It snapped about halfway up the high wall, and he pulled it away.  “Well, not so strong,” he said and grinned at Teyla.

She shook her head.  “It is impossible to find anything here.  Let’s return to the others.  Perhaps there is something to see in the other building.”

“Yeah,” Ronon agreed, swiping at his forehead. “It’s getting hot in here. Stinks, too.  I don’t like it,” Ronon told her.

Teyla tried to find the doorknob, but could hardly see it.  Reaching into the green growth, she felt her way through the mess to the handle as Ronon kicked at the vines, trying to clear the path for the door to open.

The plants seemed to close on her wrist.  She pulled her arm back and let out a quick breath as the vine tightened.  She yanked and it held tight, restraining her.

There was a sudden shuffle, and Ronon let out a shout.

“Ronon!” Teyla shouted as his legs were pulled out from under him and he went down into a sea of green.

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“Damn,” Sheppard had said as they drew close to the building.

“What?” McKay returned, looking alert, and reaching for his weapon.

“Dam,” Sheppard repeated, pointing.  “It’s a dam.” Next to the building was a manmade barrier that held back the lake, allowing only the thin line of the river to flow over it.

Rodney narrowed his eyes then glared at Sheppard.  “Oh, har har har.  That was funny,” he said sarcastically.

“I thought so,” Sheppard said with a smile.

Rodney regarded the structure and said, "I think it's just for creating a lake.  Not for hydroelectric power or anything.  I wonder why they wanted a lake."

"To increase property values?" Sheppard tried.  He paused and held out his hands as if to measure the land.  "Yeah, I could use a bit of lakefront property.  Put up a dock.  Have a couple of jet skis, a fishing boat, maybe a little Sunfish for sailing."

"What about an Amphicar or a Gibbs Aquada?" Rodney asked as he kept up.

Sheppard made a face.  "You're talking in a funny language, Rodney.  What is that?  French?"

"Amphibious cars!"  McKay rejoined.  "You know, cars that can drive right into the water..." he gestured, as if driving his hand into the lakewater.  "... and they become boats.  They just putter around on water."

"Totally impractical," Sheppard grumbled.

"No," McKay countered.  "Totally practical. It's a car... and a boat.  It would be perfect."

"I hear that Amphicars weren't very good cars... or boats."

"Well, yeah.  Still, it would be kinda cool to have one."

To that, Sheppard had to nod.  "Yeah, it would," he agreed.  And they kept moving.

They reached the building and Sheppard peered in the window at the first door, wiping at the grime with his sleeve.  Within, he could see pipes, tubes and gauges of some sort.  “What do you think?” he asked over his shoulder.

McKay shoved his way in and took a moment to check it out.  “Huh,” he said, rubbing his hand at the dirt.  “Can’t see much.  We should…you know…check it out,” and he indicated the door handle.

Sheppard tried it.  The knob didn’t move.

“It’s not opening?” McKay grumbled.

“Yeah, Señor Obvious.  I think it’s locked,” Sheppard responded.

“So… do we break out a window?” McKay asked.

“Looks like there’s daylight coming in below.  Might be another door.  Let’s keep moving.”

And so they circled around, and came down a slope, traveling down a level to reach the end of the building.

“Hey look,” Rodney called, happily.  “The door’s open down here.  Saved us from having to break anything.  Lucky, huh?”

“Yeah, we get all the luck,” Sheppard replied as they approached the opening.  Double doors were cracked open wide enough for a man to move through.

He could look up and see the light from the upper level windows.  The lower room was about 8 feet high and opened to the room above.  He surveyed the area, finding nothing of note.  The surfaces seemed rather featureless.

He entered tentatively, with Rodney right behind him, and they moved into the small structure, letting their eyes adjust to the dimness.

“I don’t think this was a mill,” Sheppard said thoughtfully, “or a power house.”

“Looks that way,” Rodney said with a sigh.  “What was this used for?  It looks like we’re in some sort of bin or holding area.”  He snapped his fingers.  “If it’s a mill, maybe this is where they held the grain to be processed.”  He slung his pack from his back to rifle through the pockets.

“I don’t know,” Sheppard replied as he looked about.  “Teyla didn’t mention that they grew grain here.”

“Maybe she didn’t think it was important,” Rodney said, not sounding convinced.   “Could have been feed for the animals or something.”  He pulled out a scanner and checked the area.  “There's nothing here,” he grumbled.  “We should hurry and check upstairs so we get looking for the Ancient outpost, don’t you think?”

Sheppard raised an eyebrow at him.  "In a hurry?"

"You should be the one to talk," McKay grumbled.  "You're usually the one ready to charge into anything.  I just don't want to get stuck on this planet for any length of time.  What could possibly be of interest here?  It's outside my scope, you know?"

"I thought everything was in your scope," Sheppard told him as he continued to walk around the strange lower room.

To that, McKay just shrugged and said, "More or less."

With a sigh, Sheppard looked up.  Rodney was right.  If they were to find anything here, they'd need to go up.  He'd need a boost from McKay to access the upper space.  He hoped for a better option, and then grinned when he spotted something in the shadows.  “Ladder,” he declared triumphantly.  Steps were built into the far wall – narrow and almost hidden in the corner.

“Great,” McKay responded.  “Climb on up and see if you find anything.”

"How did I get nominated?" Sheppard asked.

"You're the 'go to guy'," McKay said, grinning.  "You're the guy who gets things done.  Mr. I can do anything.  So, chop-chop!  Let's get climbing!"  And he made a little movement with his hands as if climbing.

“Yeah,” Sheppard replied returning his gaze to the ladder.  “I’ll get right on that.”

“Maybe I’ll head out and start looking for something worthwhile,” McKay stated hopefully.

“Nope,” Sheppard told him as he climbed.  “You’re stuck here, same as me.”  He quickly climbed the ladder, which ended just below the top of the lower room.  He stepped on the rung, to make the final big step into the upper room, and nearly lost his balance when the rung moved.

Sheppard ducked in alarm as something loomed over them – something big snapped like a trap and a huge lid slammed down onto the lower room, smashing his ankle as he scrambled to get fully out of the lower room and out of the way.

Letting out a howl of pain, Sheppard crumbled to his knees, and McKay shouted his name.

PART 3:  SUCKING AND SINKING 

Teyla yanked with all her might, trying to pull her hand free of the tightening cord, but the plant was strong and would not release her.

