Friendship, Week 2: Running (2/2)
Title: Running
Author: titan5
Genre: Friendship
Prompt: The best-laid plans
Word Count: around 18,000
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Summary: Ronon and John are on the run from the Wraith.
Notes: Set early in season four. Many thanks to sharpes hussy for her beta work. I did some tinkering after her suggestions, so all mistakes are mine.
[ Part One] [ Part Two]
Running Part 2
The two men silently stared at one another as they sat frozen in place. The shuffling noises had quieted some, but rough voices took their place.
"Anything?"
"Nothing. It is as if they vanished."
"Humans do not vanish. They are here somewhere. Continue your search."
"These are not ordinary humans. They are Lanteans. Perhaps they had a ship the others did not know of."
"It is doubtful. The Lantean ship would be hard to land with so many trees. We will continue to look for them a little longer. Capturing Lanteans would be a fine prize for our queen."
There was muffled grunting followed by the fading sounds of footsteps through the brush. Ronon and John continued to stare silently at one another for several minutes before relaxing their tense bodies. John let his head drop and took in a deep breath. "That was close," he whispered.
Ronon nodded, looking up at the woven branches covering them. He had his gun drawn and was frowning slightly. John opened his mouth to ask if anything was wrong, only to suddenly sneeze twice in quick succession. The involuntary actions had occurred without warning, giving him no time to muffle their sound. Frozen in place once again, he didn't dare even sniffle the congestion he'd managed to loosen.
Just as he began to relax again, thinking the Wraith had been far enough away to miss his impromptu fit, the roof was torn away in flurry of scraping branches and whirling dead leaves. John immediately rolled to his left as a stunner blast passed close enough to make the skin on his arm tingle. By the time he'd made a one-eighty to land on his back, he looked up just in time to see a male Wraith get flung back by a red blast from Ronon's gun. Slightly dizzy from his tumbling act, it took him a moment to get to his knees and keep watch while Ronon checked the body.
"Dead," the Satedan rumbled as he stood and surveyed the forest. When no sign of reinforcements came crashing through the brush, he walked over to offer John a hand up.
"Thanks," the colonel said as he accepted the help to his feet. They both continued to scan the surrounding area, watching for any sign of movement. "Think we got lucky for once?"
"About time," Ronon replied. "But we can't stay here."
John sighed. "Yeah, I know." The rest had helped, but he still felt like a truck had run him over in the very recent past. He wasn't at all sure how much longer he would last, but one thing was for sure. There was no way they could stay here with a dead Wraith. "We should try to hide the body. If they find him, they'll know for sure we're still here."
Nodding, Ronon began dragging the corpse to their former hiding place. John felt a little guilty not helping, but he knew he had to save his strength for running. Watching as Ronon covered the body with the former roof of their structure and then used a branch to brush away the footprints in the surrounding loose dirt, John had to smile. "You do good work," he said, noting that it just looked like a big clump of bushes and forest debris.
"Lots of practice," Ronon said with a shrug and a grin. "We need to get moving."
Grimacing, John headed the way Ronon was pointing. "I was afraid you were going to say that."
oOo
They spent the next several hours dodging Wraith, forcing them to swing out in a path that took them farther from the gate. There were no good hiding places, with the trees and brush so thin in places as to make them feel like sitting ducks. By the time they found a good place to stop and felt safe doing it, it was getting dark. The trees were sparse in this direction, but there were large slabs of rock, many of them piled at odd angles. One such grouping had a small hollow in the middle, if you were willing to climb up several feet and then lower yourself down at an extreme angle to fit into it. John barely had the energy to accomplish the maneuver before collapsing onto the hard rock floor of their newfound hiding spot. The cool stone felt good against the hot, tight skin of his face.
"We should be safe here for a while," Ronon said, dropping down beside him. "We're out of the main search area and well hidden."
"Unless they find us, and then we're boxed in and good as dead." John groaned. "Well crap, I'm channeling Rodney."
Ronon snickered beside him, which didn't make him feel any better. "Maybe you're hanging around him too much."
"Maybe," John echoed. The light moment vanished as he once again wondered if Rodney and Teyla had made it through the gate. Had all this elaborate running around done any good?
"They made it."
Smiling, John pushed himself to a sitting position, wincing when he brushed his injured arm against a sharp rock facing. "You reading my mind again?"
"Not hard right now," he said, barely visible in the darkness. "I was thinking about them too."
John was a little surprised at the admission, but it pleased him just the same. "I guess teams are like that." A sudden thought struck him and he squinted up at the tiny shaft of light bending around the stacked rocks to provide them some muted visibility. "I wonder if they're in Atlantis right now, worrying about us. If they've sent a MALP through, then they know this place is crawling with Wraith. Surely they wouldn't try to . . . "
"They wouldn't. Carter knows better, even if the others want to come."
John nodded. Ronon was right. Carter was military and had dealt with these type situations before. She was clear headed enough to make the right decision, even if it was a hard one. "You're right. Colonel Carter knows what she's doing. Guess we just need to keep avoiding Wraith for a while longer." John only wished that was as easy as it sounded.
"You need to get some sleep," Ronon said, handing him the water pouch.
After several drinks, John handed the container back to Ronon, noting it was getting low again. "You need to rest too, big guy."
"I will. I'll get more water later. For now, let's sleep."
John had to admit to liking that idea, if he could just go to sleep. His arm had passed throbbing on its way to full blown agony. Every movement of the right side of his body ignited flames up into his shoulder and all the way down to his hand. The only good thing was that it overshadowed the pain in his ankle to the extent it was almost negligible when he wasn't putting any weight on it. His head hurt and felt like it was stuffed with old rags and his chest felt constricted and heavy. And he was cold one minute, hot the next.
"You okay, Sheppard?"
John wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry, so he settled for a long sigh. "Sure, I'm fine," he lied. The answering grunt said it all.
oOo
Ronon squatted behind the large rock, watching and waiting quietly. A half moon partially illuminated the surrounding area. When there were no sights or sounds out of place for a forest in late evening, the large man slipped silently to the slanted pile of rocks on the far side of the field. Crouching in the dark for several minutes, he finally felt safe enough to scale the side of the group and slide inside. Although it was even darker inside the rock pile, Ronon's eyes were adjusted enough to see Sheppard jerk his head up at the sound of his feet hitting the bottom stone.
"What? Ronon?"
Blinking in confusion, the colonel tried to sit up, falling back with a groan as he pressed his injured arm to his side. He rolled back and forth for a few moments, obviously trying to work through the pain without making any noise.
"It's all right, Sheppard. I didn't see any Wraith around."
When the injured man finally stilled, Ronon noticed how quick and shallow his breaths were coming. He knew Sheppard was in bad shape and getting worse almost by the minute. What he didn't know was how to get them to the gate any faster. Grinding his teeth against the building frustration, he saw Sheppard staring at him.
"Where'd ya'go?" Sheppard's voice was so scratchy and quiet as to almost be inaudible.
"Water," he answered, holding up the pouch for a moment before moving closer to Sheppard so he could help him sit. The pilot didn't argue when Ronon slid one hand behind his back to lift him upright and prop him against the wall. Even in the dark, he could see the pallor of Sheppard's face along with the sheen of sweat across his brow. Lifting the water container, he handed it over to John's good hand.
"I did a little scouting and didn't see any Wraith around here. I think we swung far enough out that we eluded their search parties. We should be safe for a while."
Sheppard finished his drink and handed the canteen back to Ronon. "Gotta keep moving."
"You need to rest some more, Sheppard."
Sheppard's face was lost in the shadows for a moment, and then he leaned forward. A shaft of light caught his glittering eyes. "We need to get out of here," he said slowly, but clearly. "I'm not going to last much longer."
A cold knot suddenly formed in the pit of Ronon's stomach. He wanted to argue with Sheppard, but he knew the man was right. As weak and sick as Sheppard was, it might already be too late. With a sigh, he nodded his assent.
oOo
Every breath seemed like a struggle and his chest felt heavy, unyielding. The pounding in his head reverberated around his skull with every step. Every time he noticed a crevice or partially hidden spot, he had to fight the urge to lie down in it so he could curl up and go to sleep. John thought about asking Ronon to leave him. The only reason he didn't was because he knew it would just waste time, time he didn't have. Eventually his legs would give out and then Ronon would feel compelled to carry him, an act that would slow him down and make him more vulnerable to Wraith attach. John couldn't let that happen.
He had no idea how long they trudged along, him putting one foot in front of the other, his vision tunneled on Ronon's back. The ex-runner kept glancing back at him, making sure his CO was keeping up. John decided to take that as a challenge and made sure he was never more than a few steps behind. At some point, the rain started up again. It was nice at first, washing away the sweat and cooling his overheated body. Then he started shivering and couldn't seem to stop, sending shockwaves of pain through his arm. After a while, he realized his hand was numb and he couldn't even curl his fingers into a half fist any more.
"Sheppard."
John was so focused on walking, he almost ran into Ronon when he stopped. Confused, he looked up into the face of his friend. Briefly distracted by the rain dripping off dreadlocks to roll down Ronon's face, the words slid over him, never really consciously registering.
"Sheppard?" The Satedan's forehead creased as his brows arched. "Are you with me?"
"What?" John blinked a few times as the question finally sunk in and his mind seemed to focus. "Yeah, I'm here. Sorry." Bringing his good hand up, he wiped the rain from his face and glanced around. They were still in the woods, but it looked vaguely familiar. The darkness was beginning to retreat, the muted light of dawn hovering just out of view.
"You need to rest."
John sighed and that made him cough. He could almost feel the phlegm thickening in his chest, blocking off his air supply. When he'd finally finished, he cleared his throat and looked up into the worried face of his friend. "I can make it. I think we're getting close to the gate."
"We are getting close and that's why I need to scout ahead. It's been long enough that some of the Wraith will have left. I need to see what we're dealing with and the best way to approach the gate. Until I know where the remaining Wraith are, I need to do this quietly." He stared hard at John to emphasize his point.
The tickle in his throat added further weight to Ronon's argument. "Fine," he barked, roughly clearing his throat again. He successfully resisted the urge to pull away from Ronon when the Satedan took his good arm to help him sit against a tree. He wasn't actually hidden, but the cluster of trees and bushes around him was particularly thick and he wouldn't be readily visible unless the Wraith came close. Once seated, he felt like he might just melt into the ground beneath him. Now if he only had some dry clothes and a blanket to stop his shivering.
