RATING: PG-13 for swearing
SEASON: Sometime during the 1st Season -  probably before "The Brotherhood"
MAJOR CHARACTERS: McKay, Zelenka, Ford, Sheppard and Teyla
DISCLAIMERS: The characters, Atlantis, etc, all belong to Sony, MGM, Gecko, Showtime, the Sci-Fi Channel.  I own nothing.  
NOTE: As always, I don't know much about SG stuff... and science and medicine.  Sorry if I got it all wrong.  I don't know any Czech, although I'm half Czech. Mom wasn't any help.  Forgive me if some of that isn't right.
SUMMARY:  Rodney and Zelenka investigate an Ancient structure which unfortunately collapses on them. It isn't the only thing to collapse.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENT:  Thanks Tipper and Sable Cain for your comments, corrections, and support.  And if you're looking for someone to blame, my favorite target is Tipper... but I suppose I should remember that when one points their finger at someone, three fingers point back at oneself.  That, of course, is a load of crap.
FEEDBACK: Yes please! comments and suggestions are greatly appreciated.
SPOILERS: The Defiant One
DATE: Completed April 14, 2005, some cleanup done December 7, 2007

Misconstrued
By NotTasha... not quite sure of anything

CHAPTER 1 – LIKE KOLACHES 

Doctor Rodney McKay was annoyed -- annoyed by the tight quarters they were working in, annoyed by the lack of progress, annoyed the conclusions drawn by his analysis, and annoyed with analyses drawn by others.  Dr. Merritt annoyed him – being too damn excited about this site, too enthusiastic about what he ‘thought’ he’d found, too young and full-of-himself and buoyant. Merritt’s scientists annoyed him by always backing up their superior.  They seemed to forget that McKay was above Merritt.  Zelenka annoyed him by being pleasant and acting as a go-between to calm down both sides.  Ford annoyed him by leaving the underground facility to stand guard outside.  Sheppard annoyed him most of all by not being anywhere on the planet.

The Capilanos had finally agreed to open negotiations, so Sheppard and Teyla had been spirited off to a three-day ‘get to know you’ session with the touchy-feely people.  It was only coincidence that Merritt had discovered this facility on P6M-301 at the same time that the Capilanos on P11-589 sent their invitation.  The Major should be stuck in this mess along with me, McKay decided.  Teyla?  Well, she should be here, too.  For some reason though, McKay wasn’t quite as annoyed with the Athosian as he was with the others.

Along with Weir, Teyla had an incredible skill for negotiation.  Weir, of course, was needed in Atlantis, so Teyla was the most logical choice to send.  It was only right that Teyla was there instead of here.  Perhaps McKay’s acceptance of the situation had something more to do with the fact that she could break his arm with one of those whacking sticks if she got aggravated with him.  He didn’t want to tempt her.

So he spent his time being annoyed with everyone, especially himself.  When Merritt announced his findings the day before – that he’d located a possible Zero Point Module manufacturing site – well, McKay had been elated!  He couldn’t wait to get there!  He’d pressed Merritt, insisting that he be included in the team, insisted that Zelenka come, too.  After all, Dr. McKay was the foremost authority on Ancient technology – and Zelenka wasn’t half-bad himself.  So, in the end, he had no one to blame but himself.

Yes, McKay was rather pissed off with himself.

Merritt had balked when McKay first announced his decision, coming up with excuses as to why the Canadian should stay away, insisting that McKay accompany the rest of his team to the Capilano home world, attend their little love-fest instead of coming to the ruins.  Of course, McKay overruled him – but it didn’t stop Merritt from going to Weir about it – telling her that it would be best to keep that team together.  

In the end, Weir agreed with McKay.  He shouldn't go to P11-589.  Rodney wasn’t always the most agreeable person when met with such painfully pleasant people. Negotiation with tree-huggers wasn’t going to be his strong point.  Besides, with the amount of trouble that McKay and Sheppard stirred up when together, perhaps it was a good idea to split them up.

It had been Weir’s final decision to split the team – sending Teyla and Sheppard to talk about plants… Ford and McKay were to accompany the ZPM expedition, under advisement that this was Merritt’s mission.  Rodney was to behave.

Merritt’s excited team left Atlantis on the same day that a morose Sheppard left to his little retreat.  The Major had seemed rather put out about the whole thing, stating that he’d rather put a pointed stick through his eye than to sit around singing ‘koom-ba-yas’ with a bunch of granola eaters for three days.  The phrasing had perplexed Teyla, but once the whole granola thing had been explained, her reply had been… “But is the granola not the reason we seek their partnership?”

Atlantis had been running low on food supplies, and a good trading partnership was critical, so Sheppard went off with Teyla on this mission of peace, while McKay went on this mission of pieces with Ford, Zelenka and Merritt’s team.

So far, that was all they had found so far… pieces.  The promising facility had proven to be empty and broken when they reached it.  Where walls and ceilings had once been festooned with bright tile, floors and counter tops were now covered with chipped and broken ceramic.  Floors and walls were cracked by some violence.  Equipment had been cannibalized -- technology torn down to nubs.  The place was gutted.

Still, they searched, for anything that would provide them with answers concerning how to construct ZPMs – vital knowledge.  But so far, they’d found little of use.  The team picked up the bits of broken tile, trying to assemble them into pictograms that might tell them all the secrets.

It was after about a half hour of searching that McKay came to the conclusion that there was no way in HELL anyone ever built a ZPM here.

When McKay expressed this fact to the team leader, Alvin Merritt, he’d gotten an amused expression in response, and the retort, “How would you know?  Have you ever seen a ZPM manufacturing site?”

Well, no, but he’d imagined it – vividly.  This place didn’t fill the bill.  Nothing here seemed capable of dealing with the containing of subspace-time.

And Merritt wouldn’t listen to reason.  No matter how McKay tried to corner the young scientist to convince him, Alvin Merritt would not back down from his beliefs.  McKay tried to point out that Merritt simply wasn’t paying attention, didn’t know what he was talking about, wasn’t even aware of the nose on his face.  McKay might have used the word “simpleton” at some point.

Things didn’t go very well after that.  Merritt’s team was decidedly aggravated.  The group got snippy, and McKay snapped back.

Ford had stayed with the scientists for the first two hours as they searched through the rubble in the rooms. But, the young lieutenant soon tired of the bickering and joined the guard above ground, leaving the scientists below with Sgt. Moody, and Corporals Fairholm and Alava.

Zelenka was the only one in the group that seemed to be capable of standing being near McKay.  Dr. Burnaby had taken Zelenka aside at one time, asking how in the hell the Czech put up with the Canadian.  Radek had shrugged, and said philosophically, “One gets used to him.  It only takes time.”

The others, apparently, had no desire take that time, and left McKay alone with only Zelenka for company.  And that’s how it had been for the past two hours.

Radek picked up his pace as McKay let out a sigh and moved from the latest room under investigation and continued down a long hallway.  “Dr. McKay,” he called, catching up to the scientist.  The Czech turned, looking back the way he'd come to see if anyone was nearby.  Finding no one about, he asked in a quiet voice, “This is fruitless, isn’t it?”

McKay grimaced.  “There’s nothing here!” he groused as he shone the light into another destroyed room.  “If there had been anything here of use, it’s long gone.”  Shaking his head, he stated, “Merritt should have known that from the moment he first laid eyes on the place.  It’s pointless!  He makes up stories.”  Rodney pointed the light upward as he searched, noting an ornate archway in the hall.

Radek made a soft sound and commented, “This appears to be the last archway still in place.”

“And what’s up with that?”  McKay asked.  “What caused all this damage?  We’ve taken readings and found no residual power signature.  Not due to an explosion it would seem.  Seismic activity perhaps?”  McKay toed a crack that ran along the floor.  “Seems possible.”

With a shrug, Zelenka responded, “Yes, that seems most likely.”

“No sign of recent activity,” McKay added.   Before Zelenka say anything else, he asked sharply, “So, what do you think of Merritt?”

With a sigh, Zelenka answered, “He is very enthusiastic.”

“Enthusiastic?”  McKay remarked as they continued along. “He’s like one of those yippy dogs.”  With his free hand, he demonstrated what he meant with a, “Yip yip yip!”

Two of Merritt’s team stepped into the hallway as he spoke, but McKay made no attempt to halt his comments.  “Really,” he went on.  “He should get his facts straight before he goes touting them about as truth.”

Doctors Burnaby and Powell gave Rodney a dark look as they passed in the corridor, but the Canadian chose to ignore it as he maneuvered around them.  Zelenka gave the scientists an apologetic smile as he passed them.  “He believes in his work,” he tried.

“Did you read the report he presented to Dr. Weir?”

“Yes, of course,” Zelenka replied.  He paused, checking to see where Burnaby and Powell went – they turned into the next room throwing annoyed glances in their direction.  Snatching off his glasses, Zelenka cleaned them on his shirt, saying, “He was…passionate about his cause.”

“He lied,” McKay pointed out.  “He claimed evidence that doesn’t exist.  If I were to have fully believed his reports, I would have expected to walk in here, flip a switch, and ‘ta-da’… instant ZPM.”

Zelenka looked thoughtful as he rubbed at the lenses. “Maybe he … drew conclusions that were a little…”

“Outlandish?  Overzealous?  Over the top?  Out in left field?”

“I was going to say, ‘optimistic’”

“He has no idea.  None whatsoever!”  McKay directed the light into another room.  They'd checked it earlier and found it less damaged than some of the others.  The tile was still mostly in place, but aside from the alcoves along the wall, it was utterly featureless.  “Just our luck,” McKay muttered.  “One room undamaged and not a bit of information to be found there.”

“Do you think there’s a reason that?” Zelenka asked.

With a snotty expression, McKay said, “Of course!”  He puzzled a moment, as he tried to come up with an explanation.  “But I can’t come up with anything just yet.  Give me time, though, and I’m certain to come up with something.”

“I have no doubts,” Zelenka responded. “Whether the explanation will prove correct or not is another matter.”

Rodney responded with a harrumph, then continued,  “If nothing else, we can use the space to store the trash from the other rooms.” He made a face, looking like a child about to have a tantrum.  “Oh!  We’ll be here for days!  Sheppard will probably be back before we’re even halfway through this mess.”  And he scowled in irritation.  “And all for nothing.”

With a shrug, Zelenka finished his cleaning and pushed the frames onto his nose.  “We may yet discover something of interest,” he declared, following McKay as he continued to the deepest part of the facility.

Rodney snorted, as he pointed the light into another room.  “Yeah, and monkeys might fly out my…”

Zelenka waited a moment for the sentence to complete but, when McKay said nothing more, he turned his light into the room as well.  “Ah,” Radek stated as he noted the panel illuminated by McKay’s light.  “You were saying something about monkeys?”  It looked plain enough to an untrained eye, but something had caught Rodney’s attention – and with that, Radek became aware of what had enticed the man. “Monkeys flying from….”

“Quiet!” McKay growled. “Do you have any idea what this is?”  He dove into the room, kicking away the broken tiles that covered the floor.

“A protective panel?” Radek tried.  “Used to guard, perhaps a recessed Ancient device?”

McKay opened his mouth, as if to correct Zelenka, but then snapped it shut when he realized what the Czech had said.  “Yes, it’s a panel protecting a recessed Ancient device.”  He touched the smooth service carefully, feeling about for the secret to open it.  “It has to be,” he muttered.

“There has to be a release somewhere,” McKay decided.  Tired of fumbling with the flashlight, he turned it off and shoved it into his pocket, letting Zelenka’s illuminate the area.  “Somewhere,” McKay said again running his fingers along the ‘cookie sheet’ sized panel.

