Warm and Safe and Dry By NotTasha the second Half Back to Part 1

CHAPTER 12:  RECOVERING

“We’re going back,” Sheppard demanded, as he stood over Weir’s desk.  He leaned, pressing his hands against the surface, careful to keep most of his weight off the bandaged one.

Ford and Teyla stood behind him – each battered and scraped in their own way.  A few seconds of terror had given way to annoyance once they’d found out that they’d all survived the collapse. Most of the damage occurred deeper in the corridor – leaving them dealing with only minor contusions for the most part.  Coughing on the dust, they’d free themselves quickly with the help of Bates’ team, and had returned to Atlantis for some first aid – but that was half-a-day ago.

Weir looked morose.  “I’m not about to send you back injured.  We have able-bodied personnel continuing the search, Major Sheppard.”

“I should be out there!”  the major responded, then gestured to the two standing behind him.  “We all should be out there!”

“I’m fine, Dr. Weir,” Ford said stoically, grasping the sling over his arm.  “Just whacked my elbow good.  This is nothing.”

“I am able to continue with the search,” Teyla insisted, though she squinted and hung her head against a headache.  She held an icepack in one hand – and really should have been resting it over the lump on her head at that moment.

Weir nodded to Sheppard’s bandaged hand.  “And just how well can you handle a weapon?  Are you able to pull the trigger reasonably?”

Sheppard winced, and tried to move his bandaged fingers.  He’d had the skin scraped off the backs of his fingers when a falling brick scalped him.  Hurt like hell, but it was hardly something to keep him in bed.

Weir continued, “The three of you should not be out there.”

Sheppard looked to his people.  “We know where we need to be.”

“I can manage, ma’am,” Ford responded quickly.  “I want to return to the search.”

“And I as well,” Teyla put in, as she tossed her head – as if shaking off any headache.  “I am unaffected and wish to find Dr. McKay as quickly as possible.”

Weir glanced down at the report that Beckett had given her, listing the ailments of the three – minor injuries, enough to keep them from work for a day-or-two.  He’d treated them, handily medicated them, and released them to return to their rooms. He’d tried to hold them for as long as possible, but as soon as they were free, they'd trooped right to her office.

Weir blew out a breath and rested her arms on her desk.  “The teams searched until nightfall on the planet,” she said softly.  “They found his pack, his sidearm and the earpiece from his radio.  Tracks led to the clearing and then disappeared.”  She stared at her hands, not wanting to continue.  “From what I understand, the rain has washed away his trail once he reached that point.  The most likely scenario is that he crossed the clearing to reach the Gate, and the Wraith captured him.”

“Then why aren’t those trees down?” Sheppard barked.  “Clear those goddamn trees out of there and I’ll get a jumper out there!”

“The trees have been spiked,” Weir told them.

“Spiked?”  Ford repeated, blinking and feeling a bit strange.  “Like with vodka?” he asked, wavering a bit.  “Had a watermelon once that had been spiked,” he said offhand. “That was tasty.”  And then shook his head, wondering if he’d used his out-loud voice.

Sheppard spotted Ford leaning forward, and shoved one hand against his chest and pressing him to the wall.  He winced at the movement, feeling a bit woozy himself.

Weir watched, aware that this group should be in their rooms – should be in bed.  Teyla closed her eyes and furrowed her brow as Ford remained propped where Sheppard had pushed him.  The major returned to leaning against the desk, looking pale and about ready to drop.

It took Weir a moment to remember what Ford had just asked.  “There are metal rods driven into the trunks of the trees at regular intervals -- spikes.”

“Then cut around the spikes,” Sheppard insisted.  “Come on, this doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out!”

Weir returned the major’s level glance, seeing the man wasn’t going to be on his feet much longer. She spoke again, keeping her voice level, wondering if she shouldn’t summon the good doctor before any one of them managed to hurt themselves even further, “According to Sanchez, there’s a science to taking down a tree.  Cut it the wrong way and it’ll fall into the Gate, the DHD or hang up in the other trees, and we’ll get nowhere.”

“Then we dig them out by the roots!”  Sheppard insisted.

“Controlling the trees as they fall will require cranes and heavy lift equipment,” Weir patiently explained.  “Equipment that we don’t have.”

“Then we blow up those sons of bitches!”  Sheppard went on.  “We have the C4.  Let’s do it.”

“We’re working on it,” Weir told him.  “As I said before, if the tree falls in the wrong direction, the StarGate could be compromised.”

“A couple of trees falling on the Gate won’t hurt it,” Sheppard shot back.

“The StarGates are formidable,” Teyla insisted.  “They have stood for millennia.”  Yet, she didn’t open her eyes and she leaned beside Ford.  Her head dipped and suddenly she was resting it on his shoulder.

“You’re giving up on him,” Sheppard stated bluntly, closing his eyes as well.

Weir watched the three of them – drugged and ready to drop – congregated here only through their determination – fighting whatever sedative Beckett had foisted on them.  How much longer did they have?

She didn’t fault them.  She was proud of them.  Not one of them had given up yet, and all were determined to keep fighting, in spite of their injuries and the medication.  It pained her to deny them.  It hurt to say what needed to be said... about Rodney.  “I can’t risk it.  People will be hurt if we try to remove those trees, and if any of them damage DHD, then everyone on that mission would be trapped, at the mercy of the Wraith.”  And lowering her voice, she continued, “And chances are that he’s long gone by now.”

“I won’t believe that,” Sheppard stated.

“Me neither,” Ford added.

“I agree with the others,” Teyla said softly, not lifting her head from Ford’s shoulder.  She snuggled closer, and absently settled her icepack on the hurt side of her head.

“I’d rather not believe it,” Weir conceded softly.  “But I have to think realistically.  I have to think for all of Atlantis.”   She continued, “Unless another means can be discovered for removing the trees, they shall remain.  I’ve had a team at the ruins, and they’ve nearly cleared out that collapsed passageway – tomorrow, I’m sending out another party to finish the job.  You’re welcome to accompany them.  There’s a possibility that Rodney’s at the bottom of the passage.  It’s a good chance.”

“Dr. McKay’s pack was found in the woods,” Ford stated, shifting slightly under the added weight, but doing nothing to dislodge the Athosian.  “He was coming back to the Gate.  He wouldn’t be in the ruins.”

“It’s possible that he returned, seeking shelter,” Weir tried.  “That’s what we’re going on now.”

“And that’s it?”  Sheppard cried.

“Major, you and I both know that if Rodney was anywhere in the area, we would have found him today.  If he’s at the bottom of that corridor, we’ll find out tomorrow.”

“Fine,” Sheppard stated, turning sharply, and faltered, having to catch himself at the doorway as the room spun.  He nodded to Ford, who gave Teyla a gentle shake and, with some effort, they followed the major out of the room.

“What do we do now?” Ford asked earnestly, clutching his arm as he staggered with his remaining teammates.  Teyla blinked dully.

Dolefully, Sheppard rubbed his bandaged hand and stared at the Gate. Outside, night had fallen.  God, he felt like crap.  Beckett had slipped him a mickey – no doubt about it. He wondered if he looked as spaced-out as Ford and Teyla.   It must’ve been amusing for Weir to witness.

“Get some sleep,” he told the others.  “We go back out tomorrow.  I’m not giving up on him yet.” Sheppard turned and resolutely started toward his quarters.  “Not yet.”


CHAPTER 13:  PAUSING

Morning.  Rodney awoke, slowly, blearily.  He groaned as the first gray light filtered through the trees.  Time to get up, he decided.  Time to get moving.  But I’d really rather be still.  I’d really rather not move at all.  Yes but… do you really want to stay HERE?  That thought put him in motion, he rolled to his stomach, then pressed himself to crouch on hands-and-knees.  He crawled, his sore muscles protesting, and moved out from beneath the tree’s boughs.

When he grabbed a branch for support, a bird exploded out of the bush – zooming right over his head, nearly clipping him, before darting up into the sky.  Startled, McKay ducked, clasping hands over his head as the bird nearly clipped him.  “Damn it!” he swore as the sparrow-like bird swerved away, and he drew back one hand to find it gooed into the pitch again.  “Great.”

He pulled the hand away, looking in disgust at the residue on his palm.  “Love it,” he muttered.

He stooped and pulled his belongings out from beneath the tree.  The coat was drier – possibly the needles had sucked out some of the moisture during the night.  He brushed at it, trying to dislodge some of the stuff that clung to it, but it did little good.  He was covered in the stuff already, so what difference did it make?  Quickly, he pulled it over his shivering shoulders.  God, he was cold.  He rubbed his hands together, trying to drive some warmth into them, trying to ignore the sticky part of his palm.

