The Hungry and the Dead (3a/4)

[coolbreeze1]

Part Three


Rodney stared, mesmerized, at the light pulsing back and forth across the two panels. The light had been no bigger than a marble at first, trudging slowly through the blue, but as time passed, it had grown bigger and sunk deeper into the wall.

The panels covered the ship, lining every hallway and every room. Was the gel all interconnected, running through the entire ship? He reached a hand out and pressed his fingers into the stuff encasing John. It was solid, but a little squishy, like rubber.

Like those shoe inserts, he thought. He snapped his mouth shut at the sudden urge to giggle and focused again on the light. It was as big as a soccer ball now, and moving so fast between the two panels, his neck was starting to get tired at the movement. He closed his eyes and bowed his head.

By unspoken agreement, he and Teyla had split up. He had stayed near John while she’d moved to Ronon’s side. The gel had oozed out of the panel and submerged both of his teammates. He opened his eyes to look through the tinted blue substance at John. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or cry or scream or just curl up into a ball in some dark corner of a room until he woke up from this nightmare. His mind jumped, latching onto each moment until it crumbled in his grasp and he was left flailing.

John had breathed for a few seconds-had given them all the appearance of being alive again-but looking at him now…He was as dead as ever. Rodney had never expected he’d end up in a career that exposed him to dead bodies. Not that he’d seen a lot of corpses, but enough that he didn’t lose his stomach at first sight anymore.

And John wasn’t even that bad. His friend wasn’t visibly injured, if you ignored the bruises on his chest from Teyla and Ronon’s CPR. No bleeding wounds or gaping holes. He’d seen those bodies before; they were almost unrecognizable. John was just John. Sleeping.

The urge to laugh was back and he shook his head. How could anyone mistake sleeping for death? They looked nothing alike. It was a cliché of movies and books. John looked nothing like he was sleeping. He looked like more like a statue-colorless and frozen.

Oh, God. He was dead. Rodney shivered, feeling his stomach churn with nausea. How could John be dead? They took a lot of risks going out on missions-the Wraith, the Genii, the Asurans, disgruntled whoevers. He pinched the bridge of his nose and forced himself to breathe slowly. Was this even real? Because it sure as hell felt real.

He set a hand out on the block of gel encasing John, but a moment later he snatched it back. The gel was warm under his hand, almost hot. He glanced at Teyla to see if she was experiencing the same thing and his eyes settled on Ronon’s form.

The nausea slammed into him again. What had they done? Why had they let Ronon do this? John had seemed to breathe, but what if that had just been an illusion? And now Ronon was…he swallowed and pressed a hand to his roiling stomach. Ronon had laid down on the table quickly-too quickly for Rodney to think through what his teammate was about to do, to work through the consequences of each option, to play out their moves against the alien ship’s three or four turns ahead.

The gel had surrounded Ronon quickly and covered him. He’d fallen unconscious almost instantly but his body had tensed automatically as the gel had flowed into his mouth and nostrils. Was he dead? He looked as dead as John-just as still and just as pale. The alien gel was…he had no idea what the gel was, or this life-energy the alien was so keen on. All he knew was that Ronon hadn’t taken a single breath in over an hour.

And John-they’d lost him hours earlier. An hour and a half on the planet, then who knew how many hours while they’d all lain unconscious in the alien ship. More hours had passed until Ronon and Teyla had found him and they’d wandered around the ship looking for John, then stood here debating with the floating blob about what to do next.

What this alien was promising them…it wasn’t possible, no matter what Ronon claimed he saw. They’d been knocked out in the woods for at least a couple of minutes before any of them came to, and then they’d found John not breathing. All it took was a few minutes for brain death to begin. Even if this alien could restart John’s body, his mind would be gone, damaged beyond all hope. The only thing even remotely analogous to this, and the similarities were very remote, was when they’d injected Elizabeth with-

“Nanites!” he yelled, stumbling backward and lifting his hands in the air. Teyla spun around and began back-pedaling away from Ronon.