“Hey!” a voice called from behind them.  Zelenka turned, but Rodney didn’t – too occupied with his current task to care.  “You found something!”  Alvin Merritt stepped into the room, looking as excited as a child at the circus.  “Why didn’t you report it?”

“Because we just located it,” McKay snipped, “and haven’t had a chance to properly investigate the finding.”

“You should have called me immediately,” Alvin told him.  “Do I have to remind you again that this is my mission?  You’re just along to help out.”  And he smiled, lording in this position.

“Funny, you hadn’t mentioned that before,” McKay replied, looking thoroughly exasperated as Alvin squeezed is his way close and started messing about with the panel, too. The young scientist shoved McKay to the side with his hip.  With a disgusted sigh, McKay stepped back and slung the pack from shoulder.  As Merritt fiddled with the panel, McKay retrieved his scanner.

“This is fantastic!”  Merritt said breathlessly. “I bet we find a hidden database here!  Oh, imagine it!  The instructions on how to build out own ZPMs!  We’d have an endless energy source at our fingertips.”

“Yes, well,” McKay muttered, fiddling with his device.  “I’m sure that’s all it takes.  Don’t worry about finding the equipment needed to harness the vacuum energy derived from a self-contained region of sub-space time.”

“This is going to show us how to build what we need,” Merritt insisted.  “Have some faith, McKay.”

McKay looked unmoved.  “Sure.  One quick glance at a Betty Crocker recipe and we’ll be popping out ZPMs like kolaches.”

Radek laughed at the reference.  “Kolá¼.  If only,” he said wistfully, remembering that special treat.

With a click of the tongue, McKay stated, “I show no power source.”

“It’s powered down, of course,” Merritt told him snottily.  “After all these years, even a ZPM manufacturing facility would run out of power.”  And he laughed, joyfully.

“Hmm,” McKay responded, and added, “Somehow, I imagined this work would be done on an orbital platform.  Not underground on some backwater planet.”

“It’s the perfect place,” Merritt insisted, still fluttering his hands around the panel without success.  “You just have no imagination.”

McKay watched Merritt for a moment longer, wondering if he should say something.  He glanced to Zelenka who had also stepped back, still holding a flashlight to the scene.  Finally, with a sigh, McKay suggested.  “Try pressing on the corners.”

Merritt threw him an unpleasant expression, but tried what McKay suggested, and the panel snapped off.  McKay gave Zelenka a self-satisfied grin, and the Czech could only respond with a shake of the head, knowing that the Canadian had scored another one.

Merritt stepped back, bumping into McKay as he looked in wonder at what was exposed to them.

“Obviously ancient technology,” Alvin breathed out excitedly.

“Obviously,” McKay snapped back, tired of everyone having to express ‘the obvious’.  As if any of them wouldn’t have instantly recognized the origins of the mechanism.  Recessed behind the panel, was some sort of control device: a dim monitor, buttons, a series of crystals.

With a gleeful expression, Merritt reached forward, running one finger along the embossed symbols.  “It says that it’s some sort of regulating system,” Merritt stated, sweating with excitement.  “Obviously used to adjust the speed at which the subspace/time region is accessed.”

“Obviously?” McKay growled out, “Not so much.  You’re talking nonsense.  This may have been used to regulate the humidity levels in the facility, or the water flow… or the septic system.”  He sighed.  “In fact, it doesn’t say anything about being a ‘regulator system’… simply that this control regulates… something.”

“Look,” Merritt responded.  “This data pad… this display.  It has to be about powering ZPMs!  It all makes sense.  It was a device to control the access to —”

“You really aren’t paying any attention to what I’m saying, are you?” McKay sniped back.  “Because I am speaking quite distinctly. Do I need to slow down?”  He looked to Zelenka for confirmation.  “You can understand me, can’t you?”   When the Czech nodded thoughtfully in response, McKay continued, “See, even HE can comprehend and I’m not speaking in his native tongue.  I can switch to French if that would help.  Russian?  I know speaking in Ancient won’t work in your case.”

“You’re obnoxious,” Alvin told McKay.

“Again,” Rodney said with a sigh, “You’re stating the obvious.  Do you want to know what I think…?”

“It doesn’t matter what you think,” Merritt said in a clipped tone.  “You’re always trying to discredit me and my theories.  I’m getting this out of here, bringing it back to Atlantis and prove to everyone that I know more than the great Dr. Rodney McKay, Genius.”  And he paused, reveling in the idea of what it would be like to bring back such a find, being the one to figure it out first!  “I’ll study it back in MY lab and be able to claim any distinctions that come from this.”

Grumbling, McKay returned, “Take the distinctions.  This probably is little more than a toilet flushing system.”

Merritt wasn’t paying any attention.  “It looks like it should pull straight out. This’ll be so easy.”

“Nothing is easy, Merrick,” Rodney responded with a sigh.

“My name’s Merritt!”  Alvin shot back, as he pulled off his own pack and retrieved some tools.  “And, look, you can either help me with this, or I’ll call in Burnaby or Powell to give me a hand."  He gave Zelenka a pointed glance.  “You, at least, have enough sense to see how important this is.”

Zelenka shrugged, saying nothing.

“I agree that we might find some interesting information if we examine the device,” McKay went on.  “But it’s not what you think it is.”

“Let us agree,” Zelenka tried, “That it is worthy of study…” and he looked between the two scientists for concurrence.  “Agreeing to agree might be good.”

Merritt shook his head. “Yeah, I’m not holding my breath,” he commented.  “Getting Dr. Rodney McKay to agree with anyone besides himself would be a monumental day in history!”

It was at that moment that a weird rumble sounded through the facility.  For a moment, the three men stood stock-still, and then the ground began to roll beneath their feet.  “Zemětřesení!” Radek shouted as the world shook.

A rumble sounded as the chipped, broken tile shattered and rained down on them, smashing to the floor.  The walls creaked and split, the floor cracked, uplifting.  Rodney, his eyes wide, dove toward the door.  “Out!” he cried.  At the doorway, he turned back to the others.  “Come on,” he ordered through gritted teeth. “Zelenka!  Merritt! Now!”  

From down the hallway, he could hear the clatter of scientists frantically fleeing.  Corporals Alava and Fairholm worked at ushering them out.  Moody, at the entrance was helping the scientists up the narrow, shaking staircase toward the safety of outdoors.  Ford, above ground, was shouting down to Moody, trying to get him to hurry them.

Zelenka went immediately to the room's doorway with McKay behind him, but Merritt was leaned over the recess, prying at the device.  “Merritt!” McKay shouted.  “We’re getting out now!”  He stormed to the man, grabbing him fiercely by the arm as the room continued to pitch.

“Not without this!” Merritt argued.  “We can’t let this be destroyed!”

“We’re not going to die over it!” McKay shot back, hunching his head into his shoulders

His face red, Merritt contended, “If it has ANY significance regarding ZPMs, it’s worth the chance!  I’m not leaving here without it!  I, at least, can understand that some things are worth the risk!”

The ground hopped and leapt beneath them, as disconcerting as hell because the ground wasn’t supposed to do something like that.  The remaining tiles kept popping, shattering.  The earthen blocks started to crumble.  The place was going to pieces.

“You can’t be serious,” McKay returned, looking up fearfully.  “This isn’t worth it!”

“I’ll die before I abandon it!” Merritt responded, glaring at McKay.  “And, God help me, I won’t let you stop me.”

McKay tottered, turning toward the exit, then back to Merritt.  Finally, with a groan of disgust, he ordered Zelenka, “Get out! Make sure everyone gets out.” And he moved back to Merritt who was still working to free the Ancient technology from the wall before the whole place came down on them.  “You don’t know what the hell you’re doing,” McKay yelled at Merritt.  “Press here!  Look, if you keep doing that you’ll break the damn thing!”

Zelenka didn’t move, watching the others pry at the device, trying to force it from its hiding place. Radek flinched as a bit of tile caught him on the shoulder, letting out a startled “Ah!” and jumping back.

“Radek! NOW!” McKay demanded, not turning.

Zelenka turned, fleeing up the hallway, stopping at the first room and finding two of Merritt’s people hastily trying to jam handfuls of tile into satchels as the room vibrated around them.  Alava stood nearby, looking thoroughly disgusted as he gripped his P90 and watched the walls shake.  “Get your asses out of here,” he growled.  “I swear, I’ll drag you out by your freakin’ hair if you don’t start moving!”

“Spěchat!” Zelenka shouted, as he clung to the still shaking doorway.  “Get out, now!”

“Yeah,” Alava agreed.  “Move your goddamn asses!”

The scientists seemed to realize this was good advice and they hoisted the bags to their shoulders.  They stumbled toward the doorway with a relieved Alava behind them.  The soldier looked as annoyed as hell when the pair of scientists came to a dead halt at the doorway, as the dust continued to come down.

“Dr. Merritt?” Burnaby asked frantically,  “Did he get out?”

With a jerk of his head, Zelenka indicated the far room.  “He is coming as soon as he frees the device,” Radek explained, breathlessly.  His eyes darted back to the room as he leaned against one wall.  Another tile struck him and he jumped back.  Quickly, he explained, “Dr. McKay found a device.  Merritt must remove it before he can leave.  They can not leave without it.”

From further down the hall, they could hear McKay shouting, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?  Look, I told you to press there!  If you bend the casing… forget it… I’ll fix it later.  Get it out, now!  Damn it, you idiot, just pull it!”

The shaking quieted, the creaking and moaning faded, but the loose tiling continued to crack and fall, smashing to the floor around them.  The rumble reduced and the world stilled.  Within seconds, everything went back to normal, with almost an audible sigh.

They could hear McKay still, “Oh, thank God… thank God… it’s over.  Now, stop messing around and get the damn thing out of here.”

Burnaby furrowed his brow and gave Powell a disquieted look.  The two made a move to follow the voice.

“No!” Alava demanded, blocking their way as dust sifted down on them like snow. “Out… now!  I’m not going to die here because of goddamn scientists in a snit.”

At the exit, Ford shouted from above, “Dr. Zelenka, is everyone okay?”

“Yes, yes!” Zelenka responded.  “We are coming out!”

“What’s going on?” Ford called down.  “Get them up here!”

Shaking his head, Zelenka said under his breath, “That’s what I’m trying to do.”

Alava gave Burnaby a shove toward the door.  “Get moving!” he ordered.

“Radek!” McKay shouted from further in.  “Get down here.  Merritt’s worthless!  Ah!  The idiot can’t get his arms around it.”  And before Alava could stop him, Zelenka ran toward the back of the complex.

The room was full of filtering dust, and Zelenka coughed against it as the flashlight beam tried to cut through the heaviness.  McKay and Merritt, working under the illumination of Merritt’s flashlight on the floor, had managed to heave the microwave-sided device from its hole in the wall.  Merritt was trying to hang onto it, while McKay, halfway in the hole, was working at detaching the wiring.  Zelenka reached Merritt in time to save the man from dropping it.

“I got it!” Merritt crowed happily, his hair coated in dust, making him look old beyond his years.  “Oh, God, this is tremendous!  This is the answer to everything I’ve searched for!  Atlantis will come alive due to my findings.”

“Right, right,” McKay grumbled, “It’s all you.”  He straightened and shook his head.  “It’s free.  Now let’s get the hell out of here! Before another earthquake hits.”

