AN: holy cow, I'm back from the land of the unproductive writing death. Aside from a harried RL, this chapter gave me a lot of trouble, but here's my best effort. One more chapter to go. There's going to be some new completed fics showing up, a released zine fic being one of them. Thanks for not lynching me even though I probably deserve it! Thanks Linzi for being incredibly patient, beta'ing part and waiting days longer than promised for the rest!

ETA my special strike through characters did not show up, sorry guys, I've written in where it was supposed to be, that's the best I can do on here I think!

Chapter seven

Subject: PLEASE TALK SENSE INTO ELIZABETH

From: rodneymckayatlantisnetwork.civ.sci

Date: 9/18/2006 11:16 PM

To: johnsheppardatlantisnetwork.af.mil

Seriously, Sheppard, you can't let her do this! She's farming out your girlfriend's parts; doesn't that bug you?

Rodney McKay, PhD, Chief Scientist, Atlantis

Sheppard scrubbed a tired hand over his eyes and sighed. Then he hit delete. Then he went to DELETED MAIL, and hit delete again, eradicating all seventeen emails he'd received today. From Rodney. About Elizabeth harvesting two of the three ZPM's.

You know, he got Rodney's frustration. He really did. But Atlantis had assured Sheppard that one fully-charged ZPM would let her maintain her sentience. If the city understood the need, why couldn't Rodney? The Ori hadn't gone after the Ancients before because they hadn't been strong enough, but if they conquered the Milky Way, got all those people worshipping, they'd get juiced, and then what was going to stop them from an All You Can Eat buffet of Ancients? That'd leave the universe at the Ori's mercy, and that universe included the Pegasus galaxy and Atlantis.

The clock in the bottom right-hand corner of his laptop read 21:45 and that meant he was up too late. Sheppard hit compose mail, thought about it for a moment, then decided it wasn't worth the hassle. If he replied to Rodney, it'd just make the guy think that Sheppard was actually reading these emails and then they'd never stop.

Don't feed the bears. Makes them come back for more.

Wearily, he pushed away from his desk and hoped like heck Carson hadn't followed through on his threatened bed check.

In the days since the explosion in the throne room, the doc had taken his power trip to extremes. He'd harangued Teyla, Rodney, Elizabeth and Sheppard back into his clutches, insisting on a 24-hour observation for everyone.

Then there'd been lectures on possible complications of smoke inhalation; Rodney had been signed off for light duty but that was only because Carson knew with all that had happened, he'd never manage to keep Rodney on quarters for even another hour, let alone a day or more. Teyla had left with a bottle of Tylenol and Ronon had been the only smart one in all of them. After Sheppard had gotten Atlantis to lift quarantine, he'd gone straight from the throne room and stayed hidden until Carson got past his overcompensation syndrome. He'd felt sorry for Radek, the only one who hadn't escaped after the first day.

Sheppard had been told to stay in his room, or his office, for the sake of everyone else. As if it were his fault that people were getting hurt all around him. It really wasn't. Coincidence. That was all. But just to be safe, he'd done it anyway.

Soft footsteps and a knock on his open door registered at the same time. "Colonel, did I miss you having a bed moved in here?"

His hand hovered in the air near his crutches. "I'm going right now, Doc."

Carson moved fully into Sheppard's office, scowling at the empty paper coffee cups and a plate with half a doughnut. "Colonel, I --"

"They were Rodney's," Sheppard lied smoothly, remembering the lecture on diet and healing He felt a little guilty for throwing Rodney to the wolves like that, but Carson probably wouldn't risk going after Rodney for fear of the man's acerbic tongue, pain-sharpened as it was. He took a hold of the crutches and managed to stand without wincing. His foot was actually starting to feel better. Guess there was something to be said for staying off it, but he sure as heck wouldn't be admitting it to anyone. "He stopped by earlier, tried to convince me to intervene on Atlantis' behalf, again."

"And I'm supposed to believe you?" Carson asked skeptically.

Well, it would've been nice… "Look, Doc, I've been a good boy," Sheppard insisted, his lips curling wryly, "Stayed off my feet, stayed in my quarters or my office --"

"And you can rest assured those of us still standing appreciate it."

"Funny; taking lessons from Rodney?" Sheppard turned his attention away from Carson and grappled some more with his crutches. He was tired and bored, and not in the mood to put up with more crap. Regardless of the rumors, he wasn't jinxed. Stupid. Superstitious nonsense. And it didn't help his mood that Rodney seemed to be the worst offender in spreading the rumor.

"No, actually --"

"You really did come to escort me to bed," Sheppard accused irritably. Glaring, he hop-thunked toward the door and Carson.

"Actually, I --"

"I don't know what it is with you people. Just because I happen to have been involved in a few accidents, and possibly a run of bad luck," Sheppard pushed awkwardly past Carson, "doesn't mean I need babysitting."

