Paradise - 2nd Half
By NotTasha
Back to Part 1

PART 11: SNACK

The damn things were everywhere.  Sheppard had brought down five of them, but they still circled the pool, snapping, laughing, growling, disappearing into the undergrowth.  He’d reloaded – his only spare clip.  Ford was beside him, taking aim and firing at another of the horrible things.  It yelped as he struck it.

“How many?” Sheppard asked, searching out another target.

“I think there’s still seven or so,” Aiden responded.  He nodded toward the one that had just fallen.  “Make that six.”

“Uh-huh,” Sheppard voiced, keeping his eyes traveling.  He couldn’t be certain of Ford’s count.  The things kept moving… coming in and out of shadow.  Appearing for a moment and then disappearing again –determined to get to them in spite of the losses.  The starving things continued their insane cackling – as if they felt themselves in charge.

This wasn’t good.

A growl sounded so near his ear that Sheppard jumped, turning sharply to face grinning teeth.  Above him on a ledge, the creature leapt, mouth gaping.  He brought his weapon around sharply, knowing he was late. 

Another report filled the air and the big thing fell on him, slamming him back into the earth, its head lolling against his shoulder in an almost cozy position.

Sheppard thrust the dead creature from him.  He rolled, looking up in time to see something else come toward them.

Teyla tore through the undergrowth, as agile as any of the creatures.  As if on cue, the ground shook again.   Whether they were startled by the Athosian’s sudden appearance – or frightened by the volcano’s tremors --  the dogs turned shy.  They darted away, yipping and yowling and laughing as they ran, disappearing into the depths of the forest.

“Major Sheppard!” Teyla called as Sheppard made it to his feet.  “Lt. Ford, are you unhurt?”

“We’re fine,” Sheppard responded.  He nodded to the carcass near his feet.  “Thanks.”  Looking back at Teyla, he furrowed his brow.  “Where’s McKay?”

“He’s directly behind me,” Teyla answered confidently, then turned and stared into the un-peopled wood.  She made a movement to retrace her steps when a startled shout filled the air, followed by a pain-filled scream.

“Oh no,” Sheppard exhaled, taking off – retracing the path that Teyla had just blazed.  The major could hear Teyla and Ford behind him, but he didn’t turn to see them.  Son of a bitch… son of a bitch… didn’t he listen to anything I said to him?  Stick to together!  What was he thinking?  Goddamn him!  Shit!  I told him that everyone had to stay in pairs, but here’s Teyla… and…

Oh, Teyla… Sheppard felt his forehead tighten as he ran.  Damn it, Teyla… you left him!

He ran, leaping over downed trees, shoving aside branches and wasn’t bothered that they were whipping into the people just behind him.

“McKay!” he called.  “Rodney!”  He could still hear the Canadian shouting, screaming, yelling for help, sounding absolutely terrified.  And, underscoring the panicked cries, was the weird cackling of those wretched dogs.

Where is he?  Where is he?  Damn it!  How much further?  Where’d you leave him, Teyla?

Still obscured by too many branches, Sheppard finally spotted him.  McKay was on his back, straining to press away the wicked head of one of the animals.  A big one, it stood with its paws firmly planted on Rodney’s chest.  Its triangular-head strained against physicist’s hands, jerking and pulling in its attempt to attack again.  It growled, it laughed, it droned with that horrible ominous sound – trying to get at Rodney’s throat.  It giggled as if it thought this was funny.  It dug at him.

A second creature -- smaller that the first, a half-grown pup perhaps -- had snagged Rodney’s leg and pulled.  Another pup snarled and nipped at the big one, wanting to get in as well, attempting to get a piece for itself.  Their discordant voices filled the chorus.

Rodney kicked, trying to dislodge the one at his leg.  He rocked, attempting to roll out from under big one, as he forced its head back.  The third creature suddenly dove in, snapping onto his left arm and pulling it back.  The biggest one, its head half-freed, drew back for a moment, and snickered as if savoring the moment.

Sheppard finally broke free of the impeding branches.  He raised his weapon and fired at the thing that had held Rodney down.  It let out a yelp and was flung, propelled by Rodney’s hand as well as the bullets force.  Twisting as it landed, the creature was on its feet again, snapping, snarling and ready to pounce on its prey once more.  Sheppard didn’t give it a chance as his second bullet finished off the thing.

The other two let loose their holds for a moment and skittering about wildly, not understanding what had happened to mama.  Then, seeing that she was gone, they both turned on Rodney again.  Ford and Teyla cut them down before they could reach him.

Sheppard sprinted the final steps, to where Rodney lay, his hands still in the air as if he expected to continue his battle with them.  Rodney’s shirt was bloody.  His face was splattered with red. His pants and sleeves were torn and bloodstained.  He looked absolutely lost as he panted, his eyes darted, not really seeing Sheppard, still looking for the things that had attacked him.

“Rodney,” Sheppard called, falling to his knees beside his friend, kicking away the body of one of the creatures.  “Rodney, it’s okay.  We’re here.  We got them.  They’re gone!”

Damn it!  Damn it!  There was a nasty gash across Rodney’s shoulder; bites on his arm and leg were bleeding, too -- vicious looking scratches ran down his chest where the big one had flailed at him.  

“Hang on, Rodney.”  Sheppard pulled back on McKay’s torn shirt to get a better look at what the thing had done.  Aw, crap… aw hell.  His shoulder was a mess – lots of blood – mangled.  Shit!  Oh… shit!

Rodney’s eyes continued to dart as he gasped for breath, one of his grasping hands latched onto Sheppard’s leg, but he seemed otherwise unaware of their presence, still looking for the dogs and not understanding how they could have disappeared. 

“It’s okay, Rodney,” Sheppard continued plaintively.  “Rodney, listen, we’re here.  Rodney, it’s me -- John.”

McKay gave him no sign that he’d heard.

Teyla was there, sitting beside them, taking Rodney’s free hand, and speaking softly in a language John didn’t understand.  She pressed her other hand to Rodney’s pale face, uttering soothing, beautiful, senseless words that seemed to calm the man.

Rodney’s eyes lost their unclear cast.  He gasped and licked his lips, and his eyes suddenly focused on Teyla, seeing her.  He gave her a half-hearted smile, and then spotted Sheppard.  “They’re here!” he gasped.  “Those… those dogs… they’re… they’re…”

“They’re gone, Rodney,” Sheppard tried to sound convinced, glancing up to Ford to ensure that the Lieutenant was protecting them.  Ford stood, his gaze constantly moving, his weapon held ready.  “They’re gone!” the major said with greater authority.

“I tried…” Rodney panted.  “I just couldn’t… I fell and I…”  He didn’t seem able to catch his breath. 

“It’s okay.  Rodney, it’s okay,” Sheppard continued his placations, not believing what he said, just wanting to calm the terrified man.   Yeah, right, everything’s okay.  Those sons-of-bitches were trying to tear him apart, split him like a wishbone. For the love of God, they were going to eat him alive.

Teyla kept up her cooing language that almost sounded like a song -- a pretty and mesmerizing thing.

McKay’s frightened eyes tracked about, switching from Sheppard to Teyla, and then to Ford above them, and finally returned to Teyla, her song seeming to draw him.  He listened to her for a moment, blinking slowly. Finally, he spoke, “I couldn’t get it off.  I … I tried… I tripped.  Stupid of me.  My fault.  I should have been…”

“Quiet, McKay,” Sheppard said, sounding steely and soothing at the same time. “Just quiet, okay?  Don’t talk.”  He tried to school his expression as examined the bite at Rodney’s shoulder, as McKay still clutched at him. The thing had torn up his shoulder.  The other bites didn’t seem as bad – but they weren’t good.  The scratches down his chest looked painful.

Glancing up, Sheppard caught sight of Ford.  The soldier looked down at them, seeing the wounds, trying to look strong and brave, but the worry showed through.  Their eyes met for only a moment and then the lieutenant returned his attention to the forest – looking for any more of the awful things.

“We’ve got to get him back to camp,” Sheppard said, knowing that their supplies were there – including the ridiculously small first aid kit.  The major wasn’t going to split the team up again, and there was nothing here to help them.   The wounds bled, but McKay would make it to the camp.  “Teyla, cover our six.  Ford, we’re carrying him.”

Teyla bit her lip, looking guilty and sorrowful as she stopped her assurances and released her grip on Rodney.  He let her go without a fuss, letting his hand drop to his side, but his eyes followed her as she stood.

“It’s okay, Rodney,” John assured, wishing that anything could be okay now – no water, few supplies, a disabled DHD and now the only person who could fix it was badly injured.  Yeah, this was one hell of a paradise! 

McKay still panted, whether it was pain or fear – Sheppard had no idea.  “You need to calm down, Rodney. It’s very important you calm down.” The last thing they needed was for him to go into shock.  “Everything is going to be all right.”

Rodney’s eyes suddenly met his, and the terrified look changed to one of distain, as McKay uttered, “Yeah… right. Everything is going to be hunky-dory.  Are you expecting Glinda, the Good Witch, to float in her, wave her wand and send everyone home?”

The sardonic tone made John smile in spite of himself, glad to hear McKay finally sound like McKay.  Somehow it made Sheppard believe his own earlier assurances.  “All we need now is the ruby slippers,” he commented.

Ford waited until Teyla was prepared with her P-90, then he dropped down and gave Sheppard a troubled look.  Strangely enough, Sheppard quirked a smile as if this was nothing.  Taking a resolute breath, Aiden took his position at Rodney’s legs.  “It’s okay, Doc,” he said, attempting a light tone as he clipped his weapon onto his vest.  “We’ll getcha back to the camp and get you fixed up.  Don’t worry, I won’t drop you.”

But McKay gasped painfully as they lifted him, and they knew the trek back to their camp would not be an easy one.