McKay looked terrified, ready to bolt, but Merritt looked as happy as a pig in slops.  “We can’t leave now!” he demanded.  “This is just the start!  Think of what else we can find!  The earthquake is over.  I’m going to keep looking.”

Annoyed, McKay grabbed hold of the device, wrenched it away from Merritt, and shoved it toward Zelenka.  The thing was more awkward than heavy, and Radek managed to handle it without much difficulty, even keeping a grip on his flashlight that shone rather feebly from its new position beneath the device.

“We’re leaving… now!” McKay growled, giving Merritt a shove toward the door.

“We’re staying until we rescue all the technology!”  Merritt shot back.  “This is only the first!  Certainly there is more to find.”

McKay decided, “The thing would have been safe if we just left it in the wall!  We’re getting out,” and he shoved Merritt again, pressing him through the doorway and into the hall.

“Oh, you can’t do that,” Merritt griped, trying to get around the Canadian, but McKay shoved him again, hard, forcing him up the hallway and toward the light.

“Doctor McKay?” Ford’s voice sounded through the hallway.  “You need me to come in there?”

Frustrated, tired and still terrified, McKay shouted, “We’re coming out!  As soon as I can get this moron to listen to me!”

Merritt bridled against the abuse, and tried to fight against him, but McKay was determined and had gotten some momentum going.  Rodney kept up the pressure, forcing Merritt along the hallway toward the door with Zelenka behind him, hefting the device and illumining their path.  At the end of the long hallway, Sgt. Moody waited, looking impatient.  

"Why doesn’t he come down and help us?"  McKay muttered.  "He's a soldier. He could carry the device if nothing else!"

“But the research!  The technology!” Merritt kept up.  “We can’t abandon it!”

“Earthquakes tend to kill people,” McKay commented.

“We’re not going to die,” Merritt declared.

With a frustrated sigh, McKay uttered, “Have I ever mentioned how much I hate certain death.”

"All the time."  Shaking his head, Merritt declared, “Look, it’s already stopped. We’re safe!  It’s over.”

“There could be an aftershock,” McKay insisted, continuing to hustle Merritt up the hallway.

Groaning, Merritt asked, “Why do you have to be such a goddamn coward all the time?”

McKay continued, ignoring the statement, “We should have just left it in the wall.  We’d be out of here and it would probably still be intact.  You know, some people never learn…” he scowled at Merritt’s back.  “… always listen to Rodney McKay, because Rodney McKay is always right.”

Behind him, Zelenka, struggling with the device intoned, “That’s not always correct.  There have been times when—”

“Zelenka!” McKay groaned, turning to meet his accuser.  “I really don’t need that right now.”

“I just wanted to clarify the point,” Zelenka returned.

Merritt, freed, dusted angrily at his sleeves, and took a step toward McKay to give him a taste of his own medicine.  McKay groaned, seeing Merritt's determined look, and he wished the soldier at the end of the hall would help them.  And the shaking began again.

Panicked, McKay turned, grabbed hold of Merritt and propelled him toward the door. The man, facing McKay, was forced to stumble backward.  “Get out!” Rodney shouted, his eyes wide with panic.  “Now, dammit!”

Merritt back-stepped, trying to catch his balance on the churning wall.

It was at that moment that the last existing archway in the facility came down in a thudding, crashing cascade of rock, directly over Alvin Merritt’s head.

“Alvin!” McKay shouted, shoving one hand toward the man and jerking it out of the way as the heavy stone rained down.  Alvin had only a moment to look frightened, and to pointlessly throw his arms over his head. 

Horrifyingly, the falling rocks smashed the man to the floor, turning tender flesh into pulp, shattering what had once been a man.  “Oh God… oh God…” Rodney sputtered, as the ceiling continued to fall, all along the hallway.  He had only an instant to catch sight of the solider coming toward them – and the man disappeared in the dust and the rubble.

The Czech kept his gaze where Merritt had fallen.  Zelenka could say nothing, panting with his terror, still clutching the clumsy device to his chest, with one hand awkwardly holding onto their only light source.

Merritt…and the solider…gone?  The world still shook.  He hardly realized that McKay had latched onto him and was pulling him backward.

“Come on!” Rodney called as the rumbling continued, as the ceiling continued to come down.  All around them, huge chunks of bricks were falling.

Zelenka stumbled where Rodney propelled him.  The heavy dust coated his glasses, blinding him.  He could only hold onto the device and trust that McKay knew what to do.


CHAPTER  2:  LIKE THE OCEAN

Lt. Aiden Ford was bored. He’d pulled the short straw, and he knew it.  Somewhere, on another planet, his CO was spending a three-day vacation among the Capilanos, enjoying a quiet long weekend with nothing to do besides relax and enjoy the hospitality of the fine farmers of P11-589.

He yawned as he glanced across to Private Deroche, who seemed about as bored as he was, and Private Richmond, who was ever on the alert.  At least, he’d managed to get out of the underground facility, where Merritt and McKay were in one endless pissing match.  The problem with brainiacs, Aiden decided, was that they didn’t just get it all over with and throw a punch. No, it all had to be banged out with theories and conjectures and hidden agendas.

Ford was glad to have gotten free of it.  Now, he waited with Richmond and Deroche, wondering when Moody and the rest would demand relief. Everything was so incredibly dull -- dull dull dull.  It reminded him of when he was a kid and his grandfather would take him to the library.  The man would spend hours among the stacks, leaving young Aiden to find something, anything of interest.  Grandpa would have been so proud if Aiden had become a ‘bookish’ kid, but he never really found the joy of reading -- or waiting for that matter.

Waiting for Ford was like so torture.  He suffered through it and hoped for some excitement –- any kind of excitement.  He’d become so complacent with the stillness that, when the earth started moving beneath his feet, he didn’t know what to do at first.

“What the hell,” he muttered, looking toward the others to see if they felt the tremble, too. Deroche and Richmond reacted, looking about wildly and holding their weapons ready. The tremble became more pronounced and soon the earth was rolling like the ocean.

Ford stumbled to the entrance to the complex. “McKay!” he shouted, leaning into the hole.

Moody shoved his pudgy face toward him from the bottom of the stairs, shouting, “Sir, it’s an earthquake!”

Ford ordered him to stay put and help the scientists get out. Moody complied without any difficulty, seeming almost to enjoy the situation.

Then the beige-wearing crew started flowing out.  Stumbling, losing their balance on the jouncing stairwell, they emerged.  Ford and Richmond grabbed them, drawing them out as Moody and Fairholm shoved from below, keeping them moving.  The world continued to shake, and Ford shouted down, “Hurry it up!  Let’s get them out of there!”

The civilians were bloody, cut from falling tiles, hugging arms close to themselves, protecting their precious gear and recovered artifacts as they came into the daylight.

With every arm that grasped his, Ford hoped to find McKay or even Zelenka.  Certainly the two of them were smart enough to head to the exit!  But he kept hauling the civilians out, without catching sight of his teammate or the Czech.

Fairholm came up the steps, supporting one of the civilians, Dr. Stanley, a woman who might have been pretty if she ever smiled.  The woman’s head was bleeding and she whimpered pathetically.

Deroche, a medic, was checking out the evacuated, assessing injuries, counting noses, trying to steady the tottering group.  “We’re still missing five of the civilians!” he called when the immediate flood stopped.

“Alava has two of them, Burnaby and Powell,” Moody shouted up, as the rumbling stopped.  He stood beneath them, hands on his hips, looking sure and secure despite the situation.  “Wait, he’s got one more…that Czech.”

Although Ford was relieved to hear that Radek was still moving, McKay hadn’t made an appearance yet!  Ford shouted down, “Dr. Zelenka, is everyone okay?”

“Yes, yes!” Zelenka responded.  “We are coming out!”

“What’s going on?” Ford called down.  “Get them up here!”  Damn it!  Of course, of course, McKay would be among the last ones out.  The man had no sense!  Sure, he had a strong survival instinct, but he also tended to get too damn focused on what he was doing and probably didn’t realize that the world was going to pieces around him.  The Major would be pissed when he found out about all of this.

The quaking had stopped.  Everything would have been quiet and still, if not for the excited, frightened nattering of the scientists.  Fairholm was talking to Stanley, trying to get her to answer questions, but she seemed too stunned to respond.  Deroche was doing what he could to help the others, but the scientists were putting up a tremendous fuss.  Richmond was wary.  Alava suddenly emerged, shoving two more scientists before him.  These civilians looked more annoyed that frightened.

They waited.  Moody stood at the bottom of the stairway, ready to escort the final three civilians out. Below, within the facility, they could hear McKay arguing with Merritt… no surprise there.  Minutes passed.  The voices came closer.

“They’re coming,” Moody announced.  “Taking their damn time, too.”  The sergeant smiled.   “Merritt doesn’t look very happy.  Looks like McKay’s knocking the crap out of him.”  He laughed.  “Looks like McKay took Merritt's toys away.”

Ford had had enough.  Leaning over the edge, he called, “Doctor McKay? You need me to come in there?”

The response came, “We’re coming out!  As soon as I can get this moron to listen to me!”

Around him, Merritt’s people grumbled unhappily. The voices could still be heard, angry and confrontational.  More time passed as they waited.  This was taking too damn long.  Ford nodded to Moody. “Go get them,” he ordered.

The sergeant nodded, gave a carefree grin and stepped forward.  The earth started to shake again.

“Now, Moody!” Ford shouted. The soldier didn’t wait. He jogged into the underground hallway, as Ford prepared to jump down after him.

But, before Aiden could move, the chamber roared and filled with dust clouds.  Choking, Ford rolled away from the entrance.  The dust continued to belch out as the ceiling collapsed, coming down into the hallway where Moody had disappeared.

Shocked, Aiden jumped to his feet and let out a shout of frustration and grief as the man he’d ordered forward was consumed in the chaos of the collapse.


CHAPTER  3:  LIKE DRUNKEN HILLBILLIES

Major John Sheppard was tired.  From the moment he stepped onto the Capilanos’ home world, they had assaulted him.  They’d wanted to hug him in greeting – not a quick little “Hi, glad to meet ya,” sort of an embrace, but a bone-crushing “Squash you like a grape” type of mauling.  They wanted to hold his hands whenever they spoke, to invade his personal space, to be near him – far too near him.  It was a battle to maintain any distance.

John was never the typed that liked -- hugging.

They looked like whipped puppies any time Sheppard tried to get himself disentangled from them.  Teyla, of course, was the voice of reason.  Yes, she was always the levelheaded one, reminding him of why they were there – why it was important to develop a strong tie with the Capilanos.  Honestly, Sheppard would rather hog tie the lot of them and leave.

No hugging -- no hugging.

Teyla took it much better than he did –- more familiar with the habits of the people – she seemed mostly amused by their behavior.  They loved her.  One young woman, Lillooet, seemed fascinated with her hair, and wouldn’t leave Teyla’s side.  “Is it real?” the young Capilano kept asking.  “I’ve never seen hair quite like it before.” And Teyla would smile under her scrutiny.

These people harvested grain, honey, fruit, and vegetables.  John Sheppard was determined that Atlantis would be the beneficiary of anything these people desired to barter.  He just had to keep up with them -- and put up with them. 

Who would have thought that keeping pace with a bunch of tree-huggers would be so hard. They’d spent the first few hours hiking through the forest.  Chilliwack led the way, always smiling, always singing happily.  He must have decided along the way that Sheppard would be his special friend, and kept far too close for comfort, gazing warmly at him. The other Atlantians in the party also received their own special attendant.   Travis looked rather aggravated as Choate, a lanky young man, draped an arm over his shoulder.  Bates glowered, and had actually managed to keep many from touching him, but his own personal entourage of women kept close. Lillooet stayed near Teyla, singing the praises of her hair.  Teyla glowed with pride.