A mist lay over the ground, moving like a living thing – cold and dank.  He had to get moving, but for now, for this moment, he just wanted to pause and collect himself.

Cold… cold… so damn cold.  Feeling woozy and a little sick, he picked up one of the Powerbars, trying to get his hands to work.  His hands were more malleable than the night before – having spent the evening firmly tucked in his armpits, and he was met with better success in opening the packet.

Moisture still dripped down from above, in unbelievably huge drops.  One would splat onto his damp coat, and McKay moved accordingly, trying to find a perfect place to finish his meal.  There was no telling how long it would take to get back to the Gate, and he knew he’d better ration what little food he had.  When he finished, he found that the wrapper had stuck to his hand.  

"Perfect," he muttered, but at least he was able to remove most of the sap by scrubbing the packet against his skin.

He sighed, not believing that he was thirsty – after all the water he’d imbibed during his frantic trip downstream, one would think he’d be satisfied for days. Now where would I find some fresh water?   With a small grin, he discovered that the projector’s casing, dropped when he hunkered into the shelter, had fallen in an accommodating position.  The half-shell was nestled peacefully near the tree and filled with water.  He picked it up carefully and drank down what it contained.

The water was cold, and tasted woody, but it sated his thirst.  Once finished, he shook the case, to rid it of whatever water remained, then tried to snap it back into place around the broken projector, but the thing was hopeless.  No point in trying to fix the thing, he pocketed it, along with his other his belongings. McKay braced himself for the day.  He had to keep moving – get to the Gate.  And for that… he had to get up.  Had to… at least… get moving.

Not yet… just a moment now…

He remained still for several moments, not quite able to convince his body to move, when he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye.  He turned, to find three deer-like creatures moving through the wood.  They were stocky, and dappled in browns, with shortish legs and little periscope ears that twisted and turned as they moved through the mist.  They moved timidly, gracefully, carefully.

Suddenly the trio stopped, and they all looked at him.  McKay gazed back, his hands at his sides, watching the creatures.  Everyone was still.  Only their ears and the mist moved. Their big black eyes blinked and Rodney blinked back.  Finally, after a moment, one creature took a step.  The others followed, slowly at first, then, deciding that McKay was harmless, they grew bolder, and continued on their way.

McKay watched them go, hardly breathing, and once he’d lost sight of them, he let out a breath.  Quieting his groan so that he wouldn’t scare the wildlife, McKay tested his sore foot – finding it sore.  Well, that was nothing new.

With a sigh, he checked to see that the projector had been secured in his pocket, and then started up the hill, vaguely following the same path as the creatures.


CHAPTER 14: DISCOVERING

Sheppard sat at the opening to the ruins, the grenade launcher resting against one leg as he watched the sky, and listened to the radio communications.

He’d helped as much as he could with the removal of the debris, but with his hand that wouldn’t close properly, he only got in the way.  So he waited here, guarding the entrance with Ford and Teyla.  A bucket-brigade was removing the debris.  The men at the top said nothing, going about their work, avoiding the probing gaze of Sheppard’s team. 

Other teams were still searching the surrounding area, but the reports returned no news.  No sign of McKay.  No sign of the dart.  As the groups scouted, they discovered that they were on a plateau, with a sharp cliff on one end, and a slope on the other.  No trail led to the slope – the mud would have revealed if McKay had gone in that direction.  And the cliff? There was nowhere for him to go if he’d gotten trapped there – nowhere but down.

It was apparent now – McKay could only be in one of two places – either at the bottom of that corridor or on that dart.

They’d almost cleared the passageway – and the dart was long gone.

Sheppard sighed.  Yesterday, McKay had come to him on the balcony, telling him about the ruins– excited about them – asking if he’d like to come along.  Sheppard rubbed his sore hand wished he’d just said, ‘okay’ and joined the expedition – because maybe McKay would’ve had a chance then.

What does McKay know about Wraiths? Okay, probably more than most.  But what does he know about taking care of himself? Nothing.  The man needs a shadow to keep him out of trouble.  The man needs someone to watch out for him – to be another set of eyes, because he gets so focused on things he can’t see anything beyond what’s in front of him.  He’d been alone here – none of Ozette’s team bothered to watch over him.  He’d faced that Wraith alone.

Already, Sheppard knew that clearing the corridor was a practice in futility.  He knew McKay wouldn’t be there. He knew that the self-centered physicist would have been trying to rejoin that team – doing everything he could to get back, so that all of them could go through the Gate.

Sheppard imagined McKay running through that wood – losing his radio earpiece, his pack, his sidearm, just trying to get back to the team and Atlantis – then being snatched up by that dart as he ran across that clearing.

Did McKay know that Ozette’s team had left him?  Was he aware that they’d gone? Sheppard kicked at the dirt under his feet.  There was a reprimand to be placed on record – what happened ‘off record’ would be another story entirely.

Meanwhile, as McKay was being taken to his death, the rest of his own team was having a vacation at a lake – having a good time.  Why didn’t I let McKay come along with me on our swimming trip? God, I’m a son of a bitch, Sheppard thought.  Here was McKay, ASKING to come along – and I told him to go play with his new friends.  Great!  What is this?  Junior High?  God, I was acting like a damn kid.   Wonderful friends – all of us.

Wish I would have taken him with us – then he would’ve been safe – and I wouldn’t be here right now at this damn ruin – wouldn’t be waiting around like this for nothing – he’d be okay.

I hate this nothingness… this not knowing.

A voice sounded over the radio, Zelenka, “We’ve broken through!”

Sheppard was on his feet and down the corridor in seconds, nearly knocking down one of the soldiers coming out with a bucket.  He had to squeeze by the men that lined the corridor.  The hallway was still partially blocked with the fallen rocks, but the ceiling had risen so it was a wash.  New bracings had been put up to stabilize the structure, to ensure the safely of those who worked there.  He zigged and zagged around the obstacles.

Zelenka, wearing a white hardhat, turned to meet them, as a couple of soldiers scooped up a bit more debris.  “We’ve found a room,” the Czech stated, pointing toward the opening they’d cleared.  “We have been unable to enter the space yet, but it is possible that more will be discovered once we are have completely cleared the entrance.”

Teyla forced her way past Sheppard, and nimbly crawled through the small opening already created.  She’d recovered mostly from the previous day’s headache, leaving her with only a mild throbbing at the point of impact, and had been eager to do anything to help in the search.

Sheppard regarded Zelenka for a moment.  The dust from excavation coated his glasses so that the man could hardly see.  The glow from the flashlights turned his lenses opaque.  The major reached out and took Zelenka’s flashlight before the scientist knew what was happening, and then handed him the Grenade Launcher in exchange.  The scientist, perhaps unable to see what was foisted on him, took the weapon with a note of alarm.

Better armed, Sheppard followed Teyla through – a little less gracefully.  First one foot, then the other.  Hopping to catch his balance as one foot caught along the debris, Sheppard called out, “McKay!”  But as before, there was no response.  The room was empty --- empty except for Teyla and the bits of disturbed rocks.  “McKay?” Sheppard tried again, as he swung the light toward the back of the room, finding yet another corridor leading away.

Ford was battering at the entrance, digging the hole bigger with one arm.  “He in here?” Aiden asked, as cleared sufficient space and pulled himself forward on his belly.  He flopped into the room after them, careful of his bruised elbow.  He’d given up on using the sling and was managing by keeping the arm as still as possible.  He turned on a flashlight of his own and manipulated it around.

Zelenka peeked in through the hole, holding the big weapon gingerly.

“We have some rooms to check.  Zelenka, you coming?” Sheppard called to the scientist.

With a hurried nod, the Czech turned, gratefully handing off the weapon to one of the working marines.  He came through the opening, following Ford’s lead.  The lieutenant gave him a hand as the scientist belly- flopped his way through.  Dusting at his jumpsuit and adjusting his hardhat, Zelenka caught up with Sheppard as he moved further into the ruins.

“I believe,” Zelenka said breathlessly, “That this structure has been … what’s the word …booby trapped.”

Sheppard stopped dead.  “Now you tell me,” he growled, swinging the light around with new voracity.

“The cave-in was not an accident,” Zelenka continued, finally snatching off his glasses.  He made a movement to wipe them on his shirttails, but the jumpsuit offered him no available cloth.  He used his collar.  “I believe we found the trigger that released the … debris.  We found another triggering device near the entrance to the corridor.  It is apparently inactive as it triggered no ‘booby’.”  Zelenka frowned, realizing he’d probably said the wrong thing.  Teyla gave him a strange look.  Zelenka continued, “Somebody didn’t want for intruders to reach this room.  We should be cautious.”

