RATING: PG-13 for Language
SEASON: Sometime during the 1st Season -  before The Eye
MAJOR CHARACTERS: McKay and Sheppard
DISCLAIMERS: The characters, Atlantis, etc, all belong to Sony, MGM, Gecko, Showtime, the Sci-Fi Channel.  I own nothing.  
NOTE: As always, I don't know much about SG stuff... just playing here.  
SUMMARY:  McKay accompanies another team to a new planet, and is left behind...
ACKNOWLEDGEMENT:  As always, Tipper is to blame
FEEDBACK: Yes please! comments and suggestions are greatly appreciated.
SPOILERS: Some for "The Rising" and "Hide and Seek"
DATE: Completed January 19, 2005, housekeeping done April 16, 2005

    
 Warm and Safe and Dry
By NotTasha... it's the good life

PART 1: READING

“Hey, I was looking for you.”

Major John Sheppard looked up from his book to see Dr. Rodney McKay step from the doorway and out onto the balcony.  “You found me,” the major stated.

McKay tilted his head, reading the title of the book.  “Still reading ‘War and Peace’, huh?”

“Yup,” Sheppard replied.

“Tolstoy is better in the original Russian, you know,” McKay commented offhand.  “I picked up the language during my tenure in that country, of course.  It’s really quite a beautiful tongue once you get used to it.  Not that I let on to anyone that I’d learned it.”  He chuckled dryly at a memory.  “One discovers a lot when others don’t think you can understand them.”

McKay’s smile dipped a bit, as he changed the subject.  “If I’d known you were so interested in the book, I might’ve brought my Russian copy along to Atlantis,” he commented.  “Well, of course, how would I've known that you were reading it since I didn’t even know you before we came here?  So, that would be a problem.  Plus, you know, one only had so much space for personal belongings and my allotment was already full up.  It's a big book.  I doubt that I would’ve sacrificed any of my space for someone I didn’t even know.  Might not have given up space even if I had known you.”  He made a soft ‘heh’ and continued, “You must really enjoy that book.  What is this, the third time you’ve read it?”

“First,” Sheppard answered brusquely.

The tilt of McKay’s head increased as he scrutinized the book.  “But you’re hardly into the first hundred pages and yet you’ve been reading it for months now.”  He screwed up his face in mock confusion.  “Slow reader?”

“It’s taking me a while to get through it, okay?” Sheppard snapped.  “That was the whole point of bringing it!  Why were you looking for me anyway?”

“Oh! Oh, yeah.  Capt. Ozette is taking his team back to PX1-H0H.  They did an initial check yesterday and spotted some interesting ruins.  I figured I’d tag along.”  Rodney snapped his fingers, and popped an open palm against a fist.  “Check out the site.  See if there’s anything interesting.  They could use the help.  Thought maybe you’d like to come, too.”

“Ruins,” Sheppard muttered.  “I think I’ve seen plenty of those already.”

“But it might be interesting.  Who knows what we’ll find there?”

“It’s our day off,” Sheppard said tiredly as he leaned back in the chair and settled one foot on the railing.

McKay curled a lip.  “Well, yes,” he responded.  “But I have nothing going on in the lab, and since we’re back on the time-clock tomorrow, I can’t really start anything new, can I?”  He spread his hands as if this was clear to anyone.  “And I know how cranky you get when I’m in the middle of an experiment and you come by to tell me we have to go to some godforsaken planet.  So there’s no point in beginning anything.”

Sheppard lifted his chin.  “Cranky… yeah, I’m the one who gets cranky.  And what makes this planet any less godforsaken than most?”

McKay did that hand movement, two snaps and a pop, grinning.  “The ruins… the possibilities.  Come on, it’ll be fun.”

“It’s our day off,” Sheppard restated.  He snapped the book shut.  “In fact, I’ve just decided… I’m taking out a puddlejumper.”

“Puddlejumper?”  McKay repeated.  “Going to just fly around for a bit?”

“Yeah,” John said, nodding his head decisively.  “Just a calm, relaxing little trip around the planet.  Get off this balcony for a while.  I’m getting tired of just sitting here.  Maybe I’ll check out that lake I saw last time.  Looks like it’d be good for swimming.  Nice day for it.”

Rodney hesitated, and then asked, “You wouldn’t need a co-pilot, would you?  I like swimming.  I got swim-trunks.”

“I think I can handle it,” John responded.

“Because, maybe I could use some more flight time,” McKay continued.  “Might be more productive to me than …”

“You’ve already committed yourself,” Sheppard said with a grin.  “See what happens when you schedule yourself for work every day?  No time for play.  All work and no play make Rodney a very dull boy.”

“Fine,” McKay responded abruptly.  “If I find any goodies, I’ll keep them to myself.”

“Do that,” Sheppard responded, as he stood.  “I’m off to find Teyla and Ford.”

“Enjoy,” McKay stated as he shook his head, then turned on the balcony before disappearing through the door -- off to join Alain Ozette and his team.

For a moment, Sheppard paused, watching the empty doorway, wondering if it was too late to follow along.  There might be something interesting on that planet – and McKay would return with a shit-eating grin if he discovered anything.  Then the taunting would begin.

But McKay was already gone, and Sheppard was never one for trotting off after someone else.  And a flight in the puddlejumper would be a hell of a lot more fun than another trip to another planet to investigate yet another set of ruins.  It had to be better than just sitting around Atlantis with nothing to do.

With a quick step, Sheppard left the balcony in search of Teyla and Ford – to go take a turn around the planet that he’d seen a dozen times already.


PART 2:  EXPLORING

McKay moved deeper into the ruins, shining a flashlight along the wall, looking for further inscriptions.  A series of symbols near the entrance had left him perplexed.  His companion at the time, Dr. Ginger Sappho, had felt that they were of extreme importance and had proudly pointed them out to him.

“It’s utter nonsense,” he’d muttered to Sappho.  “Look at this!  It seems to be saying, ‘Fear Total Will be Walking Interior.’  Ridiculous.”

“I thought it might be important,” Sappho stated, sounding a bit perturbed.  “I translated it to say, ‘Beware all who enter’.”

“Well, yes, if you read all the symbols totally wrong,” McKay responded.  “This is definitely the noun ‘fear’, not the verb ‘beware’ -- entirely different symbols.  They’ve used the future tense of ‘to walk’ – not the infinitive of ‘enter’, and ‘total’ is from the wrong dialect. ‘Interior’ is written using a symbol that’s far more modern than the rest.”  McKay stepped back, looking totally annoyed.  “It’s all hogwash.”

“But…” Sappho tried, “They might have meant to say ‘beware all who enter’…”

McKay had snorted and responded, “Then it would have said that, wouldn’t it?  This is just utter gibberish, hooey, twaddle!  It’s as if someone used the internet to translate a sentence, not even bothering to cross-translate it back to English to see the result.  Only an utter moron would try to find meaning in this lunacy.”