"Okay, I'm set," John announced, encouraging Ronon to go. The big man seemed huge looming over him and John couldn't help but be grateful they were on the same side. As Ronon stood looking down at him, he thought he might have to make it an order until Ronon finally slipped into the foliage and darkness.
"Good luck, big guy," John whispered. He knew he should try to keep watch, but he found his lids getting heavy as exhaustion and blood loss began to catch up to him.
oOo
Ronon crouched behind a vine covered shrub, listening. He had encountered two drones, but managed to evade them both. It had been hard not to kill the two abominations, but he had to think about Sheppard. If he brought more Wraith to the area, he and Sheppard would never make it to the gate. Their goal was probably still a half day away, especially since they were moving slowly, but the number of Wraith in the forest seemed to have diminished significantly. For that he was grateful.
Hearing nothing, Ronon began quietly moving through the trees on his way back to Sheppard. He'd been gone longer than he meant to and the sun was now getting pretty high. Anyone scouting close to Sheppard would see him, not to mention hearing him if he was coughing. He was still unprepared for the sight that greeted him as he returned to his friend.
Sheppard was no longer slumped against a tree, but lying prone on the ground with a Wraith kneeling beside him, feeding hand poised over its prey. When the feeding hand came down, Ronon roared as he ran for the pair, barreling into the Wraith as Sheppard's back arched up against the pain. His momentum carried the two of them away from Sheppard, tumbling over one another until they banged into a large rock.
Ronon pushed away from the Wraith and grabbed for his blaster now that he had his adversary safely away from Sheppard. The gun had no sooner cleared its holster when it was kicked from his hand with such force that he thought his fingers might be broken. Ronon scrabbled backwards several feet before using a low branch to swing himself up. Whirling around, he threw up his right arm to block a fist only to have the Wraith use his other hand to hit him hard enough in the chest to send him flying. When he hit the ground, he was thankful for the layers of leaf litter below him, partially cushioning his landing.
The relief was short lived because his vision cleared to see the huge male charging toward him again, his lips bared back to reveal rows of sharp, dagger-like teeth. Hate burned deep in the former runner when thoughts of his homeworld being destroyed by these creatures filled his mind, the images from the MALP sent by the Lanteans steeling his resolve to kill those responsible. With a feral growl, Ronon got back to his feet in time to trade blows with his attacker. Adrenalin, rage, and hate held him for awhile, but eventually the Wraith lost patience and sent Ronon flying again.
Dazed, it was several seconds before Ronon was able to move and then it was too late. He gasped for breath that didn't want to come as he tried to focus on the blurry form standing at his side.
"I will feast on you, and then I will take the Lantean to my Queen to be interrogated." The Wraith laughed. "Maybe she will feed on him. Maybe she will make him a runner. Maybe we will turn him against his people to serve us."
Ronon blinked furiously, trying to get his head to clear while trying to push himself up. His entire body protested the motion, but he knew if he didn't win the battle, Sheppard would lose too. The Wraith began kneeling down to get closer to his prey when red light suddenly enveloped him. The predator stiffened and yelled before falling next to Ronon with a plop. Ronon could only stare, uncertain of what had happened.
With sudden realization, Ronon turned to look at Sheppard, sitting up and holding Ronon's blaster. He let his left arm drop as if he didn't have the energy to hold it up any more. Dark eyes glittered in the shaft of sunlight streaming through the canopy above.
"You okay?" Sheppard asked.
Ronon pushed himself up to sit and glanced back down at the Wraith, the uniform over his chest still smoking. "Yeah, I am now," he answered, looking back at his friend. Sheppard's shirt hung open, a small circle of blood welled on his chest. Ronon felt his breath catch in his throat. "You?"
Sheppard followed Ronon's eyes to the wound on his chest. He didn't look any different to Ronon, but he wasn't sure how long the Wraith had been able to feed. Sheppard looked back up at him. "I don't think he took much, if anything. About the time the pain hit, you knocked him off me. Do I . . . " Sheppard dropped the blaster in his lap to wave his hand at his face.
"No, you look the same."
Sighing, Sheppard gave a small nod. "Good, okay." Picking up the blaster, he stared at it a moment before looking back to Ronon. "I really need to get one of these. Seriously."
Ronon laughed, feeling some of the tension roll out of him. "Well, you can't have that one." Pulling himself to his feet with the aid of a tree, Ronon began limping over to Sheppard. His body felt like someone had wrecked a jumper on it, the cracked ribs the Wraith had given him making every breath a bit of a chore. He wasn't sure he was going to be much help to Sheppard.
"Ready?"
Ronon looked up to see Sheppard standing there waiting on him. He was surprised the man had the energy to get up by himself until it hit him. "Enzyme?"
Sheppard just grinned. "Oh, yeah, a big shot of it. There'll be hell to pay tomorrow, but it's going to get me to the gate today. Need a hand?"
"I can make it," Ronon said, determined to make it on his own. "What about your arm?"
Glancing at his right arm, Sheppard slowly closed his fingers into a loose fist. "Still not going to be much good, but on the plus side, the pain is kind of muted behind the extreme buzzing in my ears."
Grunting, Ronon held his hand out. "Gun?"
Sheppard looked down at the gun in his left hand, his expression close to pouting. "You know, I did save your life," he said, glancing back up at Ronon with a lopsided grin.
"Yeah," Ronon conceded. "But I saved yours first. You don't get the gun."
With an exaggerated sigh, Sheppard handed the gun back. "Can't blame a guy for trying."
"Say that the next time we spar," Ronon replied, checking the gun over before returning it to the holster.
Sheppard looked him over and then looked down at himself. "Somehow, I don't think either of us will be doing any sparring in the near future. Personally, I'm looking forward to a dry bed and some good drugs. Let's go."
Ronon watched Sheppard take several steps before loudly clearing his throat. When Sheppard turned to look at him, he tipped his head in the opposite direction. "The gate is that way."
Sheppard looked over his shoulder and then in the direction Ronon had indicated. "Right, I knew that."
The two men started walking. Ronon found he couldn't go very fast because that involved increasing his respirations, which wasn't an option right now. Sheppard almost seemed to be bouncing along, his feet barely touching the ground. They were both going to be feeling like crap tomorrow, which meant they really needed to get back to Atlantis today.
oOo
It took them until late afternoon to make it to the gate. Ronon had apparently landed more on his right side because not only did his ribs hurt, but his hip and lower back were killing him as well. Although he'd tried hard not to slow them down, his movements had gradually become more labored and sluggish. That, combined with the two times they had to swing away from their path to avoid drones, had made the trip take twice as long as he had anticipated.
They watched the gate through the trees. Two drones stood guard while a male paced around in front of their goal. "We can take them," Sheppard whispered, nervously licking his lips. They'd apparently lost their water in the fight with the Wraith and Ronon figured his CO was as thirsty as he was. Probably more because of the way he'd practically bounced off the trees the last few hours.
"Maybe we should wait for nightfall," Ronon suggested, kind of surprising himself. He wondered if they'd switched bodies, or maybe just personalities, somewhere along the way.
Sheppard eyed him critically, making Ronon wince under the scrutiny. "Yeah, you're probably not up to a fight right now. I'm guessing broken ribs, possible internal injuries, maybe a concussion. Don't worry, buddy. I can take 'em, but I'll need your gun." He held out his hand as if expecting Ronon just to hand over the blaster.
"You can't take on three Wraith by yourself. We need a different plan." No way was Ronon giving his gun over to Sheppard while he was hopped up on Wraith enzyme.
"Look, I'm high as a kite right now and feeling no pain. I can do this. My strength and reflexes are at an all time high, but I need your gun. It has a whole lot more impact on those things than my gun."
Ronon stared into John's blown pupils and shook his head. There was no way this would ever be a good idea. "What about your arm?"
John pulled his arm out of the sling and made a loose fist before raising it to near waist level. "Okay, so it's not a hundred percent, but I can use it if I need to."
The objection Ronon opened his mouth to voice was quickly lost in the sudden scramble to keep the colonel from grabbing his gun. He failed, his responses slowed by pain and exhaustion. Anger mixed with fear as he glared at Sheppard. "What the . . . Sheppard, you can't do this. You're going to get yourself killed."
His friend stood looking at him, his expression a neutral mask. Sheppard's sides billowed out with his attempts to pull in more air, softly whistling in the otherwise silent forest. He wasn't sure if the heavy breathing was due to the enzyme, the respiratory infection, or both.
Sheppard tipped his head once and then broke into a huge grin. "Sorry, buddy, but I have to do this. It's high time I save you for once. Wish me luck!" And then Sheppard was gone, leaving a trail of dancing leaves in his wake.
Ronon cursed softly, wanting to yell at Sheppard, but afraid if he did he'd bring the Wraith down on both of them. Instead, he followed the man, but at a much slower pace. His view was blocked by a thick section of trees with lots of streaming vines and bushes. The sound of weapons fire spurred him on, along with shouting and clanging. Branches slapped him in the face and tore at his arms as he rushed through the underbrush, desperate to get to Sheppard. He had no idea what he would do when he did.
Breaking through the trees, Ronon was just in time to see Sheppard flat on his back while the male approached him. The two drones were already dead. Ronon yelled to get the Wraith's attention, giving Sheppard enough time to grab the dropped blaster beside him and shoot the creature twice in the chest. The male jerked with each shot and then toppled backwards into the grass. Sheppard collapsed back to the ground, prompting Ronon to hurry toward him as much as he could with his screaming ribs.
"Sheppard?"
The colonel opened his eyes and looked up at Ronon. "I'm okay, just knocked . . . the wind . . . outta me. You?"
"Sheppard, you're an idiot."
Sheppard grinned. "You've been hangin' . . . 'round McKay . . . too much."
Ronon offered his hand and Sheppard took it. After being pulled to his feet, the colonel swiped away the blood trickling from the corner of his mouth and nodded at the gate. "You ready to blow this popsicle stand?"
"After you return my blaster." Ronon held out his hand. Sheppard stood staring at him a moment, as if mulling over whether to try to keep it or not, and then handed it back to him. Ronon checked it and returned it to its holster before looking back at Sheppard. "You ever take my gun like that again and I'll break your arm."
Sheppard did his lopsided grin thing again, shrugging one shoulder. "I still need one of those. You're bound to know where I can get one."
"Nope, it's the only one. Hurry up and dial before any more Wraith show up."
Sheppard began punching symbols. "No, seriously, where can I get one?"
"You can't, now shut up."
"You can't tell me to shut up," Sheppard insisted, punching the middle button with a little more force than necessary. "I'm the CO. Hey, I could order you to give me your gun."