Anxiously, she called, “Ronon!”  Near her feet, green growth undulated, a struggling heap of vines with Ronon beneath.  She caught glimpses of him as the leaves flowed over – an arm, a leg, teeth, a mop of hair, bared teeth, a furious eye.

She grasped the vines that encapsulated Ronon with her one free hand, and she pulled, trying to free the Satedan even as the vines snaked around her legs.

She felt them tightening, grasping, pulling, but she would not give up.  She would not allow the horrible plant to take them both.

Then a flash of metal caught her eye, a knife slicing.  An angry roar echoed as, from beneath the pile of vines, Ronon fought, trying to cut his way free.  Vines continued to contract around him.

Teyla gasped as ivy wrapped around her waist and pulled.  It seemed to be purposefully separating them, yanking at her, restraining. She kept trying to free herself, but her free arm was finally captured.  She dug in her heels, but it wasn't enough.  She was tugged away.  She stumbled as the plant knotted at her feet, as she was forced backward, and she tottered over more vines.

Unable to free herself, she tried to reach for her radio, to activate it and call to the others, but the plant would not allow her movement.  It dragged her further from her teammate.  It bit into her skin, cinching tighter by the moment.  She drew her breath in gasps as her chest was constricted.

“Ronon!” she called again.  “Ronon!”  The majority of the vines seemed focused on the Satedan, determined to keep him down, to envelop him and pull him to pieces.   The plant pulled her away from the doorway and closer to the center of the room. “Ronon!”

The knife still flashed as the vines swarmed over him like snakes.  “M’busy!” a voice shouted from beneath the mobbing growth.

“Do not let it wrap around your neck!” she shouted.

“Yeah,” Ronon barked from beneath the heap.  “I figured that out!”

“I will get free and assist you,” Teyla promised.  Upright still, she had a better chance than Ronon, and she tugged harder, determined to free them both from this horror.  If she could reach her weapon, she could shoot the vines to pieces.  She would succeed.  She would get loose and help Ronon, and…

She heard a sound, a strange wet sucking gasp and she turned her head.  A thick stalk had risen up. She gasped in disbelief.  It was huge, like a giant pillar set in the middle of the room.  A cavernous slash ran through the center and it opened and closed greedily as the whole thing seemed to pulse.  Within the gash, it dripped with foul liquids.

It looked obscene.

“Ronon!” she shouted again.  “We have more to worry about!”

From beneath the slithering ball of vines, Ronon let out a growl.

Teyla fought all the harder the maw gaped, and the vines dragged her nearer.

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“Damn it! Damn it!  Damn it!’ Sheppard growled out as he struggled to free his foot.  The cage-like grid pressed heavily on his ankle, threatening to pull him down on top of it.  He steadied himself on the floor of the upper room while McKay moved in a flurry in the room beneath.

Rodney shouted excitedly. “The door shut!”

“I know!  It’s on my goddamn foot!” Sheppard gritted out.  His leg was stuck between the wall and the last step, smashed by the weight of the grill.  He reached down, grasping hold of the heavy lid and tried to lift it.  The thing wouldn’t give.  “Get me the hell out of here!”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll try.  Okay.”

McKay was on the ladder, trying to push up on the cage-lid, as Sheppard tried his radio.  “Ronon? Teyla?” he called, a false calm in his tone.  “We got trouble.  Respond.  Ronon?  Teyla? Come on… come on…”  He kept pulling up on the grill as Rodney pushed from underneath.

“They respond?” Rodney asked.

“Come on, come on,” Sheppard growled as he tried to lift the grate.  The fucking thing must have weighed a ton.  “COME ON!”

“I take it that’s a ‘no’,” Rodney said dourly.  He changed his position, giving up on pushing with his hands.  Instead, he moved up a step and braced himself fully against the ladder to put his shoulder into the lid.  “I know I’m going to end up wrenching my back for doing this,” Rodney sighed.

“Just push!” John ordered, pulling up with both hands, hoping that Ronon and Teyla had heard.  Why hadn’t they responded?  “Push!  You’re not helping!”

“I am!  Do you think I’m having a tea party down here?”

“Well, you’re definitely not lifting the damn thing.  Come on, put your back into it!”

“What do you think… ah hell.  I’m ending up at the chiropractor,” Rodney muttered, as he shoved harder.   “And I don’t even believe in them – witch doctors of the worst form – snake oil salesmen.  They have a racket going with all those suckers coming in for weekly adjustments.  Do they think we’re cars or something?  Not that you have a car adjusted weekly, but…”

“Rodney,” Sheppard growled as his foot throbbed under the weight of the lid. God, it was being smashed.  “Get this thing off me!”

“I’m trying!  I can feel it moving up a bit!”

“I need more than a ‘bit’, McKay!” Sheppard snapped.

“This isn’t easy, you know. It's heavy!  Okay.  One more time.  Here we go,” and Rodney groaned, shoving up with all the force he could muster.

And the lid lifted the inches needed.  Gripping the grate with one hand, John used the other to maneuver his foot, letting out a shout as the pain surged through the extremity with its release.

The lid slammed down as Rodney cried, “Sorry!  Sorry!  I’m just trying to help.  I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s fine… fine…” Sheppard told him, falling onto his back.  “I’m free.  You did good, Rodney.”  God, it hurt.  The whole foot throbbed.  Something was undoubtedly broken.  Yeah, he wasn’t going to be walking home on that.  He closed his eyes, and just breathed deeply.

“You okay?” Rodney asked, his voice sounding hollow.

“Been better," Sheppard said tersely through his teeth.

"Bet that hurt."

"You'd win that bet."  

"Is it really bad?  I mean, your foot didn't get cut off or anything, did it?  I don't see it here, but you can rest assured that if it DID fall down here I'd be right there to pick it up and put it on ice... if I had ice.  I wonder if the lake water is cold."

"Rodney!" Sheppard snapped.  

"Sorry.  I was babbling wasn't I?  Bad habit, I know.  But... how's the foot?"

Sheppard grimaced, not wanting to think about it.  Hurt like a son of a bitch.

He realized that he had to assess the damage.  He sat up on his elbows and moaned when he saw blood on his pant leg.  The boot was torn.  His foot seemed to realize he was looking at it, and decided to bombard him with an extra surge of agony.  Damn it.  Damn it.  It hurt.  It hurt like hell.  So damn stupid.