Dr. Ginger Sappho didn’t seem to care much for that comment.  She’d shouldered her pack and scowled.  Of course, McKay hadn’t started off on the right foot with her, laughing when he was introduced.  “Ah yes, Dr. Sappho.  We finally meet.  I’ve always wanted to ask you, did you marry into the name ‘Sappho’?  Can’t imagine I’d keep that one if I had an option.  I’d probably have that changed.  And ‘Ginger’,  were you named after Ginger on Gilligan’s Island?  Always preferred her to Mary Ann.   Wow… you know, who wouldn’t?  I mean…wow!  Ginger Grant!  Can’t see how anyone would go for just milk and cookies when they could have caviar and cream.  Of course, Mary Ann did bake a great coconut cream pie...”

He’d thought he’d been funny, but apparently Dr. Sappho didn’t share his sense of humor.  She’d been rather cold to him since that time – and had left him to the symbols after only a short perusal, heading back to the Gate with Corporal Alava to accompany her.  He’d been alone ever since.

Finding nothing that made sense near the opening of the ruins, he moved further in.  He shone a light along rows of pretty but pointless symbols.  Some of the symbols seemed to be 'right' -- from he correct time period, a logical syntax -- but the rest of it was just 'wrong'.  "It's as if someone came by later," McKay said out loud, "And added their own graffiti."

“It makes no sense,” he muttered as he stepped around the portico, pulling his jacket close in the damp cool of the day.  PX1-H0H certainly was a … drippy world.

He leaned one shoulder against a wall and contemplated the situation.  There were some drawings – rather gruesome in nature, but it was almost as if they’d been drawn by children.  “What is this all about?” he asked no one.  “Is this a clubhouse?”  He looked about, wondering if he’d find a “Girls are Stinky” or a “No Nerds Allowed” sign, too.

He sighed at that thought, feeling a twinge of melancholy.  Right now, he could be on the sunny surface of the Atlantis mainland.  He remembered the lake that Sheppard mentioned – recalled seeing it from the puddle jumper.  

“Looks like a great place to hang out,” Lt. Ford had said.  

“Gonna build a cabin there someday,” Sheppard had added.  

“Should bring swimming suits next time,” he’d suggested, getting thoughtful nods from both Sheppard and Ford.

Teyla had been confused by this term, asking why anyone would want to swim in a suit, and Ford had explained the particulars of swimwear, thinking he’d made things clear, but Teyla only frowned and responded with, “But why do you wear any clothing to swim?  My people do not.  I find it very freeing.”

And that got the rest of them all thinking, and a swimming expedition had been in the backs of their minds since then.  McKay grimaced, thinking that they’d gone without him.  Once again, left out of the loop.  It wouldn’t be so bad, he thought, if the ruins weren’t so frustrating, if the planet wasn’t so damp, of Dr. Sappho wasn’t so… humorless. You’d think, with a name like that…

He would’ve liked to have gone with them, even though Teyla had learned a thing or two about the modesty of Earthmen.  It would have been … nice… to just sit at the shore of that pretty lake, and spend some time with his team.

“Well, you chose this particular expedition,” McKay said out loud.  “And you’d best stick with it. Complete the survey and report back.”  He glanced to the doorway, wondering why Corporal Alava hadn’t returned, or why Corporal Fairholm hadn’t returned in his stead.  No bother.

Returning to his examination, McKay scanned the odd shaped room.  It was all corners and alcoves.  It might have been set up with chairs and benches at one point, but nothing remained of the furnishings.  His brow furrowed as he noticed something strange about the nook before him.  He moved closer to it and then smiled, pushing aside the vines that draped it.

His grin increased as a dim hallway was revealed.  “Now, we getting somewhere,” he muttered as he shown his light down the dim passageway.  Something interesting HAD to be at the end of that corridor.

“Listen,” he announced into his radio.  “Capt. Ozette, Dr. Sappho, I think I’ve found something.  You’ll want to see this.”

Ozette came on the radio, his voice tired, “What is it?” he asked.  “More of those damn symbols?”

“I found a corridor!  Send Dr. Sappho and Corporal Alava.  We really must explore this area thoroughly and…”

McKay was cut off by Ozette’s shout.  “Wraith!”

And something buzzed in the sky.

At the entrance to the hallway, McKay froze, listening … waiting.  He heard Ozette’s team shouting to one another over the radio.  “Alava, get back!  Fairholm, get Dr. Sappho!  Get to the gate!  Get to the gate!”   Over the radio, they shouted and McKay spun about, leaving the corridor behind.

Get to the gate!  Outside, a Wraith dart screamed.  The physicist huddled near the doorway, gazing up.  Through the canopy of trees, he spotted the careening ship. It coursed through the leaden sky, bobbing and dodging, and then it disappeared again behind the trees.  The sound of its flight remained.

Grabbing his pack, McKay ran.  He ducked through the cool, moss-draped forest, rushed back to join the others.  “Damn it, damn it, damn it!” he muttered as he tore into the dim woods.  Everything was an intense shade of green, so verdant that it hardly seemed real.  He ran, stooping and dodging his way through the dense, verdant wood.  The ground beneath him was spongy with moss, or slick with mud.  His dash became a balancing act.

Big blobs of water came down on him, rainwater collected by the foliage.  Huge, primeval-looking leaves batted at him.  He worked at un-holstering his Beretta as he ran, managing the task, but bobbling the weapon, hardly keeping it in his hand.  Fat lot of good it’d do against a Wraith dart but it might slow down a Wraith on foot.

He had to get back to the others – he wasn’t going to be the reason that the team stayed, waiting for him, in plain sight.

The dart continued to screech, accompanied by the report of P-90’s.  McKay listened, hoping that the latest blast of gunfire would accompany the scream of a plummeting dart – but there was no such luck.  He paused as it flashed above him -- held his breath as it went past.

And he was running again -- running through the damp forest, not even trying to find the path that would bring him back to the Gate.  Over the radio, Alava and Fairholm cursed in frustration as their attempts to bring down the ship were met with only failure.  Ozette kept giving orders to his team, sounding tense and desperate.

“I’m coming,” McKay shouted into his mouthpiece even as a wet branch smacked hard against his face. Stunned, he managed to keep his pace, wiping at the moisture with one sleeve.  It took him a moment to realize that the communications had gone silent.  His heart, already galloping, seemed to quicken to an all-out dash.  Did the Wraith get them?  Did that ship get all of them?  NO!  Not because they were waiting for me!  NO!

Not slowing, slipping from time to time on the unfriendly ground, he reached for his earpiece, and a moment of relief hit him as he found it was gone – torn off by the branch, no doubt.  No wonder he couldn’t hear them anymore!  Relieved that this was all that caused the disruption, he kept running.

He ducked beneath a branch, heavily-laden with a curtain of moss, and slowed to step over a toppled trunk.  He slipped, one leg on either side of the nurse-log, and let himself flop onto his back to drag his other leg over.  He rolled, gained his feet again, and crashed onward through the knee-deep ferns.

Why… why were the ruins so far from the gate? Why had he stayed when he should have gone back with Dr. Sappho?  Why wasn’t he in better shape?  Why didn’t he spend more time in the gym and less in the mess?  His lungs burned as he ran.  He shoved aside wet branches, stumbling, sliding, getting to his feet again, moving through the mud, moss and the muck.  Feeling the sweat streaming down his face, mixing with the moister that permeated this place, McKay kept moving as the dart continued to scream above him.  Get to the Gate!  You have to get to the Gate!