Sheppard's arm was grabbed, causing him to unbalance. Something cold and metal was shoved into his palm and as he managed to steady himself in the doorway, startled, he looked up to find Carson returning an irritated grimace of his own. "Medic alert dog tags; congratulations, Colonel, wear them in place of your other pair so a new medic doesn't mistakenly kill you when he treats you offworld." Carson pushed himself around Sheppard's body and muttered as he left, "Damn stubborn fool, probably throw them in your room and die of anaphylactic shock in less than a year."

"Hey! I heard that!" Sheppard shouted grumpily.

OoO

0135. Damn. Sheppard rubbed his eyes tiredly and blinked at the screen. He really should be asleep, but Elizabeth had sent another pointed email, bordering on nastygram, about a certain delayed report. And there was something in there that if it didn't show up by 0700 tomorrow morning, he just might possibly be put to the front rotation for babysitting duty.

He'd told Rodney he couldn't get out of this, but he still felt bad. For both of them.

"Planet Boom, you suck," he breathed, while punching at his laptop keys.

-- THE LEADER, Saga, said any who wished to travel through the sacred lands would have to take a "Test of Worth." I was assured the test was harmless.

For the record, harmless is a qualified statement. Doctor Beckett assured us no permanent damage was done to our hearing, but as noted before, Doctor McKay suffered psychological trauma that took weeks to resolve.

Sheppard looked guiltily at the screen. There had to be a way to write this without embarrassing either of them. But it'd been a long day and staring blearily at this screen for even another minute was pushing things. Let alone asking himself to be creative. He looked at the clock, again. 0145.

The test was a combination of musical, artistic, and critical thinking knowledge. Initially, our opinion was that we'd do fine. In fact, I believe Doctor McKay's words were, "Point us to the sacred lands and save everyone the trouble."

strike throughIn typical "screw the Atlanteans" style end strike through What we didn't know, however, was that the test was based completely upon the Mythian's knowledge, which was inaccurate and at odds with strike throughdirect quote from Doctor McKay "Completely asinine, false, wrong, did they pull these answers out of their asses?"end strike through every facet of education that we have ever had in our lives. For example, we were given a color chart and asked to identify the colors. What we call green is their red. Flat to us is round to them. Everything was strike throughass backwardsend strike through backwards.

Failing a test, in itself, strike throughis damaging enough to Doctor McKay's fragile egoend strike through was difficult enough, but the testing center was an acoustically powerful chamber meant to amplify sound, with a round clay-like dome. strike throughActually, it was kind of cool, if you remember the history about that clay pot where they think they heard Jesus commanding Lazarus to rise from the dead.end strike through For every wrong answer delivered, a large brass cymbal was whacked, causing a painful burst of noise. Adding to the frustration, we were timed, with less than ten seconds to respond. And not every answer was the opposite, such as flat to round (we tried thatstrike through, duhend strike through).

"For the record, I hate you," Sheppard grunted at the report.

The lights groaned pitifully, dimming momentarily in a brown-out. He frowned at the ceiling and raised his hand to tap his comm when his door chimed. Sheppard glanced again at the clock. 0200. Whoever it was, he had a hunch their arrival and the power fluctuation were related. He looked at his crutches and rolled his eyes. Forget it. "Come in," he called, forgoing even moving.

Radek burst in, out of breath. "Colonel, you must come!"

"What's wrong?" The report was instantly forgotten, his fatigue rolled off him, replaced by an instant alertness. He was already reaching for his crutches when Radek's rapid explanation made him swear harder.

"It's Rodney – he's trying to smuggle one of the ZPM's; you must talk sense into his crazy mind! I would have called you on radio, but he is listening."

"Rodney, you idiot," Sheppard snarled, "is that why the power's on the fritz?"

Radek nodded, rushing into the hall. "He's delusional, sloppy, making mess in throne room and with Atlantis' controls," the scientist explained, using hand gestures for emphasis. He threw a look over his shoulder, to see if Sheppard was understanding and following Radek out the door. Of course, Sheppard was. He'd been multitasking since he could toddle. Running and laughing, drinking juice and climbing – okay, that one had been a bad idea, and thankfully the chipped tooth had fallen out when he was six – anyway, the point was, Sheppard could do more than one thing at a time, and he was lumbering after Radek on crutches and already thinking about possible scenarios under which Rodney would have lost his freaking mind.

Behind him, in the now empty abandoned room, the laptop cursor blinked forlornly in place and the medic alert tags lay forgotten in a heap underneath the cone of light from the desk lamp.