“Nanites?”

“What else could make John’s body look like it was alive? It’s not like John talked to us or said anything. It would have to be in the gel too, which means we’ve all been infected-you, me, Ronon, John. They could be everywhere. They could…this might not even be real! This could all be some sick illusion that…that…”

He was on the ground, his chest heaving. He couldn’t breathe. As hard as his lungs were working, they couldn’t pull in any oxygen. He was going to die. He was going to-

“Rodney!”

Teyla pulled him up by his shoulders and shook him. He could feel his stomach flipping around and black spots were dancing across his vision. Hyperventilating-he was hyperventilating. He slapped a hand against his mouth as Teyla’s face swam into focus. She was yelling something at him, but he couldn’t hear her over the roaring in his ears. He pressed his thumb against the side of one of his nostrils and forced himself to breathe only through the other one.

He would have preferred a paper bag, but he’d stopped carrying one of those around every where he went a while ago. It had been years, actually, since he’d last had a panic attack this bad. As his breathing slowed down, he realized he was lying on the ground, Teyla’s hands warm on his arms.

“Breathe slowly. In. Out. In. Out.” Her voice finally pierced the fog. He forced himself to match her slow breathing rhythm and, gradually, his muscles relaxed. The disorienting sensation of breathing too fast and not enough loosened its hold on him.

“Are you alright?” Teyla asked a minute later.

Rodney nodded and pushed himself up until he was sitting. His arms felt shaky, and his stomach was trying to curl into itself, but he wasn’t dying. He blushed, a little appalled that he’d freaked himself into hyperventilating. “Sorry,” he muttered.

“It was a perfectly normal reaction,” Teyla soothed, patting his shoulder.

Except that she hadn’t freaked out. She wasn’t the one sitting on the floor forgetting how to breathe. He smiled, grateful at least for her attempt to comfort him.

“Do you really think it could be nanites?”

He opened his mouth to say yes, then shrugged. “Honestly, I have no idea what to think. We have no information, no scanners or computers. No way to independently assess and identify what we’re dealing with here.” He shook his head. “It doesn’t really matter what’s going on; we have no way of figuring it out.”

“Was Ronon too rash in his decision?”

“Yes,” Rodney answered, then faltered. “Maybe. I…I don’t know.” He sighed, forcing himself to work through their situation logically. “Even if he’d waited, we still wouldn’t have any more information than we have now. I mean, maybe this alien blob thing would have given us our scanners, but maybe it is nanites. Maybe we’ve been captured by the Asurans-if that’s the case, then we could sit here for decades and never know any more than we do now.”

And they hadn’t tested the alien, either. Now that Rodney thought about it, they seemed to be doing exactly what it wanted. But hadn’t they demanded it help John? They’d begged the thing to bring John back, and once they’d started down that path, they hadn’t questioned anything else. And now Ronon was-

Teyla jumped to her feet and ran back toward Ronon, making Rodney wondered if he’d been rambling out loud the entire time, but then he saw what had caused her reaction. The block of gel was melting away from both men. He scrambled to his feet and positioned himself halfway between Ronon and John so he could watch over each one.

A thin layer of gel no more than two inches high remained around John, but Ronon’s gel pulled back into the wall panel completely, and seriously, he needed to get a sample of this stuff to take back to Atlantis. Almost as soon as the gel fully retracted, Ronon sucked in a deep, desperate gasp and Rodney released the breath he’d been unconsciously holding.

“Ronon?” Teyla called out. Rodney stepped toward them, but he froze and glanced back at John, suddenly unsure of where to go. He needed to know Ronon was okay, but if John woke up and no one was there…He took a tentative step toward John, keeping Ronon in sight.

“Ronon,” Teyla said again, brushing his hair away from his face. “Are you alright?”

“Uh…hey…”

His voice was low and rough, but Rodney could see him moving his head as he looked around. He turned his attention to John and grimaced at his friend’s washed-out complexion. The level of gel was well below John’s carotid artery and Rodney pressed his fingers against it in search of a pulse.