Something grabbed him by the shoulder, jerking him and almost spinning him into a tree.  Letting out a shout of fear and frustration, McKay fell to his knees as he lost his balance.  He fought blindly, trying to free his arm, to find it was caught in the strap to his pack.  No!  No!  Ahhhh!  Leggo!  He fought, bringing about the gun and turning to face his attacker. 

He blinked, trying to figure out what had just happened – there was no one there… no Wraith.  His pack… his pack… had been caught up in the branches.

Idiot!

With a jerk, he freed his arm, shoved himself up, and stumbled onward.  He ran five steps when he paused and turned back.  The pack hung, mostly hidden, probably well-snared.  He contemplated retrieving it, before he discarded that idea, knowing that there was no time.


PART 3:  RETURNING

“Bring down the shield!” Ozette shouted as he stormed into the GateRoom with Alava, Sappho and Fairholm. He spun about, anxious, awaiting a stunner blast to catch him, but the iris closed and his team was safely back in Atlantis.

“Son of a bitch,” Alava shouted, still clutching his P-90 as if he still expected a Wraith to slip through.

Dr. Sappho was leaning forward on her knees, trying to catch her breath and to calm her skipping heart.  Fairholm looked about nervously, staring back toward the Gate.

“Report!”  Weir demanded as she took the stairs in quick strides.

“Wraith,” Ozette breathed out.  “Don’t know where it came from.  We were waiting at the Gate when it came.  The dart came out of nowhere.”

“There’s probably more of them,” Alava informed.  “We’re lucky we got out when we did.  Probably a whole Hive Ship in orbit.”

Dr. Sappho lifted her head, looking like she wanted to puke.  She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around herself, shuddering.  “I’ve never…” she started.  “I’ve never been so scared…”

“We barely made it through the Gate,” Ozette commented.  “Couldn’t hit the damn thing.”

“Must have some sort of defense system,” Alava declared.  “Deflected everything we threw at it.”

Weir’s brow knitted at this news.  “Do you think they’ve adapted to our technology?”

“Seems so,” Ozette responded.  “Couldn’t bring it down… couldn’t bring it down.”

Weir blinked, suddenly remembering something.  “Where’s Rodney?”

Fairholm, still staring at the Gate, stated, “We left him.”

Alava quickly defended, “We had no choice! He was back at the ruins.  We couldn’t just wait for him to get back.  It would have taken a good fifteen – twenty minutes to…”

“He was instructed to stay at the ruins,” Ozette answered professionally.  “He’ll be safer if he stays there.  I told him to stay put!”

“And he agreed?” Weir pressed.

Ozette hesitated a moment. “Yes, he confirmed that he'd remain until we could go back for him.”  He nodded.  “I ordered him to stay put and stay off the radio!  It was the only way to ensure his safety.”

"He agreed," Alava added.  "I heard him.  He said he'd stay in the ruins."

Sappho looked up, and brushing the hair away from her face as she turned to Fairholm, who looked annoyed.

“What makes you think that the ruins were safe?” Grodin asked, joining them.  His face was taut with worry.

“I did what was best to save my team… the rest of my team,” Ozette quickly amended.  “He was too far away and we couldn’t bring down that ship!”

“You just left him?” Grodin continued, appalled.  “Hiding in a stone structure won’t save him.  They’ll find him!  How could you just…”

“Peter,” Weir spoke softly, stalling the scientist.  “We’ll get him back.”

“We need more firepower,” Ozette demanded, hefting his P-90.  “My team could do nothing against it, and I wasn't about to sacrifice them.  It took everything we threw at it and it didn’t even slow down.”

Weir nodded sharply and turned to the stairs.  She’d put together an attack-force, decide out how to destroy these new darts. The thought of a new, enhanced dart terrified her.  But, they’d figure it out – find a way to disable it.  She promised herself, they’d do everything possible to bring Rodney back.

CHAPTER 4: RUNNING

It seemed to get brighter in the forest, and McKay silently rejoiced, knowing that he was on the verge of the clearing that faced the StarGate.  He was almost free of that green world.  Gasping, he stopped, leaning heavily on a mammoth tree and scanned the space in front of him.  The mossy trunk felt like carpet beneath his fingers.  He’d lost the gun at some point.  He didn’t know where – but he felt in serious trouble without it.

The dart still coursed the sky, but its erratic search pattern had changed to a slow hover – hunting.  McKay watched its meticulous path, assured that it couldn’t see his position, and then gazed out at the StarGate, hoping to see Ozette’s team.  No one was in sight.

Nodding to himself, McKay tried to convince himself that the team was in hiding – yes, they’d hunkered down somewhere – waiting for him.  But you’d think… you’d think they’d give him a sign of some sort.  He studied the surroundings, trying to get some inkling of where they were concealed.  Maybe behind one of the trees that ringed the Gate – probably planted there to keep Wraith darts from coming through.  But then, where did this dart come from?

Rodney gazed upward, fearing a Hive Ship somewhere in orbit. Oh crap… oh shit… this really sucks.

Okay, the others… they have to be there… hiding… behind the trees.  Right?

But shouldn’t they be trying to take out the dart?  They stopped firing.  I mean, I still need to get in there and I can’t exactly get across this open space if that dart’s out there.  You’d think… they’d be clearing a path for me.

Maybe they’re waiting for me to signal them.  He clutched at what was left of his radio and smiled.  He might not be able to talk to them, but he could send a signal.  He clicked it on and off, sending a quick Morse code of his name – MCKAY.  There…that should wake them up… let them know I made it back.

And nothing.

Licking his lips, and still trying to catch his breath, Rodney gazed up at the slowly moving ship, and a feeling of dread caught him.  What if… what if… the Wraith had already caught them?  They were too exposed by the Gate… what if…

And he tried to blink back the pain that reached him – four fine people sacrificed to the Wraith.  “No,” Rodney breathed out miserably.  “No…”

The dart turned, changing its path dramatically and started heading straight for him.  “Oh… crap…”  Rodney started at a quick trot in the opposite direction from the ship, running parallel to the clearing and away from the gate.  It was easier to run here, the ground loamy instead of a constant mix of muck, mud and moss.  He could run without sinking into the soil.

His breathing was coming with greater difficulty as he pressed himself.  He was not designed for this – not by a long shot.  No, he was made from the brain on down – best suited for long hours in the lab, or days spent before a computer – not for running – not for dangerous situations like this.

God, if I'd only been faster, the others wouldn’t have been captured.

His eyes watered as he ran, thinking of Alain Ozette, Lew Alava, Mike Fairholm and Ginger Sappho.  I’ve failed all of them.  Oh God, I condemned them all to a horrible death.  It’s my fault.  They would’ve been through the Gate if not for me.  If I had only been faster.  If I hadn’t come to this planet with them.  I killed them.  I killed them all.

He’d not let himself be taken, too!  No!  He’d do everything he could to confound the Wraith – to get away – so that he could get back to Atlantis and organize a rescue party.

