Flashfic Picture Challenge: Unbreakable Bonds (Part 2/3)
Title: Unbreakable Bonds (Part 2/3)
Author: sgafan
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: Story: ~23,700; Part 2: ~8,600
Spoilers: Season 5, post Whispers
Warnings: Mild Profanity
Summary: When Sheppard's team violates local custom during a routine reconnaissance mission, they find themselves in a fight for survival that teaches them all a little bit more about what it means to be part of a team, and just how far each of them will go to defend the others.
A/N: HUGE thanks to my intrepid beta reader: TanaquiSGA for being a sounding board for this story, her encouragement and for her flexibility in beta reading the fic for me, last minute! *hugs* sister!
Richard Woolsey walked across the short bridge between his office and Ops. Stopping in front of one of the main control panels, he met the technician's friendly gaze. "Amelia, any word from Colonel Sheppard's team?" He knew she would've called him had the colonel made contact, but still, it felt right to ask.
"No, sir," Amelia answered. "It's been six hours and," she looked down at her laptop, "fifteen minutes."
Richard nodded. He knew the time, but appreciated her thoroughness. "The colonel isn't known for his punctuality. Just once though, I wish he could at least make an effort to be on time." He sighed. "Dial M5Y-962 please." He turned around, walked out to the balcony and rested one hand on the top railing, watching the gate as each chevron lit and then the wormhole flushed into existence.
"Channel open, sir," Amelia informed him.
Richard tapped his headset. "Colonel Sheppard, this is Atlantis. Please respond." He waited a moment, his gaze narrowing at the silence. "Colonel Sheppard," he repeated, "this is Atlantis calling for our scheduled check in. Please respond." As the silence lingered, he looked back at Amelia, who shrugged.
"The signal is getting through, sir."
Richard looked back at the wormhole. Lack of punctuality was one thing, but Sheppard never flat out missed a check in unless something was wrong. He turned towards the second technician and paused, drawing a blank on the man's name. Why can't I ever remember…? He pointed vaguely. "Hail Major Lorne. Have him report to Ops immediately."
"Chuck," the technician muttered, before he activated communications.
"Amelia," Richard returned his attention to the female technician, "can you connect to the MALP?"
Amelia nodded. "Yes. Just a minute, sir." Her brows furrowed as she typed several commands. "Stand by, sir. I'm having problems establishing a link."
Richard walked around behind her and stared at the hanging display, his patience thinning as a sense of wrongness started to flush through him. He was about to turn to Amelia when the display flashed, before settling on the MALP telemetry. He arched his brows. "I can't see anything." He looked back at Amelia.
"I don't know what's wrong, sir." She turned back to her laptop. "We're receiving the signal. I can run a diagnostic."
"You don't have to."
Richard's gaze left Amelia and focused in on Major Lorne, who was crossing ops, his sights set on the brown, fuzzy display. "Major?"
Lorne pointed at the display. "It's a sandstorm. That's why you can't see anything."
Richard looked back at the telemetry. "Are you sure?"
Lorne chortled quietly. "Yep. Spent some time in and out of Ahmed Al Jaber, and all over Kuwait. I know a sandstorm when I see one."
"Could that be interfering with communications?" Richard looked first to Lorne and then Amelia. Both of them nodded.
"Damn straight," Lorne answered. "Always gave us hell in the desert." His gaze narrowed slightly. "Colonel's team missed their check in?" he asked.
Richard nodded. "We've been unable to hail them." He turned and faced Lorne. "Is it possible they took shelter and can’t communicate with us because of the storm?"
"Yes, sir,” Lorne agreed, though his expression suggested he wasn't convinced. He shook his head. "But I don't like not knowing that for sure. I mean, why didn't they just return to Atlantis?"
"Perhaps it came on too quickly." Richard doubted the validity of his own words. He looked at the active wormhole for a second, before turning his attention back to Lorne. "Is it possible to fly a Jumper in that?"