Nothing. Not that he had really expected it, and yet… He held his hand against John’s cheek, then slid it up to his forehead. The skin was warm, much warmer than it had been. He flashed to the gel that had encased his friend, and the heat within it that he’d felt under his palm. He moved his hand down to John’s chest and stomach.

Warm. Normal warm. Life warm.

A groan directed Rodney’s attention to his other two teammates. Ronon was sitting up slowly with Teyla’s help and looking very queasy. Once he was fully upright, he moaned again and began to list to the side with his eyes closed. Teyla tightened her grip, wrapping her arm around him.

“Ronon, what’s wrong?

“Dizzy,” he breathed out. He scrunched forward and let his head hang, and for a second Rodney thought he’d passed out, but then he suddenly straightened, shaking his head. It reminded Rodney way too much of a bear waking up from a long nap and he almost called out to Teyla to warn her.

Instead of growling or biting, however, Ronon swung his legs off the table and slid to the ground. Teyla wrapped her arms around his torso as he hit the ground and began to flail, his legs folding underneath him. By some miracle, she managed to keep the much larger man upright long enough for him to grab onto the edge of the slab and get his feet under him again. Ronon breathed heavily and his face grew paler.

He lurched toward the sofas on the far side of the room, and Teyla walked with him, peppering him with questions. Rodney stayed where he was, telling himself he needed to stay with John and silently begging Ronon not to throw up. Just the possibility of it was making his stomach flip in sympathy.

By the time Ronon and Teyla reached the closest sofa, Rodney could see Ronon shaking visibly. Teyla kept a firm hold on his arm as Ronon sank to the cushions in relief.

“Ronon, what are you feeling? Are you alright?”

“Um…don’t know,” he answered. “Tired. Headache.” He leaned to the side and pulled his feet up onto the couch. “Just need…lie down for a minute.”

Teyla guided him down, not that she could have kept him upright for much longer. “Do you remember what happened?”

She was squatting in front of him now, so Rodney couldn’t see his face, but he heard his soft answer. “Just need to lie down.”

Teyla sighed, patting his shoulder. “Rest, Ronon. We will watch over you.”

Ronon’s body relaxed perceptibly into the sofa, and Teyla straightened just enough to sit next to him. She glanced up at Rodney and nodded, looking worried and relieved all at the same time. Ronon was alive, obviously, but clearly disoriented.

He’d left his hand on John’s chest, and he spun around now at a sudden movement beneath his palm. He saw ribs and skin and bruises…and then his hand moved again, rising gradually then dropping just as slowly. A few seconds later, John breathed again.

“Sheppard!” Rodney cried out. He held a hand over John’s mouth and grinned wildly at the sensation of expelled air blowing against his fingers. He twisted around to Teyla, who was already running toward him. “Teyla!”

“What is happening?”

“He’s breathing!”

Teyla crowded in next to him and reached her own hand out to rest on John’s moving-breathing-chest. “He is warm!”

“Yeah,” Rodney breathed out. All of his previous reasoning flew out the window. John was breathing. “He’s still pale, but maybe not as much.”

It was a stretch at best; John looked about the same. Teyla moved her hand to John’s neck, digging her fingers into the skin and muscle.

The waiting was killing him. Ignoring the oozing slimy feel of the gel, Rodney dug his hands into it until he had a hold of John’s wrist. He lifted the other man’s arm out of the gel and was surprised when his fingers came away dry. He really needed to get a sample of this stuff.

He fumbled at the wrist, searching for a pulse. He could never find a pulse on wrists, not even his own, but Teyla was still leaning forward, still pushing her fingers into John’s neck. Rodney moved his fingers again, readjusting his grip…

And felt a faint flutter. Teyla reacted at the same time, the only thing making Rodney certain he hadn’t just imagined it. John’s heart beat again, the reverberating flutter through his arteries a little stronger.