PART 12: AFTERMATH

They’d carried McKay back to their little camp, moving as quickly as they could – but Rodney had suffered for the move, and was pale and gasping again by the time they’d settled him near the fire.  Sheppard did what he could to stop the bleeding, as he'd gone against his better judgment to keep everyone together, and ordered Teyla and Ford to go again for the forgotten water.  He worried from the moment they’d gone – listening for any sound of gunfire, of insidious laughter, listening for the cries of his friends, remembering how he’d heard McKay’s shouts – he’d been so far away.

Teyla and Ford kept their radios on, and he listened to their breathing, straining to hear anything that would forebode danger.  But what good would that do anyway?

If Aiden and Teyla were hurt now, there was nothing he could do for them – he had to trust that they’d take care of each other.  He knew he couldn’t leave McKay now – not like Teyla had left him earlier.  How could she do that?  Didn’t she realize what would happen?  Sheppard had closed his eyes, trying to quiet his thoughts – drive them from his mind.  He didn’t need to be consumed with these feelings right now – he had to help Rodney.

“Is it bad?” McKay had asked, his eyes looking unnaturally bright against his pale complexion as Sheppard cut away the sleeve of his shirt.

“Looks like you got bit up,” Sheppard said, trying to sound easy about it.

“Hurts like … hell…”

“I bet,” Sheppard commented, his voice distracted.

“I don’t do well … with pain,” McKay confessed breathlessly, ashamed of his admission.

“Who does?” was John’s response, trying to sound calm.

The wound at his shoulder looked nasty – puncture wounds front and back, bloody and torn.  Everything would be okay, Sheppard told himself.  Yes, everything will be fine.  We’ll take care of this.  But how?  Goddamn it, they needed Beckett!

In a perfect world, Dr. Beckett would come strolling up the beach right now, barefoot like Crusoe’s Friday and maybe sipping a Mai Tai or some other frou-frou drink with a parasol.  He’d take care of everything.  Heck, that would be better than Glinda.

Sheppard swallowed, wishing he knew for certain what to do.  God, if only Beckett were here!  If they only had some decent supplies -- plenty of good water and bandages.   Sheppard would have to rely on his first aid training; he couldn’t recall if Sgt. Bishop covered animal bites  -- certainly nothing was said about demon dogs from hell.  At least Sheppard knew enough to set a piece of firewood under McKay’s feet to elevate them, trying to keep him from going into shock – but now he had to get that bleeding stopped, and to clean up the wounds.

John opened the first aid kit and drew out a triangular bandage.  It'd do for this purpose.  He stated, “I’m not going to sugar-coat this.  It’s going to hurt like hell.  You ready?”

Rodney gave him a pleading look that seemed to say that he was nowhere near ready, but he gave a short nod and closed his eyes.

Sheppard crammed the wadded bit of cloth against McKay’s torn shoulder.

Rodney made a pathetic yelp, then bit his lip until the skin beneath his teeth turned white.  He reached one hand up to clasp onto Sheppard’s arm, but did nothing to shove him away.  As John pressed on the wound, Rodney’s grip became tighter, and he snorted breaths through his teeth. 

Sorry, Sheppard thought.  Sorry…How long do I have to do this?  Why can’t this be over! Has the bleeding stopped?  God, I’m sorry, Rodney.

McKay continued to take hissing breaths, as Sheppard leaned his weight on him.

John glanced up, his eyes scanning the forest, then dropping his gaze to the Life Sign Detector.  The thing was too riddled with dots to be of much good.   He allowed himself only a moment to decide that nothing was moving at them, before he returned his attention to what he was doing.

It took so long.  Sheppard didn’t want to count how many tries… how many times he stopped, thinking he was done and had to press down again, making McKay whimper through his clenched teeth.  “Almost done,” he kept saying – wishing it were true.

Rodney had gone white by the time Sheppard finally stopped the torture, finding the blood flow substantially reduced.  The major sat back, panting almost as much as McKay.

Teyla and Ford returned with the large pot of water.  They set it on the fire, and Sheppard sent them back for another for drinking water.  Rodney watched their movements through hooded eyes.  The water took forever to boil.  Teyla and Ford came back with another.  They drained off as much of the sediment as possible, added the water purifying tablets, and boiled it again. By the time they were done, the liquid looked almost clean.

Sheppard did the dirty work.  Ford acted as nurse, getting whatever Sheppard called for.  The young man was nervous, but efficient – seeming to prefer following Sheppard’s latest order to sitting still, waiting and watching.   The major ordered Teyla to guard duty.  They used the water and then the antiseptic from the first aid kit, and finally bound up the bite wounds with not enough gauze.

McKay said little through the ordeal, answering questions, but otherwise his attention was focused elsewhere.

By the time Sheppard was finally satisfied with the work, the day was half over, and McKay was spent.  He was breathing shallowly, not seeing them, hardly hearing them.

“Go to sleep,” Sheppard ordered.

McKay offered only a quiet, “Okay,” and drifted off, leaving the rest of them to deal with what had happened.

Teyla apologized, profusely.  She wasn’t supposed to separate from McKay.  They were to stay in pairs.  No one would be left behind.  Sheppard had nothing to say to her, leaving her to guard duty.  “She probably saved your life,” Ford told him quietly at one point, but Sheppard didn’t see a fair trade in that matter.

McKay slept in fits, awakening often with a jerk, as if the animal was still attacking him.  Someone had to stay near him, to calm him down, to reassure him.   Teyla tried to take that duty, but Sheppard found her other tasks.  She realized the rebuke, but kept her mouth shut, taking on any responsibilities that Sheppard would offer her.

At one point, Teyla produced a pocket full of fruit pits and shells that she’d taken from the caverns.  She stated that the people in the caves seemed to have subsisted on the foodstuffs for some time.  It would be safe for them to eat as well.

So she went through the samples they’d collected earlier, splitting open the fruit, compared seeds and chose what two fruit that she knew they could eat.  Wordlessly, she served up what she’d discovered and, wordlessly, they sat around the campfire, eating strange-tasting fruit for dinner.  Once that was consumed, she searched the surf for snails.

Sheppard and Ford guarded the camp and watched over McKay, trying to reassure him when he woke in a fright.  It wasn’t always easy – it seemed to take longer every time to calm him.   “He’s got a fever,” Ford told Sheppard, as if it were a surprise, but Sheppard had been expecting and dreading that fact.  There would have to be fever, wouldn’t there?

The fever increased as the sun sunk lower in the sky.

PART 13: MOLLUSKS

Morning had somehow turned into evening and the sun inched toward the horizon.

Sheppard stood stiffly and moved about their camp.  Ford was on guard, watching the woods.  There had been no sign of the animals since they’d dispatched the trio that had attacked McKay, but the remaining creatures weren’t gone.  They heard them from time to time, yipping and cackling deep in the wood, remind them that danger still lurked.  McKay would sleep uneasily when the voices were plainly heard.

Beginning his pacing again, Sheppard passed Teyla who was cracking open snail shells and dropping the contents into what appeared to be a frying pan.  She gave him a hopeful smile as he paused, and then returned her attention to the still squirming mollusks when Sheppard didn’t return the expression.  She stabbed one ruthlessly with a knife, then moved to the next shell.

Sheppard wondered if they should try to catch some of the birds.  He glanced at the Life Sign Detector in his hand, and followed a blip.  Maybe it was something he could catch and cook.  There was no telling what the dot signified – what had McKay said earlier about ‘blue-butt nincompoops’?

He tracked down the creature and spotted a bright bird in the trees.  It took wing before he could take a step closer, gazing down on him with what might have been an imperious sneer – if a beak could actually look sneerish.

Everything here is mocking us, Sheppard thought, turning as Teyla loudly impaled another squirming, nude snail in her pan.  Even the snails think they’ve got something on us.  A day ago, they’d thought this was a paradise – but the longer they stayed, the closer it seemed to hell.

Ford watched for the dogs, and occasionally looking in the direction of McKay.  The troubled look hadn’t left the young man.  When Sheppard caught his eye, Ford’s expression turned to something more professional and he turned toward the woods again.

As he continued his slow circle, Sheppard paused beside McKay, noticing that the physicist was blinking, looking at the sky, looking coherent for the first time since they’d brought him back.

“Hey,” the major said softly. “How’re you feeling?”

Still too pale, Rodney made a face.  “Like crap,” he replied softly.  He made a move as if he wanted to sit up, but stopped immediately with a gasp.

“Don’t do that,” Sheppard chided, squatting down beside the doctor.

“I want to sit,” McKay stated, his voice quiet.

“Well, you’re not going to.”  Sheppard pressed one hand against the Rodney’s good shoulder, hoping to keep him in place.  “You’ve had a busy day.”

“Can you at least move what’s under my feet?” McKay asked as he tried to kick away the firewood they’d propped under him.

“It’s doing you good.”

“No it’s not.  I’m not in shock.”

“You weren’t looking too far from it earlier.”

“Well, I’m not now.”

“We’ll see,” Sheppard commented, enjoying the irritating conversation, glad that he could finally talk to McKay.  Yeah, he still looked awful: pale and drawn out like an old rag.  “You don’t look so good.”

“Oh, hello, it’s me…just bitten by a devil dog!” McKay raised his hand a few inches, as if someone was calling attendance.  “I’m not supposed to be looking good.”  He tried to move his good leg, to roll the log out from under him, but he had no strength and the movement was pointless.  He moaned and let out an exasperated sigh.

Sheppard dutifully moved the log out from under his feet.  He was fairly certain that McKay was now out of danger of shock, but they’d keep a close eye on him nonetheless.  “Better?” he asked.

“Better?” The response was sarcastic.  “There are degrees of ‘better’.  I’ve been bitten by Cerberus and his kin.”  McKay reached his good arm around so that he could gingerly touch his injured shoulder, groaning as he moved.  “It’s hard to feel to chipper about that!”