Every beat of his heart sent a shock of pain through his leg.  He lowered himself to the floor again and flung an arm over his eyes as he tried to get a handle on the pain.

Now what were they doing to do?

"You okay up there?" McKay asked.  "Because, you haven't said anything.  You can be pretty tight lipped, so I don't know if that means anything.    I wouldn't want to think you're bleeding out because I really don't know when is the right time to apply a tourniquet.  Why would they teach a person how to do it in first aid and then forbid you to ever follow the procedure?  It's asinine!"

"Think you can get up here?” Sheppard asked.  “You’re going to have to do something about the foot."

"You're bleeding?"

"Yeah."

"Oh God," Rodney responded, his voice tense.  "Okay, okay, I guess I can use my belt for the tourniquet.  Pressure points!"  He could hear the scientist shuffling about, probably pulling off his pack in an attempt to get at his belt.

"It's not that bad, McKay!" Sheppard replied quickly.  "There's not that much blood.  Just get up here, and check it out.  Then, you're going to have to find the others.  I don’t know why they’re not responding.”

“How do you expect me to get up there?”

“Go around,” Sheppard said, irritated.

“Didn’t you hear what I said earlier?  The doors shut.”

“I know!” Sheppard grumbled.  “It fell on my foot!  Go through the doors that we came in through.”

McKay grumbled, and Sheppard could hear him pacing about.  “The doors SHUT!” he shouted.

“Oh,” Sheppard replied and lowered his arm to his side.  The entrance doors must have been wired into the lid somehow.  Damn.

Beneath him, Rodney was calling for Ronon and Teyla on the radio, without any apparently response.  Then there was a sound that John didn’t remember hearing before.  What the hell was that?  Static?

Rodney said a quiet, “Oh no.”

Sheppard swallowed and told him, “Don’t worry about it.  They’ll come when they figure out they haven’t heard from us.”  Either that, or Atlantis would send out a search party – eventually.

“No… no, no, no!” McKay’s voice rose as the rushing increased.  “No… no…” the voice dipped, becoming a plea, nearly a sob.  He was moving quickly, his feet making a strange splashing sound.

Splashing?

“Rodney?” Sheppard called as he sat up.

“Not good.  This is so not good!” Rodney uttered tightly.

Water – the sound of water.  "Rodney?" with a groan, Sheppard flipped himself onto his stomach and carefully maneuvered to the edge of the lower room.  Below the grate, he could see the top of Rodney’s head as the scientist moved about.  Water sluiced in from the pipes, pouring into the room.  

A lot of water.

Already, it was up over McKay’s ankles.  Crap!

The lower room was darker with the outside doors sealed, and Rodney was rapidly moving along one wall, hands feeling about, searching for any sort of panel.  He was muttering, his words unintelligible, his voice quick and panicked as he tried to find something that would aid him.

Sheppard reached down.  One arm grasped onto the heavy cage-like lid and he had a horrible sinking, sunken feeling as the water continued to pour into the room.

PART 4:  THE DROWNING POOL

Ronon fought.  The vines held him down.  They seemed almost intelligent in their movements, purposefully tugging at his wrists, restraining his arms and holding tight to his legs.

They were strong.

But Ronon was strong -- and he had knives. 

He gained a little with each slice, slashing until he had the space to direct the blades back toward himself and cut at the vines that attempted to restrain him. He twisted, getting his knees beneath him, and freed his sword.

It was then that he saw Teyla – and the repugnant mouth.

“Ronon!” she shouted as it pulled her, as her legs fought for balance in the tangle of vines.  Then she turned toward the pulsing opening.  She tried to dig in, but could do nothing as it forced her onward.

Ronon roared as he fought to stand upright, the sword flying.  It slashed mercilessly at the vines, slicing them from stalks, paring the long vines, pruning most horribly.

Ivy kept reaching for him – almost like hands.  “Teyla!” he shouted as it continued to pull at her.  He released another knife free to heft it at the thing.

Her feet were off the ground.  The thing was lifting her, wrapping itself around her body like ropes.

He didn’t know where to aim.  The moist, smacking mouth opened wide and he flung the knife into the soft opening and it shivered.

Then, with one wretched movement, it propelled her the final distance and popped her into the wet and vulgar mouth-like opening.  The whole thing contracted, and started to squeeze its opening shut from the bottom up.

Ronon roared with rage as he flung another knife, hitting the writhing stalk just above the still open ‘mouth’.

Still visible within the horrid plant, Teyla fought.  Her hands were freed from the vines, but the opening was closing, tightening around her, squeezing her body until she could not move.  Only her head was visible as she struggled.

Ronon forced himself toward her, snapping vines that they went off like gunshots.  Teyla disappeared from sight as the plant continued its fight to contain him.

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“Push on it!” Sheppard barked.  “Come on!”

“I am!”  Sheppard trying to lift the lid as McKay pressed his back against it. “It’s not moving,” Rodney cried.

Sheppard strained, pulling hard on the grate as the water poured in below.  “Damn it, McKay.  You’re not even trying!”

“It’s not moving.  Before, it did.  I could lift it a little bit.  It’s locked down now,” McKay whined.  “Oh God!  Oh God, it’s not moving at all!”  He stopped shoving and looked up at Sheppard through the grate.  “I’m trapped!”

“Calm down!” Sheppard insisted as he struggled, still trying to get the lid to move, but it remained in place – locked down.  Beneath him, Rodney was on the ladder, with the water already reaching him.  Damn it!

“Is there a lever or something up there?  There must be!  Find it!” McKay insisted.  “Get me out!”

Sheppard sat back, and studied the walls, looking for anything that looked like a re-set switch.  With a groan, he forced himself upward, trying to ignore the pain that surged through his foot.  

“Hurry!” McKay called.  “It’s getting higher!  I don’t think… I don’t think it’s going to stop when it reaches the top.  I think it’s going to keep filling this whole tank.  There's a good foot or so of room beyond this lid!”

“I know!” Sheppard ground out as he hobbled to the wall, not wanting to think about the condition of his foot.  He groped at the gauges and toggles.  "Which one?" he shouted over his shoulder.

"How the hell should I know?" Rodney shot back, and then, "Maybe something big... and red?"

