Status: Completed 7/29/2009

Word Count: 2,876

Teyla staggered under the sudden momentum of exiting the Stargate. Rodney came through at the same rate a second later, nearly causing her to drop the travois. Together, they gently lowered the travois and stepped to the side as the nurses came rushing into the 'gate room led by a very anxious looking Doctor Beckett. Teyla glanced nervously at Rodney and gave him a small smile. Despite the dangers they'd faced, they had worked together as a team and made it back to Atlantis safely.

Worriedly, she looked back at the 'gate as the doctor knelt beside Major Sheppard and began to assess his condition. Why had Aidan not yet joined them? No sooner had the thought crossed her mind then he came stumbling backwards into the 'gate room. Breathing a sigh of relief, she turned her attention back to the major as the lieutenant came to stand beside her and Rodney.

"What happened?"

Teyla looked up to see Doctor Weir approaching, concern etched in her features. She waited aptiently as Aidan began to speak. As the major's second in command, he would be expected to fill in for their injured commander.

"It's kind of a long story, ma'am," he began, his eyes never leaving Sheppard's prone form. "We found the ancient facility. It wasn't unoccupied." Aidan paused, seemingly to get his emotions under control.

Listening to the lieutenant, Teyla didn't need to look at him to know that his eyes had narrowed. His voice tightened as he continued his explanation.

"Apparently, the Ancients decided to play around with Wraith DNA. They were doing some kind of experiments on the Wraith they'd captured and mixed the test subjects DNA with that of an animal similar to a wild dog." Teyla heard Aidan pause for a moment and looking up, gave him a small encouraging smile before turning her attention back to Doctor Beckett and the major. "That's not all. Doctor McKay says one of the scientists also combined his own DNA with the creatures. He believes that that is how the creatures seemed to be able to track us and why they targeted the major during everyone of their attacks."

Looking up, Teyla saw her own earlier shock and disbelief at hearing that news etched on Elizabeth's face. The other woman remained silent for a moment, watching along with the rest of them as various tubes and wires were connected to the major. Within moments the medical team had him carefully transferred to a gurney and briskly whisked away. She watched for a moment, then looked at Elizabeth and Aidan.

"I know you're all anxious to be with John," Elizabeth paused as Carson led the medical team from the 'gate room, "but judging by what I saw of him, it's going to be a while before Carson will have any news for us. In the mean time, you all look exhausted. I want you all to report to the infirmary for your post mission physicals, then you are all to get cleaned up, and get something to eat." Holding up a hand to fend off their impending protests, Elizabeth continued, "No arguments. I know you'll probably not sleep until you know how John is, so I won't order you all to bed. Yet. I do, however, expect you to write your reports while you wait for news."

Nodding, Teyla handed over her weapons to the waiting SFs before heading to the infirmary with her team.

Sighing heavily, Elizabeth watched the remaining members of her front line team walk dejectedly towards the infirmary. *Damn! Why do they never seem to catch a break?* In the eight months since they had arrived in the Pegasus Galaxy, Major Sheppard's team had received at least twice as many injuries as any two other teams combined. Of course, being the front line team, they drew the bulk of the most difficult missions. Bad luck also just seemed to follow them around. Even some of what should have been simple, routine missions -such as this one- had gone seriously wrong. The colonel, it seemed, almost always caught the brunt of the trouble.

In their second trip through the Atlantis 'gate, a rescue mission to save their people and the captured Athosians, John had been hit by a Wraith stunner. Since then, he had had a bug attached to his neck that nearly killed him, he'd been stunned at least four or five more times, and he'd been beaten a few times. He'd also dealt with several situations -like the siege on Atlantis by Kolya and his men- where John had been constantly on the move and in danger for hours, or even a day without so much as having a chance to get something to eat. By the time they'd finished dealing with that particular situation, and its aftermath, John had gone over two days without sleep, which had left him both physically and mentally drained. Just recently, he'd been shot by a Wraith with the spare gun from his jumper. He'd also been beaten several times, enough to badly bruise ribs twice and cause a concussion once. On their fifth mission, he'd been cut by one of the locals. Luckily, it had been a small knife and the wound only required a few stitches and a few days to heal.