OoO

Which is how, an hour later, it came to be that he was standing in the ZPM room, his 9 mil pointed at Rodney -- hey, he wasn't really gonna shoot him -- and Elizabeth, Carson, Radek, Ronon, Teyla and Lorne, were spread out around him, with McKay a few feet away, one ZPM clutched tightly against his chest and a look of utter defiance painted across his face.

"No one wanted to listen! I'm sorry, Elizabeth, but desperate times calls for desperate measures," Rodney snapped, his free hand pointing a gun right back at Sheppard.

"Are you nuts?" Sheppard had in the past wondered occasionally, but this was the first overt action that made him shift uneasy eyes towards Carson and mouth sedate him.

Radek threw his hands in the air. "Of course he's nuts, he's holding ZPM hostage!"

This situation was officially off the rails. Sheppard had arrived with Radek to find Rodney had already removed one of the three, the other two partially disconnected in the process. He'd tried to reason with the man, only for Rodney to insist he was just going to hide it away until after the Daedalus left. Then he'd 'find' it and there'd be no harm, no foul.

After Sheppard had pointed out to Rodney that Elizabeth might just be a little suspicious of a ZPM suddenly going missing, Rodney had pulled a gun on Sheppard and ordered them to back off. That was when Sheppard had swallowed his irritation, pulled his own weapon that was still resting in his thigh holster since yesterday, and commed for help, because whatever was going on, it wasn't good.

Nanobugs…it had to be nanobugs, or something equally creepy, because Rodney might be a little eccentric, egotistical and arrogant, but he wasn't insane. Wait…no, not nanobugs, because Atlantis would've quarantined McKay's infected ass. Exposure then, to something making him act like he was insane. Or maybe nanobugs wasn't totally out as Atlantis wasn't exactly functioning at full power.

"I thought I told you to stay away from the colonel, Rodney," Carson lectured tightly.

Sheppard threw Carson a mixed look of disgust and disbelief. "This is not my fault." Then he shifted self-consciously and added, "Besides, he's not bleeding or concussed." So, maybe there had been certain…patterns, and he wasn't saying he was to blame, but you know, other injuries that might have happened in his presence had always been things like a bump on the head, a slightly broken wrist --

Rodney's face twisted. "I did; do I look stupid to you? I've avoided his plague-bearing jinxed --" His casted arm twitched.

Ronon chuckled softly until a sharp elbow in his stomach caused him to choke; Sheppard felt just a small twinge of guilt at the knee brace. Teyla smiled sweetly before turning to look at Rodney. "Perhaps we should discuss this without weapons pointed at one another?"

"I'm with her," Lorne agreed. "Conducting negotiations at gunpoint has this annoying habit of ending badly."

But Carson was glaring at Sheppard now. "That's funny; Colonel Sheppard told me you were in his office earlier today. Colonel, if Rodney's been infected by some virus, or exposed to some mind-altering substance, then your behavior could also be erratic and I think you should give Major Lorne your weapon."

Sheppard cleared his throat. How come these things always came back to bite him in the ass? "Uh, yeah, about that Doc, I sort of," he scratched his free hand through his hair -- not as easy as it sounds because balancing his crutches under his armpits wasn't exactly stable, "might've…"

"Lied," Carson added dangerously.

Elizabeth's eyebrow arched upward, wry disbelief that her head of military would stoop to such behavior. The wry part – that's because she knew that when faced with certain medical situations, lying was very much in Sheppard's realm of, "occasionally, okay things to do that otherwise weren't really a good idea."

"So where'd he get infected?" Ronon asked, looking sideways from Rodney to Sheppard.

"I'm not infected!" Rodney protested. "Or exposed! I'm completely rational."

Lorne snorted. "Doc, just go with it. Under the influence is better than suicidally stupid."

"Doctor McKay is many things," Teyla interrupted stiffly, "but stupid is not one of them."

"Like I said, under the influence." Lorne shrugged.

"Wait a moment," Carson murmured, "if he was infected, Atlantis would have quarantined him at the moment of exposure, before he could reach the throne room. That limits what we're dealing with – exposure is more likely, some kind of chemical, maybe. Rodney, where've you been today? What have you eaten? Did you go to any unexplored rooms?"

McKay's gun wavered downward and he regarded Carson with a jaundiced look. "Why is it that everyone assumes I've lost my mind when for the first time in my life, I'm doing what needs to be done, regardless of how short-sighted the little people are --"

"Excuse me," Elizabeth said brittlely, "short-sighted little people?"

"Exactly," emphasized Rodney with his pistol.

Sheppard considered their options, again. Couldn't stun him. Dropping a ZPM was too big a risk. Couldn't talk sense into him, been there, tried that. Couldn't shoot him. Lorne and Radek were whispering, Elizabeth and Teyla, still trying to plead sense into Rodney, while Ronon was glowering. Pissed off, Sheppard knew, because no one would let him stun McKay.