"No you can't. Send your IDC so we can go home."
Sheppard looked at the gate for a moment before he finally realized what he was supposed to be doing. After punching in his code, they began walking toward the shimmering puddle. "You really don't think we can find me a gun like yours?"
Ronon sighed and grabbed Sheppard's arm, dragging him through the gate.
oOo
The buzz in John's head now sounded like a whole swarm of bees, or maybe two. When they came through the gate, the sounds of yelling and people clamoring around them seemed muted and distant behind the insects in his ears. Sam was there, looking concerned and talking to him. Then McKay appeared, poking him in his good arm for some reason John couldn't quite wrap his mind around.
The next thing he knew, John was watching the ceiling roll by, but he was too wiped to ask anyone what was going on. Then suddenly Keller was peering at him and her mouth was moving but all he could hear was the buzzing. When his vision began to gray, he decided he was too tired and too confused to try to keep up, so he let everything fade away.
" . . . pretty much gone from his system, leaving him exhausted. Withdrawal is going to make him feel like crap for a few days, along with his injuries and the respiratory infection."
John suddenly had to cough, as if the mention of his illness had flared it up. He felt himself rising as he struggled between bouts to draw in enough air, the bed underneath him angling him into more of a sitting position. When the spasms passed, something touched his lips.
"Drink, colonel, but just a few sips."
He obeyed Keller's voice, forcing himself to draw the water in slowly until the straw was pulled away. The tickle in his throat calmed, John opened his eyes to find his bed surrounded by Keller,Teyla, Rodney on crutches, and Sam Carter. He made good use of the nasal cannula brushing up against his nose, drawing heavily on the oxygen for several moments.
Keller smiled at him. "Better?"
John just nodded. He looked down at himself, taking inventory. His right arm was in a sling, leaving his left free for the IV. He thought he could feel wrapping around his ankle, surprising him. The ankle hadn't bothered him the last few hours of their trek and he'd forgotten about it. His mind felt fuzzy, but he knew he was forgetting something.
"Ronon?" John suddenly said, lifting his head up to look around.
Keller stepped back to reveal Ronon in the bed next door, giving him a wave with his non-IV hand. "You okay, Chewie?" John asked, because Ronon really looked like hell. Scratches covered his face and arms, along with some pretty livid bruises.
"I'm fine," the Satedan answered before scowling at Jennifer. "Don't know why I can't get up."
Jennifer crossed her arms in a show of defiance. "That would be three cracked ribs, a little internal bleeding, a bruised kidney, and several strained muscles in your back, Specialist Dex."
"Internal bleeding?" asked John, coming off the pillows a bit before pain drove him back down.
Turning back to him, Jennifer patted his shoulder. "Just a bit and it resolved itself without surgery. He also took a pretty good knock to the head, but not hard enough for a concussion."
"We figured that hard head would come in handy for something," said Rodney with a huge smirk. When Teyla frowned at him, he just shrugged his shoulders and continued to grin. John found it contagious and broke into his own grin.
"Now ask her to outline your injuries, Sheppard," Ronon quipped.
John felt the grin fade away. Okay, time to face the music. He looked up at the doctor and raised his brows a bit. "Doc?"
"Mild ankle sprain, which shouldn't cause you much trouble. The respiratory infection is in the early stages of pneumonia, but we've started you on antibiotics, so I'm hopeful that will clear up shortly as well. You're running a fever, which will probably leave you feeling pretty wrung out. The knife wound to the arm was pretty severe, as I'm sure you're aware. We patched you up in surgery, but there was both nerve and muscle damage. With proper care and physical therapy, you should recover, but it's going to be a slow process, so you'll have to be patient."
A loud snort came from Rodney's direction and John glared at the scientist, at least as much as he was capable of glaring at the moment. It felt pretty weak and must have looked that way too, since Rodney didn't seem impressed. Teyla gave him a look that seemed to deflate him, though, which cheered John up. At least until she turned back to him.
"I am positive that John is wise enough to follow Jennifer's instructions and not push himself too hard," she stated firmly. Then she arched one eyebrow in a very intimidating way.
John swallowed. "Uh, yeah, I'll be the perfect patient." He ignored Sam covering her smile with her hand.
"Good," said Jennifer, a little too brightly. "I'll expect nothing less."
"How long are we talking, Doc?" asked John, beginning to worry about how long he would be out of action.
"I'd prefer not to start making predictions this early," said the young doctor, giving John what he interpreted as a sad smile. That probably meant it was too depressing to bring up right now. John sighed and let himself relax back into the bed. His head was beginning to pound and he could feel a bead of sweat trickle down his face.
"What about the enzyme? I heard you say something about withdrawal." John figured as long as he was getting bad news, he might as well get it all out of the way. His good hand automatically went to his chest and found a square bandage taped over the feeding site.
"You said he really didn't have time to actually feed, right?" asked Rodney.
"Yes, that's right. It doesn't look like he took any years."
"He wasn't on me for long," said John, letting his hand drop back to his side. "Ronon knocked him off almost as soon as he started." Thank goodness. John shuddered.
"That's what Ronon told us," said Jennifer. "He did have time to inject enzyme, though, as I'm sure you're aware." John nodded when she paused. "You didn't have the massive dose Rodney had, but it was enough that your system is looking for more. Since you've been exposed to the enzyme before, it'll be worse than if it was the first, but not as bad as what the others went through after Ford kidnapped you guys."
"Bottom line?" asked John, because that was what he had really wanted.
"You're probably feeling pretty crappy right now. That's a combination of exhaustion, the infection, your injuries, and the enzyme. You'll probably feel worse before you feel better, but we're talking a few days, a week at the outside. Should be more of the same: weakness, lethargy, headache, muscle and body aches, possibly some nausea."
"So like the flu on steroids," said John.
Jennifer shrugged. "More or less."
"Better than being dead," said Ronon from his bed.
"Yeah, you got that right," admitted John.
"I am just thankful you are both back with us and safe," said Teyla. "We were very worried."
"Just so you know, we wanted to come for you," said Rodney. "Sam wouldn't let us."
Sam rolled her eyes and John felt his mouth pull into a smile. "We know. We knew you wouldn't be able to come with the Wraith all over the place. You did the right thing." John met Sam's eyes and made sure she knew he meant it. She looked uncertain for a moment and then nodded once.
"How's your leg, Rodney?" John asked, trying to deflect the conversation.
"Quite painful actually," said the scientist, looking down at the injured appendage. "They had to surgically remove the arrow and repair the horrendous damage it caused. I'll probably in physical therapy with you, you know. I had muscle damage too."
"Rodney's going to be fine," said Jennifer, flashing her I'm trying to be patient look. "I think that's enough for now. Ronon and the colonel need their rest, so I want everyone out for now. You can come back later to check on them."
There was a few groans followed by a myriad of goodbyes and then Jennifer basically tucked them in and left. John could feel sleep creeping up on him, but he had something to say first. Using the last of his energy, he turned his head to look at Ronon and found the man watching him. "Hey. Just wanted to say thank you."
Ronon frowned a little. "For what?"
"For getting me out of there alive."
Ronon snorted and waved his hand through the air. "It took us both. You're pretty scary when you're wired on enzyme."
John thinned his lips in a grimace. "Yeah, I don't really remember much of that. Just bits and pieces. Mostly I remember feeling like my skin was crawling off my body and . . . " He rubbed the back of his neck.
"Like you did when you were turning into a bug?"
"Yeah," John said quietly. "The energy was incredible, but it somehow just felt . . . wrong, like it wasn't mine."
"I know," Ronon said, meeting his eyes.
"Yeah, I guess you do." John was feeling very lucky that Ford had decided to leave him out of the enzyme club.
"The problem is that after a while, it doesn't feel wrong anymore. It feels very right, like you can't live without it." Ronon rolled his head to look up at the ceiling. "The bad part is that the craving never really goes away. You just have sense enough to know how bad it can be, so you stay away from it."
"I was never able to get Ford away from it long enough to see that," said John, bringing up a mental image of the young lieutenant after his encounter with the Wraith. He'd failed Ford, more than once.
"You can't help Ford. If he's alive, he's too far gone."
John felt his stomach tighten and his jaws clench together. "You don't know that."
"Yes, I do. And so do you."
There was nothing to say to that, because he knew Ronon was right. Ford was beyond saving, but no way could he stop trying. He still felt responsible for the kid, probably always would. He couldn't help remembering the fresh faced lieutenant that had seemed to idolize him, ready to do anything he'd asked.
"You didn't do this to him. You aren't responsible."
"I know." Too bad knowing you weren't responsible for something didn't lessen the guilt of feeling like you were responsible. John found himself wishing they would have killed a few more Wraith.
oOo
Ronon watched Sheppard thrash around, twisting the sheets around his torso and tangling his IV line around his arm, which made the Satedan appreciate the loss of his own IV the day before. Grunting with discomfort, the colonel sat up and began trying to straighten things out when a nurse came to his rescue.
"Colonel, you've gotten tangled again," she commented as she began to straighten the IV line. Sheppard quit trying to help and settled for wiping the sweat from his forehead.
"Thanks, Amy," Sheppard muttered. Amy nodded as she fixed his sheets and helped him get settled back against the pillows.
"You've got to stop fiddling with your nasal cannula," she mildly scolded, adjusting the tubing beneath his nose.
"Itches," he complained, groaning as he shifted in bed.
Once she was satisfied, she stood back to study the colonel. "I know you feel really bad. I just wish there was more we could do. Would you like some water?"
"Yeah." Sheppard's talking was limited to short and to the point lately. Amy poured some water in a cup and stuck a straw in it.
"Just a few sips," she cautioned.
"Don't want you to be wearing it again," he muttered before taking the straw between his lips. The nausea came and went, but Sheppard had lost a couple of rounds with it.
"I told you not to worry about that. It happens. I don't hear you complaining when your men bleed on you," Amy quipped.
Ronon had to admit that Beckett had a good staff. They were always trying to make their patients feel at ease, no matter what they got splattered with. He had to smile when he remembered how opposite the response of McKay had been when John had begun relieving his stomach of its contents the night before.
"What are grinning at, Chewie?"
Ronon glanced over to see Sheppard looking at him through heavy lidded eyes as Amy wiped his face with a damp cloth. "Just remembering McKay's reaction last night. He really does scream like a girl." He was inwardly glad to see the small smile that twitched the corner of Sheppard's mouth.