John wasn't the only one on his team to be injured on a mission. Ford had sprained his ankle a few weeks after they'd arrived in the Pegasus galaxy and had suffered a severe concussion during a nasty spill to a steep hillside nearly three months ago. Teyla and Rodney had also suffered a few injuries, including the cut Kolya had inflicted to Rodney's arm. Each of them had also suffered more than one blast from a Wraith stunner. Each time one of his team members had been sick or injured, John had spent all of his free time -sometimes getting little or no sleep- in the infirmary until he or she had recovered.

All in all, it had been a very rough eight months for the major physically and emotionally.

The same could be said for most members of the expedition, really, but being not only the leader of the front line -and therefore the most active- team, just made it that much harder on John.

Sighing, Elizabeth turned back towards her office. She desperately wanted to go to the infirmary to check on John, but she knew it simply wasn't an option right then. Supplies were really starting to dwindle. The siege on Atlantis hadn't helped matters. The negotiations with the Allemiean's, a somewhat primitive culture with well-developed agricultural practices whom John and his team had met a few weeks ago, were at a standstill. On top of all that, the lack of supplies was beginning to cause some infighting amongst some of the scientists. The military personnel, too well trained to let a lack of certain conveniences interfere with doing their jobs, seemed to be taking everything in stride and were dealing with the inconveniences fairly well.

For now.

Elizabeth had to wonder though, how much longer that would last. After all, despite all of their training, the military members of the expedition were only human. Add the stress of their normal duties to the stress of dealing with the shortages and the fact that they had to constantly be taken from their normal duties to break up mostly petty arguments between the scientists, she knew they'd reach a breaking point sooner or later. She just prayed it wouldn't be until later. Much, much later. Like, oh, say, after they were able to find a fully functional ZPM and re-establish contact with Earth -or at least until they could establish steady trade negotiations with some of the Pegasus Galaxy locals.

Entering her office, Elizabeth let the door close on its own as she walked to her chair and slumped down into it. She was trying desperately to wrap her mind around what Ford had told her. The Ancients had been messing with genetics -Wraith genetics!- and one or more of them had actually thrown their own DNA into the mix. The Ancients had, from what little she'd heard, and judging by the state John was in, created an extremely efficient killing machine. One which could detect an Ancient or someone who naturally carried the ATA gene. Just the thought of it was unbelievable, not to mention appalling.

For nearly an hour, Elizabeth tried to concentrate on her paperwork. After the third attempt at reading Lieutenant Fielding's report on the negotiations with the Allemiean's, and her third time getting to the end and still not having a clue of what she'd just read, she gave up and left her office. She knew she would not be able to properly concentrate on anything else until she knew whether John would make it or not. It bugged her, in a way, that this had her so thoroughly distracted. Others, including John, had been injured before and she'd been able to do her duty without much hesitation. Then again, no one had come through the 'gate so badly injured before.

No one who had for lived long afterwards, anyway.

As she walked briskly towards the infirmary, Elizabeth prayed John would not become the expedition's next fatality. While every member of the expedition was important, John was one of the very few members who was truly invaluable. Not just because he was the strongest natural gene carrier in the city -possibly in two galaxies-, but also because of his military status. Compared to most military commanders, the major's approach was pretty lax but that, combined with his willingness to sacrifice himself for even a "lowly" corporal or member of the kitchen staff, had won him great respect from every person in the city. Even the most reclusive and cranky of the scientists. Of course, his willingness to be an on call human guinea pig had gone a long way towards achieving that, especially with the scientists. If he d . . . died, she feared things would take a serious turn for the worse very quickly. While she had great confidence in the military officers in the city, she knew none of them could lead the military contingent as efficiently as John did, or gain the level of respect from the city's inhabitants as the major had.

Granted, John had brought some of his extra duties upon himself. It was he who decided that every person in Atlantis had to learn at least basic first aid, weapon safety, basic hand to hand combat and proper handling and firing of a nine millimeter gun. Qualifications on the handgun were higher for anyone who went off world with one of the recon or science teams. Those individuals were also required to at least learn how to safely handle and fire a P-90. Grudgingly, and with much complaining at first, every member of the expedition, herself included, had done as they were told. Still, she had to admit it was a good idea.