Sheppard nodded to Zelenka’s helmet.  “Where do I get one of those?”

Zelenka gave him a smile as he pressed the spectacles back onto his nose.  “You should have come better prepared.”  Sheppard directed the light about in the new room, and Zelenka suddenly shouted, “Wait, shine the light over there again.  Yes.  Look!  See?”

Something glittered.  Sheppard stepped closer with Zelenka stuck to him like glue.  Teyla and Ford followed.

“I don’t believe it,” Sheppard muttered as the light revealed the sight.  Along one wall, a chest was revealed – a heavy wooden chest, brimming with jewels, gold and all-things-shiny.

“Tell me that’s not what I think it is,” Ford stated, centering his light on the container.

“I’m thinkin’… pirate chest,” Sheppard proclaimed with a nod.

“Last time I saw something like that was on a ride in Disney,” Ford told him.

Zelenka shook his head and muttered in disbelief, “Pirates?  It is difficult to believe, yet here…” and he held his hand out toward the chest.  “… is their cache.”

“Pirates?” Teyla tried the word.

Sheppard frowned, trying to think of the right definition.  “Raiders – they attack villages and steal all their best stuff.”

“They wear puffy shirts,” Ford tried.  “They like rum and wenches and keel-hauling.  Usually, they’re not too nice.”

Teyla pursed her lips, and decided to ignore the lieutenant.  “I have heard stories of raiders.  I believed them to be merely tales, meant to entertain.”

“What do you know about them?” Sheppard asked, moving the light over the chest and watching the glitter.

“They were called the Bogachiel.  It is as you say; they were known for attacking communities, and removing whatever was of the most value to them. They were often vicious.”

Sheppard turned to Teyla and said, “But so far, we haven’t encountered any planet that uses gold or any kind of money.  It’s all bartering.”

Teyla nodded.  “And the Bogachiel are the reason why this is so.  There was a time when gold was counted as a commodity, and precious gems were considered of great worth.  The Bogachiel would kill to obtain them.  There is a story that a wise man came to the conclusion that if there was no gold, the Bogachiel would not come.”

She glanced about at the others, who stood rooted, still looking at the overfilled chest.  “Since that time, our communities have bartered.  We have used gold sparingly, only as ornaments.  The Bogachiel, finding their riches reduced in worth, have become but a legend.”

Ford started,  “Major, do you honestly think this is a pirates’ cave?  That those Bogachiels stored their booty here?”

“Booty…” Teyla repeated the word, wondering, because she thought she understood that word, but it didn’t seem to fit the situation.

Zelenka nodded.  “Yes.  It would explain the booby traps.”

Teyla made a face at the unfamiliar use of words she recently learned.  This didn’t seem to be the right conversation to be having at this time.  She continued on resolutely, “It would appear that this was one of their locations for secreting their riches.”

Ford, tired of waiting, stepped forward to run his hands through the piles of gold --- it was a temptation too good to resist.

Both Teyla and Zelenka reached out to stop him.  “That may be unwise,” Zelenka quickly stated.  “There may be further traps.”

“The Bogachiel were known for guarding their riches possessively,” Teyla added.

Ford stepped back as if burned.

“We will scan it thoroughly before anyone moves closer to it,” Zelenka decided.  “I would suggest we leave immediately and with care not to trip any further devices.”

Sheppard stepped away from the group, not interested in the chest full of gold doubloons nor the tales of pirates.  He didn’t give crap about any of it. He hadn’t come here looking for buccaneers or their spoils.

He moved away from the others, shining his light elsewhere, looking for another corridor, another room, finding nothing.  “McKay’s not here,” he said softly. “Never was.”  He didn’t wait for their response.  He made his way back to the partially blocked entrance to the room.  He needed to get out – he needed to be doing something.


CHAPTER 15:  CLIMBING

The day dragged as McKay attempted to climb the slope.  Somewhere up there was the StarGate – but to get there was proving mighty difficult.  The steep grade was muddy and slick, offering no traction.  For every step he gained, McKay seemed to slip down two.  He’d tried to follow the path created by the deer-like creatures, but their trail had eventually veered off in the wrong direction, leaving him in the middle of nowhere.  His choices were – climb the hillside to reach the Gate… or just keep following the deer path that meandered into nowhere.  He climbed.

He dug in, clawing his way up the muddy, mossy surface, grasping onto exposed roots, to branches, to shrubs.  Frantically, he’d reach out one hand, sometimes successful in grabbing hold of a bit of greenery, sometimes pulling it right out of the ground, sometimes missing it completely.

“Come on,” Rodney growled, struggling to reach another handhold.  “Just a bit more… just a bit… almost there.”  But the slope seemed to stretch on forever.  “See, you just have to reach that next tree there, then you’ll have a place to stand, and maybe you can get up to that tree beyond it and go one more further.”

Tired, his abused muscles rebelled.  He could feel his arms quivering as the held on.  His left foot was in so much pain, he could hardly use it.  His right, taking up most of the weight, was aching from the mistreatment.  God, he was so tired, but this was not a place to rest.  He just had to make it to that next tree, then he could wedge himself at the trunk and take a little break – yes – just make it to that next tree and you can rest.

“Okay then, let’s go!”  He strained, shoving himself upward, but his left foot suddenly decided that it was done.  The leg went out from under him.  He thrust out his arms, trying to grab hold, but he slid on his thigh, thumping over those roots he’d used as stair-steps, adding to his bruises, gliding over the mud and moss, until one of his desperate grabs finally proved successful and he stalled his downward flight with the help of a sapling.

“Shit,” he growled.  “Damn it!”  Holding tightly to the limber little tree, he managed to find a root with his other hand, and move his left leg from beneath him.   God, his foot hurt!  He twisted, managing to dig his butt into the dirt, finding a root that would act as seat and keep him from sliding any further.

He fumbled with the mud-caked laces for a moment, trying to loosen them, but his fingers were too numb, dirt-covered and sore to make any headway.  He stopped, exhausted, and stared at his muddy hands.  Crap, why couldn’t this be easy?  Just a simple stroll back to the Gate?  Why does everything have to be so damned hard?

Frustrated, he clenched his hand and closed his eyes, wishing himself back to Atlantis.  What he wouldn’t do for a hot shower and a sandwich!  He brushed a hand across his pocket, where his remaining Powerbars were secured.  He’d have to wait, he knew.  He hadn’t reached the point where he ‘needed’ to eat yet, and by the looks of things, it would be some time before he made it home.

At the moment, the pain in his foot over-road any signals his body cared to toss off.  Dolefully, he rubbed the hurt member, wishing he could just put his feet up somewhere, relax.  Ah, to be on a lounge chair on a balcony right now!  He smiled, imagining it – safely back at Atlantis – fresh from the shower – a plate of food at one elbow, maybe a hot cup of tea at the other, a warm, soft blanket around him – warm and safe and dry.  It sounded like heaven.

His butt squelched further into the mud and the rain started again – just a light pattering falling all around.  Thanks, I needed that.  He glared up at the unfriendly sky, wishing he could wage war with the gray dreary cloud-cover.

Okay, enough of this.  Time to figure out your next move.  Do something!   Try to loosen the laces.  But my hands are so caked with mud, I can hardly move them.  Fix that.  He grasped hold of nearby leaves, using the moisture collected there to remove some of the mess.  It worked rather well, getting off much of the filth, but his nails were hopeless.  God, I hope that isn’t poison oak, he thought, Just what I need… give myself a good case of the hives.  Knowing my luck, I’ll be hopelessly allergic and have a full-blown reaction!  Should have brought more epi-pens.  You never know

He twitched his cheek, feeling the pull of mud on his face, but didn’t dare use the leaves to attempt any cleaning on his head.  He'd suffer a rash on his hands, but prefer not to put up with one on his face.  To clean his cheek, he rubbed his face against one coat sleeve.  The material was wet enough to act as a washcloth, but he probably ended up adhering as much dirt as he removed.

Feeling a bit better, he went back to the shoe, needing to loosen the laces, even a little.  He frowned, as he dug out clumps of mud and leaves.  “Aw, come on,” he muttered, trying to be patient.  There seemed no end to the amount of dirt packed into that small space.  Once he was satisfied that he’d removed enough, he attempted to unknot the laces, but found them unworkable. Frustrated, he yanked on aglets, when he should have eased them through the knot in the opposite direction, and ended up thoroughly knotting the whole thing into an unfixable mess.