Trading her washcloth for a thermometer, Amy snorted. "I think I take offense to that. I'm a girl and I don't sound like that." She stuck the instrument in Sheppard's ear, making the man groan.
"I'd like to use that ear again."
"Don't you get sassy with me," she said, scrutinizing the machine when it beeped.
"How'm I doin'?" Sheppard asked.
"You have a fever," she responded as she recorded the results.
Sheppard rolled his eyes. "And you think I'm sassy?"
Amy smiled and nodded. "I do. Now be still and let me finish."
Sheppard was compliant as the nurse finished her scheduled check and then went about making sure he was tucked in. "You need anything else?" she asked.
"I'm good. Thanks for the help earlier. I don't mean to get all tangled up, I just can't seem to get comfortable."
"I know," she said. "Try to get some rest." Pointing at Ronon, Amy backed away from the bed. "I'll be right back to check on you, so don't go anywhere."
They watched her leave and then Ronon sighed before facing Sheppard. "Sorry about what I said about Ford."
John shrugged his good shoulder. "No, don't be. It was true."
"I know, but it probably wasn't a good time to say it."
Sheppard chuckled. "There's never going to be a good time to say it. It's fine. I like that I never have to wonder what's going on in your head, you just say what you think."
"Easier that way. I hate people who lie and sugar-coat things." Ronon had a hard time understanding the tendency of Earth people to pussyfoot around the truth. It was annoying.
"Yeah, I tend to agree with you on that one. Hey, I never asked. What happened to our Wraith worshipping community?"
"Carter said they are all dead. The Wraith are not forgiving when you don't deliver what was promised," Ronon said without emotion.
John had to admit that he wasn't particularly upset over the news. Anyone stupid enough to think they could bargain with the Wraith were going to end up dead eventually.
Amy returned with Keller in tow. While the nurse went about checking up on Ronon, Jennifer got out her stethoscope. "Let's see how your lungs are sounding, colonel." After listening at John's chest, she had him sit forward so she could run the instrument around his back. "Sounding better today," she commented as she looped the stethoscope around her neck and John leaned back against the pillows. "You're fever doesn't seem to be going anywhere though," she frowned, looking down at his chart. "How are you feeling?"
John shrugged his good shoulder. "Hot, achy, like I went ten rounds with Ronon."
"Flu on steroids?" she asked with a smirk.
"Exactly," he said, giving her a small smile. "Sometimes I hate it when I'm right."
"Your lungs are actually starting to clear up a little, but everything else seems to be on hold right now. At least you don't seem to be getting worse. Give it another day or two and things should turn around."
John sighed. "Don't have much choice."
"Nope," Jennifer said lightly. "I think I'll up your antipyretics to see if we can't get your fever down a bit more. Any nausea today?"
John frowned, his hand automatically going to his stomach. "Not really nausea, just a little unsettled. Better than last night."
"Good, just let someone know if that changes. Pain level?" Jennifer narrowed her eyes in warning. "And I want the truth."
John grinned sheepishly. "Not bad, but the arm is starting to pick up a little."
"Probably because it's almost time for next dose of meds. Anything else?"
"Nope, just can't get comfortable, but then you already knew that," he said, glancing at Amy, who placed her hands on her hips.
"Hey, it's my job to tattle. You know that." With a quick wink, she turned back to Ronon, removing the blood pressure cuff from his arm. "Looks good, Ronon."
"Does that mean I'm getting out of here?" Ronon asked.
"That would be up to me," said Jennifer. "I'll be over to check you next." She turned back to John. "Just take it easy, colonel, and I'll send Amy after your meds while I check the impatient guy in the next bed."
"Don't be too hard on him, Doc," John said. "He kept me alive and moving on that planet. I'd have been Wraith food if not for him."
"Well, I'll just have to take extra good care of Specialist Dex, then," Jennifer said as she moved toward Ronon. She exchanged charts with Amy. "Can you take care of getting Colonel Sheppard's meds while I see if Ronon is ready to go?"
"Absolutely," Amy said, giving the two patients a nod as she left.
Jennifer studied Ronon's chart for a moment. "Okay, this all looks good. I need to check those ribs and your lungs. If everything looks good, you can sleep in your own bed tonight." She spent the next several minutes probing and asking questions about Ronon's ribs and back. Sheppard kept close watch on the situation, turning away only to take the cup of pills Amy brought to him.
"How does he look, Doc?" asked John.
"He looks pretty good, actually." Jennifer stopped open-mouthed as if she realized what she said and then shook her head, her face turning red. "I . . . uh, I mean his condition is quite improved. If you agree to take it easy for a few days, which means no sparring, running, heavy lifting . . . or anything else strenuous that I haven't mentioned, I can release you. I'll get you some muscle relaxers to take for your back and some Tylenol for your ribs. Let me round up what you need and then I'll explain what to watch for and how to take the meds. Wait here." Jennifer waited until Ronon agreed before leaving.
"Looks like you're getting sprung," John said. He looked almost sad that he was losing his roommate. Ronon grinned as he swung his legs over to hang off the bed.
"Cheer up, Sheppard. It won't be long and you'll be out too."
"Yeah, yeah, I know. Congratulations, Chewie. Ignore me, I'm just jealous . . . and feverish." He kicked the sheet down to his knees. "And hot."
Ronon grinned as he swung his legs around in anticipation of his release. "Hey, at least you don't scream like a girl." When Sheppard laughed, he joined in.
oOo
"So, how 'bout it Doc? Early release?" John flashed a lopsided grin and waggled his eyebrows. After nine days in the infirmary, he was more than ready to leave.
Jennifer stared at him a moment and then rolled her eyes. "We've had this discussion, several times today actually. I want you fever free for 24 hours before I release you and that will be at 9:07 in the morning. I think I'm going to start adding an extra hour for each time you ask to get out earlier. Finish your dinner, colonel."
Ronon walked up as Jennifer strolled back to her office. "Did you just get threatened with detention?"
Scowling, John stared at Ronon. "What do know about detention?" Then he quickly shook his head. "Never mind, don't want to know." He pushed the rolling table away from the bed and settled back against the pillows to watch Ronon pick at his tray.
"You done with this?"
With a grim smile, John nodded. "Yeah, I'm done. Help yourself."
Breaking into a broad smile, Ronon scooped up the last few fries, that John knew had to be cold by now, and shoved them all in his mouth. He watched the Satedan lick the greasy salt from his fingers and plop down in the chair beside the bed. Their eyes met and the Satedan shifted in the chair.
"What? You said you didn't want them."
John looked blank for a moment before the meaning of Ronon's words hit him. "Oh, yeah, no, that's fine. I mean I didn't want them . . . the fries, that is."
"You sound like McKay."
Ronon never did cut him any slack. John rubbed the back of his neck. "That was uncalled for," he said, trying to look insulted. Ronon chuckled and then leaned the chair back to balance on two legs. "Hey, I've been thinking."
"McKay says that's dangerous," Ronon said as he picked at his teeth.
"What's with all the McKay references tonight?" John asked.
Shrugging his shoulders, Ronon let the chair back down to the floor. "You've been in here. I've been bored."
Sighing, John shook his head. "Anyway, I was thinking about the planet and how . . . intense things were when we were being hunted by the Wraith. I guess . . . I just wondered . . . all those years as a runner . . ." John wanted to slap himself just to see if the words would finally come out.
Ronon's expression sobered and he sat there a moment before answering John's faltering question. "It was hard sometimes. I got used to it."
John ran his good hand through his hair. "I never really realized before, how hard it would be to have them looking for you every minute, to have to keep running. How . . . How did you do it for so long?"
Shrugging his shoulders, Ronon leaned the chair back again, this time bouncing it up and down. "You just keep ahead of them, like we did. You sleep wherever you can, in caves or bushes, sometimes out in the open. You keep away from people so you don't get them killed."
"Sounds lonely," John said, trying to imagine seven years without any real human contact. He wasn't good with close interpersonal relationships, but even he couldn't imagine being that alone.
"Was at first. Got used to it," Ronon said.
"So, having someone tagging along. Was that better or just more trouble?" John asked, well aware that he'd been dead weight slowing them down most of the time.
Ronon stopped bouncing and looked at him for the first time since the topic had been broached. "Both. It was . . . nice to have someone to talk to, but kept me worried about you." A bit of a smile crept in as Ronon looked at John. "It would have been better if you'd been able to pull your own weight."
Relieved that he hadn't upset the big man with his questions, John grinned. "Gee, thanks Chewie. I'll try harder next time."
"Try harder to do what?" asked Rodney as he and Teyla each grabbed a chair and placed them near the bed.
"Keep out of trouble," John said, exchanging a look with Ronon that slipped past the others.
"You are looking well, John," said Teyla with a smile.
"I feel pretty good, too," replied the colonel. "I should get out of here in the morning. Then I just have weeks of physical therapy to look forward to."
"Better than being Wraith chow," said Ronon.
John mouthed "Wraith chow" to Rodney, who shrugged his shoulders in ignorance. It was weird, the stuff their Pegasus friends had picked up over the years.
"Well, I've already started physical therapy for my leg and let me tell you, it's no picnic. That Drybird guy will work you to death."
Teyla let out a slow breath before looking at Rodney. "The physical therapist's name is Drubard, Jason Drubard."
"Right, what she said," Rodney said, waving one hand her direction. "Anyway, he's a slave driver. My leg aches for hours after he's done."
"Your limp is getting better, though," commented John. He hadn't really noticed any difference, but he was entertaining himself by getting a rise out of Rodney.
"Really? You think so?" the scientist asked, his eyes widening.
Teyla must have realized what he was doing from the glare she was sending his way. John put on his most innocent smile. "Yes, I do."
"Humph," Rodney grunted.
"So, what have you guys been up to the last few days?" asked John. "Anything exciting?"
"Just trying to stay out of trouble for a change," said Rodney.
John thinned his lips in a grim smile. "Yeah, that was the plan with the Balterians, to stay out of trouble. You see how well that turned out."
"Ah, yes, best laid plans of mice and men . . . or in this case, lieutenant colonels," mumbled Rodney.
"Schemes," John corrected.
"What?" asked Rodney.
"The best laid schemes of mice and men
Go often askew,
And leave us nothing but grief and pain,
For promised joy."
Rodney gaped at him.
"Okay, that's not the original, it's the English translation," John admitted. "But things definitely went askew."
Rodney shook his head and then let out an exaggerated sigh. "They usually do." They sat in silence for a few moments before Ronon scratched his head and looked at Rodney, then John.
"What's a scew?"
THE END
The "best laid schemes" reference was from To a Mouse by Robert Burns.