*John, you are one of the most stubborn, tenacious people I have ever met. Please, don't leave us.*

Carson's relief that Major Sheppard had pulled through the surgery fairly well was short lived. While the wound to his right shoulder was serious and his arm would need to be in a sling for a little while, it was not nearly as bad as it looked and, unlike the wound in his side, had not become infected. It had taken less than an hour to clean and stitch the wound. In a few weeks, it would be as good as new. The abdominal wound was another story entirely. It had become seriously infected and some of the tissue, thankfully only a very small amount, had died and was unsalvageable, needing to be removed. As if that wasn't bad enough, the infection had spread to the major's lung. Much as he despised it, he'd been forced to insert a chest tube to drain the fluids that had built-up in the infected lung. It would likely have to remain for several days.

Luckily, the damage to the major's face was also relatively minor. The skin had split just above the left eye, requiring several butterfly stitches to close, but Carson was sure there would be no scar left behind. The bruising was fairly severe, as was the swelling around his left eye, but both would abate with time.

The things causing the most concern for Carson now were the infection and the wounded man's extremely high fever. If he couldn't get those two things under control within the next twenty-four hours, the major's chances for recovery would be slim to none.

The surgery done and the major almost situated, Carson left his very capable nurses to finish getting Sheppard settled, allowing him to fill in the major's team on his condition. Said team members, along with Doctor Weir, were waiting with varying degrees of impatience for his report.

Clearing his throat to catch everyone's attention, Carson chuckled as Rodney jumped and nearly dropped his laptop. Ignoring his friend's annoyed glare, he began his report. "The major is out of surgery. It went well, but he is not out of the woods yet. Let's see," Carson paused as he looked at the major's chart. "He's got a concussion, three fractured ribs, a punctured lung, some minor abrasions and quite a bit of deep bruising to his face and abdominal area. In addition, when the creature clawed his side, one of its claws broke off and was embedded in the wound."

Teyla gasped in shock. "I am sorry. I do not know how I could have missed that."

"Calm down, lass," Carson replied soothingly, placing his hands on her shoulders in a reassuring gesture. "It's not your fault. It was embedded pretty deep in the second cut from the top, which was the deepest cut of the four. There's no way you could have known it was there.

"As a result of the infection and the blood loss, he's gone into shock." Seeing the look of self-recrimination on Teyla's face, Becket stopped and pinned her with a serious look. "You can stop that train of thought right there, lass. This isn't your fault either." Pausing just long enough to be sure that what he'd said to Teyla had sunk in, he lowered his hands as he returned her nod. He was glad to see a, albeit very small, smile play on her lips. Turning his attention back to Elizabeth, Carson continued, "I also had to insert a chest tube to drain the excess fluid from his lung.

"Luckily, the concussion is minor and there are no signs of a skull fracture. His shoulder is in much better shape than it looks. There is no infection there, although it took a fair few stitches to sew up the wound, but it should heal relatively quickly. Certainly faster than the abdominal wound at least. At this time, my main concerns are the infection and his fever. The longer his fever remains elevated, the more danger he is in."

Carson could clearly see the concern etched in their faces and knew his features reflected the same. Taking a deep breath, he began again. "He's still heavily sedated from the surgery, but you may visit him for a few minutes. Then I want you all to go to your rooms and get some sleep." Three mouths opened to protest. Holding up a hand to forestall the impending arguments, Carson continued, "I don't want to hear any arguments from any of you. I haven't had the opportunity to check your medical exams as of yet, but I don't need to review them to see that you are all exhausted. You will all get at least six hours of rest before you return." He pinned each of them with a glare as he spoke then turned back to Doctor Weir. "And that includes you as well," he added. Glancing at his watch, he said, "You have ten minutes then it's off to bed with the lot of you."

Leaving no room for argument, Carson turned and left, heading for his office. He had every confidence in his team, but he always liked to review the exams anyway. He was not under any delusion that Sheppard's team would listen to him without strict enforcement, but he wasn't concerned. Elizabeth would enforce his rules. Although she wasn't likely to follow them herself immediately, he wasn't concerned about her just yet. She was one of the few people he knew who understood her own limitations very well and would not push beyond them except in the most dire of situations.

Sure that his patient was well cared for and that the major's team would follow his orders -even if they did so under duress- Carson concentrated on his paperwork. After reviewing Rodney's, Ford's, and Teyla's exam results, he had other reports to file. Knowing he needed to check on the major in a few hours, he wanted to make sure all of his paperwork would be done by then. Taking a long drink form the bottle of water he kept on his desk, he got to work.

TBC