Lorne nodded at something Radek said and they looked at Sheppard. He had a hunch his 2IC and Radek might've come up with a plan, judging from their hooded glances. The trick would be figuring it out without letting one crazed McKay in on the punchline. There wasn't any sidling subtly over with his crutches and bum foot. "Elizabeth," Sheppard said loudly, "maybe it's time to negotiate."

Her eyes glittered. "Of course," she said smoothly. "If you think that's wise, who am I to go against your recommendation." They passed stilted looks; Elizabeth thought she was being cute, Sheppard just figured she was getting back at him for all those times he'd ignored her and did it his way. His foot throbbed a reminder of his most recent headstrong moment. Yeah, so maybe he should act less and listen more, but that'd never been one of his strengths.

But at 0300 hours and some change, shivering because he'd rushed down here after Radek with just his black t-shirt and pants and barefoot, he was willing to give it a go. Lorne muttered quietly, "Radek thinks he can get the door behind McKay open; we need to get a security crew positioned to grab him from behind, disarm him and get that ZPM from him."

Sheppard nodded. "Do it."

Which was why less than ten minutes later, it was a complete surprise when the ground disappeared underneath their feet.

OoO

"I don't think that was the back door," Lorne deadpanned.

"Really? The sewage clued you in?" Sheppard bitched. "Or the twenty-foot fall?"

This was ridiculous. Who knew there was an oscillating floor that opened up to the sewage system below? He didn't. His 9 mil was now somewhere in the murky, foul liquid they were all drenched, waist-deep in, and still, Rodney was clinging to the stolen ZPM as if his life depended on it (though he'd lost his gun, too, in the fall).

Lorne had given his flashlight over to Elizabeth, providing the only dim light in the room. Sheppard noticed that Rodney's white cast now bore a disquieting resemblance to the filthy water, and he had to fight the urge to pull his foot up and look at his healing toe. Because he'd ripped the stitches running down stairs a week ago, the incision wasn't totally healed. Sheppard had three more days of antibiotics, so maybe the medicine in his system would ward off the germs swimming happily around their legs.

Ronon was limping worse than before. The fall had been just far enough, that even with the water, it hadn't exactly felt good on any of their injuries. Radek's butterfly strip clung persistently to his forehead, just above his left eyebrow, remnants of the explosion days ago; it was still holding despite getting wet. Teyla's face looked pinched and pained, but she'd insisted she was fine.

Carson was unconscious. He'd hit his head against the edge of something as they'd fallen, and was blissfully ignorant of the less than ideal situation they found themselves in, and Sheppard, with his lame foot and no crutches, was relegated to supporting Carson and leaning against the wall, having visions of Luke Skywalker being yanked under a layer of garbage and water by some sewer monster.

Ronon and Teyla were trying to reach someone on the radio, anyone, but interference seemed to be the order of the day. Radek and Elizabeth were still trying to piece together via interrogating Rodney, just how he'd managed to become insane in the span of about ten hours; that was roughly the last time Radek could guess that McKay had definitely been himself. And even that estimate was grudgingly given. Radek's first guess had been something like, "At birth?" but maybe Radek's headache was making him unusually surly, Sheppard thought generously.

"Simpson or someone or another, is gonna try and get us out of here, but they're still trying to get power restored," Ronon said, slouching against the wall by Sheppard. "How's the doc?" The runner nudged his head toward the body in Sheppard's arms.

"Limp," Sheppard replied dryly. He frowned then shifted his attention to Radek; the scientist approached, cringing in distaste as the sludge splashed with his movements. "Get anything from Rodney?" Sheppard could see Elizabeth and Teyla still trying to talk the ZPM out of Rodney's tight grasp. At least he wasn't armed anymore. Sheppard figured they might as well let the man cling to his toy now. Wasn't like Rodney was going anywhere with it.

Radek ran an absent-minded hand through his hair before disgustedly realizing he'd just wiped sewer water across his head in the process. He cursed sharply then said, "No, but I did get interesting tidbit from Miko. We think he was exposed to possibly one or more chemicals earlier this morning. Nyerson discovered small canisters two days ago. He says he left them in Rodney's lab to get cleared for further research. They are looking in database now to see what might have been in them, but whatever the cause, there was alarm activated in Rodney's lab around 10 hundred. It seems he was able to quickly override—"

"—any safety protocol," Sheppard interjected, grimacing.

A ghosted smile played across Radek's mouth. "The good news is that it appears exposure is limited, but I would not get too close to Rodney right now."

Ronon snorted. "How close is too close?"

"I would not get close enough to smell him."

"The only thing I'm smelling is --."

"Okay, we know..." Sheppard fidgeted, trying to get Carson's bulk off his chest. The doc was a deadweight. "Probably not contagious then, that's the only good news I've heard so far."