Author: titan5
Genre: Friendship
Prompt: The best-laid plans
Word Count: around 18,000
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Summary: Ronon and John are on the run from the Wraith.
Notes: Set early in season four. Many thanks to sharpes hussy for her beta work. I did some tinkering after her suggestions, so all mistakes are mine.
[ Part One] [ Part Two]
Running Part 2
The two men silently stared at one another as they sat frozen in place. The shuffling noises had quieted some, but rough voices took their place.
"Anything?"
"Nothing. It is as if they vanished."
"Humans do not vanish. They are here somewhere. Continue your search."
"These are not ordinary humans. They are Lanteans. Perhaps they had a ship the others did not know of."
"It is doubtful. The Lantean ship would be hard to land with so many trees. We will continue to look for them a little longer. Capturing Lanteans would be a fine prize for our queen."
There was muffled grunting followed by the fading sounds of footsteps through the brush. Ronon and John continued to stare silently at one another for several minutes before relaxing their tense bodies. John let his head drop and took in a deep breath. "That was close," he whispered.
Ronon nodded, looking up at the woven branches covering them. He had his gun drawn and was frowning slightly. John opened his mouth to ask if anything was wrong, only to suddenly sneeze twice in quick succession. The involuntary actions had occurred without warning, giving him no time to muffle their sound. Frozen in place once again, he didn't dare even sniffle the congestion he'd managed to loosen.
Just as he began to relax again, thinking the Wraith had been far enough away to miss his impromptu fit, the roof was torn away in flurry of scraping branches and whirling dead leaves. John immediately rolled to his left as a stunner blast passed close enough to make the skin on his arm tingle. By the time he'd made a one-eighty to land on his back, he looked up just in time to see a male Wraith get flung back by a red blast from Ronon's gun. Slightly dizzy from his tumbling act, it took him a moment to get to his knees and keep watch while Ronon checked the body.
"Dead," the Satedan rumbled as he stood and surveyed the forest. When no sign of reinforcements came crashing through the brush, he walked over to offer John a hand up.
"Thanks," the colonel said as he accepted the help to his feet. They both continued to scan the surrounding area, watching for any sign of movement. "Think we got lucky for once?"
"About time," Ronon replied. "But we can't stay here."
John sighed. "Yeah, I know." The rest had helped, but he still felt like a truck had run him over in the very recent past. He wasn't at all sure how much longer he would last, but one thing was for sure. There was no way they could stay here with a dead Wraith. "We should try to hide the body. If they find him, they'll know for sure we're still here."
Nodding, Ronon began dragging the corpse to their former hiding place. John felt a little guilty not helping, but he knew he had to save his strength for running. Watching as Ronon covered the body with the former roof of their structure and then used a branch to brush away the footprints in the surrounding loose dirt, John had to smile. "You do good work," he said, noting that it just looked like a big clump of bushes and forest debris.
"Lots of practice," Ronon said with a shrug and a grin. "We need to get moving."
Grimacing, John headed the way Ronon was pointing. "I was afraid you were going to say that."
oOo
They spent the next several hours dodging Wraith, forcing them to swing out in a path that took them farther from the gate. There were no good hiding places, with the trees and brush so thin in places as to make them feel like sitting ducks. By the time they found a good place to stop and felt safe doing it, it was getting dark. The trees were sparse in this direction, but there were large slabs of rock, many of them piled at odd angles. One such grouping had a small hollow in the middle, if you were willing to climb up several feet and then lower yourself down at an extreme angle to fit into it. John barely had the energy to accomplish the maneuver before collapsing onto the hard rock floor of their newfound hiding spot. The cool stone felt good against the hot, tight skin of his face.
"We should be safe here for a while," Ronon said, dropping down beside him. "We're out of the main search area and well hidden."
"Unless they find us, and then we're boxed in and good as dead." John groaned. "Well crap, I'm channeling Rodney."
Ronon snickered beside him, which didn't make him feel any better. "Maybe you're hanging around him too much."
"Maybe," John echoed. The light moment vanished as he once again wondered if Rodney and Teyla had made it through the gate. Had all this elaborate running around done any good?
"They made it."
Smiling, John pushed himself to a sitting position, wincing when he brushed his injured arm against a sharp rock facing. "You reading my mind again?"
"Not hard right now," he said, barely visible in the darkness. "I was thinking about them too."
John was a little surprised at the admission, but it pleased him just the same. "I guess teams are like that." A sudden thought struck him and he squinted up at the tiny shaft of light bending around the stacked rocks to provide them some muted visibility. "I wonder if they're in Atlantis right now, worrying about us. If they've sent a MALP through, then they know this place is crawling with Wraith. Surely they wouldn't try to . . . "
"They wouldn't. Carter knows better, even if the others want to come."
John nodded. Ronon was right. Carter was military and had dealt with these type situations before. She was clear headed enough to make the right decision, even if it was a hard one. "You're right. Colonel Carter knows what she's doing. Guess we just need to keep avoiding Wraith for a while longer." John only wished that was as easy as it sounded.
"You need to get some sleep," Ronon said, handing him the water pouch.
After several drinks, John handed the container back to Ronon, noting it was getting low again. "You need to rest too, big guy."
"I will. I'll get more water later. For now, let's sleep."
John had to admit to liking that idea, if he could just go to sleep. His arm had passed throbbing on its way to full blown agony. Every movement of the right side of his body ignited flames up into his shoulder and all the way down to his hand. The only good thing was that it overshadowed the pain in his ankle to the extent it was almost negligible when he wasn't putting any weight on it. His head hurt and felt like it was stuffed with old rags and his chest felt constricted and heavy. And he was cold one minute, hot the next.
"You okay, Sheppard?"
John wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry, so he settled for a long sigh. "Sure, I'm fine," he lied. The answering grunt said it all.
oOo
Ronon squatted behind the large rock, watching and waiting quietly. A half moon partially illuminated the surrounding area. When there were no sights or sounds out of place for a forest in late evening, the large man slipped silently to the slanted pile of rocks on the far side of the field. Crouching in the dark for several minutes, he finally felt safe enough to scale the side of the group and slide inside. Although it was even darker inside the rock pile, Ronon's eyes were adjusted enough to see Sheppard jerk his head up at the sound of his feet hitting the bottom stone.
"What? Ronon?"
Blinking in confusion, the colonel tried to sit up, falling back with a groan as he pressed his injured arm to his side. He rolled back and forth for a few moments, obviously trying to work through the pain without making any noise.
"It's all right, Sheppard. I didn't see any Wraith around."
When the injured man finally stilled, Ronon noticed how quick and shallow his breaths were coming. He knew Sheppard was in bad shape and getting worse almost by the minute. What he didn't know was how to get them to the gate any faster. Grinding his teeth against the building frustration, he saw Sheppard staring at him.
"Where'd ya'go?" Sheppard's voice was so scratchy and quiet as to almost be inaudible.
"Water," he answered, holding up the pouch for a moment before moving closer to Sheppard so he could help him sit. The pilot didn't argue when Ronon slid one hand behind his back to lift him upright and prop him against the wall. Even in the dark, he could see the pallor of Sheppard's face along with the sheen of sweat across his brow. Lifting the water container, he handed it over to John's good hand.
"I did a little scouting and didn't see any Wraith around here. I think we swung far enough out that we eluded their search parties. We should be safe for a while."
Sheppard finished his drink and handed the canteen back to Ronon. "Gotta keep moving."
"You need to rest some more, Sheppard."
Sheppard's face was lost in the shadows for a moment, and then he leaned forward. A shaft of light caught his glittering eyes. "We need to get out of here," he said slowly, but clearly. "I'm not going to last much longer."
A cold knot suddenly formed in the pit of Ronon's stomach. He wanted to argue with Sheppard, but he knew the man was right. As weak and sick as Sheppard was, it might already be too late. With a sigh, he nodded his assent.
oOo
Every breath seemed like a struggle and his chest felt heavy, unyielding. The pounding in his head reverberated around his skull with every step. Every time he noticed a crevice or partially hidden spot, he had to fight the urge to lie down in it so he could curl up and go to sleep. John thought about asking Ronon to leave him. The only reason he didn't was because he knew it would just waste time, time he didn't have. Eventually his legs would give out and then Ronon would feel compelled to carry him, an act that would slow him down and make him more vulnerable to Wraith attach. John couldn't let that happen.
He had no idea how long they trudged along, him putting one foot in front of the other, his vision tunneled on Ronon's back. The ex-runner kept glancing back at him, making sure his CO was keeping up. John decided to take that as a challenge and made sure he was never more than a few steps behind. At some point, the rain started up again. It was nice at first, washing away the sweat and cooling his overheated body. Then he started shivering and couldn't seem to stop, sending shockwaves of pain through his arm. After a while, he realized his hand was numb and he couldn't even curl his fingers into a half fist any more.
"Sheppard."
John was so focused on walking, he almost ran into Ronon when he stopped. Confused, he looked up into the face of his friend. Briefly distracted by the rain dripping off dreadlocks to roll down Ronon's face, the words slid over him, never really consciously registering.
"Sheppard?" The Satedan's forehead creased as his brows arched. "Are you with me?"
"What?" John blinked a few times as the question finally sunk in and his mind seemed to focus. "Yeah, I'm here. Sorry." Bringing his good hand up, he wiped the rain from his face and glanced around. They were still in the woods, but it looked vaguely familiar. The darkness was beginning to retreat, the muted light of dawn hovering just out of view.
"You need to rest."
John sighed and that made him cough. He could almost feel the phlegm thickening in his chest, blocking off his air supply. When he'd finally finished, he cleared his throat and looked up into the worried face of his friend. "I can make it. I think we're getting close to the gate."
"We are getting close and that's why I need to scout ahead. It's been long enough that some of the Wraith will have left. I need to see what we're dealing with and the best way to approach the gate. Until I know where the remaining Wraith are, I need to do this quietly." He stared hard at John to emphasize his point.
The tickle in his throat added further weight to Ronon's argument. "Fine," he barked, roughly clearing his throat again. He successfully resisted the urge to pull away from Ronon when the Satedan took his good arm to help him sit against a tree. He wasn't actually hidden, but the cluster of trees and bushes around him was particularly thick and he wouldn't be readily visible unless the Wraith came close. Once seated, he felt like he might just melt into the ground beneath him. Now if he only had some dry clothes and a blanket to stop his shivering.