With a shout of irritation and disgust, he threw himself on his back.  Losing his perch, he slid again.  Ah… shit.  He let himself go, slowing soon enough, but managing to pack leaves and mud inside his pant legs.  Great… just great.

Too disheartened to care much, he gazed up at the green canopy above him.  “I’m screwed,” he stated.  “I’m so thoroughly screwed.”  In response, a big drop of water struck him between the eyes.  He blinked, not wanting to cry about his situation, knowing that grown men don’t cry, but he didn’t feel so very manly at that moment.

Here I am, lost like some imbecile in the woods!  Anyone would be able to climb up that slope.  Anyone with a little fortitude and strength could manage it!  What's my problem?  There were plenty of roots to grab onto, all the vegetation in the world to grasp, but I, Dr. Rodney McKay – genius -- can’t manage it.

Two year olds can untie shoes!

Don’t feel so damn smart, now do you?  Don’t feel so freaking smug.  It doesn’t take a mastermind to figure out how stupid you are.  God, what I wouldn’t do for a cup of hot cocoa and a footbath right now.

He grimaced, letting his hands clench at the soft earth as he stared upward to the too-green world above him.  I’m utterly useless, he told himself.

If I could only warm up a bit, I’d feel better.  Well, my attempts at making a fire were useless.  I really should have practiced a bit before I even left for Atlantis.  You never know when that skill would come in handy.

Should have packed more Powerbars.  Should have kept some waterproof matches in my pocket.  Should have done a lot of things.

He frowned, realizing that this was getting him nowhere.  He had to get moving again if he wanted to save himself.

The pause had calmed him somewhat.  He sat up and looked about, trying to get his bearing.  Exhaling, he realized that he’d descended halfway to the deer-trail.  It struck him that maybe those creatures had the right idea, taking a longer, less difficult path to get up that hill.

I suppose I should follow their wisdom.

But that would mean giving up on all this hard-won distance.  Every inch he’d gained had been a small victory.  He didn't even know if that trail led toward the Gate in the long run.  He looked uphill, and realized that he’d never manage that climb – not with all the mud – not with his flakey foot.

With a groan of surrender, he struggled to get to his feet.  He shook his legs, trying to dislodge the latest accumulation of mud and debris – not managing much. Then, he commenced his decent, half-sliding, half-hopping until he reached the trail below.


CHAPTER 16:  SURRENDERING

“I want to know why the hell you left him,” Sheppard declared, staring down at Capt. Ozette.

The marine stood his ground.  “I was following proper procedure to protect the members of my team.  I’d ordered Dr. McKay to stay in the ruins.  He confirmed that he’d remain.  If he’d only stayed put, this wouldn’t be an issue, sir.”

“If you’d only followed procedure throughout your mission, then we wouldn’t be having this conversation, would we?” Sheppard shot back.

Ozette stood stiffly by Dr. Weir’s desk, his face firmly set as he defended himself.  “There was no reason to expect an attack.  I take full responsibility.”

“Yeah, you will,” Sheppard responded.

“Pardon my speaking out, sir,” Ozette stated, “but I’m not the only one who doesn’t follow procedure all the time.”

Sheppard was surprised at the allegation, but continued, “You’d better hope we can find that dart when we get a jumper up, otherwise you’ll be taking on kitchen duty from now until we find a way back to Earth.”

Ozette shifted and gave him an insolent look.  “I performed my duty to the best of my ability, sir.”

“Major,” Weir cut in, “I think that’s enough.”  She nodded to Ozette, trying to give the captain some reassurance.

“Dismissed,” Sheppard ordered, and waited for Ozette to go.  The captain left quickly, seeming glad to be out of that room.

“Major,” Weir started, her voice tired.  “You’re going to have to cool off.  I think you’d better rethink how you’re handling Captain Ozette.”

Sheppard returned, “Don’t tell me how to do my job.”

She gave him a sharp look.  “You need to do your job.  Don’t let your emotions get in the way of it.”

Sheppard stepped back and glanced to the doorway where Ozette had disappeared.  He turned to face Weir again, knowing she was right.  As much as he wanted to beat the snot out of Ozette for leaving McKay behind, he had to think about the bigger scheme.

How could Ozette have known that a Wraith dart would suddenly appear? Sheppard realized.  Would this have turned out any differently if I’d been there, too?  Would I have risked my whole team, waiting for one left-over scientist to trot his way home?  Sheppard sighed, recounting the times he’d broken policy – how many times had his actions proved successful? – how many times had he screwed the pooch?  But, he reminded, I wouldn't have left him.

“The trees aren't coming down,” Weir said suddenly, breaking the quiet that had fallen.  “You’re not getting a jumper over there.”

“What happened with the idea to blow them up?” Sheppard tried, as he paced about her office.

“We’ve analyzed the situation.  We’d have to remove ten of them to clear enough space to bring a jumper through the gate,” Weir explained.

“Then we blow up ten trees!”  Sheppard responded.  “It’s a no-brainer!”

Weir replied, “The trees are centuries old.  It's not like taking down a Christmas tree.  With the iron rods inside of them, they’ll go off like bombs.  The damage caused could be extensive.  People could be hurt, killed…  I can’t allow that, major.”

“I’ll take it on,” Sheppard stated.  “We’ll find a team willing to take that chance.”

“I’m responsible for everyone on this base.  I can’t allow that risk.”

“If it means we can find McKay, then it’s worth doing.”

Weir said nothing immediately, meeting his gaze with her own steely eyes. “John,” she said softly. “I want to believe, I really do.  I wish I could tell you he was safe somewhere, but you know as well as I, the odds of finding him are minimal.”

Sheppard wasn’t moved.  “If there’s even the slightest chance of finding him, then it’s worth doing!”

“I’m sorry,” she said finally.  “I can’t allow you to risk further lives.  We’ve run simulations, major.  People will get hurt.”

“But McKay…” He stopped, and his fierce expression changed to something softer as John stated, “They’ve had him for two days!”

“I know,” Weir responded, letting the sorrow reach her eyes.  “But it’ll take days to remove the trees, even if we were to use the C4, even if we were able to find a way to do it safely.  The dart hasn’t returned.  We’ve had teams on the planet.  If it came from a Hive Ship in orbit, certainly they would have returned by now to … harvest more people.  We’re conjecturing that it was a lone scout that happened upon the planet while McKay and Ozette’s team were on the surface.  We don’t believe that the dart ships are set up to… store… human cargo.”  She paused, hoping to get her message through.

“So they grabbed McKay as a takeout meal, had a snack and kept going?”  Sheppard responded, incredulous. “You’re saying he's dead already so just forget about it?”  This all felt too much like surrendering to him, like giving up.  

Stiffly, Weir nodded.  “The dart will be long gone before you ever have a chance to launch the puddle jumper after it.”

“And Rodney?” John tried.  He was never the type to surrender.

Weir’s mouth tightened for a moment before she said, “He’s gone, John.”


CHAPTER 17:  MEANDERING

The rain continued, softly, insidiously.  The deer trail kept meandering along the hillside, taking him on a long trek, but Rodney had been able to convince himself that it was climbing slowly upward.  He’d make it to the top of that hill eventually.  If he’d end up anywhere near the StarGate – that was another matter altogether.

Walking along the path, he had to admit, was much easier than scaling the slope.  He’d make it back to the Gate, eventually.  It just might take a hell of a lot of time.  The problem was, he didn’t feel as if he had much ‘time’ left in him.

His progress was slowing and evening was falling again.  Tired, hurt, Rodney sought shelter.  There was no sense in going any further tonight – he knew he was exhausted.  He was in no shape to push himself.  God, he just wanted to rest!

He found a little hole beneath a tree where a nurse log had long ago nurtured it, and discovered a remarkably dry bedroom.  Grateful for the rest, he crawled in, and for a moment he just sat, breathing, letting himself ‘zone out’.

It felt good to sit, to be still.  Should have stopped hours ago, he decided.  He glanced at his watch and saw that it was still afternoon in Atlantis.  People were probably milling about, finishing up their work for the day, discussing dinner plans.  His stomach rumbled at that thought.

Reluctantly, he pulled another of his Powerbars from his stash.  He considered waiting a little longer to consume it, but his hunger got the better of him and he opened the packet with his teeth.  Huddled in his damp jacket, he gnawed on the bar.  He had one left after this one, and hoped that was enough to get him back.

He had set the projector’s casing just outside the trees, letting it fill with rainwater.  The guts of the mechanism had been slid inside his jacket for safekeeping.  He didn’t know exactly why he was still hanging onto the thing – but he’d kept it for this long and he wasn’t about to give up.