"I don't know," Ronon grinned, "this has been kinda fun."

"Ronon, he had a gun on me!"

"So? You had one on him." The runner looked unimpressed.

Sheppard pursed his lips together. "He could've shot me," he said through clenched teeth. Damn, his foot was starting to hurt like a mother, aching from the chilly water. His crutches were permanently abandoned somewhere under the dirty water and it'd be a cold day in hell before he got down and started searching. His imagination was enough; he sure as heck didn't want to actually touch something.

Ronon didn't look all that worried. "It's McKay, Sheppard. He would've only shot you if he'd been trying to miss."

They were interrupted by a shout and looked up just in time to see Rodney swing at Elizabeth, connect solidly with her jaw, and watch as the leader of Atlantis folded to the ground. No sooner had her head disappeared under the water, then Teyla dropped and started grabbing frantically, quickly pulling Elizabeth back to the surface, and thankfully, the flashlight, too.

Radek's mouth suspended, wide open. Sheppard groaned; someone's head was so gonna roll for this, and he had a sinking suspicion it'd be his. Ronon whistled, "That's gotta hurt."

OoO

"This is really gross," Rodney complained.

"This is really your fault," Sheppard retorted.

Three hours and six broken, static-filled radio calls with Simpson later and they had confirmation from two apologetic scientists in biology that yes, Rodney had accidentally released the contents of one canister. Apparently, it was a chemical that affected one's inhibitions. Normally, the rational part of the mind would keep someone from acting impulsively, doing something stupid and reckless, such as stealing a ZPM, but under the influence of this substance, the rational side of Rodney McKay's brain had taken a prolonged vacation. And his base desires surfaced in the form of a ZPM abduction. Sheppard chuckled to himself. And McKay had been worried about the report over planet boom being embarrassing. This incident would make that look like a walk in the proverbial dignity park.

Also, finding the release mechanism for the sewer tank under the ZPM room – not so easy when the two top-Atlantis scientists were unavailable to help and Atlantis was reluctantly sleeping in a power deprived state. Rodney was at least himself again, albeit lethargic and a little muddled. Unfortunately, his recovery was a little late, as now they were trapped in a sewer with a hung-over Rodney, a concussed Carson and a pissed Elizabeth, sporting a blossoming bruise and a sore jaw.

Sheppard fought down a satisfied smirk; no one could lay the blame for this at his feet. He'd been in his room, and his office, minding his own business all day. He'd had absolutely nothing to do with Rodney's exposure. They could take their jinx insinuations and shove 'em --

"What are you laughing at? This isn't funny!" Rodney glared at a ripple in the water caused by Ronon tossing a small object. "And you, knock that off, you can't skip powerbars. You're wasting good food, food, I remind you, that we might need."

"I'm not laughing," Sheppard promised.

Ronon, staring challengingly at Rodney, peeled open another power bar and positioned it in his fingers like Sheppard had shown him how to do with small flat stones, before flicking it away. He hobbled to the side, twisting to frisk his pockets for more, pointedly scowling at Rodney while he did so.

"Rodney," Elizabeth pleaded, "there has to be an access panel in this room."

"Sure there is." All eyes swung to stare at the scientist. He rolled his eyes irritably and pointed at the ceiling. "Up there. Although it's not so much an access panel as cutting through the metal to expose the wiring…"

"Pyramid," Lorne suggested. "If cheerleaders can do it, we should be able to." He looked at Sheppard and Ronon. "Ronon can be an anchor since he weighs the most --"

"Are you saying I'm fat?" Ronon stared dangerously at Lorne.

Lorne sputtered, "No, that's not what I meant, it's just, well, you're a lot taller and broader --"

Ronon chuckled and slapped Lorne's shoulders, hard. "Just kidding."

Carson groaned against Sheppard's chest. Their eyes turned towards the rousing doctor's face, watching as he blinked confusedly into the dimness, pulled up short and stared at the circular room, the water, his friends staring at him. "What happened?" he asked, baffled.

"Sheppard's jinx struck again," Rodney replied.

"Where are we?" Carson struggled to stand. "Why are we standing in water?" His nose wrinkled. "Bloody hell, what is that smell?"

Teyla moved in, taking Carson's arm, steadying him. "Radek meant to open a door behind Rodney, but instead activated an opening under our feet. We believe it was a latent security measure, in case the throne room was captured. Unfortunately, as this was meant to trap, we have yet to find a way out. They are trying to free us now, but I am afraid for the time being we are stuck in what appears to be a sewage chamber."

"And for the record, I had nothing to do with this," Sheppard said.

Rodney snorted.