"Okay, I'm set," John announced, encouraging Ronon to go. The big man seemed huge looming over him and John couldn't help but be grateful they were on the same side. As Ronon stood looking down at him, he thought he might have to make it an order until Ronon finally slipped into the foliage and darkness.
"Good luck, big guy," John whispered. He knew he should try to keep watch, but he found his lids getting heavy as exhaustion and blood loss began to catch up to him.
oOo
Ronon crouched behind a vine covered shrub, listening. He had encountered two drones, but managed to evade them both. It had been hard not to kill the two abominations, but he had to think about Sheppard. If he brought more Wraith to the area, he and Sheppard would never make it to the gate. Their goal was probably still a half day away, especially since they were moving slowly, but the number of Wraith in the forest seemed to have diminished significantly. For that he was grateful.
Hearing nothing, Ronon began quietly moving through the trees on his way back to Sheppard. He'd been gone longer than he meant to and the sun was now getting pretty high. Anyone scouting close to Sheppard would see him, not to mention hearing him if he was coughing. He was still unprepared for the sight that greeted him as he returned to his friend.
Sheppard was no longer slumped against a tree, but lying prone on the ground with a Wraith kneeling beside him, feeding hand poised over its prey. When the feeding hand came down, Ronon roared as he ran for the pair, barreling into the Wraith as Sheppard's back arched up against the pain. His momentum carried the two of them away from Sheppard, tumbling over one another until they banged into a large rock.
Ronon pushed away from the Wraith and grabbed for his blaster now that he had his adversary safely away from Sheppard. The gun had no sooner cleared its holster when it was kicked from his hand with such force that he thought his fingers might be broken. Ronon scrabbled backwards several feet before using a low branch to swing himself up. Whirling around, he threw up his right arm to block a fist only to have the Wraith use his other hand to hit him hard enough in the chest to send him flying. When he hit the ground, he was thankful for the layers of leaf litter below him, partially cushioning his landing.
The relief was short lived because his vision cleared to see the huge male charging toward him again, his lips bared back to reveal rows of sharp, dagger-like teeth. Hate burned deep in the former runner when thoughts of his homeworld being destroyed by these creatures filled his mind, the images from the MALP sent by the Lanteans steeling his resolve to kill those responsible. With a feral growl, Ronon got back to his feet in time to trade blows with his attacker. Adrenalin, rage, and hate held him for awhile, but eventually the Wraith lost patience and sent Ronon flying again.
Dazed, it was several seconds before Ronon was able to move and then it was too late. He gasped for breath that didn't want to come as he tried to focus on the blurry form standing at his side.
"I will feast on you, and then I will take the Lantean to my Queen to be interrogated." The Wraith laughed. "Maybe she will feed on him. Maybe she will make him a runner. Maybe we will turn him against his people to serve us."
Ronon blinked furiously, trying to get his head to clear while trying to push himself up. His entire body protested the motion, but he knew if he didn't win the battle, Sheppard would lose too. The Wraith began kneeling down to get closer to his prey when red light suddenly enveloped him. The predator stiffened and yelled before falling next to Ronon with a plop. Ronon could only stare, uncertain of what had happened.
With sudden realization, Ronon turned to look at Sheppard, sitting up and holding Ronon's blaster. He let his left arm drop as if he didn't have the energy to hold it up any more. Dark eyes glittered in the shaft of sunlight streaming through the canopy above.
"You okay?" Sheppard asked.
Ronon pushed himself up to sit and glanced back down at the Wraith, the uniform over his chest still smoking. "Yeah, I am now," he answered, looking back at his friend. Sheppard's shirt hung open, a small circle of blood welled on his chest. Ronon felt his breath catch in his throat. "You?"
Sheppard followed Ronon's eyes to the wound on his chest. He didn't look any different to Ronon, but he wasn't sure how long the Wraith had been able to feed. Sheppard looked back up at him. "I don't think he took much, if anything. About the time the pain hit, you knocked him off me. Do I . . . " Sheppard dropped the blaster in his lap to wave his hand at his face.
"No, you look the same."
Sighing, Sheppard gave a small nod. "Good, okay." Picking up the blaster, he stared at it a moment before looking back to Ronon. "I really need to get one of these. Seriously."
Ronon laughed, feeling some of the tension roll out of him. "Well, you can't have that one." Pulling himself to his feet with the aid of a tree, Ronon began limping over to Sheppard. His body felt like someone had wrecked a jumper on it, the cracked ribs the Wraith had given him making every breath a bit of a chore. He wasn't sure he was going to be much help to Sheppard.
"Ready?"
Ronon looked up to see Sheppard standing there waiting on him. He was surprised the man had the energy to get up by himself until it hit him. "Enzyme?"
Sheppard just grinned. "Oh, yeah, a big shot of it. There'll be hell to pay tomorrow, but it's going to get me to the gate today. Need a hand?"
"I can make it," Ronon said, determined to make it on his own. "What about your arm?"
Glancing at his right arm, Sheppard slowly closed his fingers into a loose fist. "Still not going to be much good, but on the plus side, the pain is kind of muted behind the extreme buzzing in my ears."
Grunting, Ronon held his hand out. "Gun?"
Sheppard looked down at the gun in his left hand, his expression close to pouting. "You know, I did save your life," he said, glancing back up at Ronon with a lopsided grin.
"Yeah," Ronon conceded. "But I saved yours first. You don't get the gun."
With an exaggerated sigh, Sheppard handed the gun back. "Can't blame a guy for trying."
"Say that the next time we spar," Ronon replied, checking the gun over before returning it to the holster.
Sheppard looked him over and then looked down at himself. "Somehow, I don't think either of us will be doing any sparring in the near future. Personally, I'm looking forward to a dry bed and some good drugs. Let's go."
Ronon watched Sheppard take several steps before loudly clearing his throat. When Sheppard turned to look at him, he tipped his head in the opposite direction. "The gate is that way."
Sheppard looked over his shoulder and then in the direction Ronon had indicated. "Right, I knew that."
The two men started walking. Ronon found he couldn't go very fast because that involved increasing his respirations, which wasn't an option right now. Sheppard almost seemed to be bouncing along, his feet barely touching the ground. They were both going to be feeling like crap tomorrow, which meant they really needed to get back to Atlantis today.
oOo
It took them until late afternoon to make it to the gate. Ronon had apparently landed more on his right side because not only did his ribs hurt, but his hip and lower back were killing him as well. Although he'd tried hard not to slow them down, his movements had gradually become more labored and sluggish. That, combined with the two times they had to swing away from their path to avoid drones, had made the trip take twice as long as he had anticipated.
They watched the gate through the trees. Two drones stood guard while a male paced around in front of their goal. "We can take them," Sheppard whispered, nervously licking his lips. They'd apparently lost their water in the fight with the Wraith and Ronon figured his CO was as thirsty as he was. Probably more because of the way he'd practically bounced off the trees the last few hours.
"Maybe we should wait for nightfall," Ronon suggested, kind of surprising himself. He wondered if they'd switched bodies, or maybe just personalities, somewhere along the way.
Sheppard eyed him critically, making Ronon wince under the scrutiny. "Yeah, you're probably not up to a fight right now. I'm guessing broken ribs, possible internal injuries, maybe a concussion. Don't worry, buddy. I can take 'em, but I'll need your gun." He held out his hand as if expecting Ronon just to hand over the blaster.
"You can't take on three Wraith by yourself. We need a different plan." No way was Ronon giving his gun over to Sheppard while he was hopped up on Wraith enzyme.
"Look, I'm high as a kite right now and feeling no pain. I can do this. My strength and reflexes are at an all time high, but I need your gun. It has a whole lot more impact on those things than my gun."
Ronon stared into John's blown pupils and shook his head. There was no way this would ever be a good idea. "What about your arm?"
John pulled his arm out of the sling and made a loose fist before raising it to near waist level. "Okay, so it's not a hundred percent, but I can use it if I need to."
The objection Ronon opened his mouth to voice was quickly lost in the sudden scramble to keep the colonel from grabbing his gun. He failed, his responses slowed by pain and exhaustion. Anger mixed with fear as he glared at Sheppard. "What the . . . Sheppard, you can't do this. You're going to get yourself killed."
His friend stood looking at him, his expression a neutral mask. Sheppard's sides billowed out with his attempts to pull in more air, softly whistling in the otherwise silent forest. He wasn't sure if the heavy breathing was due to the enzyme, the respiratory infection, or both.
Sheppard tipped his head once and then broke into a huge grin. "Sorry, buddy, but I have to do this. It's high time I save you for once. Wish me luck!" And then Sheppard was gone, leaving a trail of dancing leaves in his wake.
Ronon cursed softly, wanting to yell at Sheppard, but afraid if he did he'd bring the Wraith down on both of them. Instead, he followed the man, but at a much slower pace. His view was blocked by a thick section of trees with lots of streaming vines and bushes. The sound of weapons fire spurred him on, along with shouting and clanging. Branches slapped him in the face and tore at his arms as he rushed through the underbrush, desperate to get to Sheppard. He had no idea what he would do when he did.
Breaking through the trees, Ronon was just in time to see Sheppard flat on his back while the male approached him. The two drones were already dead. Ronon yelled to get the Wraith's attention, giving Sheppard enough time to grab the dropped blaster beside him and shoot the creature twice in the chest. The male jerked with each shot and then toppled backwards into the grass. Sheppard collapsed back to the ground, prompting Ronon to hurry toward him as much as he could with his screaming ribs.
"Sheppard?"
The colonel opened his eyes and looked up at Ronon. "I'm okay, just knocked . . . the wind . . . outta me. You?"
"Sheppard, you're an idiot."
Sheppard grinned. "You've been hangin' . . . 'round McKay . . . too much."
Ronon offered his hand and Sheppard took it. After being pulled to his feet, the colonel swiped away the blood trickling from the corner of his mouth and nodded at the gate. "You ready to blow this popsicle stand?"
"After you return my blaster." Ronon held out his hand. Sheppard stood staring at him a moment, as if mulling over whether to try to keep it or not, and then handed it back to him. Ronon checked it and returned it to its holster before looking back at Sheppard. "You ever take my gun like that again and I'll break your arm."
Sheppard did his lopsided grin thing again, shrugging one shoulder. "I still need one of those. You're bound to know where I can get one."
"Nope, it's the only one. Hurry up and dial before any more Wraith show up."
Sheppard began punching symbols. "No, seriously, where can I get one?"
"You can't, now shut up."
"You can't tell me to shut up," Sheppard insisted, punching the middle button with a little more force than necessary. "I'm the CO. Hey, I could order you to give me your gun."