“That’d put a damper on things.  You hungry?”

McKay considered for a moment.  He swallowed before he asked, “What’s on the menu?”

“Ah, some sort of fruit.  One of them tastes a like a pineapple mated with ginger.  The other one reminds me of Sour-patch Kids.”

“Sounds… risky.”

“Teyla’s fixing up some snails.”  Sheppard said her name stiffly, and then wondered if McKay would notice his unease, but the physicist had closed his eyes again. 

“Oh, maybe not.”  McKay sighed.  He was quiet for a moment, breathing slowly, looking goddamn sick.  Then, reluctantly, he stated, “I should have some power bars in my pack.”

“Squirreling them away?  You were planning on keeping that a secret?” Sheppard asked, reaching for McKay’s pack and unzipping it.

“It’s a matter of survival,” McKay responded, “My survival…” He watched as Sheppard searched about, then withdrew one of the bars.  “You’re welcome to… have one,” Rodney continued.  “I suppose it would only be fair to share them ‘round.”

“No, no… we’ll leave those to you,” Sheppard declared, relieved that McKay had packed with his usual overstock of goodies.  Thank God, at least one thing had gone right!  Count on McKay to have extra food.  “You can have them.  I’m rather fond of those gingery pineapple things… and snails…” Sheppard tried to look convincing.  “Mmmm… snails.”

Teyla appeared at beside them, cradling a cup in her hands. “Are you thirsty, Doctor McKay?” she asked, kneeling down beside the injured man and extending the cup.  “You should drink something.”

McKay reached for the cup – stopping his movement as his hand trembled.  He stared at the appendage, as if he figured concentration could halt the tremor.  Teyla waited, patiently until the doctor finally completed his movement and grasped hold of the cup.  “Thanks,” he murmured, not looking at either of them in his embarrassment.

He lifted his head from the blanket that someone had bunched up under his head, and held the cup to his lips.  If he noticed that Sheppard placed a hand under his straining head, he made no note of it.  After a sniff at the cup, Rodney withdrew it with a disgusted, “I’m not drinking this.”

“It’s all we have,” Sheppard stated.  “Drink it, or you’re not getting the candy.”  And he waggled the power bar enticingly before dropping it in a breast pocket.

“It’s not candy,” Rodney responded, trying to sound curt, but his voice was too soft to pack any punch.  “It’s concentrated nutrition.”    He took a sip of the water, made a face and sipped again.  “Awful,” he muttered.  Suddenly the trembling became too pronounced and couldn’t hold the cup.  He tried to drop it, but somehow Teyla ended up with it.  John let him lower his head.

Damn, Sheppard thought, watching the tremor passed through the astrophysicist.  He’s not doing good.

“Why don’t you check on the snails, Teyla,” Sheppard suggested, as the Athosian lingered.  “I think some are trying to escape.”  He wasn’t kidding; one of the hard-to-kill invertebrates had just plopped like a turd onto the ground beside the skillet.

Teyla smiled tightly and laid one hand on top of Rodney’s for a moment before she stood and made her way back to her skillet to corral the escapes. 

Sheppard watched her go.  When he returned his gaze to McKay, he was looking at him curiously.  To still any questions, Sheppard stated, “Let me see how you’re doing.”  He pulled back the light blanket.  The bandage at his shoulder was spotting a little, but otherwise okay.  The long scratches on McKay’s chest and his arm were getting red and puffy.  Sheppard cursed to himself, realizing that the meager supply of antibiotic ointment had gone to treat the bites. The scratches had simply been cleaned with water and apparently that wasn’t going to be enough.

Of course the things’ paws would be filthy… why hadn’t he thought of that?  Why hadn’t he taken better care of those scratches?  Damn it! John glanced to the pot of water near the fire and wondered if it would do any good to wash them out again?  He had to do something.  “Hang on a minute,” Sheppard stated, and stood to retrieve the pot.

McKay watched him warily, as Sheppard laid hands on the water pot.  “Not again,” he sighed.

“Just want to get these scratches cleaned up a bit more.  Not going to move the bandages.”  No, he didn’t want to mess with that just yet.  They didn’t have the materials to replace the dressings – they’d used up every last bit of gauze just to get the bites properly covered.

The remaining murk had settled to the bottom of the pot, making the water look almost clean.  God, this was primitive, Sheppard thought.  Next thing you know, I’ll be doctoring with whiskey, herbal teas and a buck knife.

McKay looked annoyed and mortified as Sheppard used a bit of cloth that he’d torn from the inside of his jacket to soak up some of the water.

“I can do it,” McKay mumbled.  “Just hand it here.”  He tried to raise his hand, but it was obvious he had no strength to even take the cloth from Sheppard.

“Keep still.  I don’t like this any more than you do,” Sheppard responded, as he grasped McKay’s wrist to get at the scratches on his arm.  He tried to wash down the cuts as quickly and efficiently as possible, but the work took longer that he’d hoped.  The red scratches felt hot to him, they were starting to secrete a nasty looking fluid.  Shepard grumbled, wondering why didn’t they have a tube or two of Neosporin in the pouch.

“This sucks,” McKay hissed as Sheppard cleaned.

“Yeah, it does,” John agreed.

Closing his eyes, McKay pressed his head into blanket as Sheppard continued scrubbing at the inflamed cuts.  “Ow!  Come on… can you just… okay, I’m not the stoic type, you know?  Ow!  This hurts like hell.  It really really hurts.  Ow!  Stop it!”

“I can’t.”  Sheppard replied, hating this – making McKay suffer through this when he was already in pain.  “I’m trying to help you!  Stop moving!”

McKay sighed, realizing he’d been trying to pull away.  “Sorry…wasn’t intending...”

“I know,” Sheppard continued sympathetically.  “This can’t be fun.”

“It’s not just that,” and McKay paused to gasp as Sheppard scoured at one of the scrapes. “Ow…”

Sheppard gritted his teeth, knowing he had to get through this, even though it hurt his sick friend.  “Just hang on a bit longer,” he said, trying to sound positive.

“My shoulder… it’s throbbing.  It just won’t stop.  It feels like I’ve been ripped apart.  I feel so hot and so… strange.  You sure there aren’t any painkillers in that pouch?  Even a little bit?”

“Just the Tylenol and you’ve finished those off already.”  Was he doing any good? Sheppard wondered.  The cuts just looked redder after his abuse.  Was he doing any good at all?  Was he putting McKay through this for nothing?

“Great… just great…” McKay gasped sharply again.  “Oh...please.  I’m not cut out for this.”

”Done!” Sheppard exclaimed, throwing the hated, reddened cloth into the pot.  “Okay?  That’s it!”

“Thank God,” McKay muttered, trying to draw his hand over his abused chest, but Sheppard countered him, keeping him from touching the newly cleaned skin.

“Don’t,” Sheppard said gently.  “Try not to touch it, okay?  I don’t want to have to go through that again.”

Sheppard regarded the pot of water that he’d just contaminated with the rag.  Well, he’d someone should go for another pot before night fell. They still had drinking water they’d retrieved earlier, but would need more for cleaning up.  There was probably another hour of sunlight.

“Do you think…” McKay started and then paused.

“Do I think?  Sure, sometimes.”

McKay creased his brow, not taking the bait.  His voice lowered so that Teyla and Ford couldn’t hear.  “Do you think… that the creature… might have had rabies?”

The question brought Sheppard up short.  He didn’t know what to say.

“Because,” McKay continued, his voice tight, “It sure acted rabid.”

“Rabies is a disease from earth. It won’t be here.”

"We’re from earth… and yet we’re here.  The Ancients seeded humans across two galaxies. It’s not… impossible to think that… a disease or two traveled in along with them.”

“It’s not rabid, McKay,” Sheppard insisted.  “Why do you always worry about crap like that?”

“I worry.  It’s what I do.”  McKay paused, swallowing as his expression deepened.  “Doctors will make you take a whole series…”  he swallowed again, blinking lethargically.  “… of shots if you’ve been bitten by a dog… when they don’t know if it’s…  had it’s inoculations.  Do you think… Beckett will have me do that when we get back?”
 
“McKay, don’t worry about it.”

“I hear the shots are… right in the stomach.”

“Don’t worry about it!”

“I wonder what hydrophobia is like,” McKay stated, staring up at Sheppard.  “Will I suddenly cringe from… drinking glasses?  That water… over there... is almost worthy… of hydrophobia.”

“We’ll get the body,” Sheppard declared.  “We’ll bring it back so that Beckett can give it an autopsy, okay?”

“Necropsy,” McKay corrected softly, looking so damn tired. “When it’s an animal… it’s a necropsy.”

“Okay – necropsy.  Look, I don’t think they give the shots in the stomach anymore.  It’s not as bad as it used to be,” Sheppard said, hoping his statement was true.  “But that won’t matter.  We’ll get the body.  Beckett can necropsy it when we get back.  There’ll be no question then.  There’ll be no shots.  It’s not rabid.”

“When we get back,” McKay echoed.

“Yeah,” Sheppard confirmed.

“We will get back,” McKay continued, his voice getting lower.

“Yeah… of course,” Sheppard stated, trying to sound encouraging.

“We will,” McKay insisted, even as his voice faded.  “It’s almost finished… the DHD.  I figured it out.”

Sheppard grinned.  “Best news I’ve heard all day.”  But he watched as McKay seemed to lose whatever spark had found him.  He was drifting, exhausted by pain and the day’s events.

Rodney blinked, trying to open his eyes.  “Just have to… put it back… together.  It’ll be… a snap.”

It was rather pitiful watching McKay fight so hard to stay awake.  He was so sick  -- anyone could see it.  Sheppard suggested, “See if you can get some sleep, okay?  You’ll feel better in the morning.  You can finish it then.”