He allowed himself a tight grin.  Yes, the Wraith would be paid back – if…if he could only get away.  He pushed himself, gaining a bit of speed as he stumbled along the edge of the clearing, trying to stay concealed, but staying on the more manageable soil.  He knew it made no difference if he was under cover or not.  The Wraith probably knew exactly where he was.

He glanced over his shoulder, seeing the dart’s slow approach – faster than he could run.  Turning to face forward, he let out a strangled ‘eep’ as the world give way before him.  Stumbling, he fell to his knees, barely stopping himself from falling headlong over the edge.

One foot away – so close he could feel the wind whipping up at him, the edge of a cliff.  Struggling to his feet, McKay gazed downward in disbelief.  A rock, dislodged, tumbled.  It fell, clattering against the rocky edges and plopped into the racing river 30 feet below.

Trying to catch his breath, McKay watched its descent with horror.  He looked over his shoulder at the hovering menace and then back at the abyss.  He had nowhere to go!  

He was trapped.  He had to get back, to get Atlantis, to save that team.

He gave another look over his shoulder.  The dart was nearly upon him.  McKay knew what he had to do.  He let out a miserable little groan and closed his eyes before squeezing his nose with one hand, and stepping forward.


CHAPTER 5: SWIMMING

He dove.  A simple surface dive that brought John Sheppard into the cool water near the bottom of the clear perfect lake.  He swam easily, enjoying the freedom – it was almost like flying.  God, he loved flying.  Squinting, he could see Ford and Teyla paddling about above him, sunlight streaming through the water.  People always look ridiculous when they’re swimming, he thought.

Except for Teyla, of course.  She looked magnificent in the suit she’d managed to procure.  Damn our modesty.  Still, that woman couldn’t help but look good in anything.

Sheppard continued to keep himself below the surface, circling about, gazing upward to the sunlit surface of the water.  Beautiful day, he thought, just one goddamn gorgeous day.  He stayed down, wondering how long he could hold his breath.

Above, a cloud passed over the sun and the watery world darkened.  Sheppard frowned, feeling a chill, and kicked to the surface.  The cloud moved and warm sunlight beat down.

“Hey!” Ford exclaimed as Sheppard shook the water from his hair.  He ducked way from the onslaught.   “You’re worse than a dog.  Dang…”

Teyla smiled patiently as she treaded water.  “I was afraid, Major Sheppard, that you may have drowned,” she commented, amusement evident in her tone. She tugged at one of the suit's straps, obviously not-entirely comfortable in it.   “And then we would have had no passage back to Atlantis.”

“Funny,” Sheppard returned, smiling – but the expression changed.  “Speaking of getting back, I think we should think about packing up,” he stated.

Neither Ford nor Teyla looked happy with that idea.  “Already?” Ford complained.  “Thought we were going to spend the day here.”

“It has been enjoyable,” Teyla added quickly.

“I just got this hunch…” Sheppard stated, feeling stupid.  “I think we’d better go back.  Check on things.”

“Perhaps we can return to the shore and contact Atlantis,” Teyla said logically.  “We can ensure that all is well while we allow ourselves time to dry before we return.”

Sheppard nodded.  There was no need to be rash, but he just needed to find out if everything was okay at base – to find out what was going on.  It would be simple – they’d head back to shore, check in on radio – and spend the rest of the day peacefully.

“Yeah,” Sheppard stated.  “Let’s head in.”  And he began swimming to shore in the quiet afternoon.

Funny how calm it was without McKay.  He'd have a dozen choices in this situation -- he'd come up with so many plans that none of them would know what to do.  The scientist never knew when to shut up.  His incessant nattering would have worn thin after a while in this serene place.

As Sheppard did his own version of the crawl, he figured that it just wasn’t the same without Rodney.  He’d gotten used to the constant commentary, the bantering.   Hanging out with the team wasn’t right without him.  Well, it wasn’t really ‘the team’, was it?

True… true.  It wasn’t right.  Next time, he promised.  We’ll plan better.  We’ll get something together before you go off and latch yourself to another team for the day.

Well, this was McKay’s fault, after all, Sheppard reasoned as he swam his way toward the jumper. If he hadn’t gone off with Ozette, the rest of us never would have gotten together for this break.  I did it as punishment, I guess.  Something to make him think twice about taking off and doing his own thing, Sheppard grimaced as Teyla passed him, jealous of her easy and smooth stroke that never seemed to fatigue her.  

This is what happens when arrogant pain-in-the-ass scientists decide to annoy another team for the day instead of bothering their own.

Sheppard didn’t want to appear to be hurried, but he stayed close to Teyla, losing Ford in his wake.  He had his feet under him a few moments after Teyla reached their belongings.  He smiled, watching as she picked her radio from her things.  She flicked back her wet hair as she affixed her earpiece.  Her back was toward him as she checked in with base.  As he reached her, she turned.

“Teyla?”  Sheppard voiced quietly as her eyes went wide.


CHAPTER 6: SPINNING

He was spun, and flipped head over butt.  All around him the water frothed and foamed.  His nose and ears filled with it.  Rodney struggled, wanting only to get his head above the surface – gasp down a breath of air before the current tugged him under again, before it spun him around one more time.

He fought, slamming into rocks, getting sucked through narrow channels and shot out the other end, pulled downward in one vortex and flung out to struggle upward again.  Break the surface, one breath, and then tugged again, endlessly onward.

All around him, he caught flashes – water, a rock, a tree, water, more trees, water, cliff, water again – and out of reach – the shore.

He kicked and flailed, trying for all he was worth to keep at the surface.  One moment he’d be upright, then on his back, then flipped over to his stomach, or drawn deep below.  He’d be slammed against a rock and then he’d be flung to receive corresponding bruises on his other side.

He battled, he strained, he gasped in breath whenever allowed. Whirled and swirled and toppled, he did everything he could to stay alive.

Oh gawd… oh gawd… stupid… stupid… thought I could… swim… thought I was a good… swimmer… nothing like … nothing like … the public pool… or that … water park… wild river ride… ah… damn it!… not again… shit… I don’t think I can… I can’t… oh gawd… I got… to get out… of here… I can’t….oh shit.

The river went on and on... and he was at the mercy of it.

He saw the waterfall only as he went over it.  It wasn’t terribly high, only a couple meters, but as he plummeted over, he had the terribly feeling that he’d met his end.  He went deep… as the water drove him.  He let it push him downward, too tired to fight the current, hoping that what he’d learned was right, and that if he just let it push him down, he’d be shoved out of the whirlpool and thrown into calmer water.  He held his breath, though he had hardly any left.  And then, when he felt his lungs might burst, the murderous current let him loose.  He kicked, a pathetic motion – but enough to move him upward.

With a gasp, he broke the surface, stunned to find himself in calmer water. He attempted to draw in a deep lungful, but ended up with a wet cough as he tried to clear the water that he’d consumed during his fright-filled flight.

Gently, the current tugged at him, drawing him away again, but he put his last strength into getting toward shore.  Pitifully, he kicked and paddled, gaining inches and feet and finally… finally he felt the sandy bank beneath him.