The Capilanos moved quickly, in spite of their sandals and loosely wrapped clothing.  What had started off as a leisurely stroll, became something closer to a forced march.  The Capilanos took it as a lark.  They brought their children along, swung the kids from their shoulders, danced, sang, banged on drums and cavorted.

It was times like this that Sheppard missed McKay.  McKay would complain, would whine, would grouse.  The pace would slow.  Everyone would have to stop while the pissy scientist messed with his pack, or his scanners, or his boots – anything to delay progress.  Everyone would get a little rest and they’d be off again after a few minutes of his fussing about.  The system worked well for his team.

When they finally reached the ceremonial “meeting place”, Sheppard was astounded to find that they’d traveled in a big circle, and returned to a place within sight of the Gate.  Damn Capilanos!  In any case, he breathed a sigh of relief, glad to be able to get down to business, to cut the chatter, the crooning of canons, the dithering ditties, the joyful jigs and the TOUCHING.

Unfortunately, the torment had only begun.  Next came the Ceremony of Friendship -- the singing of the brotherhood songs, the sisterhood songs, the ‘I love my neighbor so much I could just burst’ song, the mass embrace that must have lasted five minutes, then came the dancing.  The dancing -- the damn dancing.  They danced like drunken hillbillies (as if there were any other kinds).

And -- God -- this was going to last for three days.

No food is worth this, Sheppard decided, jealous of McKay and Ford and how they were able to weasel out of this duty.  I should remember to be an arrogant son of a bitch the next time Weir needs someone to tend to the natives.  Should remember to find something better to do.

Then the sisters, Coquitlam and Ioco came to him with arms extended, smiling sweetly, tugging him to his feet to yet another dance of friendship.  He’d make McKay pay -- he decided.  Ford wasn’t at fault, he’d just lucked out.  McKay, on the other hand, would pay.

Three days…damn it… three days.


CHAPTER  4:  LIKE THE TAIL OF AN OOSFITTE

Teyla Emmagan was infuriated.  She smiled every time that the cute little Capilano girl petted her head though.  She smiled as they danced and as they sang, as they embraced… but in her heart, she kept wishing she had her fighting sticks with her.

She could put up with a lot of things, but the constant focus on her hair was more than she could stand.  “Do you know where I might find such a wig?”  Lillooet asked innocently.  “Because. I would love to have one, to be more like you.  I want to be more like you.” The smile increased, changing to become a bit melancholy as she recalled, “It looks like the tail of a oosfitte I had when I was a child.  I loved that oosfitte.”

Teyla smiled, trying to hide her impatience, trying to keep from throttling the little thing, trying to keep a level head so that this partnership might advance – that they might have the food they needed to get through the year.  She smiled all the brighter when Sheppard looked her way.  She could read the misery in his expression and was determined to appear serene in his discomfiture.

It appeared to be working.

Another dance began, and everyone was on their feet.  The sisters had pulled Major Sheppard into the fray, and a hairy young man, named Sechelt, was approaching her with a wide grin.

She’d forgotten how annoying the Capilanos could be.


CHAPTER  5:  LIKE A HOUSE OF CARDS

Dust vomited from the entrance to the underground facility.  The earth gave one last violent shake and stilled.  Around him, injured scientists were moaning and talking excitedly, but Ford’s attention was on the entranceway that seemed to smoke like a chimney.  The young man felt a horror catch him as he took it all in.

Even before the dust settled, Ford had snapped on his flashlight and was descending the stairway, with Richmond and Fairholm right behind him.  The medic, Julien Deroche, stayed with the injured, and Corporal Lew Alava waited at the top of the stairway for further orders.

“Moody!” Ford shouted.  “Moody!”  The dust was so thick at the bottom of the stairway that he almost gagged on his voice.  “Joe!”

But there was no answer.  The space was silent except for the breathing of his men, the patter put up by the scientists above them, and Deroche’s attempts at placating them.

The scene came clear as the dust settled, revealing Moody in the debris.  Sgt. Joe Moody hadn’t gotten far.  He was crumpled on his stomach, one arm thrown up by his head, and rubble all around him.  The once gaily-colored tile was all broken and gray in the dust.  Ford squatted beside Joe, touching fingers to his neck, feeling for a pulse, feeling for something that was gone.  Remorseful, he looked up to Fairholm and Richmond, who returned disquieted glances.  Moody’s head was at a sharp angle, craned way too far to one side, crammed up against the wall where he’d fallen.  There was no hope for him – yet Ford kept his hand on the man for a moment longer, waiting.

Damn, Ford thought, remembering a chat he’d had with Moody during their walk to the ruins.  Joe kept going on about a sailboat he’d purchased shortly before he’d been assigned to StarGate.  “Best day of my life,” he’d told Ford, “…the day I bought that boat.  It’s the only thing I miss about home, I guess.  I love that boat.  Not much, just a little Sunfish, but she’s a dream.  I took her out every day I could.  Almost cried when I had to put her up.  Gotta build one for Atlantis.”

Damn, Ford thought again.  Damn.

Finally, Alava shouted down, “What’s happening?  You want Deroche down there for help?”

“Sgt. Moody is dead,” Ford responded bluntly as he got to his feet and brushed at his trousers.  It was too late for Moody.  The Sunfish would rot in his parent’s backyard.  There were others that needed attention now.  He shone a light where the hallway once stretched, and was met with a wall of stone and rock.  “Dr. McKay!” he shouted, hopelessly.  “Dr. Zelenka!  Dr. Merritt!”  His voice echoed back at him.  He tried his radio, but received no response.  Damn… damn… damn … damn… Oh God.  His heart thudded at the horrible realization that the three scientists were caught up in that mess.

“Sir,” Richmond stated softy.  “Do you think we should keep the ground above the complex cleared?”  He moved the light up and down along the blocked passage, as if there was hope of finding a way in.  “I’d think the earth above is pretty unstable right now.  The ground might collapse right on top of this if we got a lot of people up there.  It could come down like a house of cards.”

Ford nodded tightly.  “Good idea.”  Fairholm was crouched beside Moody, trying to straighten him out in the cramped area.  Richmond kept shining the light about.

With a grim expression, Ford looked up to Alava, giving the order to keep the space above the chambers clear.  He climbed the stairway again, with Richmond at his heels.  A quick look at the group of scientists told him that most of the civilians had been injured in some way – bruises, broken bones, bloody wounds -- and Deroche was doing his best to tend to them.  Alava was getting them moved away from the space above the tunnel, sounding irritated as hell.

“Deroche, Alava, Fairholm, stay with the civilians.  Richmond, you’re with me.”  Ford messed with his vest, his gear, getting ready.  “We’re getting help from Atlantis.  Can’t even think of shifting the rock without something to hold up the tunnel.”  Ford glanced down the stairway.  Fairholm was still with Moody, keeping one hand on his shoulder. “Fairholm.  I need you out of there before there’s any further collapse.  Now.”

Fairholm stood slowly and exited the tunnel. “We’re not just going to leave them,” he said quietly.

Ford paused a moment, remembering another incident with Fairholm’s team.  He spoke quickly, “We need to brace up the tunnel.  We need equipment, personnel.  Can’t just dig it out with our bare hands.  We’re going to get them out – but not without the right tools.”   Already he was itching to go -- to get to Atlantis and back with the proper help.  God, it hurt to just leave… to leave knowing that his teammate and the others were caught in the collapse.  Damn, Doc -- why couldn’t you have come out right away?  What kind of mess did you get yourself into this time?

Ford started moving toward the Gate, not waiting to see if Richmond was with him.  He began at a quick walk, but soon was jogging – a tightness in his chest as he thought about those trapped within – maybe hurt, possibly as dead as Moody.  He felt sick at that thought.

The jog became a run, as he hurried to reach the gate so that he could return as quickly as possible.


CHAPTER  6:  SQUASHED LIKE A GRAPE

He was aware of darkness, of blackness – of pain.  The air was thick with dust.  He coughed, but the attempt only intensified the hurt and he was left gasping, drawing in more of the corrupted air.  Oh God… oh God… The action sent knives of pain all through his chest.  He felt as if he’d been squashed like a grape.

Left breathless by the coughing attempt, McKay could only gasp, trying to overcome the pain that assaulted him.  His chest hurt, his gut, his arm…his back… his head.  He was prone, trapped, hardly able to move.  It was black all around him.  He could only ride through the pain and blink at the black blackness.

What happened?  Oh God… what had happened?

The underground facility… yes… the device that had nothing to do with ZPMs… yes, he could remember that.  Earthquake… Merritt… and he grimaced at the memory – the memory of seeing a man driven to the ground by falling rocks – pummeled to paste before his eyes.  Oh God… Merritt….  With another shuddering breath, he wheezed, “Sorry… sorry… so sorry….” He’d pushed Merritt forward – had placed him directly under that archway – had positioned him perfectly for that horrible end.  “Sorry…” he muttered.

So he’d run… he had run away.  Found the room that was built stronger than the others.  That would be safe.  Yes, there were alcoves in the room.  He’d found one, ducked into it… covered his head like a little girl, and hoped for the best.  He had to save himself.

Zelenka….

“Radek?” he called, bringing another cough and more pain.  There was no response.  “Radek?” he tried again, but his voice was like gravel, and the dust filled air wasn’t helping anything.  Oh God… not Zelenka too….

No… no…. I killed Merritt and Zelenka and that soldier, too… what was his name…  Something with an ‘N’ maybe.  I can never remember names.

I should be able to remember his name.  The soldier had liked boating… I remember hearing him talk.  Might be fun, someday to try it... but I never have time for things like that. It always looks like fun. Sails look so appealing against the sky.   Knowing me, it would probably tip in the first sign of wind.  Christ... what’s the matter with you?  Thinking about boats right now…

“Zelenka,” he tried again, his voice coming out in strangled gasp.  Oh God, it hurt to breathe.  His whole chest ached with every wheeze. Where was Radek? He had to find him.  He tried to move one arm, but the attempt brought only pain – it was trapped beneath the rocks.  Frustrated, he felt about with his other hand and managed to reach his pocket.  Where is it? Where is it? His hand closed on the flashlight.

Hoping for a miracle, he flipped the switch – and allowed himself a smile as the white light illuminated the space.  A curtain of dust was falling, obscuring everything.  He coughed at the mere sight of the powder, and regretted the action immediately.  He could barely draw in air.  His mouth felt so dry.  His head buzzed.  He hurt… everywhere.

Angling the light around, he found himself stuck, pressed up between fallen rock and the alcove’s back wall.  Rubble covered him and encased one arm.  The rest of the room was filled with crumbled bricks from the collapsed ceiling.

“Radek?” McKay called again.  Nothing.  Groping about, he tried to move the rocks, to free himself so that he could go in search of his friend.  Have to find him… can’t just leave him… can’t just leave him alone…if he’s hurt… if he’s dead… if he’s dying… I can’t let him be alone….  But the attempt to leverage a particularly large stone from his arm stopped him immediately.  He fell back with a frustrated breath as pain ripped through his arm, his chest, his stomach.  His head swam, hurt, hammered -- it felt like his skull might crack.  The buzz grew louder…. Fuck…..

He blinked as the room darkened.  The flashlight still glowed in his hand, but the light seemed to lessen.  He gazed at the MagLight, frustrated that the light was on, but the dimness was closing in.  It makes no sense…  Damn, he thought, no sense.  The blackness continued to swarm in on him and he lost his grip on the light.