“I don’t know… don’t think I could…sleep.”  But Rodney’s eyelids were losing their fight to stay open. The exhaustion was evident on his face.

“Just relax for a minute.  Close your eyes.”

“You aren’t… going anywhere are you?”

“We’re stuck on this beach. Where would we go?”

McKay managed to open his eyes again, to give John one long glance, as if he was thinking of something that he wouldn’t voice.

“Close your eyes, McKay.  Try to sleep.  That’s an order.  I’ll stay with you for a bit, okay?” 

And Sheppard sat beside McKay until the man was finally able to drift off.  Rodney startled once or twice before sleep completely claimed him, as somewhere in the night the devil-dogs gibbered.  When he was certain that McKay was asleep, Sheppard gave him a gentle pat, and then slowly stood.  As he slapped the sand off his clothing, he realized that he still had McKay’s power bar in his pocket.

Damn it, Sheppard thought, then removed it and slid the peanut-butter bar under McKay’s hand before he stood and continued his pacing.


PART 14: PATTERNS IN THE SAND

Before darkness was complete, Teyla and Sheppard made another journey to the water hole.  The mood was tense as they walked.

“I realize that I am responsible for what happened to Doctor McKay,” Teyla said tightly as she carried the pot of water.  Sheppard watched the woods.  “I should have remained with him.  My choice was flawed.  I wish there was something I could do to help.”

“You’re carrying water.  That’s a good start,” Sheppard responded.

“I made an error in judgment.”

“Yes, you did.”

“You no longer trust me,” Teyla continued, remembering a time when none of the Atlantis crew seemed to trust her – no one except for Major Sheppard and Dr. McKay.

“I trust you, Teyla,” Sheppard said tiredly.

“You do not wish me to stay alone with Doctor McKay,” she stated bluntly.

“Well, we all saw what happened last time you did that.”

“It will not happen again,” Teyla insisted, struggling with the water-filled pot.

Sheppard nodded, and tried to sound contrite, “I know.  I know that Teyla.  I’m just not very happy about this whole situation, okay?  You saw what those things did to him.   It was preventable.”

And they said little more.

They left the pot at the campfire, and returned for the body of the big animal that had attacked McKay.  All three of the creatures had been ripped to shreds.  The sight had disgusted John, but Teyla came to the conclusion that it was a good thing – the remaining animals had consumed their pack-mates and wouldn’t be so hungry. 

“They must not have been able to capture many birds.  They were starving to death,” she commented, pointing to what remained of one of the pups.  The ribs and hipbones were clearly defined.  “Starvation can make a creature do unnatural things.”

John had no response for her.  He saw the other side – after a good meal, the remaining members of the pack would be stronger. 

She touched the animal’s short, course, white fur that exposed sunburnt skin.  “They are not of this world.  They are ill-equipped for the intensity of the sun.”

Well, that hardly mattered.  John picked up what was left of the largest animal, little more than the head, a bit of its spine and the front legs – but it was still an impressive size.  He’d carried the remains to the camp, then buried it near the StarGate to keep the predators away until they were ready to retrieve the carcass.  It was a rather loathsome task, but perhaps McKay had a point, and Beckett might need to examine the thing – when they got back.

Rodney had said that the DHD was almost fixed – that he’d figured out what was wrong and only needed to reassemble it.  It couldn’t happen soon enough to suit Sheppard.

McKay was getting sicker.  The fever had increased.  The scratches were more inflamed, puffy, hot, seeping a pussy ooze.  McKay was muttering and moaning softly.  He’d swat out, and twist his head, trapped in a nightmare, until someone soothed him back to a more peaceful sleep.

They kept a watch over him, anxious, not knowing what else they could do.  Maybe the creature did carry some sort of awful illness.  McKay certainly had gotten sick quickly.  A good night’s sleep wasn’t going to make McKay any better, Sheppard realized.  He needed help – he needed to be back in Atlantis with all of the medical supplies available.  He needed to be home.

But home was so far away.

And the night continued.  Sheppard sat beside Ford, beside McKay, keeping their backs to the fire and their eyes on the forest.  It was a dreadfully long night.

“Major,” Ford started. Somewhere in the darkness, the animals still yipped.  The Life Sign Detectors showed something moving about – at a distance from them.  “Major?”

“That’s me,” Sheppard responded.

Aiden didn’t continue speaking immediately.  He kicked one foot at the sand beneath them, twisted his P-90 in his hands, and sighed. 

A silence lapsed between the two men.  The major didn’t really notice it at first, but as the quiet continued, Sheppard stated, “I don’t think I like snails.  Is that they way they’re supposed to taste?   Are they like that on Earth?  I’d thought they’d have some flavor, but they’re really rather like eating snot, consistency-wise, aren’t they?  I mean, I’m not a connoisseur of snot or anything, but…”

“Major,” Aiden began again.

“I’m still here,” Sheppard answered, glad that Ford had stopped him from going any further.

“What if he gets worse?” Ford asked, watching McKay, who tossed in his sleep.  “Those cuts are infected.  Those bites are really bad.  He’s got a fever.”

“He’ll pull through this,” Sheppard insisted.

Ford considered whether to continue.  Finally, he stated, “He’s getting worse.  He’s really sick.   And we’re not going to get out of here with the DHD in pieces.”

“He’ll fix it,” John committed.  “When he’s feeling better.”

“I’m thinking,” Ford started,  “I’m thinking it would probably be best if he got back to work on it – the sooner the better.”

“He needs to rest,” Sheppard said firmly, knowing where Ford was leading.  “He’s not going to be worth anything if we get him up.” 

“He’s getting worse,” Ford said again.  “And he’ll just keep getting sicker unless we can get him back to Atlantis.”  He worried his P-90, twisted it back and forth, making a pattern in the sand with the butt of it.  “If you asked me… I would think… that he should finish his work as soon as possible…  before he gets sicker.”  Ford didn’t look at Sheppard, watching the aimless marks in the sand.  “Maybe he’s rested enough and should get back to work.”

Sheppard let loose a breath.  “I doubt I’d be able to wake him up.  It would take more than just a little coaxing.  Then, he’ll say we have enough snails to last us and go back to sleep.”

“He’s the only one who can fix it,” Ford went on.  “And if something happens… and he…you know…”

“Don’t say it,” Sheppard snapped.

“He’s the only one…” Ford repeated.  “He’ll die if we don’t get back to Atlantis… soon.  And if he dies… we’ll all be stuck here.”  Ford lowered his voice, ducking his head as he said, “I don’t want to be stuck here.”

There it was.  John knew that Ford was right – had been thinking the same things himself.  There was no improvement in McKay’s condition.  His breathing was getting worse.  He looked like hell.

The three chevrons still illuminated on the gate – casting a glow in the area – still stuck.  Somewhere, far from here, Weir was probably beside herself with worry.  She would have all of the available scientists working on this issue – trying to fix it – trying to get them home.  They’d be tearing their hair out – losing sleep.  Doing everything they could.

Sheppard wondered what would have happened if their team was home – and Rodney was in Atlantis, trying to solve this for another team.  Would he have been able to figure out how to reset the DHD remotely?  Somehow, Sheppard believed that he would.

John Sheppard wasn’t going to let Rodney die like this, but only a real bastard would make a man work when he was so sick.

With a groan, Sheppard leaned over McKay who muttered and trembled.  “McKay,” Sheppard said, touching Rodney’s good arm.  “McKay, come on… wake up.”

McKay responded with a garbled sound.

“McKay, wake up,” Sheppard continued, trying to keep his voice soft, but needing to cut through the cottonballs that had to be filling the genius’ head.  “McKay!”

With a gasp, Rodney’s eyes flew open and he gazed up at the major.  “What?” he cried.  “Are they back?”

“No,” Sheppard assured.  “They’re not here.  It’s okay.  We just need you to fix the DHD.”

“Yes… of course,” McKay said dreamily.  “Tomorrow.”

“Not tomorrow.  Now,” Sheppard insisted.

“Now?” McKay repeated.  He glanced around wearily, then licked his lips and stated, “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“No kidding.  Listen, McKay, it has to be done, now.”

“No… I think I’d rather sleep.” And he drifted again.

“McKay!” Sheppard tried to keep his temper in check, pissed off at this situation.  Pissed off at himself for doing this.  “I know this sucks, but we have to do this now.  We can’t wait any longer.”

Rodney opened his eyes and looked around pathetically. “But it’s night,” he said softly.

“I know, but you stay up to all hours in your lab.  No big deal, right?”  Sheppard tried to sound cheerful.

“You’re a mad man!” McKay declared and shut his eyes again.  “I’m sick.  I’m going to sleep.”

“I know you’re sick… I know…” Sheppard groaned.  “We got to get this done.”

McKay made a childish face and shuddered.

What would it hurt to let him sleep?  He needs to rest!  But, if we don’t do this… he’ll die.   Sighing, Sheppard knew what had to happen. He wasn’t going to let McKay die here – he’d do anything to stop that from happening.


PART 15: BASTARD

“Get up and fix it.  That’s an order!” Sheppard barked.

The tone of the Sheppard’s voice shocked Rodney, who glanced up with wide, blood-shot eyes, before putting on a haughty expression.  “Not military… can’t order me,” McKay responded, trying to sound proud, but ending up sounding pathetic and absolutely worn out.

“I don’t care.  You’ve slept long enough.  What do you think this is?  A vacation?” Sheppard continued, his voice uncompromising.  “You broke it.  You fix it.  We’re all trapped here until you get off your ass and get it back together.”

Ford watched the exchange, trying to keep the surprise from his face.  McKay’s expression was so lost, that Ford nearly spoke, but he held his tongue.

“You’re not doing us any good like this,” Sheppard went on.  “Make yourself useful for a change.”