He struggled forward – his legs unable to support him – he crawled.  Gasping and coughing, shivering, he lugged his waterlogged carcass until he pulled himself clear.  Finally!  Terra Firma! 

Unable to draw a clean breath, he crouched on hands and knees, coughing up buckets of river water.  He hacked, wondering if he'd ever be able to breath again.  One breath... just one good breath.

Finally, his coughing slowed, becoming less frantic. He made his way up the bank, fully out of the water, crawling still.  His muscles were like mush.  His head spun and the world around him was a blur.  I made it, he thought, smiling slightly through numb lips.  Made it.  I did it.  Did it… got away.  Ha… got away from the Wraith.

And he shot his head up, scanning the sky for any sign of the dart.  It would be just his luck!  He’d survive the crazy trip down the river, just to be scooped up, half-drowned, by Steve’s buddies.  But he couldn’t see worth shit.  The dart might be on top of him, and he’d never know.  His ear canals, filled with water, left him with a muffled world.

Shivering, he shoved himself upright, feeling as weak as a newborn, then forced himself to stand.  He stumbled forward, falling to his knees and forcing himself up again.  He was too exposed on this bank.  He had to find cover – get out of sight.  Pain shot through his left foot every time he put any weight on it.  He could hardly stand.  His muscles seemed unwilling to work.  He was shaking so hard he couldn't coordinate his actions.

This area was far too open.  It was as if he was in an amphitheatre.  Hardly able to see, he made his way to the green of the trees, his arms wrapped around himself in an attempt to still his shivering, to keep himself together.  He walked, he trotted, he kept moving.

Something caught his hurt foot, and lacking all coordination, he didn’t have time to throw out his arms before he slammed to the ground.  PAIN!  Oh god... oh god that hurt!  Gasping in agony, he rolled, wiping at his now-muddy face and aching nose.  Great… just one more thing… 

Once sitting, he clutched at his hurt foot.  Not even bothering to keep back the tears, McKay held the boot, trying to ease the pain, wishing for all the world that he was safe, wishing that he was dry and warm, wishing that he could just sit still and rest and take care of his hurts.

Oh God, this sucks… this so sucks!

But he couldn’t rest.  Blinking, clearing his vision, McKay realized that this was no time for feeling sorry for himself.  For, as miserable as he was right now, Ozette, Sappho, Alava and Fairholm were in a world of trouble – trapped on a Wraith ship.  Rodney McKay was the only one who could save them, and he was probably miles away from the StarGate.

He’d have to walk back, find a way back to the Gate, and get help.  He couldn't let a little thing, like a hurt foot, stop him.  He scowled, thinking about the four team-members and how they were counting on him.  No more time for waiting around, McKay.  Get off your pity pot and get moving.  Time to play hero.

Yeah… right.

Wait… what about your radio?  Maybe you could…and he reached for the device and let out a groan as his hand closed on nothing but his wet jacket – gone.

Okay then… no luck there.  You have to walk.  Nodding resolutely, McKay slowly straightened his leg, careful of his painful foot.  Sopping wet, cold, bruised, scraped, he’d have to get started – had to get back to the gate as soon as possible – find the Major and the others.  You must…you’re the only one who can save them.  Doesn't matter if it hurts to walk -- they'll die if you fail them.

He glanced to the gray sky, seeing no sign of the dart, and shrugged himself out of his jacket.  Soaked, it was about ten times heavier than it should be.  He wrung at it, removing liters of water, and then, because he was cold, he pulled it back on, regretting it all the time. What good was a cold, wet jacket anyway?  Well, maybe it'd dry out easier this way.

Moving his head brought only discomfort as his water-logged ears fuzzed.  He turned his head further, and gave the other side a rap, hoping to rid himself of the irritant. No good.  He sighed unhappily and decided not to worry about it.  The muffled hearing was the least of his problems.

He gazed at that the throbbing foot for a moment, utterly exhausted and unable to coordinate his thoughts into movement.  Time to go!  He told himself.  Time to go.  Get up.  Get moving.  Come on now.

But his body just sat there.  Staring at the ground beside him, McKay finally noticed what had tripped him up.  He frowned and reached for a mechanism of some sort.

It had once been attacked to a small platform, but his assault on it had apparently sheared it off. He hefted it.  The electronic device appeared to be some sort of a camera – or a spotlight.  He glanced upward, wary of the dart, wondering if it had gone.  There’d been no sign of it.  He really should be running for cover.

But his curiosity got the better of him.  He fiddled with the broken camera, seeing how it fit onto the base, finding that it had been designed to pivot and bring the camera around in almost any direction.

It was designed to point at the sky, McKay decided.  What was in the sky?  This planet seemed to have an endless cloud cover.  Did they ever see the stars?  Okay, what would be in the sky then?   Darts… yes… perhaps this was a device meant to light up Wraith darts during a night attack.  Or maybe it was meant to film them.  He turned the thing over in his hand, trying to ascertain if it was some sort of weapon.  No, it appeared to have a lens.  A laser maybe?  Curious.

The cradle it had sat in was mangled, bent beyond hope of easy repair, and he’d apparently ripped out most of the connectors when he tripped over it.  Still, he fit it into what must have been its original position.  Flicking his gaze to the sky, knowing that he had to get moving and get back to Atlantis, he messed with this new bit of technology, unable to help himself.

He forced his numb fingers to work, pulling at the disconnected wires, trying to get them back into place.  The puzzle helped center him, bring his mind back into order.

The light flickered at the lens and something within hummed – an odd sound through his water-stuffed ears.  Rodney smiled, proud that he’d been able to do this one simple thing.  “Now,” he said quietly.  “What are you all about, my little friend?”

Suddenly, the Wraith dart appeared.  It dove into the little cove just above the waterfall.  Terrified, Rodney flung the device and scuttled away, gasping and damning himself for letting his guard down.

And it was gone.

Still staring at the empty air, McKay continued crab-walking backward, unable to get to his feet in his panic.  Sides heaving, he glanced here and there, trying to find the ship, trying to figure out where it had gone – but the dart might never have existed.

He’d gone about thirty feet when he stopped and stared at where the electronic device had landed.  For a moment, his mind spun as he realized what he'd just discovered.  Damn… Ah you’re shitting me…  Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet and limped back toward it.  The device had busted open where it landed.  He picked up the pieces, and fit the casing over the insides.  He moved back to the platform, and slowly, he reconnected it once more, pointing the lens toward the far bank.

It fitzed and futzed and, for a second, a watery, half-tuned imaged of a Wraith dart wavered before it gave up and faded away.   With a sigh of disgust, McKay lowered the projector.   “Hologram,” he muttered.  “It was just a hologram.”

He laughed, bitterly, ironically.  He’d nearly killed himself over a hologram!  If this was some culture’s idea of a practical joke, he figured someone needed a good strangling.  None of it was real.  None of it…

Staring out across the river, feeling chilled to the bone, hurt and miserable, McKay didn’t know how to respond.  He was safe.  Ozette and the others were safe – probably all warm and dry back at Atlantis right now.  They’d left him, he realized.  They had thought they were being attacked and had left him behind.