"How can you possibly blame this one on me? I didn't get exposed to a mind-altering substance and take a ZPM hostage, and trust me, dropping us into the sewer was not --"

Radek threw his hands up. "I was merely trying to end stalemate; you do not blame this on me! I did not point a gun at anyone!"

"No one is blaming anyone, Doc," Lorne soothed.

"Speak for yourself," Rodney grumped.

"Gentlemen," Elizabeth remonstrated stiffly, because her jaw made talking painful and possibly she was pissed, "assigning blame, while satisfying," she glared at Rodney and Sheppard, "is childish and unproductive. I suggest we focus on finding a solution to our situation."

"The pyramid idea is a good one," Ronon added. "But what's a cheerleader?"

Teyla's lips thinned. "An object of sexual--"

"Hey, whoa," Rodney interrupted, "they perform valuable services." His forehead wrinkled. "Although, an appallingly pitiful lack of intelligence is required."

Carson moaned and lurched in Teyla's hold. "I don't feel so good. The smell is making me nauseous."

"I think that's your concussion," Sheppard said helpfully.

"And the smell," Ronon grunted.

When Carson began puking, Sheppard looked upward. "So, that pyramid thing – ready Ronon? You sure your leg can support us?" The runner just looked at Sheppard like he was stupid. Sheppard smiled tightly. "Fair enough. Let's do this."

Less than five minutes later, Sheppard was climbing on Ronon's shoulders, the runner's weapon tucked in Sheppard's waistband for him to hand up to Rodney when he was in position. He'd stripped off the walking boot Carson had made him wear, trying to get a better grip with his foot. It'd been mostly healed, right? Luckily, Carson was too busy fighting off another wave of sickness to raise a fuss. Lorne was standing next to Ronon and Sheppard had to use Elizabeth and Radek to help steady himself while scaling the two men, balancing a foot on each of their shoulders. Rodney was going to then climb all of them to reach the ceiling.

Rodney cautioned him the whole way. "This is a bad idea. If I accidentally cut through the wiring we'll never get out of here. Don't fall! Ronon, you okay? Conan? You're looking a little red there. Sheppard, I think Ronon's going to--"

"Shut up, McKay!" everyone snapped in unison.

He did, but that was only because Sheppard was soon in position and it was time for McKay to begin climbing.

"God damn it, that's my face, McKay!" A stiff fiberglass-clad arm being wrapped around his neck and head wasn't comfortable.

"I'm sorry! There's only so much to grab onto and if you didn't notice, I'm injured here! Your hair, while possibly being registered as a potential weapon, is not exactly a lifeline!"

"Just get up there and start cutting," Sheppard gritted.

His toe ached abominably now, forced to curl reflexively around the natural slope of a human shoulder in order to help keep his balance. As Rodney's knee boxed his ear, Sheppard slammed his eyes shut and tried not to think murderous longing thoughts about his missing gun. Radek had said using Ronon's blaster to get through the walls was a bad idea. It was eerily reminiscent of another situation so Sheppard had told Ronon they'd wait. But the urge was tempting. And growing bigger and bigger with every dig of boot into his skin and bump and knock against his head. He cursed as Rodney's heel ground into his collar bone.

"I can't see a thing!" Rodney panted. "This is a miserable idea."

Elizabeth, now holding the ZPM along with the flashlight, called up, "Just do your best, Rodney!"

The support under Sheppard's feet began to waver. "Ronon?"

"Sorry," the runner grunted. And sniffed. Then sneezed, and suddenly Ronon's bum leg folded, Sheppard was falling, Rodney yelping above him. He had a moment to think this is gonna hurt before he hit the refuse water and went under.

OoO

"I told you it was a stupid idea."

"Ronon, get out your blaster."

Teyla glared balefully at Sheppard and Ronon. "Is that not what began the unfortunate chain of events that landed us here?"

Sheppard exhaled and counted to ten. He'd had his fall mitigated by sewer water. If everything had been lucky in Sheppard's world, he would've rose up without even a bruise, but it'd already been established that his luck was a crap shoot, and so he wound up breaking Rodney's fall. He'd seen stars, swallowed nasty water, been hauled up by Ronon and mauled by Carson before he'd managed to stop choking.

Carson had muttered, "You'll be needing antibiotic therapy, just in case. And where's your new dog tags? Don't know why it surprises me. Why are we still trapped? Torch a bloody hole in the floor up there and toss down a rope. I'm not a rocket scientist and even I can figure it out."

"Oh, right, and the brilliant minds above just happened to forget such a simple solution," Rodney snapped scornfully. "Besides, we have a general aversion to maiming and mutilating the city."

"Well, why can't they? The floor's not torch-proof, is it?" Lorne considered it. "A scarred floor is better than losing the command staff to mutant infections caused by exposure to…" they all looked uncomfortably at the water eddying around their bodies.