Sheppard frowned.  "Nothing like that."

"Green then!  Green is good for a safety switch!"

"No colors, McKay!"

"A big lever?  Some sort of switch, lever, toggle, maybe a wheel? A wheel valve?"

Sheppard tried a lever, and then another, switching them one way and then another as nothing happened.

"Are you doing anything?" Rodney asked, his voice reedy.

"I'm trying anything I can find!" Sheppard responded as he moved another.  He frowned as he listened, wondering if there should be some sound accompanying the change in lever position.  There wasn't even a 'click'.  "Nothing's working.  They don't seem to be hooked up to anything."

“Sheppard!” McKay shouted from behind him.  “Do something!”

“Hang in there, Rodney.”  Sheppard kept trying, stumbling and swearing as his foot gave him grief.  Another step, and his leg nearly gave way beneath him.  He cursed loudly.

“Sheppard?” McKay called again.  “It’s getting really high.”

“Just… don’t panic,” Sheppard responded, his hands flitting across various controls that he didn’t understand.

“Don’t panic?  I think this is a very good reason for panic!  I’ve got an excellent reason for a full on panic attack right now!”

“Rodney!  Just… just… try…” Sheppard ordered.  “I’ll fix it.  I swear to you, I’ll get you out.”

“It’s just that… oh God…”  More splashing.  “It’s up to my waist now and it's getting higher.  Oh God… oh God this sucks.”

There was no place for Rodney to go inside that tank –certainly the room was a water tank.  The water would keep rising to that grate – beyond it – and Rodney had nowhere to go.

What the hell was that thing for?  The room seemed set up for drowning people.  What sort of freaked-out mind thought up crap like this?  Sheppard worked, frantic to find something that would deactivate the room, but all his button pushing and toggle punching led to nothing.  The wall of controls had to deactivated.  He slammed a fist against it.

“Sheppard? What are you doing up there?  Because… I can’t see from down here and it doesn't sound like you're...”  There was some splashing and Rodney coughed.  "God, this sucks!"

“Just hold on,” Sheppard shouted gave up on finding a switch.  “That’s all I’m asking, Rodney.”  He wasn’t going to find a secret dial or mystery toggle.  Nothing here worked.  “Damn it,” he whispered.  “Just hold on.”

“That’s pretty much all I can do right now.  What I really want to do is be able to breathe!”

Sheppard glanced toward the lower room – the water tank – and suddenly had an idea.  He started his search anew -- his gaze raked the room.

“It’s too high!” McKay shouted, his voice getting gobbled up as he coughed.  “I think the water’s coming in faster.  It’s at my neck!  This is bad.  This is so bad!”

Come on, Sheppard thought.  Just let me find it!  With a gasp of relief, he spotted what he needed and scrambled to another wall.  “I got it, Rodney!  You’re going to be okay!” His hands grasped onto a pipe, and yanked at the coupling where it went into the wall.  It wouldn’t give.  Frantically, he worked at the joint, working the bolt that secured it to the next pipe.

“This sucks… this sucks… this sucks…”  Rodney sputtered.  “You got to open it now!  Now!  I’m not going to be able to…”

The bottom of the pipe came loose, along with the 90 degree fitting that had secured it. “Almost there, Rodney.”

“Sheppard?  Sheppard?  If this doesn’t work.  I want… I want you to…”

“Shut up, Rodney,” Sheppard ordered as he stepped back.  He used all his weight to wrench the pipe, to pull it loose from above.  With a shriek,  the metal bent, then it came apart with a loud snap.  He stepped badly and he went down in a ball of agony.

“What are you… doing?” McKay called.

Shit, shit, shit, shit!  Sheppard rolled onto his side.  His foot screamed at him, and he resisted the urge to grasp hold of the barking foot and just cradle it.  Instead, he crawled, dragging himself to the tank.  “Rodney, I’m back!”

“Great… great…” and Rodney coughed again, sputtering pathetically.  “‘Cause this is no fun at all.”

Sheppard kept his expression schooled as he looked into the tank.  The water had reached the grate.  McKay had his head tipped back, his mouth shoved up through the hole, clinging with one hand to the bars, while the other – undoubtedly—steadied him on the ladder.

“Can’t you open the top?” McKay asked, his eyes wide and beseeching.  “Please... please…”

“I will,” Sheppard promised as he twisted the metal pipe around, offering the end with the bent fitting to Rodney.  “But this will buy us some time.”

McKay fixed frightened eyes on it, not understanding.  Water lapped around his lips as he pressed against the bars, trying to get another breath as the water steadily rose.  In another moment, he wouldn’t be able to get his mouth any higher and he’d be out of air.

“Snorkel!” Sheppard yelled, shoving the pipe at him.

Comprehension dawned and Rodney grasped for the pipe, awkwardly trying to get it into his mouth, but finding the angle difficult.  “I’m going to break my teeth,” Rodney groaned.

Small price, Sheppard thought then, pointed downward at him.  “Get yourself more upright.  It’ll work.  I promise!   Put your head underwater.”

McKay gave him an anxious look as he fit the end of the pipe in his mouth, and then ducked his head down.

Sheppard carefully fed the pipe, making sure it followed Rodney easily so that one end stayed above water, while the other wouldn’t get knocked out of his mouth.  Trusting him, McKay now had the top of his head against the gate and his head totally submerged.

The water kept rising, but the pipe was long enough to stay out of the water.  Sheppard held the end of the tube to his ear and could hear the gasping breaths coming through.  Thank you, he thought.  Thank you.  It had worked.

He sat, getting his screaming foot out from under him.

Water had risen over the grate by at least an inch and was getting higher, and Sheppard sat quietly for a moment, listing to the air that huffed through the pipe.  Too fast.

“Calm down, Rodney,” Sheppard said firmly.  He reached out and put his hand on top of Rodney’s – the hand that still grasped the grate.  “Calm down.”  The water was cold – too chilled -- and he grimaced with the realization that even though Rodney could breathe, he wouldn’t last long.

Damn it!

This seriously sucked.

Sheppard shouted, “I’m going to figure this out, okay?  I need to let go of the pipe!  Are you ready?”

He had no idea of Rodney heard him, but he couldn’t just sit here.

He let go.  Please… The pipe wobbled a moment and then came straight again.  Good job, Rodney.