Lorne sighed. "Possibly, yeah, but I don't know for sure. Stuff's always grounded in that crap. The Jumpers are definitely more advanced, but I don't know if they can take that or not."
"It's likely sir," Amelia interjected, "that the Jumper sensors would be useless regardless of whether it can fly or not."
"So even if you were able to fly in it," Richard concluded, "if Colonel Sheppard's team isn't in the ruins, you'd be blind and without communications, looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack?"
"They must've taken cover in the ruins," Amelia added. "It’s the only source of shelter around."
"Then it's likely," Richard followed the argument to its logical conclusion, "that they simply can't communicate with us because of the storm?"
"Likely," Lorne admitted.
Richard's gaze narrowed at Lorne's hesitant expression. "I don't like not knowing for sure any more than you do, Major, but the most reasonable assumption is that they're safe. Until we know something to the contrary, it's too risky to send anyone else." He paused before going on. "I believe that Colonel Sheppard would agree with me."
Lorne pressed his lips together before nodding. "Yeah," he admitted. He added again, "I just don't like not knowing."
"Neither do I, Major." Richard looked at Amelia. "Shut down the gate." He returned his attention to Lorne. "I don't suppose we have any idea how long this could last?"
Lorne shook his head. "Sandstorms on Earth can be really localized and last anywhere from a half hour to several hours. Here? No idea."
Richard smiled thinly at Amelia. "Dial M5Y-962 every thirty minutes until the storm passes. When it does, please notify myself and Major Lorne immediately."
"Yes, sir," Amelia answered.
----------------------
Water!
John's breathing was hoarse, but still he forced hot air into his lungs, and out… in and out, the rhythm giving his scattered mind something to focus on as his body screamed for water.
"Why are you doing this, sir?"
The sand felt hot and rough under his hands and John shifted his weight back on his knees. He braced his hands on his thighs and looked up. For a moment, disbelief silenced him as he stared at the young man looking dispassionately back at him. He found his voice. "Ford?"
For a minute, a wide playful smile split Ford's mouth. "Yes, sir."
John lifted one shaky arm. "Want to give me a hand here, lieutenant?"
Abruptly, Ford's smile disappeared. "No, sir."
John's hand dropped. "What?" He shifted his weight and struggled to rise, only to pause as Ford put a strong, restraining hand on his shoulder, pushing him down.
"Don't, sir. Just let go."
"I can't." John pushed against Ford's grip.
"Why are you doing this?" Ford asked quietly., "As soon as you're dead, your team is free. That was the deal. So why are you hanging on?" Ford let go of John's shoulder and knelt next to him. "It's not so bad, you know, dying." A bittersweet smile crossed his face. "So why don't you just let go? Stop torturing yourself."
John's brows furrowed as Ford's words gave him pause to consider. "I… I can't."
"Why?"
John shook his head. "I… don't know. I just… can't." His emotions churned and he looked up at his friend, his teammate… another black mark he carried. "I never gave up on you, Aiden."
Slowly, Ford's mouth turned up in a small smile. "I know, John," he answered quietly. "Let go," he insisted.
John's gaze narrowed as Ford's image dissolved. "Ford?"
"You bloody well better not let go!"
John's head jerked to the right and settled on a hand extended out to him. His gaze traveled up the arm and body before reaching Carson's intense gaze.
Carson impatiently pushed his hand at John. "You still got life in you, lad, and I damn well expect you to hang onto it."
John took his hand and found strength in Carson's confident grip….
John's blurred gaze focused on a long shadow that appeared just inside his line of sight. He blinked hard and coughed weakly as coherent thought battled with incoherent.
"He still lives. The desert has not taken him yet."
Rali… John forced his head up. Shaking with the effort, he still managed to look Rali square in the eyes. Then his weakened muscles gave in and, with a grunt, he let his head fall to his chest.
"Night comes, Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard. I hope for your sake that Those That Came Before take you before the sun rises on another day," Rali's words were quiet.