No sense at all.


CHAPTER  7:  LIKE HELL

This is hell, Sheppard decided as he managed to free himself from Coquitlam and Ioco. Just like hell.  Sure, they were beautiful women – and they were rather sexy when they were dancing together with him.  Their gowns flowed around them as they swayed to the music – but he was tired and fed up with all the merriment.

He managed to finagle his way out of the dancing pit and found a seat beside a miserable-looking Bates on a bench carved from a tree trunk.  “These people are crazy, sir,” Bates stated.

“Yeah,” Sheppard agreed.  “I kinda got that impression myself.”

“Crazy,” Bates muttered again.  “We shouldn’t be trading with them.  They probably have LSD in their foodstuffs.”

“LSD…” Sheppard repeated with a grin, fingering the life sign detector in his pocket.  “Sounds likely.”

Bates snorted.  “Probably shouldn’t eat anything they give us.  It’d make us as crazy as they are.”

Sheppard shrugged, wondering if there was something to that.

Travis, looking dizzy, peeled away from Choate who was performing some sort of he-man dance that involved a great deal of flailing of arms, and spinning of his partner.  Orin stumbled toward the other two and asked, “Mind if I join you?”

Dipping his head in response, John indicated a spot beside him, and the auburn-haired engineer easily fell into it.  “You see Teyla?” Sheppard asked him.

Travis shrugged.  “Seems she slipped away a while back,” he explained.  “I think she managed to escape.”

“Bet she high-tailed it out of here,” Bates muttered discontentedly.  “Probably miles from here.”

“Not as far as you would believe,” her voice came from behind them.  All three men turned, to see the Athosian come out of the darkness.  She gave Bates a curious glance as if she wanted to ask him something about what he’d said.

“Where’ve you been hiding?” Sheppard asked as Travis moved down to create a space for her on the log bench.

“I have not been hiding,” Teyla answered quickly.  “I have been observing the festivities from a safe distance.”

John laughed quietly, but Bates and Travis kept their silence, knowing better than to mess with the Athosian.  Teyla gave the Major a dark look.  Quickly, Sheppard decided to mend things with, “You’re smarter than the rest of us.”

“Yes,” Teyla responded.  “I realize this.”

The team from Atlantis sat as the raucous dance continued.  People were jerking around like puppets on their strings.  The music was suddenly at head-banging levels.  Much louder and Sheppard was certain they’d all burst their eardrums.   It was worse than the “Quiet Riot” concert he’d attended in his youth.

With a sigh, John hoped he didn’t look half as foolish as Travis had when the doctor had been dancing about with Choate.  Bates fared better with his small harem around him.  He’d only needed to lean from side to side and bob his head a bit to look like he was participating.  Teyla, well, Sheppard hadn’t seen much of her.  She’d managed to disappear rather early on.  At least, John decided, there was no photographic evidence of the event.  He could count on the discretion of Teyla, Bates and Travis.  No one would hear a word about it.

Good thing McKay wasn’t here, he decided.  He’d never hear the end of it if the Canadian had observed any of this.  Of course, if Rodney had been dragged into the fray, the results would have been hilarious.  Would have served him right, Sheppard decided with a grin, trying to imagine the astrophysicist forced to mambo, to tango, to lambada – maybe even macarena.  Would have been worth the laugh.  Sheppard turned to Bates, still smiling at the idea, and was met with a deep frown.

“Three days,” Bates said, raising his voice above the music.

“Three days,” Travis echoed glumly.

Then Lillooet started heading toward them, her arms extended and a joyful look on her face as she spotted Teyla.  The Athosian let out a disgusted low growl and Sheppard smirked at her discomfort.  He lifted his eyebrows as a form of apology as the Capilano dragged Teyla away from them, and the three Atlantians watched Teyla take up the dance again.

She wasn’t bad.  All of that fight training paid off with nimble, graceful movements.  Teyla cast them furious glances from time to time as Lillooet urged her on with a frenzied thrash.

With a yawn, Sheppard leaned back, glad that the day was nearly over, glad that it was Teyla dancing and not himself.  McKay's gonna pay, he decided.  What he’s doing can’t be anywhere near this bad.  Damn him!  He gets to play in an Ancient’s toy box.  Bet he’s having the time of his life. He should be suffering like the rest of us.

Really rather be back in Atlantis right now, John thought.  And it was funny how much that thought affected him.  He furrowed his brow as he considered it.  He really NEEDED to be back.  He sighed, realizing that it was just his disgust with the proceedings that made him feel that way – that had to be it.

“Three days,” John stated, and the men beside him nodded glumly.  "Worst days of my life."


CHAPTER  8:  AS IF THE HOUNDS OF HELL

Ford burst through the event horizon into Atlantis with Richmond behind, as if the hounds of hell were at their heels.  Within minutes, he had rattled off the situation to Weir.  Richmond had impressed him, giving detailed information regarding the known injuries of the scientists, filling in the medical team that congregated.

The first wave of the rescue unit went through almost immediately – the triage group was accustomed to assembling quickly and dispatching.  Richmond went with them, leading the way.  The excavation and recovery group would take longer to bring their materials together.  Ford remained until they were ready to follow.

The lieutenant accompanied Weir to her office.  “Someone will have to go after the Major,” Ford told her.

Weir sighed discontentedly.  She paused before she reached her office and called to Halling who was watching the activity in the Gateroom from the balcony.  Ford frowned, watching as the tall Athosian strode toward them and they entered her office together. This wasn’t the time for including him, Ford thought ruefully.

“We have to inform the Major,” Ford insisted.  “He needs to know what happened.  Teyla will want to know, too.”

“Lieutenant,” Weir said softly.  “Would it make any difference if they were there?”

The question brought Ford up short.  “They would want to be there, ma’am.  The Major, I’m certain, will want to know.  Dr. McKay is missing.  The doctor is a member of our team.” He glanced to Halling, wondering why the man was there.  “Teyla will feel the same way.  She’ll be upset if we don’t tell her.”  And he let that hang, as if her temper was reason enough to do anything.

“We have a skilled team assembling – the best men for the situation,"  Weir responded.  "If Major Sheppard were to attend, he could offer little more.”

“He could offer his presence, ma’am,” Ford rejoined.

“But his presence is needed elsewhere at this moment.”  Weir spoke to the Athosian, “Halling, what would happen if we were to break into the Capilano negotiation before it concluded?”

Halling stood with his shoulders hunched – still nearly a head taller than either of them.  “The negotiations would fail,” he answered.  He looked apologetically toward Ford.  “The Capilanos would feel that we have shamed them if we were to pull our people from the meetings before they have ended.  They do not appreciate people going against their wishes.”

“And the bartering agreements?” Weir led on.

With a shrug, Halling told them, “They would not wish to speak to you again.  They are generous people with those that are generous to them.  If they felt that you had been inconsiderate with them, then all communications would end.  They highly appreciate the participation in their friendship ceremonies.  It is their greatest joy.”  His eye twitched at those words, as if he’d been a part of such ceremonies at some point.

“So if we were to pull Sheppard from the festivities now, we’d get nothing from them?” Weir repeated to clarify.

Halling responded with a nod.

“The Major would want to be with us,” Ford insisted in a low voice.

“I know, Aiden,” Weir said sympathetically.  “But what could he do besides move rocks?”

“He needs to be there.  He’ll want to be moving those rocks.  He’ll want to be there when we find Dr. McKay.”  Ford tried not to think of the dire straits that McKay and the others were in.  He tried not to think of Moody and – what might have happened to the Doc.  It’d be dark in that cave.  McKay would be hurt, no doubt.  “He will want to be there,” Ford repeated emphatically.

“Whether Major Sheppard is with you or not won’t make any difference in the rescue,” Weir said patiently.  “And what if we were to move a few rocks and find our missing scientists unharmed?  Can you imagine how upset Major Sheppard would be if we recalled him for nothing?  We would have wasted this opportunity.”

“It wouldn’t be for nothing,” Ford told her.

Weir sighed, understanding, wishing she could do exactly as Ford requested, but there were larger issues at stake.  “He’ll be back in two days.  We can fill him in then.  Now, I need you to lead the rest of the team to the site so that we can get Radek, Rodney and Alvin out of there.”

“But Major Sheppard…”

“Has other responsibilities right now.”

“This is his responsibility,” Ford muttered, feeling a little cowardly because he realized that he wanted Sheppard back for his own peace of mind as well.  He didn’t want to deal with the consequences of this fall-in – he didn’t want to face the worst possibilities without Sheppard there.

“I know.  But this is the way it has to be.”

Not at all happy, Ford nodded, and stated a quick, “Yes, ma’am,” before he turned to the door.

“Aiden,” Weir’s voice stopped him.

Ford turned smartly to face her, his face set like stone. “Ma’am?”

“I agree with you,” Weir told him softly.  “He’d want to be there.”  She glanced to Halling.  “They’d both want to be there.  But there’s nothing they could add to the rescue and we’d lose an opportunity to gain an important trading partner.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ford responded sharply.  “I just don’t like it.”

Weir smiled slightly.  “Neither do I.  And, I’ll accept responsibility for Teyla and Major Sheppard’s reaction when they return.”

With a grim face, Ford replied, “Better be wearing your fire-proof underwear.”  He stopped suddenly, realizing what he’d said to the expedition leader.  He added a polite, “Ma’am,” to his statement and smiled weakly.

Weir returned the expression warmly.  Laying a hand on his shoulder, she stated, “Go get Rodney and the others, Aiden.  Bring them home.”

The lieutenant nodded and left the office.


CHAPTER  9:  LIKE  A HORRIBLE DREAM

Moody’s body was retrieved before any excavation began, and he was respectfully returned to Atlantis.  But as the work started, there had been no sign of the others.

Teams worked in three-hour shifts and the tunnel was slowly cleared.  Ford remained as the personnel changed, refusing to go while McKay and the others were still missing.  Deroche, Richmond and Fairholm had stayed as well.  Alava had helped escort the scientists home.

One of the marines had the ATA gene and brought a life sign detector - but it proved worthless. The tunnel showed no life, even when they had their searchers in the space.

Only two of the scientists from Merritt’s team remained – Burnaby and Powell – the only ones who’d, so far, escaped unharmed.  They hovered about and waited anxiously to see Merritt, talking to anyone who would listen, looking pissed off and concerned.

The spotlights cast dreamlike shadows as the teams labored underground, sending silhouettes into the night.  The engineers, geologists and marines toiled to shore up and empty the passage.  They arduously removed the rock, filling bins and buckets, carrying rubble out in armloads, carefully taking apart what had taken seconds to fall, looking for the missing three men, hoping for an open space beneath the rubble – a space large enough to safely contain three men.  The festive tile, previously collected with such care, was crushed beneath the feet or swept unceremoniously into a grit-filled bucket to be dumped outside.

A geologist had set up a device to measure seismic activity.  So far, all was quiet, but the woman watched the meter with a careful eye, forever pushing her glasses up her nose as she concentrated on the readings.

Beckett and several of his people stood ready near the entrance.  Carson looked nervous, idly talking to the medical staff, but his gaze constantly flitting toward the opening to the complex.  He was rarely at ease when he was outside of Atlantis, and this situation was hardly comforting.  Any time someone shouted from within the hole, he’d flinch as if he dreaded what they were going to say.

Aiden felt sick.  He’d been put in charge of this group, and had lost four people.  Moody was dead – the man he’d ordered forward – and nothing looked good for the remaining three. He waited near Beckett in the white glare of the lights -- waited for more news, watching as bin after bin of rock was heaved from the entrance.