“Useful?  Okay, okay…” McKay fussed around, looking startled and hurt.  He frowned when his hand touched something and he came up with a power bar.

Sheppard turned away, remembering how he’d neglected to give it to McKay when he'd asked for the bar earlier.  And he’s been hungry all this time… “Ford, get him upright.  We’re going to move him over to the DHD and he’s going to tell us how to put it back together, right now.  You’ve wasted two days.  No more pissing around.”

Ford did as he was told, helping the doctor to sit up, trying to ignore the groans and pain-filled utterances of the man. “Hang on, Doc,” Aiden encouraged softly.  “Just hang on… I got you. Let me do the work.  I won’t let you fall over, okay?”

Once he was certain that Ford had Rodney sitting, Sheppard turned to them and said,  “I’ll give you enough time to eat that, but then you’re fixing this damn DHD once and for all, you got that?”

“Rather hard not to hear you,” McKay responded, as he tried to open the power bar with one hand, his other hand seemed useless.  Ford took the food from him and peeled back the wrapper before handing it back.  “Thank you, Aiden,” Rodney muttered as he took it, his hand trembling even more than before.  “I really don’t feel so good,” he admitted to the Lieutenant.

“Yeah, I know,” Aiden responded.  “I’m sorry about this.”  He squatted beside the physicist, keeping one hand at his back, to steady him.  McKay felt terribly warm and was hardly able to keep upright without help.  His coloring looked awful.  The soldier looked up, watching as Sheppard turned on the light from his P-90 and set it up next to the DHD, then grabbed Rodney’s weapon and did the same.  The pieces were still scattered near the base of the unit.

McKay laboriously chewed on his peanut-butter bar.  Teyla was awake as well, dipping a cup into their drinking water.  She brought it to Rodney, smiling warmly at him, wrapping one hand over his to help him drink.

She watched the major’s rough movements as he cleared a space around the DHD.  “He is angry,” she stated to Ford.

Aiden sighed and nodded, knowing the man was furious – but at himself more than anything – for what he had to do to Rodney in order to get home.

McKay worked at consuming his meal, seeming unaware of what was around him.  Sympathetically, Teyla laid one hand on Rodney’s good shoulder, feeling him shaking, feeling his heat.

“Doctor McKay needs to sleep,” she whispered to Aiden.  “He is very ill and it is unwise to do this now.”

Ford gave her a chagrinned expression.  “This is my fault.”  He patted McKay’s back softly, wishing he could make this up to him. 

Sheppard strode toward them, nodding curtly at Teyla, and then said, “Get him up and walk him over there.  We’re not going to be wasting any more time!”

“Ah yes, I like this.  Being awakened…in the middle of the night… forced from my bed… to finish up projects.”

“If you’d gotten it fixed the first time we wouldn’t need to do this,” Sheppard responded bluntly.

Nodding dumbly, McKay finished the last bite of his power bar, then drank from the cup that Teyla helped hold.  Ford counted to three, and then he and Teyla brought Rodney to his feet.  It was a struggle, as Rodney swayed and nearly lost his balance, trying to stay off his bad leg, but his companions didn’t let him fall.

Sheppard watched, his hands crossed over his chest, his face set and steely, although his eyes revealed a deep-seated worry and a horrible guilt as McKay offered no further complaints. The trio staggered forward, McKay biting his lip as they moved, until they were beside the DHD and the major.  Ford kept a P-90 in one hand.  Teyla leaned hers against her leg.

“Now what?” Sheppard asked, pointing at the crystals and other components strewn about them.  “What goes in first?”

McKay licked his lips and let Ford and Teyla keep him upright.  “That one,” he said, pointing to a violet crystal.

Sheppard snatched it up as somewhere in the woods the sound of the laughing, gibbering, droning creatures seemed to be getting closer.  McKay cringed.

“Where does it go?”

McKay pointed to the interior of the DHD.  “There, in the open space on the far left.”

The night dragged on, as McKay pointed out the pieces and explained how and where they fit into the unit.  Piece after piece made their way back into the DHD.  Sheppard felt himself breathing easier at the sight.

But there’d been nary a complaint out of Rodney; he seemed to be putting all of his energy into instructing Sheppard on how to finish the work he’d started.  He was shivering, at times hardly able to keep his eyes open.

The earth shook again.  Teyla and Ford held McKay, keeping him up as the whole world tilted around them.  Sheppard clutched onto the DHD, staring down at the parts he’d managed to reconstruct, praying that nothing was knocked off-kilter.

I will not start again!   We will not go through this again!

When it was over, he looked up.  Ford had one hand carefully on McKay’s chest, avoiding the bandaged shoulder.  Teyla was talking in that pretty language that McKay nodded to.  Sheppard wondered if McKay understood it – was it Ancient?

Gazing about at the darkness, Sheppard contemplated what kind of paradise this was – volcanoes, earthquakes, demons… there was no doubt in his mind now – this was hell.   The torment wasn’t over.

McKay looked played out, not really standing at all as Ford and Teyla kept him upright.  He stared at the ground near his feet.

“McKay!” Sheppard called. “No slouching.  Get back to work.”  And they got back to work.

Shepard hated it, hated every moment.  Every time Rodney seemed to be drifting off, he’d yell, snap, shout at him, trying to keep him working, to finish up this job, berate him – whatever it took.  McKay would nod, and continue to instruct in that ever-quieting, spiritless voice.

God, I’m a bastard, Sheppard thought, knowing that Rodney never looked at him, not once since this started.

If this is paradise, give me Atlantis any day.  Give me Antarctica.

Now Rodney was quiet again, offering no further instruction.  Head down, he breathed in gasps.   Prisoners of war didn’t get treated this way.

Can’t stop now.  “What do we do with this?’ Sheppard asked, picking up one of the remaining pieces.

“Nothing, it’s broken,” Rodney answered softly, leaning heavily on Ford.  His eyes were hardly open, and the light of the P-90’s made his face look white as the moon.  “Redundant… not needed.”

“What about this?”  Sheppard asked, pointing to a promising looking crystal that rested near the base.

“Cracked,” McKay muttered, his head drooping further forward, his eyes closing.  “Not important.”

“And that one?”  Sheppard found another piece.

“Useless.”

“What then?” Sheppard asked.  “What do I do now?”

McKay didn’t answer, his chin resting on his chest.

“McKay!” the major shouted – and Rodney snapped his head up.  “What’s next!? Don’t fail me now!  We’re almost done!  What do I do now?”

“S’done,” Rodney said softly. 

Sheppard spun, looking anxiously at the gate, expecting to see it blank and ready, but those three dastardly chevrons still glowed at them, mockingly as everything else on this planet had done.  “NO!  It’s not finished yet, McKay!” John shouted, turning in time to see Ford and Teyla almost lose their grip on the physicist as he finally went down.

Sheppard jumped forward, kicking over one of the precariously balanced P-90’s, grasping onto Rodney and helping Ford and Teyla get him to the ground. Rodney was panting, his eyes half open, and his face as pale as a sheet in the odd light thrown up by the flashlights.

“Rodney,” Sheppard called, placing his hands on either side of McKay’s face, feeling how damn hot he was.  “Rodney, can you hear me?  Rodney?”  The sharpness was gone from his voice as he called, desperate for an answer.  “Come on, Rodney, answer me.  We’re almost done.  I swear… come on, answer man – just one more.  The chevrons are still there.  How do we reset it?  We’ve got to fix this, Rodney. Please… come on…We’ve got to get you home.”

But Rodney continued his gasping breath, his half-open eyes not seeing.

It was then that the laughing, chortling, near-starved creatures came at them again.


PART 16: BAMBINO

There was no warning.  One moment, Sheppard, Ford and Teyla were crowded around McKay’s prone form – the next moment, it was all out war.

The creatures charged.  The first slammed into Ford, knocking him from his precarious squatting position.  Another leaped toward Teyla, but she rolled away and the thing shot past her.  A third beast went after Sheppard.

Hunched over McKay, Sheppard stared directly into the eyes of the thing, smelling the stink of its breath – startled to find the eyes a brilliant blue.  It growled and tittered, as it arched its back and pounched.

“Son of a…” Sheppard got out – jerking backward.  The thing ran over the top of Rodney as it pursued him.  John folded himself, reaching.  He slammed into the DHD, startling him for a millisecond.  He grabbed hold of the device to catch his balance, got his elbow on top of the dialer, and shoved himself to his feet as his grasped the weapon he knew he’d just tripped over.

He had no time to release the safety, to aim, to even think.  His hand closed on the barrel of the gun as the creature flew at him.  He swung – bringing the butt of the weapon around as fiercely as he could, doing his best Babe Ruth imitation.  It smashed into the side of the creature’s head.  The beast let out a yelp as the force of the blow shattered it skull, and it went flying, disappearing into the blackness, where it thumped to a stop.

Sheppard heard the report of another P-90 behind him, and the sound of a tussle, but he had no time to check on his companions as another of the creatures charged out of the darkness.  It latched onto the collar of McKay’s jacket without hesitating and started tugging the incapacitated physicist away.

“Oh no you don’t!” Sheppard shouted, bringing the P-90 up to his shoulder.  He aimed, careful not to hit Rodney as the thing scuttled backward with him, and pulled the trigger – click.  Fuck!  He only momentarily considered using the weapon as a club again, but he wouldn’t have a clear swing at the thing’s head. He tossed the jammed weapon at his feet and drew the Berretta from its holster.

The creature kept back-stepping, gazing at Sheppard with its defiant, cruel blue eyes.  It snickered and snarled, as it dragged McKay from the firelight.  Rodney gasped pathetically, unaware of what was happening.

Teeth clenched in rage, Sheppard fired three shots into the thing.  The first bullet staggered it.  It let loose its hold on Rodney and turned to flee.  The second bullet brought it down.  The third shot was just because it felt good.