“The process. Begins.”

Rodney jerked at the voice behind him and dropped John’s arm back into the ooze. He looked up at the floating sphere.

“John-”

The globe flashed, cutting Rodney off. “Not restored. More energy required.”

“You said you could fix him!” Rodney burst out as he stepped toward the alien orb.

It didn’t move, just rolled in the air as if to look down at him. “With much energy. Very difficult. Need more-”

“You will take more of our memories,” Teyla said. She had moved until she was standing between John’s table and the empty one, absently running her fingers through his hair as she looked between Rodney and the orb.

“Not memories,” the alien sphere answered. “Energy.”

Energy. Always energy. Some of what the alien had said earlier came back to him and Rodney snapped his fingers. “Present! Before, you said you needed a past, present, and future in order to fix John. Is that what you want now? A present? Not that I have any clue what the hell that means.”

“I will go,” Teyla said, stepping away from John and moving toward the sphere.

The alien swerved away from her and dropped until it was almost eye-to-eye with Rodney. “You will give. Present.”

“Me? What…what do I…how do I…”

“Knowledge.”

Rodney’s mind raced. Knowledge? “I thought you wanted energy,” he stammered.

“Energy in. Your knowledge.”

“You want my knowledge about energy? I can do that.” Rodney felt a sudden flush of relief at the idea. “I can help you with your ship; I can fix anything. You need more power, I can-”

“Not power. Energy.” The light within the sphere pulsed brightly, and it spun on its vertical axis, the movement just barely perceptible on its smooth surface.

“Must give. Knowledge. Like other one.”

“Like Ronon?” Rodney squeaked out, filling the air whoosh out of his lungs.

“Gift of present. Like gift. Of past.”

Rodney looked over at Ronon. He was sound asleep, snoring slightly. When he turned back to the sphere, he saw it had moved away from it, giving him a little space. He swallowed. He’d need a little more than that. “What kind of knowledge are we talking about here?”

“Most advanced. Chemistry. Electronics. Mathematics. Computer. Science. Mechanics. Physics. Astronomy. Biology-”

“All of those?” Rodney cut off. “You want me to give everything I know about everything I’ve ever studied?”

Teyla was at his side, grabbing his arm. “Rodney-”

He spun around. “I don’t know if I can do this, Teyla. That’s…that’s everything-that’s who I am. If that thing takes it away from me, I’ll…I’ll be…normal. Maybe not even normal-I’ll be nothing.”

The blue bubble zoomed around so it was back in Rodney’s sight. “Knowledge is. Present.”

“It’s my present,” Rodney snapped. “It’s who I am. It’s the only reason I have the position that I have.”

“Without gift. Process cannot. Complete.”

Rodney stepped away from Teyla and held his hands out to the alien globe. “I’m the smartest man in two galaxies! I’m a genius. Do you really need all of it?”

“Great energy. In you. Connection to knowledge. Powerful.”

Rodney blinked at the words, not sure whether to feel satisfied at or scared of the alien bubble’s assessment. He glanced at Teyla, but she was watching the sphere intently. His mind raced. What could he say? Next to him, John breathed.

“If there’s so much energy there,” he said, grabbing onto the thought that finally surfaced, “what if I just give you some of it. One thing-I can give up one thing. Will there be enough of this life-energy in one thing?”

The sphere hesitated, bouncing slightly in the air. The ball of light within it pulsated in a steady rhythm. Was it on standby? This was the most crucial moment of Rodney’s life and the alien had checked out?

The sphere suddenly stopped moving and inched closer to Rodney’s head. “Much power. In physics.”

Rodney felt his stomach drop out from under him and his legs began to waver. “Physics?” he whispered. Minute trembles shuddered through his body. “Anything but that. Please, anything but physics.”

“Physics. Knowledge of Ancients,” the sphere countered. “Technology. Theory. Very strong. Much energy.”