A mountain was building of evacuated rubble – and more bracings went in as they steadied the hallway and continued onward. They’d been at it for four hours and had cleared only half the tunnel.  Rooms had been left alone as they figured that the missing men must still be in that collapsed hallway – because Moody had stated that they had been on their way out. 

When a boot was uncovered, a shout went out.  Carson winced again, and sprung into action.  Ford slapped on his safety helmet and followed the medical team down.  Fairholm, Deroche and Richmond went with him.  As he descended, Aiden marveled at how much larger the tunnel seemed now that so much of it had fallen and been cleared away.  He moved quickly to reach the others, just behind Beckett.  A small team crouched at the far end of the tunnel, working to clear the rubble away from a man.  The sight was horrifying.

Ford gulped, telling himself that he was a soldier, an officer, and would not react – but the smashed body, the shattered head made him close his eyes and slow his breathing as he promised himself that the wouldn’t puke.  Oh God… no.  The man’s head was unrecognizable… brown hair and torn flesh.  His body was broken and bloody.  Ford tried not to imagine it… the horrible death.  God, what a way to go.

And worst of all, there was no telling who they’d found – it was just a body in bloody beige.  Aiden found himself hoping, praying that it wasn’t McKay… or Zelenka… friends, people he liked and knew.  Please, not McKay… it can’t be… He didn’t want to think about it, but he couldn’t help it as his chest tightened. 

No… not McKay.   Or Dr. Zelenka?  No… no.  He didn’t want to believe it.  He couldn’t stand to think of either of them dying this way.  That left only Merritt.  Aiden felt awful wishing it were Merritt.  When one the searchers found the flag patch on the busted shoulder, Ford held his breath as the cleaned it way, only exhaling as they declared it was an American.

He sent up a small prayer of thanks, even as he asked for forgiveness for wishing a man dead.

There was nothing for Beckett or his people to do for Alvin.  Carson did a perfunctory check on the man, just going through the motions, but there was no doubt that Merritt was dead – dead -- dead.  The Scot let out a low sigh, saying, “I’m sorry, Alvin.”

And for a moment, everyone was silent in the glare of the spotlights.

Finally, feeling the quiet laying too heavily on them, Beckett stood.  Grasping his medical bag, he nodded toward the wall of unexcavated rock and stated, “Rodney and Radek are under this?”

His jaw set, Aiden nodded tightly.

Carson looked lost, gazing from dark space that was open above the rubble.  “They couldn’t’a survived it,” he said quietly.  “None of them.  You can’t hope for an open spot under this.”

“We’ll keep looking,” Ford insisted, glancing toward the exit as two men entered, carrying a body bag.  “We’re not going to give up.”

Frustrated, Carson shouted, “Look at ‘im, Lieutenant!” He gestured to the mashed remains of Merritt.  “No one’s gonna survive this.  Look at what fell on ‘em!” And he jabbed a hand toward the rock fall that still barred their way.  “They’re not gonna get out of this!  There’s just no way!”

Ford stepped forward, shoving Beckett back a step.  The soldiers and medical personnel pulled back, waiting to see what happened next in the cramped space.  “We will not stop looking!” Ford insisted.  “I haven’t given up, and I need YOU to keep believing, too.”

Looking miserable, Beckett nodded.  “Aye,” he responded.  “Aye, I want to… I want to.”

“Dr. McKay is pretty bright,” Ford tried. “Bet he found someplace to ride this out.”

“Aye,” was all Carson could say in response.  He nodded, but kept his eyes downcast, watching as his staff carefully lifted Merritt’s ruined body and placed him within the body bag.  “Bright, yes he is.”

And Ford couldn’t help thinking that Beckett already looked as if he’d lost his friend.

Fairholm stepped back, pressing his back against the wall.  “Moody said he’d seen the others in the tunnel with Dr. Merritt.”

“They should be under this next bit of rock,” Richmond decided, pointing to a space just beyond where they were standing, under a ton of debris.

“Christ,” Deroche sighed, rubbing the back of his head, just under his helmet.  “Jesus Christ…”

“Enough already,” Ford growled.  And everyone grew quiet as Merritt’s body was carefully lifted.  The glare of the bright lights made everything too stark. It was like a horrible dream.  A need for dimness made Ford reach out and turn off the nearest of the spotlights, dropping the space into a more comforting shadow.

They stood in silence as the scientist’s body was removed -- to follow Sgt. Moody back to Atlantis.  How many men had they lost since they arrived in Atlantis?  How many more would be lost?  And Ford turned his head to the still-filled tunnel, hoping beyond hope that McKay and Zelenka had escaped the terrible finish that had found Merritt.

As he gazed to the collapse of stone, he frowned.  “Turn off the other spots,” he ordered.

“It’ll get dark,” Richmond told him.  “I mean, pitch black.  We won’t be able to see a hand in front of your face.”

“Turn them off!” Ford ordered, his gaze not leaving the space above the rubble.

There was a click, and another, and the group was plunged into darkness – but it wasn’t as black as Richmond had suggested.  In the unexcavated part of the tunnel, something glowed.

“What is that?” Beckett asked, reaching out to grasp hold of Ford’s arm.  He stepped closer to the lieutenant, unable to see anything but the soft glow that illuminated the rocks above their heads.

“Fairholm?” Ford called.  “Before the cave in… were they using any spotlights this far into the cavern?”

“No sir,” Fairholm responded.  “They had a couple of portable units up near the front, but those got smashed.  They were just using flashlights further down.”

“What are the chances of a flashlight surviving the cave in?” Ford asked in the darkness.  “Still on, still working?”

“Not bloody likely, if you ask me,” Beckett replied.  “Unless of course, someone kept it safe with them.”

“Get those spots on again!” Ford ordered and was engulfed immediately in bright white light.  It took a moment for his eyes to function correctly.  Finally, he blinked his vision clear and looked toward the wall of rock that partially filled the tunnel.  It was possible that McKay and Zelenka were beneath it – yes – but he’d seen the light and a new hope reached him.

Without waiting any longer, he strode forward, grasping onto the rocky surface before him, and started climbing.

“Sir,” Richmond called after him.  “If they’re under the rocks…”

“Then they’re dead, private,” Ford replied bluntly.  “But I got a good feeling that they’re not.”  He reached the top, finding an open space, wide enough to crawl through.  Turning, he offered down a hand to Beckett, who held out his medical bag, and then followed.


CHAPTER  10:  LIKE LIVING THINGS

It was slow going, crawling along the top of the rubble. The rocks shifted beneath them living things, and they slid, trying to find a purchase, but they never slowed.  They passed two rooms that were so filled with debris it was unimaginable that anyone could have survived.  The light… the light led them onward.

Ford kept moving, hearing Beckett struggling behind him and his swearing as knees scraped along the uncompromising rock, shoulders banged the low ceiling.  “It’s bloody difficult to do this with a helmet on!” Carson called from behind him.

“Then take it off,” Ford commented, having his own difficulty trying to tip his head to one side to see where he was going, and to keep the back of the helmet from cutting into his neck.

“Not bloody likely,” Beckett responded sharply, followed by the whack of his helmet meeting again with the low-slung ceiling, and “Blast!”

“We’re almost there,” Ford stated encouragingly, spotting the opening ahead of them from where the glow emanated. He clambered forward, struggling over the rocks, to finally reach the doorway and peer within.  He let out a low breath at the sight that greeted him.

Behind him, Ford heard the cry from Beckett, “What?  What do you see?”

“It’s nowhere near as bad as the others,” Ford called as he gazed about the room.  The room was strewn with debris but, where the other rooms were filled halfway to the ceilings, this one had only a layer of rock across the floor.  And against one side of the room – a light.  Ford turned himself about and scooted down through the opening feet-first, landing unsteadily. “Dr. McKay?” he called.  “Dr. Zelenka?”

Ford heard Beckett fussing around behind him, and Deroche further back, giving the doctor a hand.  He let the medic handle the doctor and he clambered over the low level of rock toward the glow.  It all shifted and crunched and shattered beneath his feet, but he moved carefully, looking where he stepped, making certain that no one was beneath his path.  He reached the light as Beckett finally tottered onto the floor and Deroche came down behind him.

There was a low wall of fallen rock, and behind it – an open space – and alcove – a little safe spot within all the chaos. And beneath the rubble… a man with a flashlight.

“Beckett!” Ford called, leaning over the impeding rocks. “It’s McKay!”  God, Rodney looked like hell.  He was bruised, and utterly still. Rocks covered half of him.  A nasty wound had bled down his face.  The dust had settled down into the blood and onto his skin, making him gray as a corpse.  No, Ford thought, no… not a corpse.   He reached out one hand, touching the pale face, hoping.  Rodney felt cold.  “Doc?” he called.  “Doc, can you hear me?”

He heard Beckett clattering up behind him.  The doctor grabbed hold of his arm to steady himself, and leaned against him, shining his light into the little alcove that had partially protected the physicist.

Ford’s forehead furrowed in concern as Rodney didn’t respond to his touch.  “Come on, Doc,” he whispered worriedly.  Don’t… you can’t be… we found you…   The tightness in his chest increased as he grappled with the rocks, removing the layer that trapped McKay’s arm.  No… no… no…

McKay came awake with a gasp, and Ford found himself smiling.  “Doc,” he called.  “Hey, Dr. McKay.”  He could think of nothing else, so thrilled that the man wasn’t dead.  But Rodney didn’t seem to see him.  His unfocused eyes stared at nothing in the stark light as he gasped and tried to cough.

“Step back now, lad,” Beckett ordered, getting around the lieutenant.

Ford didn’t want to relinquish his place immediately, needing to talk to McKay, make sure he was okay, but now that his arm was freed, McKay was twisting about, his face contorted with pain.  “S’okay, Doc,” he tried to assure.  “You’re okay.”

Beckett roughly shoved an arm across Ford’s chest, forcing him back. “Julien, give me a hand!” Carson called as Ford stumbled away, letting Deroche take his place.

Aiden watched as the two leaned into the opening, hunched over McKay, who tried to curl up in the too small space and continued to wheeze in pain-filled breaths. “Be still, Rodney,” Beckett’s voice was soothing but uncompromising as he and Deroche worked to immobilize him.  “It’s okay.  We found you.”   McKay made a sharp cry.  “No, Rodney, don’t move your arm.  Don’t move a’tall.”  Turning his head, Beckett demanded, “We need a backboard and a collar.  Now, Lieutenant!”

And Ford clicked on his radio, issuing orders, getting people in motion.  Meanwhile, he searched with his light, shining it up and down, at his feet, along the wall, over the fallen debris, until he discovered the second alcove deeper in the room. Of course… of course…

Stumbling over the rocks, he made his way toward it, reaching the sheltered spot.  He could hear others coming up the narrow tunnel, could hear McKay making distressed sounds and Beckett’s attempts to calm him.  “I need you to be still, Rodney.  You’re hurt.  I know… I know… We got you now.  It’s gonna be all right.”

Deroche was on the radio, calling out more of their needs.  He was going on about broken ribs, broken arm, concussion, possible internal injuries. Deroche sounded damn anxious about getting the supplies as Beckett kept working over McKay.

Ford crouched down to see inside the space and let out a breath as his light revealed what he was after.  There, in the open space, curled around some odd shaped device, was Radek.  “I found him!” he called.  “I found Dr. Zelenka!”  He pulled at rocks to get at the Czech.