“I’m not going far,” he promised.  “I have to find a way to get you out, okay?”

He wasn’t expecting anything, but he would have felt better if he’d received some sort of reply.

With a groan, Sheppard struggled to his feet, and then limped painfully toward the controls to find something that could help him.  He had to find the right switch, the right lever. Something here had to help him.

As he moved, he tried his radio again, calling for Ronon and Teyla.

Nothing.

Damn… damn.  What had happened to them?  Could it be any worse than this?

PART 5:  WHALE

He was cold.  So damn cold that he couldn’t feel the pipe in his hand any longer – he could hardly feel his grip on the grating.  He was swaying underwater, clinging to hope as he counted.  He counted seconds into minutes as he tried to assure himself that Sheppard wouldn’t take any longer than five minutes to figure out how to control the tank.

Of course, it would take less time if he – Rodney McKay – were on the job, but such was his luck.  He was always ending up the chump in peril while someone under-qualified tried to save him.

It was totally unfair.

He sucked through the pipe, hating it.  Hating the way the pipe tasted, how it felt in his mouth, how it make his lips hurt.  It had probably been used to carry some carcinogenic liquid in its former life and he tried not to think about that too much.

He counted.  The numbness took over, and he could hardly feel the pipe in his mouth – and then he started to panic because he realized that he wouldn't be able to keep it in place if he didn’t even know it was there.

He held it tightly in place with one hand, trying to assure himself that he would not lose it.   

He was cold.

He used to love the water.  He used to love to go swimming.  It was great because it wasn't a team sport and he could do whatever he wanted in the pool.  It was enjoyable as long as none of the other kids were around.  He remembered that as a child he liked to hold his breath to see how long he could stay underwater.  It's a good skill to have, he used to tell himself, because you never know when it might come in handy.

Yeah... right.

He tried not remember the puddle jumper and how it had filled with water.  He tried not to remember what Old Elizabeth had said about his demise in that alternate timeline.  He tried not to think about the whales of his nightmares and how they always pulled him underwater to drown him.

They always pulled him down.  Sometimes they tugged at his feet – almost playfully – but relentlessly keeping him under, fully aware of what they were doing.  They were mammals after all and understood the need for air, they understood he would drown.  They were smart creatures, weren't they?  Sometimes they held him in their mouths as they swam downward downward downward until he woke up in bed, gasping for breath.

He didn’t want to drown.  He taught himself how to hold his breath as a child in case the whales came for him.

He tried not to think, because the thoughts would overwhelm him and he’d start to panic and he’d have this overpowering NEED to get out – get out – get out!  

He gasped and it sounded so weird in the pipe.  I have to get out!  I have to get out!  He shoved at the cage top with his one hand, and kicked with his feet as if he could swim hard enough to break free.

It got him nowhere.

He knew better.  There was no getting out -- not by himself.  Sheppard had to fix it.  Sheppard or Teyla or Ronon... where were they?  Why hadn't they responded?

Calm down, calm down, calm down, he urged.  They will get you out!  And he forced himself to calm and to take up counting seconds again.

He had lost count, but he was certain that more than five minutes had passed.

Maybe Sheppard couldn’t stand up to reach the controls.  He must have hurt his foot pretty badly.  It surely looked horrible from below.  What if he was incapacitated, sprawled out on the floor and unable to move?   What if Ronon and Teyla were hurt, too?

What happened to them in a greenhouse?  Why hadn’t they answered their radios?

What if they were hurt, too?  What if no one was coming and they were all hurt and alone – in their own little versions of hell.

Oh God, there’ll be no one to help me.  I’ll drown.  I’ll freeze.  I’ll never get out.

Don’t panic.  Please, don’t panic.

Everything is fine.  There's no evidence that anything happened to Ronon and Teyla.  They're probably enjoying the pretty flowers.  They’ll come when the show is over.  Yes, they’ll be here any moment.

He tried to imagine Ronon perusing the local version of daffodils and dahlias, but couldn’t quite get his mind around the image --  flower child -- maybe he was decorating his hair with daisies.

It's been more than five minutes -- definitely longer than that.  Okay, maybe Sheppard will take ten minutes to figure it out.  He's clever, but he's not MY kind of clever.

And he started counting seconds again.  Rodney furrowed his brow even though he couldn’t feel his face any longer.  He listened to his own breathing.

Next time, I get to choose which broken-down building I explore.  Next time, I won’t get tricked into the taking death trap.

What was this place  for, anyway?  The natives sucked!  What the hell were they thinking?  Seriously, this thing could drown people!

I’m not going to drown.  I’m not going to drown.  There is no whale.  Nothing is going to pull at my feet.

It’s not like the jumper even though it’s entirely like the jumper!

He dreamed about the sinking jumper about once a week, sometimes more often when the days were stressful.  He dreamed of water reaching his neck, of it getting higher, of being trapped in a confined place and totally alone -- not even a delusion to keep him company -- and no voice on the radio that called him 'buddy' and told him to open the door.

He was so cold.  His hands held on only because he concentrated on keeping them in position.  He couldn’t feel them.

Longer than ten minutes.  How much longer?  He’d lost count again.

What if I never get out?  You have a snorkel.  You'll be fine.  You can breathe forever this way, right?  But, what if I’m here for too long?  I’ll go hypothermic.  I won’t be able to hold on much longer.   I’ll lose my grip on the stupid pipe and drown!

I don’t want to drown.  Please, don’t let me drown.  I want out.  Someone, please let me out!

Don’t panic!

Sheppard had promised him.

He only needed to hang on.

So he held on in the silent odd world of the water. He kept his eyes shut because he couldn’t see anything.  He didn’t want to see.  Something might have come in.  God, he hoped it didn’t pull at his feet.

His head hurt from the cold and he pressed it against the side of the tank, careful of the snorkel, and he started counting again to keep himself from panicking.

They’ll get me out.

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Ronon tore his way through the vine, slicing and dicing, swing his sword as the vines continued to come at him.  If he freed one arm, it was almost instantly recaptured.  The vines tore at his skin, bringing up welts and drawing blood.  One creeper twirled around his hair and -- like a bastard -- ripped out a patch.

Ronon howled.

The vines were insidious and would not stop coming at him, but he could not pause and he bellowed Teyla's name again.