Rodney stumbled to John’s side. Teyla had moved back to the head of the slab and was brushing her fingers against John’s cheek. John breathed in a steady, rhythmic motion. Now he really did look like he was asleep. His skin had a pinkish tone, scrubbing away the gray.

Rodney plunged his hand back into the gel and grabbed John’s hand. His heart was thrashing in his chest, and he wasn’t sure he could keep himself from hyperventilating again. Physics. It wanted physics. Of all the knowledge it could have asked for… Rodney forced himself to breath slowly.

Get a grip, he thought. He had a decision to make. The sphere hanging off to the side, just within sight, was waiting for him. Without physics, he would be…he wouldn’t be head of the science department, that’s for sure. He would lose his PhD in physics and his expertise in stargate and wormhole science and Ancient technology. He’d be…he’d be an engineer.

Radek would take over as head of the science department, and Rodney wouldn’t be anywhere near smart enough to argue with him. Would he even be able to stay on Atlantis? Or on an off-world team? He glanced at Teyla. She was watching him, looking sympathetic, but she said nothing. What could she say? This was his decision. If he was going to make this sacrifice, he had to come to it himself.

John’s hand suddenly tightened on his and he looked down in amazement. Had he imagined that? He lifted his hand slowly and felt John’s grip tighten.

“Teyla,” he breathed out.

John had made no other move, inching no closer toward consciousness, but Rodney wasn’t imagining this. He lifted his hand a little more until it was out of the gel, and John’s hand came up with it. The slight pressure tightened even more and Rodney felt a thrill of joy race down his spine. Teyla stared at their hands, wide-eyed, and Rodney straightened his fingers to show her he wasn’t holding on and that it was all John. She smiled, her eyes shimmering, and bent close to John’s head to whisper soft encouragements.

Rodney closed his fingers around John’s hand and squeezed back, letting both of their hands drop back into the gel. He turned to the sphere. “Just the physics?”

“Physics knowledge only. All else. Remains.”

Rodney nodded. He glanced one last time at John then wiggled his fingers to break the weak grip. His heart was beating again, fluttering painfully in his chest. The walk from John’s side to the empty table was interminable, each step harder and not seeming to get him any closer. His legs were shaking too, and sweat was building on his palms.

When he finally made it to the slab and pushed himself up, he managed to somehow do it without falling over or losing his balance. He sat on the edge and watched the alien orb swing down in front of his face. Dozens of projects-he had dozens of projects going. How was he supposed to finish any of them? Some of them were important-really, really, not-exaggerating, not-just-being-arrogant important. He ran through them in his mind, wondering which ones he would lose completely.

A memory of John rose in his mind unexpectedly, and he saw the two of them sitting at facing computers playing their Ancient Sims game. It had turned out not to be a game, with almost disastrous consequences, but still…it had been his and John’s escape, their downtime those first few years on Atlantis. He saw John peeking over the top of the computer screen again, trying to figure out what Rodney was planning.

Rodney sighed and flexed the hand John had gripped only moments ago.

“Lie down,” the sphere said, and maybe Rodney had imagined it, but the voice sounded softer, more gentle. Maybe it understood what this was costing him.

“Okay,” he whispered and lay down.

Teyla was suddenly standing next to him. She grabbed his hand in both of hers and Rodney relaxed a little. He glanced at the panel on his other side and saw the surface wrinkle. Seconds later, he shivered as cool gel touched his arm and soaked into his t-shirt. Hadn’t it been hot? It was supposed to be hot. Maybe it would get hot later.

He shivered. The gel rose quickly and covered him, digging into his ears and filling his head with pressure. He had a final fleeting thought that he would die of an aneurysm before the alien got what it wanted, and then the alien ship flashed out of existence around him. He floated in darkness, feeling nothing-no pain, no pressure, no hot or cold. He was vaguely aware of his arms and legs as he twisted, suspended in a black void, and then even that winked out.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Teyla’s calves shook, the backs of her knees cramping from standing for so long, but she didn’t leave. John was once again submerged in the blue gel, and now Rodney was as well. She wrapped her arms around her middle and walked to John’s side. He looked much like he had when they’d first found him on the ship-pale and still. The blue matter cast a grayish pallor over his body.