The hologram must have been meant as a deterrent – to scare people away.   He’d just entered that corridor when the image appeared.  He must have tripped it.  What was down there?  What needed that sort of watchdog?

With a groan and a sigh, McKay clamored to his feet, still clutching the broken projector.  Well, he figured, there was no big hurry in getting back now.  Take your time.  You have all the time in the world.  He considered leaving the projector … stared at it in his hands for a full minute… before pressing it to his sodden chest and taking it along with him as he hobbled into the trees.

Wincing as he walked, shuddering and sniffling, McKay thought, there’s no Wraith.  At least Ozette and the rest are safe.  I’m not going to get my life-force sucked out of me.  Yeah, everything’s fine.  Ow.  Fine.  I just have to climb back up that hill.  Not so far, right? Things are looking up.  Ow! It’s getting better by the minute.  Put on a happy face, right?

And then the rain started to fall.  McKay stopped, looking up at the sky as the raindrops pelted him, further soaking him.

“Great,” he muttered as he limped along.  “Just great.”


CHAPTER 7: WAITING

“What the hell’s going on?”  Sheppard called out as he stormed from the jumper bay into the GateRoom.  Teyla and Ford flanked him.  Two dozen soldiers milled about, along with a handful of scientists – Grodin and Zelenka among them.  A few of the maintenance personnel loitered in the corners.

The soldiers stood, armed with 40mm Grenade Launchers and Shoulder-Launched Multipurpose Assault Weapons seemed to be the arms of choice.  They were ready to try it all at this mysterious new super-dart.  Even the maintenance workers were armed with fierce looking tools.

It was a room full of heavily armed men – moving nowhere.

“Why is everyone still here,” Sheppard questioned heatedly.

Grodin and Zelenka came at Sheppard the moment he appeared.  “It’s been an hour!” Zelenka voiced his frustration as he came alongside the major.  “An hour, and nothing!”

“They haven’t moved out yet,” Grodin added, anxiously.  “There’s been no word from Dr. McKay.  He would have checked in by now, if he were able.  He’s very prompt.”

“They want to shoot down that ship!” Zelenka worriedly pulled at his fingers.  “If Dr. McKay is onboard…”

“They won’t be taking on the dart until we know,” Sheppard declared.  He glanced about at the gathered throng.  “And that’s an order.  Nobody fires on that dart until I give the command.  We may have a friendly onboard.”

The marines about him shifted their positions.  Many of them didn’t seem to be too pleased.

“Let me make this clear,” Sheppard restated.  “Nobody makes a move unless you have my say-so! We’re going in with a small strike force to ascertain McKay’s whereabouts.  The rest of you can just cool your heels until we figure out what’s going on.  Where the hell is Ozette?”

On cue, Weir appeared from above with the captain behind her.  “Major Sheppard,” she greeted, her voice clipped.  “You made it back.”  She nodded, as Ozette, Alava, Fairholm and several of the marine officers followed her down the stairs.  “We’ve just finished the briefing and…”

“We’re going… now,” the major demanded.   “Ford, Teyla, Ozette, Alava, Fairholm,” he looked around, “Bates, Stackhouse and me.”  With a quick movement, Sheppard relieved the nearest marine of his grenade launcher. The marine looked stricken for a moment, but was smart enough to keep his lip buttoned.

Grodin hustled up the stairs to reach the DHD.  Zelenka followed.

“Wait, Major Sheppard,” Weir stated as she continued toward him.  “We need to discus the particulars of this situation.”

“New dart,” Sheppard said succinctly.  “Couldn’t shoot it down with a couple of P90’s.  McKay’s still out there.  I got it.” And he nodded toward the gate.  “Dial it!” he shouted up to Grodin.

“Wait,” Weir shouted.

“It seems that’s all anyone’s been doing!” Sheppard shot back.  “I’m missing one of my men and I’m going to find him.  I’m betting that he avoided capture.  He’s a clever boy.”

“But, if he has been captured, major, then you’ll be helpless against that dart.  You won’t want to shoot it down if he was aboard.”

“If that’s the case, we get a jumper through the gate and we run down that goddamn dart and get him back!”

“And the trees that are blocking the gate…” Weir continued.

“Will be cut down!” Sheppard barked.  He jerked a head toward Finn and Sanchez from maintenance; both toted impressive looking chain saws.  Spindly-looking Finn looked rather overpowered by his, hardly able to hold it up.  The more substantially-built Sanchez carried his effortlessly and looked damn pleased about the opportunity to use it.

“It might not be that easy,” Weir tried to persuade.

Sheppard wasn’t listening.  “We’re going through the gate and we’re going to bring back McKay!  Grodin, do it!”

Peter didn’t pause.  He dialed in the sequence and the event horizon appeared.  Sheppard readied himself, already fearing what he’d find when they stepped onto that world – fearing that he’d find nothing.   Come on, he thought, let that arrogant son-of-a-bitch be hiding out somewhere.  Let him be pissing and moaning about leaving him waiting for so long.  Let him read me the riot act for not getting to him sooner.

He gripped the grenade launcher tightly.  “Fire on that dart only under my order,” Sheppard told the men, making sure they were clear.  “Let’s bring him back!”

Sheppard stepped from the dry, warm world of Atlantis and into the sodden damp of PX1-H0H.


CHAPTER 8:   RESTING

Rodney trudged onward, trying to ignore the rain that came down in a sullen curtain around him.  It wasn’t as if he was going to get any wetter, but the chill had driven into his bones and he realized he couldn’t continue much longer.

Still toting the broken projector under one arm, he limped along, exhausted and hurt, searching out some dry place where he might find rest.  “Typical,” he muttered.  “Just my luck.  We have hundreds of worlds to get lost on, and I get stuck in the world of the creeping damp.”

Everywhere he looked, he found only mud and moss, puddles and pools – no place to get out of the weather.  He shivered until his teeth chattered and his hearing fuzzed and popped with his waterlogged ear canals.

The trees were larger here -- their trunks so wide it would take ten men to encircle them.  They'd been here for centuries.  All trunk with branches in the heavens, they left him little shelter.

He kept searching, hoping for a nice cave, or a happy little ruin, a shack, or even a dry stump.  Finally, in an area where the massive trees gave way to newer growth, his hopes began to rise.  Beneath the branches of a low-slung fir-like tree, he found a suitable spot.  Crouching down took more effort than he thought possible, as the muscles in his knees, shins and backside reminded him of their bruises and strains.  Slowly, he managed to get down far enough to crawl into the little hideaway – finding it adequate.  With a sigh, he sat, hunched.

It took a few moments to tug off his drenched jacket.  He emptied the pockets – finding a jackknife, four waterlogged Powerbars, his epi-pen, a ball-point pen, and a pulpy mass that had once been a notebook.  No GDO. How did I lose that?  Now, this will be fun when I reach the Gate – No IDC.  I'll make it back to the Gate, only to be popped to molecules as I try to get home.