"No you can't. Send your IDC so we can go home."
Sheppard looked at the gate for a moment before he finally realized what he was supposed to be doing. After punching in his code, they began walking toward the shimmering puddle. "You really don't think we can find me a gun like yours?"
Ronon sighed and grabbed Sheppard's arm, dragging him through the gate.
oOo
The buzz in John's head now sounded like a whole swarm of bees, or maybe two. When they came through the gate, the sounds of yelling and people clamoring around them seemed muted and distant behind the insects in his ears. Sam was there, looking concerned and talking to him. Then McKay appeared, poking him in his good arm for some reason John couldn't quite wrap his mind around.
The next thing he knew, John was watching the ceiling roll by, but he was too wiped to ask anyone what was going on. Then suddenly Keller was peering at him and her mouth was moving but all he could hear was the buzzing. When his vision began to gray, he decided he was too tired and too confused to try to keep up, so he let everything fade away.
" . . . pretty much gone from his system, leaving him exhausted. Withdrawal is going to make him feel like crap for a few days, along with his injuries and the respiratory infection."
John suddenly had to cough, as if the mention of his illness had flared it up. He felt himself rising as he struggled between bouts to draw in enough air, the bed underneath him angling him into more of a sitting position. When the spasms passed, something touched his lips.
"Drink, colonel, but just a few sips."
He obeyed Keller's voice, forcing himself to draw the water in slowly until the straw was pulled away. The tickle in his throat calmed, John opened his eyes to find his bed surrounded by Keller,Teyla, Rodney on crutches, and Sam Carter. He made good use of the nasal cannula brushing up against his nose, drawing heavily on the oxygen for several moments.
Keller smiled at him. "Better?"
John just nodded. He looked down at himself, taking inventory. His right arm was in a sling, leaving his left free for the IV. He thought he could feel wrapping around his ankle, surprising him. The ankle hadn't bothered him the last few hours of their trek and he'd forgotten about it. His mind felt fuzzy, but he knew he was forgetting something.
"Ronon?" John suddenly said, lifting his head up to look around.
Keller stepped back to reveal Ronon in the bed next door, giving him a wave with his non-IV hand. "You okay, Chewie?" John asked, because Ronon really looked like hell. Scratches covered his face and arms, along with some pretty livid bruises.
"I'm fine," the Satedan answered before scowling at Jennifer. "Don't know why I can't get up."
Jennifer crossed her arms in a show of defiance. "That would be three cracked ribs, a little internal bleeding, a bruised kidney, and several strained muscles in your back, Specialist Dex."
"Internal bleeding?" asked John, coming off the pillows a bit before pain drove him back down.
Turning back to him, Jennifer patted his shoulder. "Just a bit and it resolved itself without surgery. He also took a pretty good knock to the head, but not hard enough for a concussion."
"We figured that hard head would come in handy for something," said Rodney with a huge smirk. When Teyla frowned at him, he just shrugged his shoulders and continued to grin. John found it contagious and broke into his own grin.
"Now ask her to outline your injuries, Sheppard," Ronon quipped.
John felt the grin fade away. Okay, time to face the music. He looked up at the doctor and raised his brows a bit. "Doc?"
"Mild ankle sprain, which shouldn't cause you much trouble. The respiratory infection is in the early stages of pneumonia, but we've started you on antibiotics, so I'm hopeful that will clear up shortly as well. You're running a fever, which will probably leave you feeling pretty wrung out. The knife wound to the arm was pretty severe, as I'm sure you're aware. We patched you up in surgery, but there was both nerve and muscle damage. With proper care and physical therapy, you should recover, but it's going to be a slow process, so you'll have to be patient."
A loud snort came from Rodney's direction and John glared at the scientist, at least as much as he was capable of glaring at the moment. It felt pretty weak and must have looked that way too, since Rodney didn't seem impressed. Teyla gave him a look that seemed to deflate him, though, which cheered John up. At least until she turned back to him.
"I am positive that John is wise enough to follow Jennifer's instructions and not push himself too hard," she stated firmly. Then she arched one eyebrow in a very intimidating way.
John swallowed. "Uh, yeah, I'll be the perfect patient." He ignored Sam covering her smile with her hand.
"Good," said Jennifer, a little too brightly. "I'll expect nothing less."
"How long are we talking, Doc?" asked John, beginning to worry about how long he would be out of action.
"I'd prefer not to start making predictions this early," said the young doctor, giving John what he interpreted as a sad smile. That probably meant it was too depressing to bring up right now. John sighed and let himself relax back into the bed. His head was beginning to pound and he could feel a bead of sweat trickle down his face.
"What about the enzyme? I heard you say something about withdrawal." John figured as long as he was getting bad news, he might as well get it all out of the way. His good hand automatically went to his chest and found a square bandage taped over the feeding site.
"You said he really didn't have time to actually feed, right?" asked Rodney.
"Yes, that's right. It doesn't look like he took any years."
"He wasn't on me for long," said John, letting his hand drop back to his side. "Ronon knocked him off almost as soon as he started." Thank goodness. John shuddered.
"That's what Ronon told us," said Jennifer. "He did have time to inject enzyme, though, as I'm sure you're aware." John nodded when she paused. "You didn't have the massive dose Rodney had, but it was enough that your system is looking for more. Since you've been exposed to the enzyme before, it'll be worse than if it was the first, but not as bad as what the others went through after Ford kidnapped you guys."
"Bottom line?" asked John, because that was what he had really wanted.
"You're probably feeling pretty crappy right now. That's a combination of exhaustion, the infection, your injuries, and the enzyme. You'll probably feel worse before you feel better, but we're talking a few days, a week at the outside. Should be more of the same: weakness, lethargy, headache, muscle and body aches, possibly some nausea."
"So like the flu on steroids," said John.
Jennifer shrugged. "More or less."
"Better than being dead," said Ronon from his bed.
"Yeah, you got that right," admitted John.
"I am just thankful you are both back with us and safe," said Teyla. "We were very worried."
"Just so you know, we wanted to come for you," said Rodney. "Sam wouldn't let us."
Sam rolled her eyes and John felt his mouth pull into a smile. "We know. We knew you wouldn't be able to come with the Wraith all over the place. You did the right thing." John met Sam's eyes and made sure she knew he meant it. She looked uncertain for a moment and then nodded once.
"How's your leg, Rodney?" John asked, trying to deflect the conversation.
"Quite painful actually," said the scientist, looking down at the injured appendage. "They had to surgically remove the arrow and repair the horrendous damage it caused. I'll probably in physical therapy with you, you know. I had muscle damage too."
"Rodney's going to be fine," said Jennifer, flashing her I'm trying to be patient look. "I think that's enough for now. Ronon and the colonel need their rest, so I want everyone out for now. You can come back later to check on them."
There was a few groans followed by a myriad of goodbyes and then Jennifer basically tucked them in and left. John could feel sleep creeping up on him, but he had something to say first. Using the last of his energy, he turned his head to look at Ronon and found the man watching him. "Hey. Just wanted to say thank you."
Ronon frowned a little. "For what?"
"For getting me out of there alive."
Ronon snorted and waved his hand through the air. "It took us both. You're pretty scary when you're wired on enzyme."
John thinned his lips in a grimace. "Yeah, I don't really remember much of that. Just bits and pieces. Mostly I remember feeling like my skin was crawling off my body and . . . " He rubbed the back of his neck.
"Like you did when you were turning into a bug?"
"Yeah," John said quietly. "The energy was incredible, but it somehow just felt . . . wrong, like it wasn't mine."
"I know," Ronon said, meeting his eyes.
"Yeah, I guess you do." John was feeling very lucky that Ford had decided to leave him out of the enzyme club.
"The problem is that after a while, it doesn't feel wrong anymore. It feels very right, like you can't live without it." Ronon rolled his head to look up at the ceiling. "The bad part is that the craving never really goes away. You just have sense enough to know how bad it can be, so you stay away from it."
"I was never able to get Ford away from it long enough to see that," said John, bringing up a mental image of the young lieutenant after his encounter with the Wraith. He'd failed Ford, more than once.
"You can't help Ford. If he's alive, he's too far gone."
John felt his stomach tighten and his jaws clench together. "You don't know that."
"Yes, I do. And so do you."
There was nothing to say to that, because he knew Ronon was right. Ford was beyond saving, but no way could he stop trying. He still felt responsible for the kid, probably always would. He couldn't help remembering the fresh faced lieutenant that had seemed to idolize him, ready to do anything he'd asked.
"You didn't do this to him. You aren't responsible."
"I know." Too bad knowing you weren't responsible for something didn't lessen the guilt of feeling like you were responsible. John found himself wishing they would have killed a few more Wraith.
oOo
Ronon watched Sheppard thrash around, twisting the sheets around his torso and tangling his IV line around his arm, which made the Satedan appreciate the loss of his own IV the day before. Grunting with discomfort, the colonel sat up and began trying to straighten things out when a nurse came to his rescue.
"Colonel, you've gotten tangled again," she commented as she began to straighten the IV line. Sheppard quit trying to help and settled for wiping the sweat from his forehead.
"Thanks, Amy," Sheppard muttered. Amy nodded as she fixed his sheets and helped him get settled back against the pillows.
"You've got to stop fiddling with your nasal cannula," she mildly scolded, adjusting the tubing beneath his nose.
"Itches," he complained, groaning as he shifted in bed.
Once she was satisfied, she stood back to study the colonel. "I know you feel really bad. I just wish there was more we could do. Would you like some water?"
"Yeah." Sheppard's talking was limited to short and to the point lately. Amy poured some water in a cup and stuck a straw in it.
"Just a few sips," she cautioned.
"Don't want you to be wearing it again," he muttered before taking the straw between his lips. The nausea came and went, but Sheppard had lost a couple of rounds with it.
"I told you not to worry about that. It happens. I don't hear you complaining when your men bleed on you," Amy quipped.
Ronon had to admit that Beckett had a good staff. They were always trying to make their patients feel at ease, no matter what they got splattered with. He had to smile when he remembered how opposite the response of McKay had been when John had begun relieving his stomach of its contents the night before.
"What are grinning at, Chewie?"
Ronon glanced over to see Sheppard looking at him through heavy lidded eyes as Amy wiped his face with a damp cloth. "Just remembering McKay's reaction last night. He really does scream like a girl." He was inwardly glad to see the small smile that twitched the corner of Sheppard's mouth.
Trading her washcloth for a thermometer, Amy snorted. "I think I take offense to that. I'm a girl and I don't sound like that." She stuck the instrument in Sheppard's ear, making the man groan.