She reached her hand out and pressed it against the firm substance. When they were “giving,” the gel seemed to harden. It was hot to the touch as well, much like Rodney had described happening during Ronon’s giving.

She stepped toward Rodney now and peered at him through his own block of gel. His expression was frozen in a grimace. As soon as the gel had begun to flow over him, he’d scrunched his face up and held his breath. The light in the panels above her two teammates was brighter than it had been with Ronon. It was almost a bar-a straight vertical line streaming from end to end and panel to panel.

A moan drew her attention to her third teammate, and she spun around to see Ronon shaking his head and pushing himself up. If there was anything that could have dragged her away from Rodney and John, he was it. She darted over to him, grabbing onto his arm as he straightened.

“Ronon!”

Ronon groaned again, pitching forward. Teyla caught him under his arms and leaned him back on the sofa. His head flopped on the cushion and he winced.

“Are you alright?” she whispered, brushing his hair away from his face. He was pale and sweaty, and his skin was almost too hot. He shivered at her touch but began to blink. Teyla ducked her head so that she was eye-to-eye with him and smiled when he finally managed to keep his eyes open.

He smiled back, though his gaze was glassy and bright. He grunted, smacking his lips together.

“How are you?” Teyla asked again.

Ronon lost none of the look of confusion on his face. His head was sagging into the sofa cushion, and he didn’t look like he had any strength to sit up or straighten his neck. His smile faltered a little as Teyla continued to watch him.

“What?” he finally whispered. He frowned, searching her face.

Teyla felt sudden apprehension twist in her heart. “Do you know who I am?”

Ronon blinked, drawing his eyebrows together. She could almost see his mind working as it tried to come up with a response. The alien had said it would only take Ronon’s memories of his childhood. Surely that meant his memories of her, their team, and his time on Atlantis remained intact?

Confusion dominated his expression, but Teyla saw a scrap of fear in his eyes now too. “I…” he started, then stopped, licking his lips.

“I am Teyla.”

“Teyla?” he rasped. The word flowed awkwardly from his tongue.

“Yes,” she answered. She reached a hand out to brush his cheek and smiled again. He echoed her, blinking heavily and losing none of his disorientation.

He sighed suddenly and rolled his head against the cushion to look around the room. “Where are we?”

“We’re on a ship. John was…John has been injured and we are trying to help him.”

“Who?”

Dread filled her chest and drained into her stomach. What had they done? Ronon was… There was definitely something wrong with him, and now Rodney was undergoing the same procedure. Had they acted too rashly after all? Rodney should have waited at least until they were sure Ronon was okay, but John’s situation had seemed tenuous and the alien sphere impatient.

She shook her head at the thought. That wasn’t right; they had been desperate, and desperation was making them do strange things-taking risks they might not otherwise take, at least not so quickly. Ronon was still staring at her, waiting for an answer. She stood, grabbing his arm and keeping him steady as he too climbed to his feet. He swayed, growing pale and pressing a hand to his stomach.

“What is wrong? Perhaps you should remain sitting.”

“Nah,” he grumbled, sounding much more like his old self. “Little dizzy. I’m okay.”

With a sigh, Teyla pointed toward the two slabs holding the other half of their team, and Ronon turned slowly toward them.

“What are they doing?”

“Rodney is transferring energy to John, to heal him.”

They stumbled their way across the room, weaving around the sofa and across the empty space between the furniture and the slabs jutting from the wall. Ronon threw his hand out a few times as he lurched forward, his balance still skewed. Halfway there, he stopped and rocked back on his heels and Teyla’s grip on his arm was the only thing that kept him upright.

When they finally reached John, Ronon leaned against the block of gel and let his forehead rest against the top. “Warm,” he muttered.