So he sat, listening to the quiet ‘plunk’ of water falling into the casing, the patter of rain dripping everywhere else and the hiss that surrounded all of it.  He let his mind wander, meander.  What was everyone doing back in Atlantis? 

Grodin was probably at the Gate -- the man spends most of his waking hours there.  He really should find something to do with his spare time.  Zelenka?  Oh, he was nose deep in some project, no doubt.  The man is like a bulldog when it comes to thinks like that... bulldog?  No, that's rather British. Is there a Czech dog?  Don't know.  I've never really been a dog-person.  Dogs... well, you can't depend on them.

Beckett was probably messing about in the infirmary.  No doubt, someone was sick or hurt.  Someone was always sick or hurt.

He paced himself as he ate, letting his meal last as long as possible – but too soon, his hand clenched an empty wrapper.

Considerate, he balled up the waste and shoved it into a pocket with the others, and went to work on his shoe.  It felt painfully tight over his left foot.  The muddy laces wouldn’t give.  He studied it for a while, then pulled his jackknife from a pocket and fumbled with the blades, pulling out first a screwdriver, a pair of tiny scissors, and a file before he found a knife.

He held it over the laces, ready to cut the thing off, but paused. Should he cut through the laces entirely?  If the boot wasn’t tightly secured to his foot, he knew it would be sucked off the moment he tried to negotiate through the mud.  If he removed the boot, would he even be able to get his foot back inside it come morning?

He sighed, rubbing his foot through the shoe, thinking.  What if he’d broken something?  Wasn’t the boot acting as a quasi-cast?  But if the foot were merely strained and swollen, would the constraint eventually keep the blood from getting to his foot?

He continued to knead at the boot, his fingers squelching through the mud that covered it.  He wanted answers, wanting to know what to do.  Medicine was all voodoo and happenstance anyway – all guess and conjecture.  God, he wanted to get that boot off!  His foot hurt… it ached… it throbbed mercilessly.

Then, as he pressed, a pain shot through the foot – like a shock of electricity.  With a gasp, he let go.  “Ow!  Oh, okay… it’s broken,” he decided in a flash, releasing his hold.  “Not going to touch that again.  No.”  He leaned back, stretching out his leg, as if to get as far from it as possible in the little hole, and closed his eyes.  “Yeah, that’d be just my luck.  Walking for days on a broken foot.”

When he was able to deal with the pain, he sat forward again and rubbed his hands on a sufficiently clean spot on his pants.  He found the jackknife and closed the blade.  He was satisfied that was doing the right thing  – leaving the boot alone.  It was better left bound up, wasn’t it?  Ah, who the hell knew!  He hated the squishy sciences.

He leaned back until he was supine and stared up at the braches above his head.  He’d have to walk again tomorrow.  Have to walk again.  Crap….

Well, what else could he do?  He had to get back.  He had to do this alone.  Staring up at the branches, he noted how they branched off in threes, creating a symmetry in their chaos.  It was almost pretty.  It was almost like a piece of artwork.  It reminded him, almost, of some of the geometric designs in Atlantis.

What were they doing right now? he wondered.  What was everyone doing in Atlantis?  Some are probably heading for an early dinner.  What’s on the menu tonight?  Are their any activities planned for the evening?  Maybe someone’s playing a movie.  I like movie night.  Sure, we’ve all seen the shows a dozen times already – but it’s always nice.  Wish I would’ve brought something from home.  I have a whole stack of DVDs that I’ve never watched.

Elizabeth is probably in her office, working on the latest issue that has cropped up.  She does the best she can and has a hell of a responsibility.  I hope no one is giving her a hard time about all this.  The major… now the major can be trouble when his ire is up.

Bet he’s rather annoyed with all this.  Rather obnoxious situation for him, I’d think.   Wondering what he’s doing right now.  Training with Teyla, perhaps.  Maybe he’s still trying to read “War and Peace”.  Wish he wouldn’t treat that book like a trial.  It’s not that bad.  Hope he’s found something to do.

Teyla, maybe she’s visiting with her people right now.   It must be hard for her at times, staying with us when everyone she cares about is on the mainland.  I hope she’s doing okay.  At least she has Ford and the major to look out for her.

Ford’s a good kid.  No, that’s not really right.  He’s a good man – there you go.  He’s got more guts than I’ll ever have.

I hope they’re doing something together at least – movie night maybe – could be ‘Smokey and the Bandit’ again.  Oh!  Maybe it’s ‘The Blues Brothers’… great movie… great music.  Wish I was there.  Hope they’re there together, having a good time.

Are they worried about me? 

Night was falling. All around him the sky grew dark.

I’ve been gone for two days now.  Are they looking for me?  Or have they already given up.


CHAPTER 18:  LINGERING

Ford, Sheppard and Teyla lingered at the balcony overlooking the endless ocean.  Today, Dr. Rodney McKay’s name had been added to the list of the dead and the missing.  Atlantis had given up on him.

“I don’t understand why nobody’s cutting down those trees,” Aiden said softly.  “I mean, what would it hurt?  We knock down those trees and then send up a jumper – go look for him.  Try to find that dart.”  He leaned against the railing and looking out at the dark ocean, absently rubbing his elbow.  A faded moon hung in the daylight sky, looking like a leftover ornament from a past celebration.

“It’s not that easy,” Sheppard responded, from beside him.  The water looked dark and unfriendly.  “Everyone’s pretty sure he’s dead.  They seem pretty convinced that the darts aren’t set up for storing people.”  He said the words dully, not wanting to think too much about it.  “And if he’s still alive – that dart is probably too far gone.”

Teyla, next to Ford, stated, “Perhaps it would be best if he has ‘passed on’.”  She used a euphemism she’d recently learned.  “I do not want him to be held by them for a long period.  I do not want to think he is suffering.”  Her face was drawn in a long expression.  "Too many have suffered at the hands of the Wraith.  I do not want him to suffer."

Sheppard said nothing, remembering Sumner. There was no ‘passing on’ involved when a Wraith sucked the life from a man.  Suffering... yes there was suffering.

“It’s weird.  I just can’t get my mind around it,” Ford went on.  “He can’t be dead.  I can’t believe he’s stuck on a Wraith ship.  None of that seems right.  I keep thinking he’s just in his lab, or about to step out that door to find us.  I just got this feeling that he's still around and we just haven't been looking in the right place.”   The young man kept his eyes on the rolling surf. “I don’t like thinking that he’s gone.  It just seems wrong. ”

“It IS wrong,” Sheppard stated.  And the three of them said nothing for a time – just watching as the sun came lower in the sky, as it dipped to the horizon.  The waves rolled, looking dark and cold and ominous.  The sun balanced for a moment on the sea, and then slowly disappeared.  They watched it go.

The sky in the east darkened, becoming a rich, deep blue, but the brilliant colors of sunset never appeared in the west.  It was an entirely unspectacular end to the day.

Sheppard leaned against the railing, watching the sun go, feeling gypped by the display.  The sky remained illuminated, the rays of the hidden sun still casting their glow, but the eastern sky was blackening.  The moon began to take on a luster, and another started to rise.

Nobody spoke.   And the quiet was welcome. The three team- members remained at the railing, each of them leaning against it, letting it hold them up as the watched night cross the sea.

Sheppard quietly blew out a breath, unable to fathom the fact that McKay would never again burst through a doorway, just brimming with excitement about his newest discovery.  He’d never again hear the Canadian gripe about their latest predicament.  Never put up with his worst-case scenarios.  Never witness those flashes of lightning as the genius made those incredible bounds in logic.  Never hear those snarky comebacks.  Never again see how brave the man could be.  They’d never again share some stupid joke, snipe at one another, or just laugh together.

Sheppard rested his head on his arms as he draped over the railing.  The darkness reached further, taking in even the western sky, forgetting the sun and its light.  The stars came out, creating constellations with forgotten names.

God, I’m going to miss him, he thought.  Just haven’t figured out how to do it yet.  Maybe tomorrow.  Maybe tomorrow I’ll start missing him, because for right now I just don’t want to believe he’s gone.


CHAPTER 19:  TRAVELING EVER ONWARD

Morning again – and the gray mist came in.  Rodney stared out at it from his little den, watching the fog roll across the ground beyond.  Slowly, he turned over, taking a moment to find his strength.  Okay… okay… time to get moving again. You can do it.  Of course you can do it.

But I’m so damn tired.  I don’t think I can do this again.  Everything hurts.  Am I ever going to dry out?  He felt as if he’d been damp for weeks – as if it had been months since he was truly warm.  I have to start moving or I’ll never get out of here.