He settled his belongings beside the broken projector, and groaned when he noticed he’d lost part of it.  Picking up the broken device, he muttered unhappily and he turned it over.  Half of the casing was missing now.  He could have sworn the thing was okay before he crawled under the branches.  Where could it have gone?  He leaned forward.  Now where… ah!  There it is!  Just outside his little sanctuary, he spotted the casing.  It had probably been dropped as he crawled in here.  No problem.  Ah, I suspect it can just stay there until I’m good and ready to retrieve it.  Later, maybe. And he set what remained of the broken technology next to his other things, smiling with the thought that he still had the whole thing.

He reached out as far as he could and wrung the jacket again, removing more moisture.  Now, instead of being waterlogged, it was simply unbearably damp.  He spread it out on the dry needles not far from his head.

Looking toward his small pile of belongings, he realized he was hungry and pulled one Powerbar from the rest.  He’d have to be careful with them, he knew.  He’d gone most of the day already without eating – never a good idea – and would like to gobble down all four at once – but rationing might be in order.  Only one, he told himself.  Then, you can have another in the morning.  Who knows how long it will take to get out of here?

He picked a peanut butter bar and fumbled with it, trying to peel back the wrapper, but his fingers were almost useless. He couldn’t get a decent grip on it.  Frustrated, he finally bit it open with his teeth, then dug into his dinner. He tried to make it last, but the bar disappeared all too quickly, leaving him with only an empty shiny wrapper that was quickly jammed into his shirt pocket.

That was… tasty, he told himself.  Almost like seven-course meal.  Gee, I’m too stuffed for dessert.  Couldn’t eat another bite.  Too weary to worry about anything else, he lay down, finding the fragrant bed satisfactory.

Disconnectedly, he watched the rain fall, a steady hiss all around him, and he shivered – wet and cold, but glad to finally be out of the drenching.  He sniffled, not bothering to run a sleeve under his nose, and he blinked at the wet world that surrounded him.

He turned on his side, and startled when he felt a 'weird' sensation in his ear, then let out a contented sigh as the water, trapped in his ear canal, finally found an escape.  Oh, yeah, that felt good.  He rolled onto his other side, and tilted his head around until the rest of the water dripped free.  Better... much better. 

Everything is right in the world, he thought as his hearing became clear.  He laughed – yeah, right.

By now, Ozette had debriefed Weir on what happened.  Certainly, they would send out a search party for him – but trepidation over the holographic dart would give them pause.  Well, the ‘dart’ was gone now – but with the craft missing – along with himself – they would have to assume he’d been captured.

The search would end quickly as they came to this conclusion, and they’d all go back to Atlantis, where it was warm and dry.

If he hadn’t managed to completely break the projector, he might have been able to draw them to himself with that hologram.  Too bad.  Maybe, once he’d rested, he’d be able to repair the damage done.  But he was too tired, too cold, too hurt to even try at the moment.  He’d rest – and then he’d try to fix it. 

At least his ears felt better.

And he closed his eyes in his exhaustion as the rain fell all around.


CHAPTER 9:  SEARCHING

“You could have mentioned the rain,” Sheppard groused as he moved carefully behind one of the trees that surrounded the gate.

“It’s a rain forest, sir,” Ozette responded with a snip to his voice.

“Thought they were supposed to be steamy and hot,” Ford commented from behind his own tree, scanning the skies for the super-dart.

“There’s more than one kind of rain forest,” Sheppard responded.  “Tropical and Temperate,” and he paused, missing the prattle that he knew should have followed this comment, missing the endless explanations that McKay should have been providing at that moment, the pointless bits of trivia.

Where the hell are you, McKay?

Sheppard held out a Life Sign Detector, hoping.  He saw the eight dots that made up the team… and dozens of others scattered about him.  “Fat lot of good these do,” Sheppard muttered, jamming it into his pocket.  On a planet with any wildlife, the devices were almost useless.  He glanced over his shoulder to Bates, who crouched near the DHD.  “Any sign that he was here?”

The soldier shrugged.  “None that I can tell.”  He swept, irritated, at his scalp, coming a way with a handful of rain.  “If he left a calling card, I ain’t seeing it.”

Grimacing, Sheppard stared at the tree line at the other side of the clearing.  If McKay were hiding over there, he would have noticed that the Gate had been activated.  Why hadn’t he contacted them yet?  “McKay!” Sheppard called over the radio.  “McKay, what’s your location?”

The group waited, huddling near the trees for protection from the rain and the Wraith.

“McKay, respond!”  Come on, McKay.  Don’t do this to me, Sheppard silently begged.  If you’re pissed off, fine, but you’d better pipe up so we can find you.  But there was no answer.  Damn it!  Clicking off the mic, Sheppard cupped one hand around his mouth and shouted, “McKay!”  There was no echo as the trees and rainfall deadened his call.  “McKay!”

Alava anxiously muttered something to his team leader, and Ozette gave him a quick shake of the head.

“You have something you want to say, Corporal?” Sheppard stated.

Alava looked uncomfortable, and was about to speak when Ozette spoke for him.  “Shouting might not be the smartest action at this moment,” he stated bluntly.  “We have unfriendlies nearby – a ship that’s unaffected by P90 fire – and you've given orders to leave it alone.  We don’t need to give away our location.”

“Figure if they’re near enough to hear the shout, they probably already know we’re here.”  Sheppard turned back to the tree line and shouted out for McKay again.  He held his breath afterward, willing himself to hear a response.  Come on, McKay.  Just give a shout.  John glanced at the cloud-covered sky, searching… realizing that if McKay wasn’t here… waiting for them… there was only one obvious explanation as to where he was.

“Where’s that dart?”  Sheppard asked quietly.

“It didn’t show up until we’d been here a few hours,” Alava responded.  “Might be laying in wait right now.  It probably has him by now.”

“We haven’t even started searching yet!” Sheppard shot back.  Glancing to Ozette, he asked the question that was gnawing at him, “Why the hell did you leave him?”

The captain stiffened.  “We had no choice.  He was at least ten minutes away -- probably closer to fifteen or twenty -- considering it was him -- and my team was in danger.”

“He was part of your team,” Sheppard reminded.  “He came with you.  He shouldn’t have been left alone at the ruins to start with.”

“There was no reason to expect a Wraith attack,” Ozette responded.  “No colony, no natives.  There was no reason for it.”

“It’s standard procedure to never leave anyone alone, especially when exploring a new planet, especially one of the civilians.”  Sheppard continued, trying to keep his voice level, “The scientists don’t have the combat training we have, and you know how they get when they’re playing with new toys. God, he gets so involved in those things, a bomb might go off beside him and he’d never notice.”

Ozette shifted his jaw, wanting to say something, but held his tongue.

Sheppard continued, “How’d it happen?  How did McKay get left alone at the site?”  He leaned close to the tree, keeping himself relatively dry.

Professionally, Ozette stated, “Dr. Sappho needed to return to the gate and Dr. McKay wished to remain at the ruins.  He was adamant about not leaving in spite of my orders.”

“You ordered him to return with Sappho?”

“I did,” Ozette responded.  “My men can confirm it.”

Alava nodded in response, but Fairholm kept his gaze on the sky as he leaned close to the protection of the trees.

“Did you make sure he heard you?” Sheppard went on.  “He doesn’t always listen.”