John ran, kicking the dead creature away, then stood over McKay.  He turned, searching out another target.  He finally allowed himself to glance at the others.  Ford was facing in the opposite direction, taking careful aim and firing into the night.  Teyla crouched over the body of one of the creatures, her knee against its windpipe, as she held it down through its death throes.

Something skittered through the night, not far from them.  Ford and Sheppard fired on it at the same time – it dropped – and then everything was still – the only sound being the pounding of blood in his ears, the final gasps of the beast Teyla strangled and Rodney’s struggling breaths.

Sheppard’s heart was hammering.  He tried to calm himself as he kept his gun pointing toward the woods around them.  He knew Ford mirrored him, waiting for the sound that would betray one of the creatures.

The thing beneath Teyla finally died, then she was at John’s side, kneeling beside Rodney, checking on him.  Sheppard didn’t chance a look down – his eyes still raking the darkness, searching out the creatures.  “How is he?” he asked. 

“He is very unwell,” Teyla responded brusquely.  She spoke again, the iciness leaving her, as she uttered that pretty song-like language, trying to cajole and calm.  After a minute, Teyla stated sadly, “I don’t think he hears me.”

Rodney still gasped and Sheppard glanced down.  He was met with a frightened gaze from Teyla –and it struck Sheppard that he’d never seen the Athosian look so scared before. Rodney’s breathing was coming in hitches, his chest jerking with each gasp.  Sheppard tore his gaze away, and returned it to the night – searching.  But nothing seemed to move and the only sound their heard was Rodney’s troubled respiration.

And then the struggling breaths stopped.

For a moment, Sheppard thought his heart had stopped, too.  “No!” the major shouted, dropping down beside Teyla, leaving Ford to guard them again.

Teyla was shaking Rodney, getting no response.  Sheppard tried to brush her away so he could begin artificial respiration, but the Athosian drew back, slapping Rodney powerfully across the face with her open palm.

The sharp sound, almost like the report of a rifle, startled Ford, who stared, looking between Teyla and Sheppard in alarm, and John shot one arm across, to capture Teyla’s hand as she drew back to strike Rodney again.  She fought against him, looking as if she was willing to take Sheppard down, but her struggles stopped almost immediately.

“He is breathing,” she said softly and then yanked her arm from John’s grasp.

With a sigh, the major sat down, keeping a hold on his gun as he stared at McKay.  Rodney breathed – not easily by any means – but he breathed.  Sheppard rested his hand against McKay’s forehead, feeling how terribly hot he was, noting the reddened cheek where Teyla had struck.  When he raised his eyes to meet Teyla’s, she gave Sheppard a defiant look.

“We should sit him up,” she declared.  “It will be easier for him to breathe.  And, we should move him closer to the fire where he would be more safe.”

Sheppard agreed, and together they carefully moved Rodney closer to the fire.  Once there, John wrapped one arm around him, leaning Rodney against himself, keeping him sitting up.  McKay was like a furnace, and John could feel himself sweating from being in such close proximity.  He hoped this helped, but McKay sounded god-awful.

Teyla appeared with a wet rag and daubed at Rodney’s face, wishing they had something cool, something cold to bring down the fever, but the tropical island offered nothing.

Because he needed to do something, Sheppard started talking.  "I know that retiring to a tropical island might be someone’s idea of paradise, but you and me and the others aren’t staying here!  I’m not going to bury you here like one of those DAMN DOGS!”

Teyla said nothing, wiping down Rodney’s face, her face soft and compassionate.    Above them, Ford still nervously changed his aim from once place to another, waiting, listening, ready.   But nothing more happened – the night was quiet and calm as the ocean rolled near them.

“It’s not going to end…” Sheppard repeated softly.  Rodney was so much worse – goddamn it!  Why did he try this!  Why did he insist on getting McKay up to work on the damn DHD!  It was all for nothing – and McKay suffered for it. 

There was little hope left for Rodney at the moment.   Little hope – but ‘little hope’ is a lot more than ‘no hope’.


PART 17:  WHOOSH

For a moment, all was still.  The three drew close to the fourth, huddling together near the fire, drawing strength from one another.  Then…a familiar whirr, so close it was almost on top of them.  Sheppard, holding McKay against him, turned toward the StarGate, aware for the first time that it was blank – and then the chevrons started to illuminate… first the three that had been locked in place, then the rest.

“It’s working!” Ford shouted joyfully, smiling like a kid.  Teyla’s somber expression turned to something hopeful as the familiar address of Atlantis appeared before them.

Then… there was a whoosh as the wormhole formed.

“How?” Sheppard started, and then recalled that when he’d braced against the DHD, his arm had landed on something – insignificant when a creature from hell was running at him – but he recalled now that something had depressed beneath his elbow.  The reset button?

Suddenly his radio was buzzing and Dr. Weir’s voice sounded in his ear.  “Major Sheppard?” A world of worry was carried in her tone.  “Major Sheppard, respond.  Respond immediately.”

“Weir,” John greeted, smiling like a madman, adjusting his radio with his free hand.  “It’s good to hear your voice.”

“Yours as well.  We’ve been cut off.  What’s happening over there?  We’ve been worried.”

Rodney’s breathing seemed to be fading as John spoke, “Get Beckett here.  We have a medical emergency.  And he’d better bring Bates and his team, too.  We’ve got some trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?  Major, what’s going on?”

But Rodney’s breathing was failing, slowing.  He laboriously dragged in another breath.

“Send Beckett, now!” Sheppard demanded, and then, in a softer voice, he pleaded,  “We’re almost home, Rodney.  Don’t do this… don’t do this.  Damn it, Rodney, you stupid ape, you fixed the damn thing.  We’re going home!”

There was a long exhale and Rodney stopped breathing again.   Sheppard shouted in frustration, as he laid McKay back, ready to begin artificial respiration.  They’re coming… don’t do this now…

And Sheppard’s head shot up as someone moved through the gate.


PART 18:  WHEW

The sight of Beckett striding out of the event horizon nearly broke Sheppard’s heart.  “Beckett!” Sheppard called, as if he needed to draw the doctor’s attention – but the tight knot of people was impossible to miss.  “Beckett!  He’s not breathing!”

Beckett made a beeline to them, falling to one knee beside McKay.  Sheppard tried to explain what had happened, but suddenly there was a flurry of activity as Beckett and his crew went into action.  Sheppard and the others were shoved back.

The medical team swarmed over the patient, reminding Sheppard for a moment of how those creatures had gone after Rodney.  Sheppard blinked, driving away that image.  He listened to them, heard how Beckett’s voice raised in alarm, demanding things.

They put Rodney on a ventilator.  Stats were shouted out, but Sheppard didn’t know what any of it meant.  Perhaps he would have understood it if he concentrated, but it was like a wash coming over him.  From time to time, some of what Beckett said made sense:  “Come on, Rodney, hang in there, we’ve got you now;” and  “Oh, Rodney, what did you do to yourself?” and “You’re gonna be fine, Rodney.  Just let us… ach, don’t…!” And there was more medical stuff shouted that went beyond Sheppard and his tired-out mind.

The remaining team members had drawn close to Sheppard.  Ford stood at one shoulder, looking tired, but he hadn’t stopped scanning the woods.  Teyla’s gaze was on the doctors, watching as they took care of McKay.

Bates and four other soldiers had come through as well, armed with P-90s and plenty of ammunition.   But for all their posturing, no further devil-dogs drew near – perhaps the creatures were afraid of the activity – perhaps they were all dead.

Sheppard’s radio sounded, and he could hear Weir’s voice demanding answers.  He let her go on for a while before he finally responded, “They’re taking care of him.  We’ll be coming home straight away.”

Finally, Beckett stood, removing his rubber gloves.  He walked immediately to Sheppard and the others.  His eyes were wide and troubled as he asked, “What did that to him?”

Funny that the doctor hadn’t noticed the bodies scattered around them – but Beckett had been rather focused.  Sheppard pointed out the nearest of the pinkish dead creatures.  Beckett jumped back, alarmed.  “What the hell is that?”

“Devil Dog,” Ford explained.

“We haven’t agreed on that name,” Sheppard responded automatically.

Beckett moved further away from the dead thing.  “Is that the one that did it?” he asked.

Nodding to the little mound by the StarGate, Sheppard stated, “Over there.  We’ll get it.”  He spoke to Bates, getting one of his men to take care of the unpleasant task.

Licking his lips anxiously, Beckett glanced around, expecting more of these creatures.  “We got to go back now,” he said quickly, as he glanced to his team.  They already had Rodney on a stretcher.   “I need him in Medical. Can we leave?”

“Nothing would make me happier,” Sheppard responded.  “I just hope we can do it.”  He moved to the DHD.  The thing still looked only partially constructed and he wondered if he shouldn’t call for Grodin to join them.  There was no telling if the system would actually work.  They’d gotten it to reset – but dialing an address was a different matter altogether.

But McKay said it would work, didn’t he?   It was time to give it a try.

“We’re coming home,” John announced on the radio.  “Cut your connection.  If you we don’t immediately reconnect – send Grodin over with a GDO.”

Back on Atlantis, Grodin agreed and the wormhole disappeared, leaving only a blank gate – a wondrously blank gate.

Okay, let’s see if this works.  Hopefully, John pressed the first figure and released a sigh as it illuminated – and he dialed in the rest.  He felt a tightness in his chest relax as the whole address appeared  - and the new wormhole formed.

And they went home.


PART 19:  INFIRMARY

Sheppard awoke in his own room, feeling worn out and hungry.  He sighed, and sat up in bed as he checked the time – he’d slept for 12 hours.  Wearily he rubbed at his eyes, forcing himself to fully awaken.