Slowly, he sat up, glad for the extra headroom, and pulled his legs close.  Okay, he thought, another day – yes, I have another day in front of me.  Just have to walk a bit – just have to keep going up this path and hope my foot doesn’t fall off or that a mudslide doesn’t come down on me– or I don’t get attacked by mad deer or a malevolent man-eating sparrow …

He dreaded getting up and into that cold weather.  But, he reasoned, moving was the only way to warm up.  Just a moment or two longer, just a bit… and I’ll go.  Must wake up first.  And no coffee?  The inhumanity!  They’d run out of the life-giving substance at Atlantis, but it had been replaced with a nutty-tasting tea that was nearly as good.  He’d give his right arm and his hurt foot for a big steaming mug of that tea at that moment.

Resting his chin on his knees, he realized it was terribly early.  The sun had probably just risen.  Whether or not the sun would ever make an appearance through the cloud cover – that was another matter altogether.   He checked his watch, seeing that it was the middle of the night still on Atlantis.  Everyone was safe and warm in bed, not even thinking of what faced each of them in the coming morning.

He closed his eyes, wondering about them – the people of Atlantis -- content in their sleep – probably not even bothered by nightmares of Wraith or rivers or rain.  And he thought about his teammates, hoping they were sleeping, because, maybe they were having a tough time of it.

They would worry about him, wouldn’t they?

It felt good to believe that others might be concerned about him.  He’d really better get back – put their minds at ease if nothing else.  Time to get moving.

With a sigh, he fought his way out of his tree-trunk bedroom and found a stone to act as a chair.  He rested again, in squelching shoes, in the green-green, misty, wet world of PX1-H0H.  Thankfully, there was no rain this morning, but the mist was as moist as a drizzle.

He drank down the water he’d collected overnight, and picked up what remained of his belongings.  He gazed at the broken projector for a moment – just dangling wires and half-a-casing.  He’d lost all of his own gadgets – maybe that’s why he clung to this one – just to have something ‘technical’ to hold.  It’s all I have left.  At that thought, he slapped his forehead.

“Of course,” he muttered.  “Consider about what would have happened if you forgot about that little bit of business!”  He stared at the device for a long minute, thinking and devising.  He held it in one direction, and then another as he plotted and planned.  Then, with a grin, he set to work.

Taking the jackknife, he opened up the partially dismembered device, and started to finagle out pieces.  He messed with it, rewiring, moving one piece and then another.  The mist swirled around him as he concentrated on the thing, fixing it… changing it, turning the device into something other than a holographic dart projector.  He smiled when he was done.  There was no telling if he’d gotten it right – he had no power at the moment to test it.  But with a grin, he shoved it in his pocket.  It would come in handy, no doubt, when the time came.

Done with that bit of business, he drew in a steadying breath, and took his first step of the day.  He let out a little groan as he started, still feeling every stiff muscle, every hurt.

The mist lay about the land, undulating, curling and coiling, giving the word a primeval look.  He half-expected dinosaurs to emerge from the fog. Not so far from the truth, he told himself as he walked.  You never know what you’ll find on these planets.

As he traveled along, as he moved ever onward, he caught sight of the stocky-looking deer.  They came out of the fog like specters.  Startling and darting away, they’d disappear into the mist immediately, as if they’d dematerialized. Yet, he’d hear them, walking through the undergrowth – secure in the mist and their belief that the intruder posed no real threat.

He saw one disappear just in front of him and, as he slowly ambled past its hiding place, he heard the panting breaths, seeming to come from a mere arm’s length away.  It snorted as he moved along, and he felt the hairs prink at the back of his neck.

The trail continued – and he concentrated only on following it – unable to see farther than a few yards.  He could only hope it was taking him up and toward the Gate and not further from it.  It switched back and forth, but for all he knew, he might have traveled for miles in the wrong direction.  The fog was so dense, it might be leading him to the end of the world.

He sniffled, and checked the time, finding he’d been walking for nearly an hour.  The gray morning hung heavily and he sighed thinking about Atlantis again – wondering how far he was from his home.

The deer trail had turned to muck, and he slogged on. The mud tugged at his boots, making the pain in his left foot almost unbearable as he pulled himself loose, time and again.

Must be getting closer, he told himself.  Must be almost there.  A warm bed, a hot shower, cocoa or something like it, that hot tea, a bowl of soup, some fresh baked bread.  Warm and safe and dry.

Be nice to chat it up with the Major.  Hang out with Ford or Teyla , he thought as he trudged along.  Funny, but he was looking forward to seeing them even more than the other things.  See what Zelenka is up to – find out what Grodin knows about the latest Gate missions – report back to Weir, fill her in on my little adventure. See if Beckett has had any luck with that pretty blonde Athosian.

He struggled along, jerking his feet from the deepening mud, realizing that his limp was getting worse with the ill-treatment. Great… just great.  I’m not going to make it.   I’m not the type to do this.  I’ve got no stamina.  Never been the kind that liked the great outdoors, camping and all that.  Give me a nice lab any day.  Give me a computer and hot lunch.

He jerked his foot free from the mud again with a groan of pain and weariness.  He couldn’t keep this up.  This was madness!  He just couldn’t do it anymore.  He sighed and leaned against a tree.  How much further did he have to walk?  How much longer?  Can’t do it anymore… just can’t.

He watched the fog move – covering the open space before him.  The trees had given way to a field, and the fog rolled through it in a mesmerizing display.  Too tired, too cold to think, he let his mind go blank, letting himself feel numb, watching the dance of vapor.

I can’t do this.  I just can’t go any further.  But I’ve come this far already.  I must be almost there!  No, I’m probably miles away – following a trail to nowhere.  The mud is getting too thick.  I can’t walk in it any more. It hurts too much.  I’ll never make it back.

But I have to…

He stared out at the moving fog… watching it boil and roll.  It started to rain again – the gentle patter that seemed par-for-the-course on this planet.  He ducked his head, ready for it.

He looked across the field to see a shape revealed.  It formed out of the gray – solid, curved and half-hidden by a semi-circle of trees.


CHAPTER 20:  SLEEPWALKING

Sheppard moved through Atlantis, unable to sleep.  He’d found no solace with the night, so he walked, past empty meeting rooms, along deserted corridors.  He should be in bed -- he was exhausted.  After the injuries he suffered in the collapse of the hallway, the drugs, the long bone-tiring day, the heart-wrenching conclusions, he should be in bed.

Instead, he walked, like a somnambulist, through the hallways of Atlantis.  He paused outside Rodney’s lab and pressed open the door, just to check – just to be sure.  The place was vacant and felt strangely cold to him.  It was so odd to find it that way -- McKay's lab was usually bustling with activity.  This room was the heart of all things scientific.  To find it quiet -- was wrong.

It was like a bad dream.  Everything about this was wrong. 

He wandered, restless, listless.  As a soldier, he’d lost friends.  He knew what it was like to lose a comrade.  It always hurt.  It was never easy.  Death was nothing new to him, but this loss seemed so – empty – so pointless – so futile.

McKay was just… gone.  Swept up, when no one was looking.  No real proof -- only speculations -- only surrender.  It was all so … pathetic, Sheppard realized.  Everyone ran their conjectures, their scenarios and just kept coming to the conclusion that the only logical explanation was that Rodney McKay had his life force sucked out by peckish Wraith – well, it was crap.

Without proof, Sheppard wouldn’t believe it.  He’d rather go on thinking that McKay had somehow escaped it all, that maybe he was okay and they just had to find him.  But where the hell was he?  They’d looked all over the plateau.  McKay couldn’t have gotten off it – not without them seeing the tracks on the slope.  If he’d been running from the Wraith, if he’d somehow escaped them, he should have been back by now.

Sheppard crammed his hands into his pockets and kept walking, not wanting to think about it.  He kept remembering Sumner.  He didn’t want to imagine the same thing happening to Rodney. At least, at least with Sumner there’d been a way to end his suffering.  McKay faced it alone.

But no, that wasn’t right.  It just didn’t feel right!  Can’t there be another explanation?

He paused in his stride, and changed his path toward the GateRoom. It was probably morning on PX1-H0H now.  Maybe, if he gathered the right team, he could get out there and start work on those trees.  It would be as hard as hell, but maybe they could take down enough to allow a path for the jumper – just enough to squeak it out.

Would it be futile?  Probably.  But, maybe he could figure out where that dart had gone, and maybe he could follow and catch up with it, and maybe he could disable it without hurting the passenger, and maybe he could get past the Wraith and rescue McKay… and maybe Rodney would be okay.