The thick stalk swayed and moved as Teyla fought inside it.  He could see her, could make out her form as she slammed her body about inside the thing.  It throbbed and pulsed, and seemed to be constricting her even tighter.

Tired of it, Ronon tore at the vines and finally managed to lay his hand on his blaster.  With a mighty effort, he ripped it from his side, aimed above Teyla’s head, and fired.

The top of the stalk came off in a pulpy shower as the windows shattered behind it.  The shaft of plant shuddered.  He smiled, enjoying the destruction.

He fired again, and again, taking out sections of the huge plant, careful to stay clear of Teyla.  With his other arm, he wielded the sword, whaling at the vegetation.  Plant parts flew.  Windows went to pieces in a cacophony as he kept firing, aiming at important-looking parts the plant.

Ronon sneered as the vines tightened around him, and as the main stalk continued to hold Teyla.  He needed to get closer, to slice that thing open.  There was no sign that Teyla was getting any air – and she’d been in that thing too long.

He was her only hope.

He aimed again, but the stalk gave one final tremble, and abruptly exploded.

Vines, leaves, glass and wet debris fell all around them as Teyla stood in the remnants of the plant.  She was dripping with goo and clenching a P90.

“Heh,” Ronon breathed out, and grinned at her.

Her mouth was drawn tight as she glared into the mess, her nostrils flared, and she clutched her weapon in a ruthless grip.  Finally, she made a great gasp and fired into the remains.  And once she seemed certain that it would move no more, she raised her gaze to find Ronon.

The Satedan gave her a smile as Teyla ran her hand over her eyes, clearing away some slippery slop.

Ooze coated her hair and dripped from her.  She glanced around the room, seeming to finally notice the damage done to it, and spun about sharply as a pane of glass fell behind her somewhere.

A vine slithered over Ronon’s head and he snapped out an arm to fire at it, bringing down more glass.  It shattered around him, but he refused to flinch and he gained a few more cuts.

“Ready to go?” Ronon asked.

Teyla gave him a sharp nod and started making her way toward the nearest shattered window, careful as her feet slipped on the ground.

The vines still twitched and undulated on the floor, but their strength seemed to be gone.  Ronon slashed at them with his sword as he moved quickly to Teyla’s side.

“You okay?” Ronon asked as she looked over her shoulder at the green mess.

“It was unpleasant,” Teyla admitted, keeping her voice even, pushing her sloppy hair from her face.  “And I will be glad to be gone from here.”  She seemed to really see Ronon for the first time, and reached out a hand to touch one of the nasty looking cuts on his arm.

“We’ll take care of it once we get out,” Ronon promised.

Teyla nodded and climbed to the window.  She waited until she knew that Ronon was right behind her, and then stepped through the opening.

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PART 6:  IN THE MUD  

This sucks.  God, this sucks.

Rodney waited in the cold, sucking air through an unpleasant metal pipe that he could no longer feel or taste.  He held on, even though his hands had become numb.  He waited.  He hoped.  He held on.  After all, Sheppard had told him to 'hang on'.  Sheppard had promised to get him out.

He will.  I just hope it's soon.  How long now?  If I'd only kept track of the seconds, I'd be able to say.  Maybe, it was better to be left in the dark.

There was a strange noise.  He stiffened as he listened – trying to figure it out, but he’d heard nothing like it before.  The water seemed to throb and thrum around him.

What?  What was that?

The sound became a screech, and Rodney’s heart raced.  What was that?!

Not a whale.  Not a whale!

The screeching continued, high and fierce, as the water seemed to pulse. It was getting louder.  Finally, in spite of himself, he opened his eyes.  It always hurt to open eyes underwater and it took a moment for him to discern what was around him.  Light still streamed in from above the grid, and he could see shadows  -- human shapes.  He blinked upward, and made out two shadows.

Teyla?  Ronon?  Oh, thank God!  Thank God!  It had to be one of them with John -- unless it was the Wraith.

Why did you think of that?  Why are you always thinking of things like that?

It's a survival instinct.  Always consider the worst case scenario and things will have to turn out better than that.  Yeah, and you considered that you might be trapped in some sort of water vault, destined to drown or freeze or that you'd be eaten by space whales today!  I'd like to see them put a solution to THAT in those clever books. 

Those are not Wraith.  There are no whales in here.

The shadows moved above his head, but something else caught his attention and he lowered his gaze to peer forward.  A horrible reddish blur appeared on the far side of the room.  Something shrieked in the water.

He didn’t mean to panic.

It was a shock when he lost the pipe. His mouth was too numb to feel it, and it just fell, and it was a miracle that he didn't just breathe in water.  For a startled second, he held his breath, terrified.  How could he be so stupid!  So damn stupid.   

He reached, trying to find the snorkel, but his hands were like wooden blocks and he had no hope of grasping a pipe that had long since fallen.

He lost his grip on the ladder—and let out a shout of terror as he dropped into the water – and then, with a jarring yank, he was pulled. 

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The building rocked with the force of the explosion.  The water foamed and frothed with the violence of its ejection as it was sucked from the room, and Teyla reached again, her arm straining through the bars of the cage below.  As the space emptied, her eyes searched, finding no trace of the scientist.

The tank was vacant.  Light streamed in from where doors had been previously sealed.

She staggered to her feet, hating her uncertain balance and the uneasiness of her stomach.  She felt horrible.  There had been something in that plant.  She’d certainly ingested some of it when she was squeezed inside the thing, and now she was suffering for it.

She looked to John.  He was trying to keep his feet under him.  His eyes remained focused on the now empty tank.  He kept searching as if he expected to see Rodney.

He raised his gaze and found hers.  For a moment, there was fear and uncertainty – and then he ordered, “Find him!”

Teyla gave a tight nod as she rushed toward the door, pleading with the Ancestors for the strength to keep moving.  Her legs felt determined to trip her, and her hands – still slick with the vile liquid of the plant – had little purchase and the handle of the door slipped in her grasp.

She forced the door fully open and followed the direction that Ronon had taken, around the building and down the slope.  She struggled to keep from falling, feeling her stomach churning with a building illness.  Her head ached and the world seemed to swim around her and she forced away the dots that clouded her vision.

She blinked as she came around the corner of the building, momentarily confused by the sight.