Radek and Rodney shared a look. Radek murmured faintly, "The solution is much like blowing up door – clumsy and brutal – they would be working on controls, looking for open and close once power was restored. Simple and --"

"—stupid wouldn't have occurred to them," Sheppard grimaced.

"Think outside the box, Doc," Lorne suggested wryly. "Not always elegant, but it gets the job done."

"Teyla, try to get through," Elizabeth ordered, "maybe we can get more than static sometime before we all turn into prunes."

The problem was, as they soon found out, that static seemed to be the order of the day. Whatever had been clinging to functionality earlier, allowing for the broken communications, had completely given over to irreparability. After a few frustrated attempts, walking around the room with sloshing, tired steps, Teyla gave up. "I am sorry," she said to Elizabeth, "but I can no longer get through."

"Shit," Sheppard swore, not missing the surprised looks shot his way. Normally, he didn't completely let his irritation show, but it was approaching six in the morning, he hadn't slept, his toe just felt wrong, he'd inhaled sewage, Carson was concussed and still managing to hover in between bouts of slinking off to retch surreptitiously – gotta say, Doc, not working that well – and all in all, this was about as FUBAR as it got.

Mix in a cranky, unknown substance hung-over Rodney McKay, not sure whether to complain about his arm or his headache, an irritable Elizabeth, thanks to her bruised face and possible inhaled sewage status as well (when she'd gone down like a rock earlier), a Ronon who had seemed to be enjoying this far too much until his knee had given out and now had fallen into a sullen silence, propped against the wall, Lorne, who had seemed to keep his cool far easier and longer than Sheppard (which annoyed the hell out of him) and a nonplussed Teyla…well, can you blame him for being pissy? Sheppard figured if ever he had a right, this was as good of a time as any – and really, blasting the wall was looking better and better every minute.

"The wall's not booby-trapped," Sheppard offered reasonably.

Radek was slumped next to Ronon. He didn't even bother lifting his head. "It will possibly ricochet, kill us all. Bad idea, Colonel."

Ronon leaned over and said, "The little man gives up too easily."

The 'little man' bristled. "Fine. Shoot first, die later. Is no skin off my neck."

"Nose," Carson corrected.

Radek scowled and muttered a Czech curse.

"Look, they've had two hours. Ronon, give me your gun." If it ricocheted, they'd duck.

"Ronon, you give him that gun, and I'm tackling your ass," Lorne threatened, momentarily losing his façade of calm demeanor. Then he looked as respectfully as he could at Sheppard and added, "Sir."

"You could try," Ronon said evenly.

Call it prophetic timing or fate finally taking pity on him, but that was when the ceiling telescoped halfway open, spilling bright light painfully down on them. A concerned voice called down, "Doctor Weir? Colonel Sheppard? We're throwing down a ladder rope, do you need anything else?"

Elizabeth breathed out softly, looking heavenward. "No, no that's fine. Thank you." She smiled mockingly at Sheppard. "I guess you don't get to blow anything up today, John. Sorry, maybe next time."

His lips twitched and he fought down a pained smile. "You're just saying that to make me feel better."

"Break it up, kids," Rodney bullied between them, "I've got a ZPM to re-install."

"Rodney, you know that ZPM, along with the other, are scheduled to leave Atlantis in two hours."

"Elizabeth, has nothing I said gotten through to you? Did you even bother to read my power usage vs. apocalypse scenario? Honestly, if we're barraged by twenty hive ships then --"

OoO

Sheppard drowsed in the infirmary bed, staring through half-lidded eyes at the staff moving around, doing their infirmary things. Checking Elizabeth's IV drip, bringing Rodney another jug of ice water. Radek and Ronon battled over a game of skipbo, Teyla and Lorne discussed the twice-postponed training mission and Carson was pulling rank on a nurse, despite being flat on his back in a bed next to Sheppard.

The water had been positive for a couple of nasty germs and for precautionary reasons --that had caused more than a few angry exclamations -- the entire bunch of them had been confined to the infirmary and placed on broad spectrum IV antibiotics…except Sheppard.

Thanks to his newly discovered allergy -- and with punctuated loud scoldings from Carson on this being a perfect example of why he told Sheppard to put those dog tags on -- he was put on a different, non-penicillin cocktail. The side effects had made him queasy, and after he'd told Keller for the fifth time that he was fine, Carson had exploded, "He's bloody green! Give the colonel an anti-emetic, whether he says he needs it or not!"

Which was why he was drifting in and out, lazily, lethargically watching everyone, but being far too sleepy to participate.