"I'd like to use that ear again."
"Don't you get sassy with me," she said, scrutinizing the machine when it beeped.
"How'm I doin'?" Sheppard asked.
"You have a fever," she responded as she recorded the results.
Sheppard rolled his eyes. "And you think I'm sassy?"
Amy smiled and nodded. "I do. Now be still and let me finish."
Sheppard was compliant as the nurse finished her scheduled check and then went about making sure he was tucked in. "You need anything else?" she asked.
"I'm good. Thanks for the help earlier. I don't mean to get all tangled up, I just can't seem to get comfortable."
"I know," she said. "Try to get some rest." Pointing at Ronon, Amy backed away from the bed. "I'll be right back to check on you, so don't go anywhere."
They watched her leave and then Ronon sighed before facing Sheppard. "Sorry about what I said about Ford."
John shrugged his good shoulder. "No, don't be. It was true."
"I know, but it probably wasn't a good time to say it."
Sheppard chuckled. "There's never going to be a good time to say it. It's fine. I like that I never have to wonder what's going on in your head, you just say what you think."
"Easier that way. I hate people who lie and sugar-coat things." Ronon had a hard time understanding the tendency of Earth people to pussyfoot around the truth. It was annoying.
"Yeah, I tend to agree with you on that one. Hey, I never asked. What happened to our Wraith worshipping community?"
"Carter said they are all dead. The Wraith are not forgiving when you don't deliver what was promised," Ronon said without emotion.
John had to admit that he wasn't particularly upset over the news. Anyone stupid enough to think they could bargain with the Wraith were going to end up dead eventually.
Amy returned with Keller in tow. While the nurse went about checking up on Ronon, Jennifer got out her stethoscope. "Let's see how your lungs are sounding, colonel." After listening at John's chest, she had him sit forward so she could run the instrument around his back. "Sounding better today," she commented as she looped the stethoscope around her neck and John leaned back against the pillows. "You're fever doesn't seem to be going anywhere though," she frowned, looking down at his chart. "How are you feeling?"
John shrugged his good shoulder. "Hot, achy, like I went ten rounds with Ronon."
"Flu on steroids?" she asked with a smirk.
"Exactly," he said, giving her a small smile. "Sometimes I hate it when I'm right."
"Your lungs are actually starting to clear up a little, but everything else seems to be on hold right now. At least you don't seem to be getting worse. Give it another day or two and things should turn around."
John sighed. "Don't have much choice."
"Nope," Jennifer said lightly. "I think I'll up your antipyretics to see if we can't get your fever down a bit more. Any nausea today?"
John frowned, his hand automatically going to his stomach. "Not really nausea, just a little unsettled. Better than last night."
"Good, just let someone know if that changes. Pain level?" Jennifer narrowed her eyes in warning. "And I want the truth."
John grinned sheepishly. "Not bad, but the arm is starting to pick up a little."
"Probably because it's almost time for next dose of meds. Anything else?"
"Nope, just can't get comfortable, but then you already knew that," he said, glancing at Amy, who placed her hands on her hips.
"Hey, it's my job to tattle. You know that." With a quick wink, she turned back to Ronon, removing the blood pressure cuff from his arm. "Looks good, Ronon."
"Does that mean I'm getting out of here?" Ronon asked.
"That would be up to me," said Jennifer. "I'll be over to check you next." She turned back to John. "Just take it easy, colonel, and I'll send Amy after your meds while I check the impatient guy in the next bed."
"Don't be too hard on him, Doc," John said. "He kept me alive and moving on that planet. I'd have been Wraith food if not for him."
"Well, I'll just have to take extra good care of Specialist Dex, then," Jennifer said as she moved toward Ronon. She exchanged charts with Amy. "Can you take care of getting Colonel Sheppard's meds while I see if Ronon is ready to go?"
"Absolutely," Amy said, giving the two patients a nod as she left.
Jennifer studied Ronon's chart for a moment. "Okay, this all looks good. I need to check those ribs and your lungs. If everything looks good, you can sleep in your own bed tonight." She spent the next several minutes probing and asking questions about Ronon's ribs and back. Sheppard kept close watch on the situation, turning away only to take the cup of pills Amy brought to him.
"How does he look, Doc?" asked John.
"He looks pretty good, actually." Jennifer stopped open-mouthed as if she realized what she said and then shook her head, her face turning red. "I . . . uh, I mean his condition is quite improved. If you agree to take it easy for a few days, which means no sparring, running, heavy lifting . . . or anything else strenuous that I haven't mentioned, I can release you. I'll get you some muscle relaxers to take for your back and some Tylenol for your ribs. Let me round up what you need and then I'll explain what to watch for and how to take the meds. Wait here." Jennifer waited until Ronon agreed before leaving.
"Looks like you're getting sprung," John said. He looked almost sad that he was losing his roommate. Ronon grinned as he swung his legs over to hang off the bed.
"Cheer up, Sheppard. It won't be long and you'll be out too."
"Yeah, yeah, I know. Congratulations, Chewie. Ignore me, I'm just jealous . . . and feverish." He kicked the sheet down to his knees. "And hot."
Ronon grinned as he swung his legs around in anticipation of his release. "Hey, at least you don't scream like a girl." When Sheppard laughed, he joined in.
oOo
"So, how 'bout it Doc? Early release?" John flashed a lopsided grin and waggled his eyebrows. After nine days in the infirmary, he was more than ready to leave.
Jennifer stared at him a moment and then rolled her eyes. "We've had this discussion, several times today actually. I want you fever free for 24 hours before I release you and that will be at 9:07 in the morning. I think I'm going to start adding an extra hour for each time you ask to get out earlier. Finish your dinner, colonel."
Ronon walked up as Jennifer strolled back to her office. "Did you just get threatened with detention?"
Scowling, John stared at Ronon. "What do know about detention?" Then he quickly shook his head. "Never mind, don't want to know." He pushed the rolling table away from the bed and settled back against the pillows to watch Ronon pick at his tray.
"You done with this?"
With a grim smile, John nodded. "Yeah, I'm done. Help yourself."
Breaking into a broad smile, Ronon scooped up the last few fries, that John knew had to be cold by now, and shoved them all in his mouth. He watched the Satedan lick the greasy salt from his fingers and plop down in the chair beside the bed. Their eyes met and the Satedan shifted in the chair.
"What? You said you didn't want them."
John looked blank for a moment before the meaning of Ronon's words hit him. "Oh, yeah, no, that's fine. I mean I didn't want them . . . the fries, that is."
"You sound like McKay."
Ronon never did cut him any slack. John rubbed the back of his neck. "That was uncalled for," he said, trying to look insulted. Ronon chuckled and then leaned the chair back to balance on two legs. "Hey, I've been thinking."
"McKay says that's dangerous," Ronon said as he picked at his teeth.
"What's with all the McKay references tonight?" John asked.
Shrugging his shoulders, Ronon let the chair back down to the floor. "You've been in here. I've been bored."
Sighing, John shook his head. "Anyway, I was thinking about the planet and how . . . intense things were when we were being hunted by the Wraith. I guess . . . I just wondered . . . all those years as a runner . . ." John wanted to slap himself just to see if the words would finally come out.
Ronon's expression sobered and he sat there a moment before answering John's faltering question. "It was hard sometimes. I got used to it."
John ran his good hand through his hair. "I never really realized before, how hard it would be to have them looking for you every minute, to have to keep running. How . . . How did you do it for so long?"
Shrugging his shoulders, Ronon leaned the chair back again, this time bouncing it up and down. "You just keep ahead of them, like we did. You sleep wherever you can, in caves or bushes, sometimes out in the open. You keep away from people so you don't get them killed."
"Sounds lonely," John said, trying to imagine seven years without any real human contact. He wasn't good with close interpersonal relationships, but even he couldn't imagine being that alone.
"Was at first. Got used to it," Ronon said.
"So, having someone tagging along. Was that better or just more trouble?" John asked, well aware that he'd been dead weight slowing them down most of the time.
Ronon stopped bouncing and looked at him for the first time since the topic had been broached. "Both. It was . . . nice to have someone to talk to, but kept me worried about you." A bit of a smile crept in as Ronon looked at John. "It would have been better if you'd been able to pull your own weight."
Relieved that he hadn't upset the big man with his questions, John grinned. "Gee, thanks Chewie. I'll try harder next time."
"Try harder to do what?" asked Rodney as he and Teyla each grabbed a chair and placed them near the bed.
"Keep out of trouble," John said, exchanging a look with Ronon that slipped past the others.
"You are looking well, John," said Teyla with a smile.
"I feel pretty good, too," replied the colonel. "I should get out of here in the morning. Then I just have weeks of physical therapy to look forward to."
"Better than being Wraith chow," said Ronon.
John mouthed "Wraith chow" to Rodney, who shrugged his shoulders in ignorance. It was weird, the stuff their Pegasus friends had picked up over the years.
"Well, I've already started physical therapy for my leg and let me tell you, it's no picnic. That Drybird guy will work you to death."
Teyla let out a slow breath before looking at Rodney. "The physical therapist's name is Drubard, Jason Drubard."
"Right, what she said," Rodney said, waving one hand her direction. "Anyway, he's a slave driver. My leg aches for hours after he's done."
"Your limp is getting better, though," commented John. He hadn't really noticed any difference, but he was entertaining himself by getting a rise out of Rodney.
"Really? You think so?" the scientist asked, his eyes widening.
Teyla must have realized what he was doing from the glare she was sending his way. John put on his most innocent smile. "Yes, I do."
"Humph," Rodney grunted.
"So, what have you guys been up to the last few days?" asked John. "Anything exciting?"
"Just trying to stay out of trouble for a change," said Rodney.
John thinned his lips in a grim smile. "Yeah, that was the plan with the Balterians, to stay out of trouble. You see how well that turned out."
"Ah, yes, best laid plans of mice and men . . . or in this case, lieutenant colonels," mumbled Rodney.
"Schemes," John corrected.
"What?" asked Rodney.
"The best laid schemes of mice and men
Go often askew,
And leave us nothing but grief and pain,
For promised joy."
Rodney gaped at him.
"Okay, that's not the original, it's the English translation," John admitted. "But things definitely went askew."
Rodney shook his head and then let out an exaggerated sigh. "They usually do." They sat in silence for a few moments before Ronon scratched his head and looked at Rodney, then John.
"What's a scew?"
THE END
The "best laid schemes" reference was from To a Mouse by Robert Burns.