Water had carved out a channel – tearing into the dry land and pooling to form an unpleasant looking mud.  One of the building’s huge doors was blown from its hinges and was carried some distance.  Ronon was sprawled out on his back a good dozen yards beyond the door.  Rodney, in-between the building and the door, was curled on his side.

Water continued to flow away from the scene, down the little channel that must have once been a riverbed.  Everything looked scarred and mauled, as if some giant animal had dragged a great claw through the land.

Ronon lifted his arm, and rubbed a hand over his muddy face.  Rodney wasn’t moving at all.

Determinedly, Teyla forced herself onward, having to concentrate to move her legs.  Everything seemed to spin, and she held out her arms to keep her balance.

“Rodney,” she called.  “Rodney?”  But Rodney remained still, his arms folded in front of himself, his hands curled to his chest.  She would have called out to Ronon, but didn’t trust herself to be capable of holding a conversation at the moment.  And she doubted that Ronon would be able to answer coherently either.

She squelched through the mud.  The distance, usually not an issue to her, seemed ridiculously far and she struggled with each step, determined to keep moving – to reach her friends.

Finally she drew nearer, close enough to see that Ronon’s eyes were open and he was looking in the direction of Rodney.  The big man was making an attempt to sit up, and failing.  Rodney still hadn’t moved.  His face was turned so that she could not see it, and still he hadn’t moved.

Ronon kept trying to force himself upright.

Teyla swallowed and continued forward.  Little spasms were firing along her legs, and she knew she couldn’t keep going for long.

She still couldn’t tell if Rodney was breathing.  She forced herself through the last few feet, and then squished down in the mud beside him.

Everything continued to spin, and she fought with her stomach, determined not to be ill, not while her team needed her.  She closed her eyes a moment.  When she opened them, she could see Ronon looking at her, and she lowered her gaze to Rodney.

His face was turned to the mud.  His hair was matted.  His clothing was soaked.  His eyes were closed and his skin was unnaturally pale, but his mouth was open -- and he breathed.

Teyla let out a sigh of relief and reached a hand to touch his pale features.  “Rodney,” she called.

At the touch, Rodney gasped and his eyes fluttered open.  The blue looked incredibly deep compared to the white of his skin.  Water drops was caught in his long lashes, and he closed his eyes, wearily.

“Rodney,” she called again, brushing against his face gently, feeling the chill in his skin.  She glanced up as she saw movement.  Ronon was sitting up, looking dazed but victorious.  “Rodney, talk to me,” Teyla spoke.

Rodney scrunched up his face and drew himself into a ball, muttering a hoarse, “ ‘m cold.”  And he started to shiver.

“Can you sit up?” she asked tentatively.  “It would be good to get you off of the wet ground.  Can you sit up?” she repeated.

He opened his eyes again and then sighed.  “Think so,” he murmured, his voice a low slur, and then he coughed.  The action wracked his body.

Teyla waited until the episode passed, and then asked, "Are you ready?"

"No," Rodney mumbled petulantly.

“I will help you,” Teyla promised.

It took some effort from both of them, but soon Rodney was sitting upright, shaking and drawing his hands into his sodden clothing. He sneezed and rubbed an arm under his nose.  Mud caked one side of his face.  “I’m cold,” he reiterated and then coughed again, shaking his whole body with the effort.

Teyla helped him sit as Ronon staggered to his feet. The Satedan lurched toward them his movements reminding Teyla of the stories her grandfather told her of the legendary Quidnet that lived in the forests of Old Athos.

Ronon’s gaze fixed on both of them as he moved around the bent and blasted door.

“We need to get him out of these clothes,” Teyla said emphatically as Rodney started to lean.  Ronon’s coat was nearly as wet as Rodney’s clothing– and everything she had was soaked through with the plant’s foul sap.  “It would be best if we moved him away from this mud as well.”

Ronon nodded, his chin coming to rest on his chest.  When he came alongside them, he grunted, then slumped further, until his legs folded.  He landed with a jarring thump on his rump.

Teyla winced, and she hoped that the mud had cushioned his fall.  Rodney’s head was on her shoulder as he continued to shiver.

“You know,” Rodney said, his teeth chattering.  “You’re pretty… gross.”  With deliberation, he righted himself and ran a hand across his head where it had touched Teyla’s shoulder.

“I am aware of this,” Teyla said quietly.

“Seriously, gross,” he muttered as he made a face and pulled back his hand to look at it.  “I got… goo in my ear now.”  A violent shudder ran through him as he wrapped his arms around himself.

“I’m sorry,” Teyla said genuinely.  “I like it no better than you.”

“I think I’ve been through enough already… thank you very much,” Rodney went on.  "What with the… water and the… room with the…”  His voice trailed off as he turned dully toward the building.  “I’m out?” he asked, his voice low and hoarse.  “I’m out?”

“You are out of that tank,” Teyla assured.  “Ronon was able to free you.”  And she looked fondly at the Satedan – who smacked his lips and looked straight in front of him.  His eyes were unfocused.  A great red welt was already visible across his chest where something large had struck him, and a knot was forming on his head.  He bobbed.

Rodney’s gaze was on the building with the drowning tank.  "I used to like water," he said quietly.  "In spite of the whales and all that.  Used to like it."  It took him a few minutes to take his attention from the building and look toward Ronon.  “He doesn’t look so good,” Rodney muttered, then as he gazed toward Teyla.  “And you… What… what is that… stuff?”  He sneezed.

“I had difficulty with a plant,” Teyla summarized.

“In the greenhouse?  Figures.  They're no damn good.” Rodney snorted, which made him cough again, and he shook as he clutched his arms around his chest.

“Yes, the greenhouse,” Teyla answered, trying not to think too deeply about the plant that had encased her.  She’d been terrified, hardly able to move.  It had been a nightmare, come to life – knowing that Ronon was in danger and she was totally incapacitated.    She’d fought with all the strength she had, even as the air became stale and she swallowed some of the vile liquid within the plant.

She fought to help Ronon.  She fought to free herself.  She had fought to get back to her team.  She had fought to return to Kanaan and Torren.  It was that horror of never seeing her child again that gave her the strength to reach her P90 as the plant constricted her.  It gave her the might to pull the trigger as she nearly suffocated.

“You look sick.  You okay?” Rodney asked.