There’d been a commotion in the GateRoom upon their return.  Weir had stormed down the stairs, her face taut when she spied McKay and saw the shape he was in.  Grodin was up in arms:  what happened to the PX9-778 gate – why had the ‘problem’ only cleared minutes ago – what was going on.  Weir and Grodin shot questions at them, but Sheppard, Teyla and Ford didn’t stop moving.  They followed Beckett to the infirmary.  A small army came along.  The good doctor sent Weir and the others away, stating that the team needed attention at that moment, not an interrogation – she’d be able to debrief them once their immediate needs were seen to.  McKay was whisked away and Beckett’s team saw to the other three.

Sheppard ran a hand through his hair as he shaved.  “I really have to figure out that one guy’s name,” Sheppard said out loud in his room, remembering how patient the dark-skinned doctor had been with him, treating his scratches and scrapes, and not giving in to the bullying, and keeping them informed with the news from Beckett.  Keeping them away from McKay.

He remembered how McKay had been taken into one of the smaller rooms in the infirmary – and Sheppard had wondered at that moment if he’d ever see the man again.   They’d put McKay into isolation.  He had a virulent infection that was wrecking havoc with his system, and would need to remain in a private room until Becket had some idea of how to treat it, to knock it down… to save the arrogant son-of-a-bitch.  Beckett stayed with him.

“I’m afraid there’s nothing you can do here,” the black doctor had told them sympathetically.  “Doctor McKay’s in the best hands now.  You won’t be able to see him until tomorrow at least, so you should get some rest.  I’ll talk to Dr. Beckett and see if he can’t keep Dr. Weir and the others away until tomorrow.”  They’d been sent away – to shower, to get something to eat, to sleep.

Sheppard had stood for a moment in the waiting room, with Ford and Teyla.  His remaining team members looked as if they’d rather stay, to wait for news about Rodney – but they were dirty, tired and hungry, and Dr. No-Name was right.  “Go on,” Sheppard had told them.  “Do like he says.  We’ll come back tomorrow.”

The shower had revived him long enough for dinner, but after that, nothing could have kept Sheppard awake.  He’d fallen asleep the moment his head touched the pillow.

Now, half a day was gone – and he’d heard nothing about McKay. After hurriedly dressing, Sheppard trotted out of his room and jogged to the infirmary.  He wasn’t surprised when he opened the waiting room door and found Ford and Teyla.

“Well?” he asked, leadingly.

“Doctor Weir is speaking with Doctor Beckett concerning Doctor McKay,” Teyla informed in a businesslike fashion.  But her expression fell as she admitted, “They have told us nothing.”

“Yeah,” Ford continued.  “I tried to find out, but no one’s talking.”  He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair. 

“I’ll find out what’s going on,” Sheppard declared, and lay one hand against the door that separated them from the infirmary, but had to take a quick step back as the door swung toward him.

“Ah, there ya be,” Beckett stated as he strolled through the doorway with Weir.  “I was wonderin’ when you’d be up and around.  Feelin’ better now, Major?  You looked about ready to drop the last time I laid eyes on you.”

“How is he?” Sheppard cut through Carson’s cheery brogue, noting that Beckett was now the one who looked tired.  Weir looked unsettled, which did nothing to calm the major.

“Well,” Beckett paused, and then stated, “It’s a good thing that you kept that creature for an examination.”

“You did a… a necropsy, right?” Sheppard commented. “Did it have rabies?” he asked, feeling a certain dread.  Ford and Teyla were beside him, ready to hear the worst.  Sheppard heard Ford suck in a breath when the disease was mentioned. 

“Ach, heavens no,” Beckett responded.  “I don’t think they’d have that in the Pegasus Galaxy.  Rabies is from Earth.  But we were able to examine the beastie’s little paws.  Dreadful things under its nails.  It’s no wonder Rodney was runnin’ such a fever.”

“You figured out what caused it?” Sheppard continued.

Beckett nodded.  “Ah, I believe we did indeed.  A fierce little buggar it was, too, but we were able to examine the samples from the specimen, and this morning, Dr. Gutterman found something that should knock the stuffing out of it.  Oh, I’ll want to each of you on the medication as well – seems that all of you had a scrape or two.”

John brushed at his arm, where a scratch had been bothering him.  Yeah, probably not a bad idea.  “Is it working for him.”

Happily, Beckett nodded.  “Rodney seems to be responding to treatment. He woke a little while ago, not really himself yet, but I believe he’s on the mend.”

“Can I see him?”

Weir, who’d been quiet up until then stated, “I spoke to him only a moment ago, Major.  He’s still very ill and doesn’t need any excitement.”

“He have anything to say about what happened?” Sheppard asked.

Weir pursed her lips and then responded, “He gave me a report on your mission.  I’ll expect the same from each of you once you’ve finished here.”

“Yeah, soon as we’re finished,” Sheppard uttered.  “And what did he have to say about the mission?”

Weir regarded the major for a moment, then continued, “He described how he managed to put the DHD out of commission and to lock up the StarGate so that we couldn’t dial in.”

Sheppard groaned, “That isn’t what happened.”

“He said that he took apart the DHD, more than once,” Weir went on. “And was unable to fix it until you intervened.”

“Intervened?  McKay is the one who got it running. I was just the one yelling at him.  I moved the pieces around,” Sheppard’s voice raised as he spoke.  “Damn it…it was broken before we got there!  We weren’t the first ones trapped in that place.  And, okay, he was trying to dial Atlantis when the thing jammed, but that had more to do with the earthquake than with McKay.”

“Earthquake?” Weir repeated.

“The earthquake was caused by the volcano,” Teyla supplied. 

“There was a volcano?” Weir asked.

Teyla smiled.  “The volcano and the earthquake proved to be the least of our problems.  Perhaps that is why Doctor McKay failed to mention them.”

“The devil dogs were a lot worse,” Ford added.

“Those creatures that attacked you,” Weir stated with a nod. “Rodney told me that he was injured because he wasn’t able to join you when you were attacked.”  Weir looked unimpressed with this description and waited for Sheppard to tell his side of it.

“Oh that stupid son of a…” Sheppard cut himself off.  “He tell you anything about HOW the DHD finally got fixed? He mention what went on?”

Elizabeth looked surprised at Sheppard’s sharp tone.  “He said that everyone did what had to be done.”

“I’m going to go talk to him.”

“He’s very weak, Major,” Weir said, her face soft and worried.  “It would probably be best to let him rest.”

“Hell no!” Sheppard shot back.  “I didn’t let him rest last time, did I?”  He turned to Beckett to see if the doctor would deny him.

Beckett shrugged and said, “Only one of you can go in.”  He looked toward Teyla and Ford and stated, “I take it, that’ll be Major Sheppard?”

Sheppard made a disgusted sound and shoved open the door to the infirmary – Beckett followed him directly.  A team of doctors was working at one of the research stations, and Sheppard spotted the dark-skinned doctor was there.  Gutterman… Beckett had mentioned that a Dr. Gutterman figured out how to help Rodney.  Was that guy’s name Gutterman?

Well, that choice was as good as any.  “Gutterman,” Sheppard called out as he drew closer, expecting Dr. No-name to face him.

Instead a petite blonde woman turned to him and smiled pertly.  “Yes, Major?” she asked with a German accent.

Aw, damn.  So close.  “Good job, Dr. Gutterman,” Sheppard responded, smiling.  “For finding out what needed to be done for Dr. McKay.”

“Oh, I did not do this alone.  This fine man did much to help me,” and she wrapped one arm around the black doctor’s arm and turned him.  “He is an inventive man.  I believe he could cure people with little more than a poultice and a cup of tea.   His theories are what lead to us finding what we believe is the correct antibiotic.   I could not have done it without him.”

The man beamed at the praise and smiled at Sheppard. “I’m certain our course of medication will help Dr. McKay fight off this infection, Major Sheppard,” he said, his voice rich and warm.  “He’ll be fine in no time at all.”

“Ah, good job,” Sheppard said again. “Both of you.”

Beckett had continued past him, so Sheppard turned quickly to follow him.  Carson gave him a sidelong glance and a smile, but said nothing.  They passed by several beds, some empty -- some of them occupied by Atlantis personnel.  Kavenagh had his hands bandaged.  He sat, red faced and scowling in his bed, looking particularly perturbed.  Finn from maintenance was sitting back in his bed with a bandaged foot, reading a comic book.  Corporal Dunne, his arm in a sling, was playing cards one-handedly with another guy that Sheppard didn’t know.  The man, casually sitting in a guest chair, was too well-dressed to be with either the military or the scientific unit.  He definitely wasn’t from maintenance.  There was no telling where he came from.

Sheppard kept moving.

Carson led him through the main room, taking him to the far side of the infirmary, to one of the rooms closed off from the rest.  “We thought it best to keep him here until he’s out of the woods.  No sense exposing him to other nasties while he’s still recuperating.”

After a quick rap at the door, Carson pressed it open and called within, “Rodney, you have another visitor.”


PART 20: HUNKY-DORY

“Hey,” Sheppard said, smiling to see McKay awake.  “How ya doing?”

McKay’s response was sarcastic, “Oh, just dandy.”  Rodney still looked terrible, pale with bags under his eyes, fighting the fever even though they’d figured out how to reduce it.  It would take time to get the infection under control and get the physicist back on his feet. He was bandaged, receiving oxygen and hooked to a couple of IVs. All in all, he looked rather pitiful.  “Yeah, I’m hunky-dory.”

There was no chair in the room – undoubtedly Beckett meant no one to stay long – the room was isolated for a reason.  Still, it rankled Sheppard that Rodney was kept apart from the others, for as much as the physicist might have denied it, Sheppard knew that he liked being with people – and often felt lonely.

Feeling uncomfortable standing beside the bed, Sheppard folded his hands behind his back and leaned a shoulder against the wall.