Beckett looked up from his work, trying to keep Rodney from moving.  “Thank God!  Is he breathing?” Carson asked anxiously.

Finally finding enough space to reach in, Ford managed to grasp hold of a limp arm, and felt for a pulse.  He nodded.  “Alive… he’s alive,” he exclaimed.

“Kin you see any injuries?”

“He looks fine,” Ford stated, forcing away more of the rocks.  “Can’t see anything wrong with him.  I can’t even see if any of these rocks hit him.  Radek?  Radek?  Can you hear me?”  He couldn’t get close to the man.  With a frustrated movement, he shoved the microwave-sized device out of the way and was finally able to reach him.  “Dr. Zelenka?” he called again, as he reach his shoulder.  But Zelenka didn’t respond, and the rest of Beckett’s team stumbled into the room.


CHAPTER  11: LIKE CRAP

Ford woke a with a start.  Bleary-eyed, confused, he looked around, finding himself in Beckett’s comfortable waiting room – and the doctor standing at the entrance with a steaming mug in his hand. 

“Ach,” Carson said.  “I see you didn't leave at all last night.”  He sighed, shaking his head.  His hair was still wet from a recent shower and his unrumbled clothing told that he’d at least made it back to his room.

“Fell asleep,” Ford mumbled.

“Yes, I could see that,” Carson replied.  He gestured to the mug, saying, “I’d offer you a cup of coffee, but I only brought enough for me… and it’s tea.”

“Hmmmph,” Ford replied, running a hand through his close-cropped hair and trying to shake himself from sleep.  They’d freed the two scientists as quickly and carefully as possible from their tomb. McKay’s injuries distressed Beckett, and he’d shouted at his people about the urgency of getting the physicist back as soon as possible.   Zelenka had worried him.  A large bump was found at the back of his head, and little else.  Radek’s pupil’s were dilated and he’d had given them no reaction to stimuli.  He remained as still as death.

They’d been strapped down to boards and toted toward the exit.  And thankfully, the seismic activity seemed to have quieted – for the time being at least.

Carrying McKay and Zelenka through the narrow tunnel had been harrowing.  Maneuvering through the tight space carrying litters was hardly easy, but Zelenka’s stillness helped.  McKay was less accommodating, but Beckett’s constant litany of  “Keep still, Rodney.  Don’t move a’tall.  We’ve got you.  We’ll get you out,” seemed to help.  McKay, for his part, tried not to put up a struggle, but every movement was tortuous to handle.

The journey had been completed surprisingly quickly, and they’d brought the scientists out to the cold night air of P6M-301.

Doctors Burnaby and Powell had remained at the entrance, buzzing with questions, asking where McKay and Zelenka had been found, what had happened to them.  They wanted all the particulars – how far were they from Merritt?  Who was found first?  Ford had looked at them as if they’d grown extra heads when they started badgering him about the device, and finally he had to send Fairholm and Richmond back into the tunnel to retrieve this vital piece of technology.

The two marines had emerged quickly with the cumbersome box just as Beckett had finished preparing Rodney and Radek for the journey back.  They loaded the injured men and the scavenged device on the MALP and brought them back to Atlantis.

Ford had traveled with his friends as far as he could.  He’d ridden with them on the MALP, as Rodney came to, confused, pained, struggling.  It had taken a few frantic moments to keep him still, to assure him that he was safe.  Ford remembered staring into those terrified, pain-filled eyes as McKay grasped at him.  “It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Ford had chanted, wishing it was.  The physicist hadn’t lasted long, and Ford doubted that he ever knew what was going on.  He slipped back into unconsciousness almost immediately, leaving Ford with a racing heart.

He’d accompanied them through the Gate, and had followed Beckett’s team as gurneys carried Rodney and Radek from the Gateroom, leaving Burnaby and Powell to deal with the device.

And then he had waited, after Rodney had been taken to surgery – internal injuries – bleeding himself to death inside.  Radek was taken to MRI to find out what was going on inside his head.  The infirmary was crowded, filled with scientists injured in the collapse, their colleagues, and the medical staff trying to take care of them all.  Ford had attempted to find a quiet spot to wait for word, but the noise within the facility was getting to him.  And the words being bandied about were even more troubling.

They were all nattering non-stop about the cave-in, about how Merritt had died, how the others had left him, how Merritt would be alive and well – if not for that device – if McKay hadn’t made him stay below and remove it.  And why had Merritt been left to face his fate in the hallway instead of being allowed into the safe room with the others?

Ford had no idea about what had happened in that underground complex, he just needed to get away from the jabbering of the intellectuals.  He needed to get away from their conjectures and assumptions.  He couldn’t hear it just yet – not with the death of Sgt. Moody so vivid in his memory, not after seeing what happened to Dr. Merritt, not after finding McKay in so much pain and Zelenka so absolutely silent.  So, he slid out into Beckett’s lovely waiting room – containing the softest, most comfortable chairs in Atlantis.

Easily, he’d slid into an overstuffed chair.  Most waiting rooms back in their home galaxy seemed to be dominated by hard, plastic seats that felt like crap after one sat in them for more than ten minutes.  Ford had no idea where Beckett had gotten his furniture, but it was times like this that he wanted to kiss the Scot.  He’d fallen asleep before he even realized he was so very tired.  And now, awake, he wanted to know everything.

“How are they?” Ford asked Beckett, his face open with worry.

Beckett nodded.  “Rodney made it through surgery.  He was pretty banged up inside.  It took longer than we would have wanted, but we've got the damage all sewn up.  Got a nasty rap on the head, broke a couple of ribs, and his arm has a rather painful fracture.  He’s gonna be sore for a while, I’m afraid.”

“So, he’s going to be fine?” Ford asked anxiously.

Beckett stated, “We believe so.”

Frowning, Ford pressed him, “You ‘believe’ so?”

Beckett let out a breath.  “He was in pretty bad shape, lieutenant.  He’d bled inside for hours before we got to him.  His broken ribs are givin' him trouble breathing.  He seems to be improving, but only time will tell.”

Ford nodded, accepting this.  ‘Improving’ was better than the other thing.  “And what about Dr. Zelenka?”

Again, Beckett sighed.  “His shelter was apparently larger than Rodney’s, but he received a rather severe blow to the head.  There’s some swelling.  He’s under medication that should relieve that.”

“Swelling?”

“His brain, lad, inside his skull,” Beckett responded.

“That’s not good,” Ford responded.

Beckett nodded glumly.  “Aye,” he replied.  "He's respondin' to the medication, so we won't have to go about drillin' holes in his head.  He hasn’t come around and it may be some time before he does.  We have to hope.  We just have to wait and hope.  Wouldn’t hurt to say a prayer.”  He took a sip from his mug to end the conversation, then stated, “Come on then.” Carson opened the other door to the infirmary.  “Let’s go see how they’re doin’.”

The infirmary was quieter than the night before – the visitors had departed and the injured were resting – until they saw Beckett; then, a hue and cry went up as they voiced their pains and aches, demanding information, diagnosing themselves and insisting on treatment.

Beckett moved past them, nodding as if he listened, moving toward the desk where Dr. Gutterman sat, smiling at them.  “So,” Beckett said tiredly, “how is everyone this mornin’?”

Ford moved away, letting the doctors talk their medical stuff.  He walked along, gazing at the occupants in the beds.  Some of the patients slept, others watched him as he moved past.  They looked strangely annoyed and defiant.  He found what he sought at the back of the room, near the nurse’s station.  Someone had been thoughtful enough to put their beds near each other – Beckett no doubt.

With a sigh, Ford looked down on his injured teammate.  “Hey, Doc,” Ford said quietly, taking in the wan complexion, the bruises, the bandages, the IVs, the monitors, the oxygen, the cast that encased his arm.  It looked as if McKay had taken one hell of a beating.  “Hey, Doc, it’s me, Ford… Aiden,” he said as he sat in the chair between the beds.

“Not like you to be still,” Ford commented, resting his arms on his knees and sitting forward.  “Seems like I never see you quiet unless it’s something bad.”  The monitors beeped and McKay didn’t stir.  “Sorry it took so long to find you.  We got there as soon as we could.  Good thing you had that flashlight.  It’s what led us to you.  Pretty smart – turning it on.  I guess that’s what you are, right?  Smart.”  And he ran out of things to say.

Ford turned in the other direction, to Zelenka.  He didn’t look as bad as McKay, but his chances seemed shakier than McKay’s at that moment.  “Hi, Dr. Zelenka,” he said with forced cheerfulness.  “How’s it goin’?” and he winced at his stupid remark.  How’s it going?  Hell of a time to ask a question like that! Bet, if he could answer, Zelenka would say he felt like crap… or however you said it in Czech.

What could he do?  What could he possibly do?  What could he have done to stop this from happening?  Could he have saved Joe Moody?  Or Merritt?  Could he have kept McKay and Zelenka from getting hurt?  He should have.  It was his responsibility to keep them all safe and alive.  God, he screwed up this time.  He felt like crap.

At the next bed, one of the scientists, Dr. Stanley, with her head wrapped, was gazing at him with a discontented look.  He glanced about, seeing the same unhappy expression reflected elsewhere.  He’d become the center of attention.  They blame me, he thought.  They blame me for all of this.

Miserable, Ford propped his elbows on his knees and rested his head in his hands, feeling the guilt settle on him.  God, this sucks, he thought, wishing Sheppard was back to take care of things.  Why couldn’t the Major be here?


CHAPTER  12:  LIKE TIM HORTONS

Sheppard awoke slowly.  The sun shining in through the tent flaps was warm and inviting.  He sat up, stretched, and regarded his compatriots, who were all in the process of awakening as well.  For a moment he did nothing, letting his mind shake off the slumber.   There was that feeling again… that he really should be home.

It’s the cot, he realized.  The damn cot.  His bed back in Atlantis was a hell of a lot more comfortable.  The Ancients knew what they were doing – a good night sleep works wonders for the body.  He stretched his back, trying to work out the kinks.

“Mornin’,” Sheppard called to Teyla, who winced.  “Headache?” he asked.

Instead of speaking, the Athosian nodded curtly and squinted.

Sheppard smiled smugly at that response.  “Yeah,” he replied.  “Me, too.”

“I figured that the music would never end,” Bates ground out, rubbing his forehead.  “You think we’re going to go through more of the same today?”

Orin grimaced.  “God, I hope not!”

And the four sat on their cots, trying to awaken and to get their minds set for a new day among the Capilanos.

Suddenly, Chilliwack poked his head thought their tent flap and gave them an intense look.  “The sun is up,” he said.

“Yeah,” Sheppard replied.  “I can tell.”

“We must get started.”  He pressed his way inside – and strangely enough – instead of flowing Hari Krishna garb, he wore a tailored-looking suit in a pretty pastel peach.  He looked at them with an almost disdainful expression.  “You do realize that it’s Negotiation Day?” he asked, taking in their rumpled civvies.  “And we have plenty to discuss today.”

“Yeah… yeah…” Sheppard responded.

The once wild-and-free hippy-boy was suddenly the poster child for corporate behavior.  “The meeting will commence shortly.  There will be pastries and morning tea provided.  Please, don’t delay.”  And he turned sharply and left the tent.

The three Earthlings looked at each other in disbelief as Teyla got to her feet and opened her rucksack.  “Teyla,” Sheppard started.  “What the hell?”

The Athosian was busily going through her things, locating the appropriate garb.  “When the Capilanos are ready to discuss business, they are able negotiators,” she explained.  “I believe they enjoy the process.  They wish to ensure their trade agreements are always clearly understood so that there is no room for misinterpretation.”