Teyla nodded, trailing fingers across the side. The gel was even warmer than it had been a few minutes earlier.

“He’s hurt.”

Her chest expanded painfully. “Yes,” she whispered.

“Is he breathing?”

“When this material is not covering him, he is,” Teyla answered. She leaned forward, mimicking Ronon’s pose and pressed her face against the rubbery gel to look at John’s face. “Whatever the…person…connected to this ship is doing, it appears to be working.”

“Who?”

Ronon was watching her again. The blank look in his eyes was unnerving and Teyla forced herself to smile. Ronon rubbed his face with his hand and looked around again, but before either of them could say anything else, the gel around John and Rodney began to pull back into the wall.

Ronon stared as the gel morphed and wavered, looking terrified, and Teyla wondered if it was sparking a memory of his own experience from a couple of hours earlier. The gel retracted completely from around Rodney, and Teyla stepped toward him.

Rodney groaned and rolled onto his side right away, and before Teyla could reach him, he sat up and slid off the slab. His legs buckled as soon as he hit the floor, and Teyla could only watch helplessly as he crawled a few feet then threw up. She knelt beside him, resting a hand on his back. He was shaking badly, and his face had a greenish hue to it.

“Rodney?” she asked. He had stopped gagging, but he was still breathing heavily, occasionally spitting the little moisture still in his mouth.

“Sick,” he mumbled.

Teyla turned back to Ronon, who was standing next to John and watching the two of them. “Ronon, help me.”

She turned back to Rodney and rubbed his back. He seemed okay at the moment, and she pulled on his arm to ease him up and away from the brown puddle in front of him. He moaned slightly at the movement and let his head hang forward.

Ronon hadn’t moved. Teyla glanced at him again and waved him toward them. “Ronon!”

He started, hesitating a second, but Teyla continued to look at him and eventually he walked over to them. Walk would be a generous description, she decided. He staggered forward, using the slabs to keep himself from flopping on his face.

Somehow, Teyla managed to get Rodney on his feet on her own, and she turned back to her other teammate, who was now leaning against the empty slab and watching her struggle to keep Rodney upright. “Help me,” she said to Ronon. “Grab his arm.”

Ronon did, but it wasn’t clear to Teyla if he was helping Rodney stay on his feet or using Rodney to check his own hesitant sense of balance. They tripped and swayed their way across the room, eventually reaching the sofa that had been occupied not too long before by Ronon. By that point, Rodney was shuddering, barely able to stand even with all of his weight on his teammates. Teyla guided him to the sofa and directed his collapse onto the cushions.

He flopped over and threw an arm over his eyes. Teyla picked his legs up and swung them onto the couch so that he was stretched out. Ronon was staring up at the ceiling, his eyes flitting from spot to spot.

Teyla grabbed his arm and dragged him to the sofa facing Rodney. “Stay with him,” she ordered.

Ronon dropped into the couch and narrowed his eyes at Rodney. “He looks like he’s going to throw up again.”

“If he does, help him. I need to check on John.”

“Who?” Ronon asked, but his attention was focused on Rodney and the possibility of him becoming sick.

Teyla clenched her jaw as emotions swirled within her. What was happening to them? Ronon had no idea who any of them were, and Teyla wasn’t even sure he knew himself. He hadn’t reacted to his name at all, only her frantic waving and pointing.

Please, let this work out, she pleaded. They were too deep into this situation to do anything but continue forward. Either they would all be okay, or none of them would, and at the moment it felt as if that outcome was entirely on her shoulders.

John was lying in a thin layer of gel again, just like before. She pressed her hand to his chest and reveled in its rise and fall. If she was going to get through this, she had to hold onto what was happening here, to this man. Where once he had been cold and lifeless, he breathed again. His heart beat beneath his battered ribcage and his skin was almost feverish hot and flushed pink.