His foot was back in a walking boot and the one positive was the news that he could go crutch free when they were done with the antibiotic therapy. Ronon had his knee re-strapped and was on another round of anti-inflammatories. Rodney sported a new, clean cast. All in all, there was progress. Radek's wound was butterfly strip-free and Carson's concussion was declared mild. Elizabeth's jaw wasn't broken, and despite rumblings that Carson and Elizabeth had been the latest victims of Sheppard's jinx, they had fared well considering the other rumored victims – rumored because Sheppard still insisted none of the above was his fault.

It was while he drifted in that drugged fog, that things got hazy. A nurse leaned over him and asked, "Colonel, I need you to look at me. No, don't close your eyes! Doctor Keller!"

"Tired," Sheppard slurred, trying to defend his right to sleep.

Cold hands pressed against his cheek. "He's burning up," Keller said. "Carson, stay in that bed or I'm strapping you to it!"

When they tried to take his blanket, Sheppard figured they'd gone too far. He might have tried to punch someone. He was kinda tired though, which explained why he missed. "G'way," he grumped and tried to roll away.

"All right, Colonel," Keller soothed, pulling him persistently back around, "we'll leave you be just as soon as we get your temperature down."

"Just hit him on the head," Rodney suggested. "He's really cooperative when he's stunned. Ask Ronon."

"What's that supposed to mean, McKay?"

"Genius, here. Do you really need me to remind you how many times you've stunned Sheppard?"

"Rodney," Teyla sighed, "I do not think that is necessary. Doctor, is John going to be all right?"

"I think…so. The anti – Colonel! The antibiotic we've got him on--"

Sheppard wondered sluggishly why she sounded out of breath and as if she were struggling with something. But his wondering didn't stop him from trying to curl up and away from the persistent hands tugging at his arms, shoulders and, "God damn it, leave my blanket alone," he bitched pathetically, " 'm tired." In fact, the burst of irritably just about drained what was left of his energy reserves. Geez.

A harried sigh sounded above him. "You …didn't tell me…GET HIS ARM! … slippery than a greased pig – check Doctor Weir, if this is from inhaling the water, she might be--"

"Oh, bloody hell, I'm helping whether you want it or not," Carson stated firmly.

Then Sheppard was staring confusedly up into blue eyes and the familiar patient, grim expression. "Colonel, you're a disaster on two legs," he said softly.

"Doc?" Sheppard reached a clumsy hand, grabbing Carson's shirt. "What're you wearing scrubs for?"

"He's jinxed himself. Unbelievable," Rodney said, alarmed and a little surprised.

"If a jinx jinxes themselves, does that nullify the jinx?" Radek wondered aloud.

Teyla cleared her throat. "I do not believe this is the time to discuss who may or may not be jinxed."

"Doctor Keller," a nurse called. "Doctor Weir's temperature is normal."

"I feel fine," Elizabeth added. "Maybe he's sick because of the different antibiotics? They're not as effective, didn't you say?"

Carson patted Sheppard's sweaty shoulder. "Aye, that's probably it. We'll have to try some different drugs. It's not unexpected, though we'd hoped --"

"Does this mean the training mission is delayed again?" Lorne asked hopefully.

"I get the feeling you're afraid of me," Ronon said.

"Not you," Lorne muttered, "that blaster of yours."

Sheppard was getting a headache from the noise. He decided his quarters would be a lot quieter. He finally relinquished his blanket and tried to sit up. Two things happened that he didn't expect. One, his muscles gave out about halfway up, and he slipped sideways. Then, surprised shouts of, "Colonel, lay down!" and "He's really delirious, isn't he?" and "Carson, fix him!"

"You're bugging me," Sheppard announced crossly.

"We're sorry," Keller apologized, sounding like a bemused mother soothing a child that'd just been tricked into going to the doctor's office for a booster shot. "We're going to let you sleep, promise. Just--"

"—close your eyes, Colonel," Carson said. "We'll take care of you."

"Good," Sheppard mumbled. " 'cause I'm really tired and it's been a long day. They don't pay me enough for this shit."

Lorne snorted loudly and Elizabeth asked, "Did he just say --"

"Wow," Rodney breathed. "He's a lot more open when he's sick and drugged, isn't he? And Carson said I was loose lips."

"Rodney, you will not tell him about this when he recovers," Teyla threatened.

"Oh, come on, why ever not! You think he wouldn't rub it in if it were me?"

Radek suggested quietly, "I'd wait until after the cursed training mission."

Elizabeth growled, "It's not cursed. No one or thing is cursed, jinxed, hexed, or anything else like it! Honestly, I expected better from my science staff!"

The last thing Sheppard heard was a startled Rodney asking, "Seriously, because I thought you knew me better than that?" then Sheppard was slipping away into the soft sleep Carson and that other doctor, Keller, had promised him. It was a lot quieter in there. And not as hot. Though there were a lot of weird things bouncing around in his mind. Dancing crutches, exploding doors, and lots of brass gongs hanging threateningly in the air.