Teyla smiled slightly at the softness of his question, the genuine concern in his eyes.  Honestly, she felt horrible.  Her stomach churned, her limbs felt heavy and ungainly, her head throbbed and the spots were darkening in her vision.  The goo, completing coating her, made her feel sticky and disgusting.  “I will be well,” she told him, believing it.

“He looks pretty awful, too,” Rodney added, inclining his head slightly toward the building.  His head dropped almost immediately as he shivered again.

Teyla turned to where Rodney had indicated.  Everything seemed to tilt around her with the movement.  It took a moment for her vision to clear and she made out Sheppard doggedly heading toward them, limping.

John kept moving, each step obviously giving him pain.  “Are they okay?” he asked, looking from one of his teammates to the next.

“But I believe that Ronon has a concussion and chest injuries.  Rodney is hypothermic.”   She worked at getting the soaked jacket off of the scientist.

Rodney let her, but clutched at his shirt when she tried to undo it.  “I can undress myself…” he grumbled.

“Let her help,” Sheppard ordered as he propelled himself onward, his face taut.

Rodney gave him an unhappy look and kept trying to remove the shirt, but his hands failed to work for him, and he pulled at the fasteners with frustration.

When he reached them, John eased himself down, to sit in the mud with the rest of them.  He gazed toward Ronon.  “He’s looking a little unbalanced,” John stated.

Ronon turned toward them slowly and said, “I burned the hinges off one of the doors.” He lifted his blaster for emphasis. Teyla smiled slightly, glad to hear him speak.

“So that’s what happened,” John responded as he leaned in to help Teyla get Rodney out of his wet shirt.

“Didn’t think…” Ronon started, but seemed to run out of steam.

“Understatement,” Rodney muttered as his teeth chattered.

“… it would come off like that,” Ronon finally completed.  “Bang.”  He blinked. “It was fast.”

“Could you stop clenching your arms to your body?” John snapped at Rodney as he tried to work the wet shirt off.  “Come on already, relax!”

Rodney turned to Teyla before returning his attention to John.  “She’s got stuff all over her,” he said, his voice still slurring, and he let his arms loosen.  “Seriously, it’s gross.”

“Yeah, I know,” Sheppard said as he worked his side of the shirt off of Rodney’s arms.  “She smells bad, too.”

Teyla crinkled her nose.

“She’s sick.  You’d better …” Rodney started and began coughing again, and once the shirt came loose, his arms immediately curled back to his chest as he shuddered.

Teyla used the sopping shirt in an attempt to clean some of the goo off her face.  She never felt so disgusting before, but even the simply motions of wiping at her face became a strain.  Darkness was crowding in on her and a high whine was filling her hearing.

She gave up on trying cleaning herself and decided that simply staying awake would be her focus.

She blinked and John had already removed his own jacket and was working it onto Rodney.  “God, he’s cold,” he said.  “And has Ronon been like this the whole time you’ve been here?” 

"Looks like a Zombie," McKay muttered.

"Teyla?"  When she didn’t respond to him, John stated, “You really are sick.”

“See,” McKay responded.

She swallowed thickly, feeling awful.  “I will be well,” she said again, to assure herself as much as the others.  The whine in her head was growing louder.

Teyla regarded her three companions.  Rodney was clutching the jacket close to him, shivering and still too pale.  His gaze was again on the building and the entrance to the tank room.  Ronon was sitting up, but swaying and looking as if he had no idea where he was.  John winced as he changed his position.  They were in poor shape.

Her eyes focused on John's leg, and she frowned.  “You’re bleeding,” she told him.

“Yeah,” John said, sounding more annoyed than anything.  “We should move out of this mud.  Get up the slope a bit.  I should probably start heading toward the Gate.”

“John…” Teyla started, but was cut off by Rodney.

“On that foot?  Are you crazy?” Rodney stuttered as his teeth chattered.  His lips were an unpleasant shade of blue.  “Not going to … make it.”

A flash of shame crossed John’s face as he looked out over the distance toward the Gate.

“He is right,” Teyla said, trying to sound diplomatic, but her head was spinning and she closed her eyes again as she fought down the illness that kept asserting itself.  The buzzing seemed to be increasing with each moment.   She felt too hot and too cold at the same time.  “We should remain here and wait for Atlantis…”

“What’s that?” Ronon cut in.

“What’s Atlantis?” McKay said incredulously.  “It’s where you’ve been living for the past…”

“What’s that sound?” Ronon completed.

Teyla looked at him soberly, wondering if he could hear the whine too.  She felt as if she was in a stifling hot room, and everything was getting strange.

“I don’t hear anything,” Rodney grumbled, ducking his head into the jacket.

That’s because your ears are full of ice,” John responded.

“As if I can help that,” Rodney complained. “I’m bound to get one hell of an… infection.”  His voice sounded drunk and he leaned against Teyla again, thought better of it when the jacket stuck to her, and changed his position so that he was propped up on John.

If John minded, he didn’t show it.  He cocked his head and listened.

The whine continued annoyingly.

“Thunder?” Sheppard asked. “Is that thunder?”

Ronon shrugged, shortening the movement as it must have caused him some pain.

Everything was growing dimmer around her.

“Just what we need,” Rodney complained, closing his eyes, his slurred voice becoming soft.  “Rain would really improve my day.”

“I don’t think it’s thunder,” John stated.  “No lightning, and it’s just going on for too long.  Some sort of machine?”

Teyla frowned, trying to hear beyond the buzzing.  She had to concentrate, to push through the sickness that was overtaking her – and then she could just make it out – a rolling roar, growing closer by the moment.

She looked to John, confused.  He was sitting with Rodney against him.  His head was turned toward the noise, listening, as Rodney shivered and shoved his hands deep into the jacket’s pockets.  Seeing the question in her eyes, John said, “I have no idea.”

It was Ronon, his head bobbing, who provided the answers.  “Squams,” he said thickly.  “They probably smell the plants.  Comin’ for dinner.”  He waited a moment and then added, “Lots of them.  They’re coming fast.”

Everything went gray.  Rodney shouted something.  Teyla blinked to clear the dimness in her vision and found her head in Rodney’s lap.  She could make out a cloud in the distance – growing closer.  Hundreds of starved squams were rushing across the plain toward the broken greenhouse, and their little group was in the way.

As she curled up against Rodney, Teyla heard John moan, “Just what we need -- a stampede.”

TBC onward to the second half

Hope you enjoyed the story. comments and suggestions