She waited for the next step in his progress, not sure how that might manifest itself but confident that it would. After each giving, John had changed. Long minutes passed, and he continued to breathe quietly. He looked like he was in a deep sleep, the muscles in his face smooth. There was no pain or fatigue, no stress or anxiety. She pressed the palm her hand against his face and brushed his cheek with her thumb.

“John?” she whispered.

He didn’t react, and she grabbed his hand. He had squeezed Rodney’s hand, reacting to his presence without waking up. Perhaps he would do the same with her. She shook his hand and wiggled her fingers, but John’s hand remained limp.

A headache was beginning to pulse behind her eyes. She closed them, pinching the bridge of her nose and breathing deeply. It did little for the pain, but she felt a brief unraveling of tension in her shoulders. When she opened her eyes again, John was unchanged, and her heart fluttered with apprehension.

“John,” she said a little more loudly. She searched for his pulse in his neck and was relieved to feel it beating steadily under her touch. Why was he not changing?

She forced his head toward her and peeled back his eyelids, and her breath caught in her throat. For a brief moment, she’d seen his eyes. They were almost all black, the pupils completely dilated, and they had not reacted whatsoever to the sudden flood of light from the room. The memory of him lying dead in the forest slammed back into her.

Had it all been a lie? She let go of his face to search for his pulse again, if only to reassure herself. John’s gaze had been vacant and empty, and she knew that just because his body was alive did not mean his mind had been restored. She felt her throat constrict at the thought and her vision shimmered at the sudden welling of emotion. Be strong-she had to be strong. She looked over at her other two teammates. Rodney was asleep with Ronon now sitting at his feet, though he seemed a little oblivious to the sick man next to him. He was staring at his arm in wonder as he fingered the checkered tattoo.

She scanned the rest of the room. The alien sphere had disappeared during both givings but it had returned soon after Ronon’s. Where was it now? She moved back to John’s side and traced the bruises on his chest with her finger. They were looking worse now that his blood was pumping through his body again-more swollen, more colorful.

She looked up at the ceiling and called out to the alien. “There is no change. Why is he not improving?”

She waited, but no one responded. Ronon continued to stare at his own arm, twisting it around and around.

“Where are you?” she cried louder.

This time she saw she had caught Ronon’s attention, and he too was looking up at the ceiling. Teyla sighed. She could see in his face that he had no idea what she was looking for. Rodney mumbled, twisted onto his back, then settled into sleep again. She walked over to them and kneeled next to Rodney, taking his wrist and feeling his steady pulse. He was…she wasn’t sure he was okay, but he was not in danger at the moment. Ronon leaned back and looked like he was about to doze off again.

“Ronon?” she called out. She scooted toward him and touched his arm, causing him to jerk awake. He blinked at her, wary. “I need to leave this room,” Teyla said.

She had no idea what she was planning or where she would go, but they needed more information. Every ship had a control center; if there was an alien behind the floating sphere, that is where it would be. At the very least, her leaving might catch its attention and force it to communicate with her.

“What?” Ronon asked, looking around. “Why?”

“To look…” she started, then shook her head. “Never mind. I need you to watch over John and Rodney.”

Ronon stared at her then blinked when he realized she wasn’t going to say anything more. He looked around the room again and the fear was back, only stronger. Teyla’s heart constricted in her chest, and she grabbed his hand in both of hers, feeling it trembling slightly.

“Do you understand?”

He nodded, but he looked far from confident. Teyla pointed to Rodney. “Watch him,” she said. “Help him if he is sick again.”

“’Kay,” he mumbled, and he seemed to focus a little more on Rodney. It would have to do.

Teyla checked on John one last time, noting again the lack of change in his condition, then headed for the doors. She paused as she reached them, wondering if they would even open, but they slid apart at her approach without hesitation.

She stepped cautiously into the hall, but it was just as empty as it had been hours earlier. “Are you here? Can you hear me?”

Her voice echoed through the ship. She walked over to the nearest panel and pressed her hand against the firm gel. No light appeared; no indication that the alien had heard her call. Reluctantly, she continued down the hall.

TBC...

Part 3b