“He heard and ignored my direct order,” Ozette continued.  “Corporal Alava escorted Dr. Sappho back to the Gate, sir.  McKay refused to return with them.  He continued to explore the ruins and had reported finding a corridor when the attack began.  If McKay had only returned with the rest of the team, then we wouldn’t be in this situation.”

“If you’d only sent someone back to watch his ass…”

“Then we’d be missing two people instead of just one,” Ozette responded heatedly, and then added, “Sir.”

Sheppard narrowed his gaze at Ozette, thinking that this discussion would be completed in private.  “Teyla, Ford, you’re with me.  We’ll check out the ruins.  Bates, you go with Ozette and Alava – search the forest surrounding the clearing.  Fairholm and Stackhouse stay with the gate.  We move out and search for any sign of Dr. McKay.  Try to figure out where he’s holed up.  Report any findings.”

Bates nodded.  Ozette and Alava looked annoyed.  Teyla and Ford fell in behind as Sheppard moved out into the rainy landscape.  Sheppard stepped into the dreary weather, his gaze often drifting to the sky in search of the dart that might have taken his friend.


CHAPTER 10:  HOPING

The ruins looked unexciting.  Sheppard called out for McKay as he approached, hoping that the twitchy scientist wasn’t going to shoot before he verified who was approaching him.  McKay had to be here… the other option was unthinkable.  But no one responded to John’s shouts, and the ruins appeared to be empty.

“Damn it,” Sheppard murmured, leaning against one wall of the structure, not caring that he may be smudging centuries-old markings with his damp shoulder.  “Damn it, McKay, where the hell are you?”  The ruins consisted of only one building with a large misshapen room -- hardly anything to be excited about.  Odd symbols marked one wall and weird little pictograms covered another.

He frowned at the images, wondering if whoever drew them meant the pictures to be fearsome, or if they were just having some fun.  There was a crudeness to them, and their main aim seemed to be to tell people to ‘stay away’.

Outside, the rain continued to fall in its relentless pattern.  McKay wasn’t here.  “Damn it,” Sheppard said again, because he couldn’t find any other words to express himself.

“Thought he’d be here,” Ford said glumly.  “Ozette told him to stay put.  I figured he would have listened.”

“McKay listening?” Sheppard replied, “It would have been a first.”  He sighed, hating this.

Ford conjectured, “The captain just wants to shoot down that dart because he couldn’t get it the first time.  Doesn’t care that Dr. McKay is on it, that the Wraith probably have him onboard.”

“We’ll track it down,” Sheppard stated.  “We’ll get those trees down and track down those sons of bitches.  We’ll get him back.”

The young soldier looked around the room with a somber expression, and repeated his previous thought, “I really thought we’d find him here.” 

Teyla moved about the room, saying, “Captain Ozette stated that Dr. McKay had found a corridor.  We have not yet found this corridor.  I suggest we search for it.  I believe Dr. McKay may have sought shelter within it.”

The new hope moved the team to action.  They fanned out, searching out the odd little corners of the room.  Ford found the hidden opening in a matter of minutes, tucked up and around a corner, a narrow entrance shrouded in vines.

Ford shone a light down the downward path. “Dr. McKay!” he called out. “Hey, Doc!” He paused, hoping to hear a relieved and annoyed response, but only his own echo was returned.  Disheartened, he turned and asked, “Think he’s down there?”

Behind him, neither Sheppard nor Teyla looked sure.  There’d been no response, what were the chances?

Sheppard snapped on his radio, demanding an update from Bates and the others.  They’d found no trace of McKay.  Stackhouse and Fairholm still waited at the gate – spotting nothing in the skies.  After giving a quick report, Sheppard informed them that his team would be checking out the corridor.

This had to be it... he had to be here!  With a nod to Sheppard, Ford pressed the vines that blocked the path and started downward.  The others followed.

The hallway was constricted and steep, and they moved single-file, dropping into the depths of the structure.  The walls were featureless and crude.

Even Sheppard could tell that this handiwork was different from what was done above – this tunnel was built by different hands.  What the hell was going on here?

Sheppard looked up when Ford pressed against a board that barred the way.  Something seemed to click, and then clatter.  Ford looked up suddenly, stepping backward into his superior as the corridor creaked, cracked and groaned --  and the roof came down on them.


CHAPTER 11: WAKING

Darkness.  McKay opened his eyes and stared out into blackness.  He must have fallen asleep at some point.  His body was numb, and what wasn’t numb, ached.  He was cold, but not noticeably colder than before.  PX1-H0H was a mild place, after all.  The temperature hardly changed, day or night, winter, spring, summer or fall.

Slowly, he pressed himself into a half-sitting position, thumping his head into the low branch above him.  More needles came down, and he sputtered. 

“Great,” he muttered, brushing at his moist hair to dislodge what he could, finding a glob of sap that he only managed to further mesh into his hair and smear onto his palm as well.  “Wonderful.  Marvelous.”  He gave up on his hair and rubbed the hand against his pants, temporarily adhering himself to his clothing.  “Nice.”

Frustrated, getting nowhere, he gave up and lay down again.  He blinked, trying to see something in the blackness.  The rain had apparently slacked, for he no longer heard the steady hiss.  It was replaced with a slow and gloomy drip-drop as the day’s rainfall made its way through the canopy.  Luckily, the fir-wanna-be he’d chosen was too dense to allow anything to reach him.  He considered moving out from beneath the branches.  Shouldn’t he get moving again?  It wasn't raining any more.  He had to get back… but why?

Ozette and the others were safe – there was no hurry.  Well, it would be nice to be out of this weather, wouldn’t it?  True… true.  God, it would be nice to be back in Atlantis right now – warm and dry and well-fed -- but he had no energy.  What good would it do to get up right now?  In the middle of dense forest, under cloud cover, there’d be no light to see by.  He’d just get helplessly lost and dripped on.

Instead, he lay on the soft carpet of needles, closing his hand to feel the tackiness of the sap on his palm. He lifted his other arm to check the time.  He felt at the watch, pressing the button that would illuminate the dial.   He’d been missing for eight hours.

That’s a whole workday, he told himself.  Well, a workday for normal people.  When was the last time I worked an eight-hour shift? Can’t remember.   No wonder you’re tired – you work too much.

He remembered how Sheppard had chided him the day before – about working on their day off.  Well, it just goes to show, he decided.  It doesn’t pay to do a good job. Sloth is an admirable sin.  If you’d only stayed away from Ozette and his team, you would have had a relaxing day at Atlantis – or maybe have been able to spend the day at that lake with the team.

At the thought of swimming, he shivered.  No swimming for me – no – not for a while, he thought.  But still, it would have been nice.  I wonder if Teyla decided to use a bathing suit.

He smiled and laughed to himself, but the laugh turned into a shudder.  Cold, he dug further into the needles, letting them act as his blanket.  His still-damp clothing chilled him, but what could he do?  What chance would he have for drying out in this moist world?

He sighed, and closed his eyes, hoping that sleep would return – but between his aches and his chill, he realized he’d probably not find any further rest tonight.

CONTINUE TO THE SECOND HALF!

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