Or maybe I should take a flight over the planet – see if Rodney went somewhere we hadn’t thought of  – see if we missed something.

John hurried his steps.  He knew it was a long shot.  He knew that Weir was right – he knew that, logically, there was no hope.  But it wouldn’t stop him.  Even if it took a week to take down those trees, he’d have to go up, have to see for himself.

He entered the room, finding it dim.  Only the Gate and part of the command center was fully illuminated.  A pair of guards were milling about.  Grodin was at the control center, listlessly poking at a keyboard.  He leaned his chin on one hand as he gazed at the laptop’s screen.  A couple of assistants looked equally lethargic.

“Hey,” Sheppard greeted as he approached the Brit.

Grodin gave him a tight smile, half hidden.  “You’re up early,” he responded without any emotion.

“Am I?” Sheppard asked, as he reached the scientist.  “So are you.”

“Hmmm,” Grodin responded.  “I couldn’t quite sleep,” he admitted.  “I thought I’d relieve Marymere and try to complete some work.”  He shrugged one shoulder.  “Unfortunately, I can’t keep my mind on anything.”

“Know how you feel,” Sheppard told him. 

“He’s a pain in the ass,” Grodin muttered.  “Arrogant bastard. There’ve been times when I just wanted to take a swing at him.”

Sheppard smiled slightly.  “You did… once.”

Grodin didn’t lift his head from his hand.  “That didn’t count,” he commented.

“Bet it felt good, though,” Sheppard tried.

“Up until the point I nearly broke my hand,” Peter responded.  His eyes returned to the laptop’s monitor and he poked again at the keyboard.

Sheppard glanced toward the Gate. “I’m going to get a team together and we’ll take out those trees,” he stated.  “Try and find that egotistical SOB.  Don’t care if Weir okays it.”

Grodin perked up.  “You’re still looking?” he asked. 

Sheppard nodded.  “I’m not ready to give up on him.”

“We have to try,” Peter stated, hopefully.  “I know the chances are slim, but Sanchez has been trying to devise a means of removing the trees efficiently.  I have names, names of people willing to help.   I can have them all assembled in a matter of minutes.  Dr. Zelenka has this theory that maybe the Wraith never caught him.  That maybe…”

And then the klaxon sounded.  The StarGate fired up. The guards below immediately came to attention.  Grodin shot to his feet and reached the DHD.  “Unscheduled activation,” he stated unnecessarily, watching the symbols lighting.  “From PX1-H0H.”  He gave Sheppard a startled look.

“Anyone still out there?” Shepard asked, anxiously.  “We have search parties looking?”

“No… no one…unless…” and Grodin paused, grimacing.  “No IDC.”  And he slammed a fist against the counter.

“Lower the shield,” Sheppard ordered.

“But… it could be the Wraith… it could be… anyone.”

“You know who it is,” Sheppard continued.

“Wait… wait,” and Grodin grinned, looking at the readout, as a code was revealed.  “That’s it!” he shouted, and quickly hit the release. 

Two seconds later, a form stepped through, coming unremarkably through the event horizon.

He was hunched and muddy.  He shuffled when he walked and looked totally wretched, but there was no mistaking the man who entered the GateRoom.  The guards lowered their weapons immediately.

“McKay!”  John shouted as he ran down the steps.  Grodin was right behind him.

“Oh, hey,” Rodney replied, wavering on his feet.  He smiled, watching them approach.  His shoulders seemed to sink a little more as he looked about, relaxing with a look of contentment on his filthy face.

John grinned, taking in the weary man.  He’s back.  Son-of-a-bitch!  Looks like shit, but damn… he was back!  Thank God!   There was a hundred questions Sheppard wanted to ask, a thousand things he needed to know – where had he been, what happened to him, was he hurt? 

Hell, John wanted to just hug him and make sure he was really there… but instead he cleared his throat and asked, “So, I was heading to the mess to pick up something to eat. You wanna come?”  He inclined his head in the direction of the food.

McKay blinked and then dipped his head in a nod.  “I could eat.”

“Cool,” Sheppard replied, reaching out one hand to clasp McKay’s arm.  He schooled his expression, trying not to look surprised at how cold and wet the astrophysicist felt.  Turning to find Grodin smiling beside him, Sheppard asked,  “Grodin, you don’t mind if we take off on you?”

“Not at all,” Grodin returned, trying to sound casual.  “Enjoy.”  He grinned like a fool and rocked back on his heels.

“Okay then.” And Sheppard turned.  “Let’s go.” And he fell into step beside the slowly limping McKay, not removing his hand from McKay’s arm. 

Grodin watched them go, and then turned to the stairs – figuring that he’d better call Dr. Beckett and let him know that he was about to have a visitor.  There were a half-dozen other people he’d contact next.  The infirmary would probably be inundated in a matter of minutes.   Better see if I can have something sent over from the kitchen, too.  Grodin charged up the stairway, finally feeling good about something.

“I was thinking,” Rodney said as they moved down the hallway.  “Maybe… we’d stop at the infirmary on the way to the mess.”

“Ya think?”

“Yeah, you know.  Kinda hurt my foot… a bit.”

“Yeah?”

“Since it’s on the way.  Thought I’d have Beckett take a look at it… you know. ”

“Sure, we can stop.  No problem.”

“Yeah, I figured, what the hell.”  McKay looked to Sheppard’s bound hand.  “What did you do to yourself?”

Sheppard glanced at his bandage.  “Booby trap.  Ceiling fell on us.  Scraped my knuckles pretty bad. Hurts.”  Sheppard’s other hand went under McKay’s elbow, helping to support him as his limp became more pronounced.

“Booby trap?”

“Yeah, Ford hit some sort of a trigger in that corridor you found.  Blam, it all came down on us.”

“Anyone hurt?”

“Nah, nothing worse than this.  Pirates… go figure.”

“Pirates?”

“'Bogalusas' or something like that. They’re the ones who built the corridor, booby-trapped it. Zelenka figures they’d used the ruins that already existed, and built their treasure trove beneath it.”

“Pirates?  Like ‘yo ho ho, and a bottle of rum’?”

“‘Avast me hearties’ or  something like that.”

“Hmm, they used an existing structure…that might explain the symbols.  None of it made any sense.”

“Yeah, that’s what that Zelenka thought.  Said they changed some of the writing on the walls, trying to make it look like the Ancients wanted people to stay away”

Realizing that they were slowing even further, John changed his grip, wrapping one arm around McKay’s waist to keep him moving, using both arms to hold him up now.

He could feel McKay shivering.  God, what the hell happened to him?  The man was covered in mud from head to foot.  Evergreen needles were plastered in his hair and everywhere, a big glob of something was jauntily adhered to one side of his head.  His hands were coated in grime, and his boots probably had an inch of mud coating them.  They left a trail of muddy footprints to mark their path.

“What you been up to?” Sheppard asked.

“Went swimming.”

“Yeah?” John responded brightly.  “Me, too.”

McKay nodded.  “Yeah, I know.  Figured, what the hell.  Thought I’d might as well try it, too.  It was nothing like a water park, you know?  Wild River Raft rides… they got nothing on this.”  He winced as he walked, and then smiled as he asked, “Teyla… did she…?”

“Borrowed someone’s swimsuit.”

“Oh… too bad.”

They kept walking.  Rodney sniffled and John freed one hand long enough to pull a handkerchief out of his pocket.  McKay took it and just held the cloth, clutching it as if enthralled by the prospect of touching something dry.

Sheppard felt the damp that permeated McKay’s jacket and wondered about the swimming.  As the major worked at keeping the scientist upright and moving, he felt something odd within that jacket, pressed between them.  “What you got in there?” he asked, indicating the large metal square within McKay’s inside pocket.

McKay puzzled for a moment, trying to remember, then stated, “Oh, a Wraith Dart… or GDO.  I had to wire it into the DHD to power it.  I guess you got my IDC?”

“Dart? I didn’t know they came so small,” Sheppard stated, figured that the solution to what had gone on was at hand.

“Who would've figured?” McKay responded, sounding sleepy as he leaned more of his weight on Sheppard.  “Most curious really.  I’ll have to tell you all about it.”

“Yeah, you will,” Sheppard told him, realizing that their pace had slowed to almost nothing. “Almost there,” he stated, hang on tightly.

“Ah, good,” McKay responded.  “Good… it’s all good,” he stated, his head dipped and his eyes closed for a moment before he lifted his head again, and blinked about in surprise.  "This isn’t a dream, is it?"