“Oh,” Sheppard responded.

“We had best hurry as we do not want to disappoint them by arriving late.”  She looked up, as the men still stared at her.  “They are well known for their excellent pastries,” she tried to encourage.  “They create something that I believe you would call a ‘doughnut’.    Doctor McKay has mentioned someone named ‘Tim Horton’ was similar.”

“Doughnuts?” Bates muttered.  “Doesn’t seem like the sort of thing tree-huggers should be making.”

Teyla shook her head.  “Our early perceptions of people are not the clearest,” she explained.  “We shall be busy today.”

With a nod, Sheppard stood and the others followed and they prepared for negotiations.


CHAPTER  13:  THE QUESTIONS EVERYONE ASKS

He felt woozy and strange.  Pain niggled at him, almost dulled, but pain just the same.  His stomach hurt, his arm, his head, his chest – but there was a detachment to it, as if he were drugged.

Drugged… yes, that’s it… drugs… morphine maybe.  He didn’t doubt the need for it – because he hurt even under the morphine’s effects, and he really disliked pain – did everything to avoid it.  But, he hated this dizzy disconnected feeling.  He hated not being able to think straight, because thinking was all he ever really had.  He hated this molasses feeling, dull and dim and dumb.  When his brain wasn’t obeying him – he was rather worthless.

Besides… morphine was supposed to make you constipated.  He hated that, too.

He listened, because that was all he could do at the moment.  Near him, a monitor beeped.  There was a clatter of instruments, the squeak of something being wheeled about, the shuffling of someone in a bed, the flutter of sheets, and the general groaning and misery of patients.  Hospital… he was in hospital… the infirmary… damn.  What the hell happened?

He listened, because he was too damn tired and hurt to awaken, listened to get his bearings and to get his head clear, to figure out what was going on before he blurted out something stupid like, ‘where am I?’  He’d heard that this was the first thing most people said when they woke up in a hospital, and he was determined to be smarter than the average man.

After all, he was a genius – right?  And if he couldn’t think like one, he’d have nothing left.

He listened because he was scared…he was scared and needed to have a handle on things before he let himself face anyone.  He couldn’t remember what had happened… he couldn’t remember how he’d been hurt.  Something… something about a mission… and an underground facility… and the ridiculous notion that the place may have been used to manufacture ZPMs… and he remembered Merritt.

Merritt…  the earthquake… and that gut wrenching horror as the ceiling came down.  And then he remembered…

“It’s just not fair,” someone said nearby.  Maybe it was Dr. Stanley – the pretty blonde who wore her hair too long and never smiled.  “What happened to Alvin… just not fair.”

“You know it.  Shit, and you didn’t even hear to McKay,” another voice answered – Burnaby.  “Me and Brian were down there just before it all came down.  The place was shaking and McKay was ripping Alvin a new one – telling him to get that device out of the wall. Told him he couldn’t leave until that thing was out.”

“He wasn’t even helping,” the next voice was Powell.  “Me and Dave had been talking to Radek.  Zelenka was going on about how McKay was keeping Merritt down there to get out the device.  I mean, come on, Alvin had enough sense to get out when that earthquake started.  He wouldn’t have just stayed in there for nothing!  Then, McKay shouted at Zelenka to come back in so that he could make both of them to do his bidding.  He didn’t care what happened to either of them.”

“Wants to hog all the glory,” Burnaby stated.  “He’s such an arrogant son of a bitch.  Thinks he’s the best at everything, the biggest brain in all of fucking Atlantis.  You watch.  Soon as we figure out what that damn device does, he’ll take all the credit for it.”

“It’s like him,” Stanley added succinctly.

Powell put in, “McKay… if it wasn’t for him, Alvin would still be alive, Sgt. Moody, too.  And Radek wouldn’t be like that…”

Radek?  What… what had happened to Zelenka?  McKay strained to hear.  Near his ear, the monitor’s beeping increased.  What happened to everyone… why are so many people here?  Radek?  What’s wrong with him?

On the other side of him, an accented female voice called, “Doctor Beckett?” 

“It’s a fucking shame.”  Burnaby again.  “Alvin was a better man than he’d ever be.  Bet McKay wanted him dead because Alvin was showing him up.  And now Dr. Zelenka might never wake up.  Damn it, Sylvia, at least you and the others didn’t get hurt too badly.”

Stanley made a disgusted sound.  “You’re not the one with stitches in your head.”

Never wake up? No!  Pursing his lips, Rodney tried to focus, to hear them more clearly, to understand.

“Did you hear what Private Deroche said?” Powell asked.  “The coward got into the first available hidey-hole.  Radek had to go to the one at the far side of the room.  Had to carry that device with him.”

“Does it surprise you?” Burnaby asked.  “That McKay would run and hide, leaving Zelenka to fend for himself?  Made Zelenka tote that device that Merritt died over.  Shit, all because McKay wanted more glory.”

“And now Zelenka’s in a coma, we got two people dead, and McKay’s gonna get all the credit for finding that device,” Powell added.  “Big surprise.”

“Selfish prick,” Stanley commented with her usual brevity.

Coma?  Two dead… Oh God no…

Powell laughed, and said, “Good thing for McKay that the Major hasn’t come back.  This would probably be the last straw for him.”

“Yeah,” Burnaby responded.  “Just goes to show how Sheppard feels.  I mean, the Major didn’t even bother coming back from that meeting.  Bet you’re right.  This will be his ‘just cause’ for finally booting McKay off his team.”

Powell snorted.  “Probably has been wanting to do it since the beginning.”

“What’s all this then?” a burr sounded, coming toward them.  “Brian, David… you recall that I’d asked you to let Sylvia rest.”

“Figured she was lonely,” Burnaby replied with a snip in his voice.  “Didn’t want her to be alone here.”

“Yeah,” Powell added.  “Sucks to be stuck in here.”

“Hmmm,” Beckett responded.  “Sucks, does it?  Well, run along then.  You may leave the sucking zone.  She needs her rest.  Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

Rodney heard the clip of Beckett’s shoes coming closer.  “Maria?” Carson called.

The Hispanic nurse responded, “Dr. McKay’s vitals have changed.  I believe he’s coming around again.”

“Excellent.”  Then came an insistent calling, “Rodney?  Rodney?  Rodney, can you hear me?”  He heard Carson move about, messing with something near the bed.  “Come on, Rodney, I know you’re wakin’.  Kin you open your eyes a bit?  Rodney?  Just for a moment and I’ll let you be.  I’m not goin’ ‘til you do.”  There was a pause, and he felt the warmth of a hand grip his.  “I mean it, Rodney.  No rest for you until you…Ah!  There you are!”

It had taken some strength to crack open his eyes… but no will power.  If he’d had any will power, he would have continued playing possum.

“Rodney, you’re all right,” Beckett told him.  He’d released McKay’s hand and Rodney missed the warmth.  “You’re back in Atlantis and you’re gonna be fine.”  The Scot’s worried eyes met his.  “You’ve been in surgery, Rodney, to repair some bleeding.  That all went well, but you’re gonna feel awful weak for a while.  You’ve broken some ribs, fractured your left arm – it’s in a cast, you see?  So try to keep that still.  And you suffered a bit of a concussion… In other words, you’re a mess.”  The doctor smiled lightly.  “You’re gonna be in some pain.  I’ve cut back on the meds a bit so you’d wake.  You need to let me know when it gets too bad.”

Rodney wanted to ask about Zelenka – but he already knew about the Czech’s grave condition. He wanted to ask about Merritt – but Merritt was dead and gone.  He wanted to ask about that soldier in the tunnel, Moody, but that was pointless as well.  What about the other scientists?  He’d already heard that they were going to be all right. Besides, it was too much of a cliché to wake up and instantly ask about the welfare of others – and he didn’t want to do anything ‘ordinary’.  He already knew the answers and he didn’t really want to hear them.

He wanted to ask if morphine really caused constipation, but he figured he’d take his chances.

His questions had mostly been answered, so he said, “Could I have some water…?” and was surprised at how rough his voice sounded.

With a sympathetic expression, Beckett explained that there’d be only ice chips for now.

He sucked in a breath, feeling the hurt of his chest and he coughed – regretting it – regretting it a lot as the cough continued.

“Hang on, hang on,” Beckett said.  “Just ride through it, Rodney.  Better?” he asked as the coughing slowed.  “Better?” he asked again.

“Loads,” Rodney responded, still gasping for air.  “Feel like crap.”

“Aye,” Beckett replied.  “I thought as much.”

“How long?” McKay asked, feeling stupid – because wasn’t that another of those questions everyone asks?  “How long have I… been here?”

“It’s been about a day,” Beckett responded.  “You’ve been in and out a bit since surgery.”  He smiled tightly, but couldn’t hide the worry that still lit his eyes.  “It’s good to see you awake and talking, Rodney.”

A day…we’ve been here a day… Radek has been unconscious for a day.  McKay grimaced with that realization – oh, that can’t be good… not good at all.  God, I’m sorry, Radek… I’m so damn sorry.

Seeing McKay’s expression change, Beckett called his name, but he was slipping away, thinking about how sorry he was… how wrong he’d been.  He’d gotten Merritt killed – Moody and Merritt -- his own selfishness had killed two people – had doomed Zelenka.  Why hadn’t he let them go when they had the chance?  What had he been thinking?

Why had he risked their lives to retrieve a device?  He couldn’t even remember it.  What had been so important about it?  Why had he traded Merritt and Zelenka and Moody for it?

What have I done?   I’m sorry… I’m so damn sorry.

“Rodney?”  Beckett called, but he wouldn’t open his eyes again.  He felt a gentle pressure on his shoulder.  “Okay then,” Beckett stated.  “Get some more rest, Rodney.”  The pressure remained for a minute.

Beckett watched the monitors, unsure if the physicist was asleep or merely resting.  “It’s okay,” he stated again, just in case Rodney was still listening.  With a sigh, he turned to Zelenka, and checked his monitors, and asked Maria, “Any changes with Radek?” he asked.

The Mexican nurse shook her head with a woeful, “It’s almost as if he’s in a sort of purgatory, stuck and waiting.”

Beckett grimaced at the comparison.  “Don’t mention purgatory to me.  I plan to keep him from it.”  He grasped Radek’s hand a moment, called his name as he’d done several times already, but the monitors remained constant – telling him that the man still lived but wouldn’t wake.  Purgatory… perhaps that was closer to truth than he cared to mention.  With a slow exhale, Carson turned and moved away, heading back the way he came.

“Move along now,” Beckett stated as he passed Burnaby and Powell, both still posed around Dr. Stanley’s bed.

“Yeah, yeah,” Powell responded.  “One more minute.”

Tiredly, Beckett held up a finger.  “One minute then!” and he bustled away, too busy with all his patients to be put upon by discontented and well scientists.

Once the doctor moved off, Burnaby asked, “Did you hear that?”

“What?” Powell responded.

“That ass-hole, McKay, didn’t even ask about Dr. Zelenka.  Didn’t ask about Dr. Merritt or that poor bastard, Moody.  It wouldn’t even cross his mind to think about Sylvia,” Burnaby said, gesturing to the scientist who sported a head wrapping.  “Didn’t ask about any of us.  He didn’t give a shit about anyone but himself.”

“Always knew that,” Dr. Stanley responded, and ran one hand along her bandage-restricted hair.

“How the hell did he get to be head of this department, anyway?” Powell asked.

In his own bed, McKay felt himself sink deeper into the abyss, thinking, what have I done?
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Continue to the Second Half

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