“Are you going to stand there all day?” McKay asked. “I’m sure there’s plenty more exciting things to do.  I know I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t have to be.”  His voice sounded soft, with no real force behind it.

Sheppard sighed.  “Well, I figured I’d check up on you.  Make sure you were all right.”

“Didn’t you see Beckett on the way in?”  McKay responded.  “He must have intercepted you at some point.  He’s rather prickly about people roaming at will through his infirmary.  He would’ve filled you in.”

“Yeah, he said you were on the mend.”

“Mending… well yes.”  Shaking his head against the pillow, Rodney continued, “Still feeling rather foggy and can’t seem to find any strength.  I’m rather useless in this state.”

“Useless is not a word I’d apply to you,” Sheppard responded, and before McKay could counter him, he went on,  “You told Weir about what happened?”

“As much as I could recall.”  McKay lifted one hand and rested it on his forehead.  “As I said… my mind isn’t responding quite as I’d like at the moment.  I think I’m operating at your level right now.  It’s rather disconcerting.”

Sheppard allowed himself a small smile at that comment.  “Yeah, welcome to my world.  You remember what you said to her ten minutes ago?  Even I could manage that.”

“I told her as much as I recall: the volcano, the earthquake, the issue with the DHD, the disassembly…” McKay lifted his hand and wafted it back and forth as he went on wearily.  “My near-consumption by devil-dogs.  Rather pathetic, don’t you think?”

“Teyla disobeyed orders and separated from you,” Sheppard clarified.

“Is that how you remember it?” McKay asked.  “Is that why you’ve been giving her the cold shoulder?  Really, Major, that’s rather childish, don’t you think?”

“McKay, she was supposed to stick with you.”

“Because I can’t take care of myself.”

“Because Ford was sticking with me,” Sheppard replied quickly.  “Sticking together… staying in pairs… two people, McKay.  There was a reason for that order, and we saw what happened when my direct order wasn’t obeyed.”

“Don’t blame Teyla,” McKay continued, softly.  “I have an impressive mind, but it comes at the expense of other things.  I was the one who couldn’t keep up.  She was doing exactly what I would have done, Major, if our situations were reversed.”

“McKay…” Sheppard growled.

“Just forgive her, okay?” McKay continued. “I did.  Stop being an ass about it.  Let it go.”

Sheppard turned and gazed at the wall, not wanting to give up on this so easily, but he knew there was no point to continuing his campaign.  McKay was right.  Teyla was trying to do the right thing at that moment.  He recalled how worried she’d been since then, how guilt seem to fill her eyes – yeah, he’d been rather rough on the woman.  “She’s been worried about you,” Sheppard stated.  “Ford, too.”  Yeah, the young lieutenant hadn’t escaped guilt either – ever since Aiden suggested getting McKay on his feet to fix the gate, the man had been rather quiet and distant.

“No need to worry,” McKay responded.  “I never have liked certain death, but … as Beckett says… I’m on the mend.”

Neither said anything for a moment, and when Sheppard turned back to McKay, he had his eyes squinted shut and his hand at his forehead again.

“You all right?” Sheppard asked.

“Oh, peachy…” Rodney responded.  “Yeah… ducky…I think Beckett put over 100 stitches in me.”

”That’s a lot,” Sheppard said with a whistle.

“I’ll probably have a scar or two.”

“That should impress the girls.”

The comment earned Sheppard a small smile

Sheppard continued, “How much longer you going to be here.”

McKay made a facsimile of a shrug.  “Weeks probably.  Today is just another day in paradise.”

“Yeah,” Sheppard responded.  “Not so bad.  Could think of worse places.”

“I get to start on a liquid diet soon:  broth and Jell-O.  Maybe they have cherry – that’d be the Jell-O, not the broth,” Rodney clarified unnecessarily.  “Can’t wait until they have me on solid food,” he said with a light tone.  “There’s something comforting about hospital food.”

Damn, he still looks so sick, John thought.  He probably wouldn’t be so bad right now if he hadn’t been pushed earlier.  Smart of you, Sheppard, taking a man that’s suffering and make him work until he almost dies.  Yeah, that was a good move.

“McKay,” John said quickly.  “About that DHD… I was such a son of a bitch.  Listen, I…”

McKay raised one hand, and said, “Major, I admit the situation was rather… unpleasant, but I needed some prodding to complete my project.  You only did what had to be done.”

“Yes, but…”

“I was the only one who could fix it.”

“Well, that’s probably true, but…”

“Major, who would’ve fixed the DHD if I were unable?”

Sheppard shrugged.  “I could’ve tried.”

McKay snorted, stopping short as the nasal canella jerked against his nose.  He grimaced.  “Oh,” he said, touching the device. “That wasn’t pleasant.”

“Then don’t do it again.”

McKay gave him an arch look.  “Major,” he continued.  “An infinite number of monkeys typing on an infinite number of typewriters might eventually come up with the Works of Shakespeare – and you might have eventually fixed the DHD without me  -- but all of Atlantis would have suffered if I didn’t make it back.  What would they do without my genius?  You see, it was imperative that you acted when you did, as you did. Like Teyla, you did what was right at that moment.  What’s the problem?”

“I didn’t like it,” Sheppard said with a sigh.  “I wanted you to know that, I guess.  I feel like a jackass.”

“You should,” McKay responded, closing his eyes and smiling. “Jackass, yes… that’s what I was thinking at the time.  Bastard: that one came to mind.  Asshole: thought that a few times.  Plenty other descriptions, too.  I could rattle off more for you.”

“No thanks,” Sheppard replied, finding humor in McKay’s wry comments.

And McKay gave him a sidelong glance, his blue eyes looking uncommonly tired, before closing them again.

“You didn’t break the DHD, you know?” John went on.  “The hunters who’d come before us – they weren’t able to get out either.  It must have been down while they were there.”

“True…” McKay responded, his voice growing soft, his face smoothing out.  “But I should’ve been faster at figuring out the correct process of repairing it.”

“But you did fix it.  That’s all that matters.”

“With your help… Remind me…” McKay said dreamily… “To get you a typewriter some day… you could practice.”

“Yeah, thanks.  Good luck finding one in the Pegasus Galaxy,” Sheppard replied, and waited for McKay to say more, but the scientist had fallen asleep.

He waited a moment, to see if McKay would wake up again, but the conversation apparently had exhausted the injured man.  Rodney was asleep.

With a sigh, Sheppard jammed his hands into his pocket.  “Get better soon, okay?” Sheppard said quietly.  “Don’t want to keep the team down for too long.  No sense finding a temporary replacement for you while you’re recovering.  It’d take too long to break him in.”

McKay continued to sleep, still looking like crap.  He was getting better, Beckett had insisted, but that didn’t change the fact that Rodney had almost died.

“Yeah, no sense in switching around the team.  We’ll wait.    Besides… I don’t think I’d want to do this without you.”  He waited a moment, hoping McKay stayed asleep, not wanting to own up for anything he said.  “Maybe that’s the reason I made you get up and fix the DHD, huh?  Yeah, if I fiddled around with it enough, maybe I could have fixed it eventually.  Monkeys can get to the right solution if they try often enough.   – but it wouldn’t have been in time to save you.  You know that?”

He waited, watching the monitors beep and the IVs drip – knowing that the medication was saving McKay’s life – that he wouldn’t have made it without Beckett and Gutterman and that other guy.  Rodney would have died if they hadn’t gotten him back to Atlantis in time.

John knew that he had done the right thing.  It was just that the whole situation had gone wrong from the start – from the hunters who brought their half-tamed dogs and had gotten stuck, to the earthquake, to that moment of short-sightedness when Teyla left Rodney behind, to dragging Rodney to the DHD and forcing him to fix it even though he was so damn sick…  the whole thing was a mess.

“Sorry, McKay,” Sheppard said softly.  “I just wanted to say that I was sorry about that.”

Sheppard stood by Rodney’s bedside, until Beckett came to retrieve him a minute or two later.  “Time’s up, Major,” Carson stated, holding the door open.  “Ah, he’s asleep again, is he?  Man needs his rest. You have a good chat?”

“Yeah, pretty good,” John admitted, slipping through the door and letting Beckett shut it. 

“Roll up your sleeve, now,” Carson requested, uncapping a syringe.

Sheppard did as asked, letting the doctor inject him with the antibiotic.

“All better,” Beckett sing-songed, as he withdrew the needle and tossed it into a nearby ‘sharps’ box.  “That should take care of those nasty bugs.”

Sheppard nodded, rubbing the sore spot on his arm.   “You going to let Ford and Teyla go in?  They’ll want to see him.”

Beckett sighed, and then admitted, “When he’s awake again, I’ll send for them.”

“They probably won’t leave the waiting room until you call, you know,” Sheppard told him.

Beckett tried to look exasperated.  “Ach, I know… I know.”  But instead he looked rather pleased.

“You take good care of him, okay?” John nodded to the closed door behind them.

“Ah, laddie, you know I’ll do that.  We wouldn’t want to lose him.  He’s one of a kind,” Beckett said with a smile.

“Ain’t that the truth,” Sheppard responded, smiling, too.  He made his way out of the infirmary to meet up with Teyla and Ford whom he knew would be there, waiting still, eager for their chance to see their teammate.  John had to make things up with the Athosian, let Ford know that he shouldn’t feel guilty about his suggestion.

The major continued to grin, feeling better about things – knowing that Rodney was going to be okay.

Paradise was what you made of it, he decided.  To some it might be swaying palm trees and a warm tropical breeze – to Major John Sheppard, it was to have his team whole, to bring everyone home, to be assured that everyone would be okay.  To have a team, like this one, was all a man could ask for.

Only a matter of a few weeks, he told himself, and we’ll be back out there.

Bring it on.

THE END

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