"God, I hope not,” Sheppard said quickly, thinking it’d be a hell of a thing to wake up and find out that McKay was still missing.  “Better not be.  And, McKay, if you are dreaming, next time, include some girls."

And McKay laughed as he leaned against his friend and the door to the infirmary came into view.  Beckett came bursting through the door and that was the last thing McKay remembered for a while.


CHAPTER 21:  RELAXING

“Hey!” Sheppard greeted as he stepped onto the balcony.  He took the seat nearest the scientist and leaned back.

McKay didn’t move.  Relaxing in the lounge chair and nestled in blankets with his foot in a cast and a big mug of tea at his elbow, he looked asleep.  But, as Sheppard settled himself, he didn’t miss the one blue eye that looked at him for a moment before closing.

“Comfy?” Sheppard asked.

“Very,” McKay responded.  “A hot shower and a good hot meal are things of beauty,” he muttered.   Dr. Beckett had examined the Canadian upon arrival, finding him suffering from exhaustion, low blood sugar, hypothermia and a broken bone in his foot – along a rather large number of scrapes, scratches and some spectacular bruises.

“Nothin’ a cast, a few good meals, a round of antibiotics, and a week of rest won’t cure,” the Scotsman had declared after soundly chastising McKay for walking so long on an obviously broken appendage.

Of course, Carson did commend the man for leaving the boot alone and keeping the foot tightly bound.  It kept the broken bone from shifting excessively.  A sleepy McKay had responded with a curt, “I knew that!”

And after a day of sleep, McKay had found the strength to venture out to the balcony, find a prime spot – and then promptly fell asleep again.

Sheppard leaned further back, tipping the chair as he regarded the physicist, wrapped in blankets and enjoying the sun.  It would probably take a while for Rodney to feel truly warm again.  “The guys in the lab have been examining that holographic projector you took apart and turned into an GDO,” Sheppard stated.

“Guys?” McKay returned, furrowing his brow.

Sheppard chuckled, knowing that McKay liked to know which of his scientists were in charge of any project.  “Ah, Zelenka, Queets and Sappho… is that her real name?” Sheppard asked.

“Seems to be the case.”

“Really?  You’d think she’d change it.”

“Exactly.  I mentioned the same to her.  You’d think she’d have a better sense of humor in any case,” McKay responded.

Sheppard shook his head.  “Anyway, they haven’t been able to pin down the technology.  Not Ancient, but they haven’t seen anything like it before.”

“Well, according to Teyla, those pirates were rather active in their day.”   McKay responded, his eyes still closed and his hands folded over his chest. “They could have gotten it from anywhere.”

“Crafty of them.  Sending up a Wraith Dart is almost as scary as flying a Jolly Roger.”

“And they booby trapped the place.”

“Yeah, Zelenka found a couple other boobies.  Seems that the ceiling collapse knocked out most of them.  One of the triggers probably started for that hologram projector you found.  Zelenka found some rather dried up snakes hidden in a box within the chest – seems they were meant to be released and kill anyone who tried to move the stuff around.  That, and another ceiling set to collapse.  Luckily he figured that one out.”

“Too bad about the snakes,” Rodney muttered. 

“What?  You’d want to mess around with snakes?”

Rodney gave an involuntary shudder.  “God, no!  I’m just saying that it’s a pity they weren’t alive for study.”  Still he added, “Poor snakes… left to starve.”

“Zelenka think that the snakes are proof that stash wasn’t meant to stay there for so long.  The site must have been used just for short-term storage.  He figures something happened to the guys who hid it.”

“In any case, it was all rather sloppily done,” McKay stated.  “I’d rate them as amateurs at best.  Sure, the hologram worked like a charm, but their symbols left much to be desired.”

“It took a lot of work to dig that chamber.  Why not work harder at getting the symbols right?”

“It’s all a mystery.  And so you made off with the pirate’s loot?”

“Well, we were calling it ‘booty’… but yeah.  There’s a lot there.  Gold, gemstones, crystals.  If we were on Earth, we’d all be very rich men right now.”

“Crystals?”

“Zelenka’s got them all corralled for you. You can check ‘em out when you’re feeling better.”

“Better have someone check everything you brought in – for homing devices and such.”  McKay yawned.  “Check the hologram projector, too.”

“Think the pirates are planning to get it back?” Sheppard asked.

McKay opened his eyes again and gave him a pointed look.  “They’re pirates,” he stated.  “Don’t pirates tend to get pissed off when you steal their stuff?” He yawned and smacked his lips, obviously ready for another nap.  He pulled one hand free and wrapped it around the still-warm mug, but didn’t lift it.

“Yeah, I guess they do,” Sheppard conceded.  “We’ll have the booty checked.”

“Did you just say ‘booty check’?” McKay asked, confused.

“You need more sleep,” Sheppard laughed.

“Ah yes, well, that’s a given,” McKay responded.  “I just wouldn’t want Bluebeard showing up in the GateRoom.”  He yawned.  “Or that Johnny Depp guy.”

“Sparrow?” Sheppard supplied.

McKay opened his eyes again, as if he expected to see a bird flying at him, then gave the Major a disgusted look before closing his eyes again and shuffling into his blankets.

Rodney had told them about his exploits, from the cannonball off the cliff, to the tumultuous flight downriver, the abortive attempt to climb the hill, the cold nights beneath trees, the rewiring of the projector, and then the long trek with a broken foot through the rain and the muck to come home.  Sheppard had been impressed.  It wasn’t that he didn’t think McKay was capable of such a feat -- he was just plain impressed.  

He dove off that cliff, Sheppard realized.  God, I wish I’d gone to check it out and seen that river below.  I probably would’ve figured out where he’d gone.  Just because the others didn't think he was capable...

From hearing McKay’s description of events, the major had also learned that Capt. Ozette had flat-out lied on several accounts. There was no ‘discharge’ from the service here, but the group would be on report.  Ozette took the blame, stating that his team was only backing him up.

The fact that Ozette was sporting a black eye after their meeting was beside the point.  Ozette told anyone who’d ask that he’d walked into a door.  He’d offer no further details.

“Why'd they have to lie?” Sheppard asked suddenly.  “Ozette and the others,” he put in.  “They could have just told me what actually happened.”

McKay made a slight shrug, almost unseen beneath the blanket.  “They were scared of you.”

“Me?  Scared of me?”  John asked, his eyebrows raised.

“Ozette probably figured you’d blow a gasket if you knew that he hadn’t followed correct procedure.  He was covering his ass.  Alava and the rest were just backing him up.  They’re his team, after all.  A team should stand with their members.”  McKay sounded tired, his voice growing softer as he spoke.  “Anyway, considering that they thought a Wraith dart was bearing down on them, they did the right thing when they left.  It’s what I would have done.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” Sheppard returned.

Rodney gave a snort, and continued, his voice becoming quieter, “How do you think I’d feel if that dart was really there, and I was the reason they all stayed put.  How do you think I’d feel if they’d all been taken?”  He shuffled in the chair and added,  “I thought they were dead.  I thought they were all dead… They did the right thing in coming back,” McKay added.  “Just wish they hadn’t put words in my mouth.  Hate it when people do that.”

Yeah, Sheppard thought, they were pretty damn sure you were dead – so they figured their lies would never be discovered.  “Glad you made it back,” John said after a moment.

“Yeah,” McKay said with another yawn.  “Me, too.”

Sheppard faced the ocean, finding it more inviting than that previous evening.  The waves seem to froth and play today, the sun glinting off them, turning everything green and blue.

He turned back to McKay, but the scientist had apparently fallen asleep, tucked up in his blankets, one hand still wrapped around the mug of hot tea, as if a world of cold hadn’t yet been driven from him.  But the content look on his face told that he was getting there.

Sheppard turned at a sound, to find Ford and Teyla slipping onto the balcony.  They looked at him expectantly as they lingered at the doorway.

Holding a finger to his lips to still any questions, he tipped a head to the sleeping scientist.  The other two nodded, smiling as they gazed down at McKay, their teammate, and then found seats for themselves.

It was a beautiful day, after all.  Sheppard closed his eyes, feeling rather good.  Teyla and Aiden settled in, looking pretty damn happy just to sit there and look out on the sea.

We should plan another trip, Sheppard thought.  Maybe not to that lake – don’t know if McKay will want to have anything to do with swimming just yet– and he’ll be in that cast for a while anyway.  I’ll think of something, though.  Plenty of other places we could go.

Someplace warm though, he decided.  Definitely warm. 

Sheppard smiled.  They were all together again – all safe in Atlantis, warm and dry.  Everything was right in the world again.

THE END

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