John felt like he'd swallowed sand paper, but willpower drove his words. "Go… t' hell…." He watched as the shadow disappeared. Retreating into himself, John focused on his breathing, his gaze once more fixed on the sand.
----------------------------------------------
Ronon smiled, confident the darkness would hide his triumph as he yanked his hands apart. "I'm free," he muttered.
"About time." Rodney's voice was barely above a whisper. "Only took you another three hours…after it got dark."
Ronon looked around, double-checking to make sure there was no one close by, before he reached up and pushed on the top of his cage. "Next time, you can get loose if you think you can do it faster," he replied. Reaching through the bars, he found the tough, thick strand of rope that bound his cage closed. Pulling at the knot, Ronon started working it loose.
"Can you get out?" Teyla asked.
Ronon nodded. "Yeah, but we've only got a couple minutes before that guard circles back." He started in on the rope again. "If I can get free, I can follow the guard, kill him, take his weapons, come back and free you two."
"Oh lovely. And all just that easy, I assume?" Rodney's voice was decidedly cynical.
Ronon refused to be baited. "Yep." He kept working on the rope.
"We're not going to have time to get Sheppard loose and get out of here before the villagers realize we're gone," Rodney insisted.
Ronon worked the knot free. "We will if I kill the guard quietly."
Rodney blanched. "True."
"Ronon," Teyla's quiet voice hailed him.
Ronon immediately sat back and crossed his hands in his lap. With the darkness only broken by distant, flickering torchlight, he appeared to still be tied, unless the guard chose to scrutinize him further, something Ronon thought was highly unlikely. He remembered how boring and monotonous guard duty could be. Without a good reason, the sentry wouldn't give him more than a cursory glance as he walked his path. Ronon leaned back against his cage and was silent.
Passing near the cages, the guard barely looked at him, before continuing on his way.
Ronon waited a few moments longer, only moving when he was sure the guard had gone on. Sitting up, he quietly opened the top of his cage. He stepped out and straightened. "I'll be right back."
"What if someone comes by and sees that you're gone before you get back?" Rodney whispered.
"Play dumb?" Ronon answered, thinking of something Sheppard would say.
Predictably, he got the same kind of reaction out of Rodney, who snapped, "Very funny." back at him.
Ronon turned and headed the guard. He had an idea of the sentry's route, but wasn't certain. So he quietly followed as the guard walked back towards the main camp, behind several tents and out to the further perimeter of the camp. Ronon knew he'd have to choose his moment carefully; when the guard stopped and looked out across the desert, Ronon knew his chance had come.
With a silence belying his size, Ronon silently approached the guard and grabbed him from behind. Without a moment's hesitation, he seized the man's head and twisted hard, breaking his neck and killing him instantly. Noiselessly, the guard went limp in his grasp.
Ronon slowly eased him to the ground and grabbed the crossbow and all the bolts the man carried. A quick pat down of the body produced two knives and a waterskin on a long strap. He hung the waterskin across his shoulders, slipped the knives into his tunic, and hurried back to Teyla and Rodney. Working quickly, he cut the binding straps on each cage, before cutting the bonds on each of his team member's wrists to free them. Then he handed Teyla one of the knives.
"What about me?" Rodney whispered.
Ronon just silently looked at him and, after a moment, Rodney sighed in resignation.
"Right. Good point."
Ronon started towards Sheppard's position, Rodney right behind him and Teyla on the six. He kept an eye on the camp but resisted the urge to look behind him as Rodney went on whispering.
"Where is everyone?"
"Most appear to be inside," Teyla answered.
Ronon raised his hand, stopping them so all three could crouch in the shadows as a couple of tribesman walked amongst the tents. "Not everyone."
"This is crazy." Rodney shifted his feet as he knelt behind Ronon. "We're going to get caught."
"Sheppard's right," Ronon answered quietly. "You do need to be more optimistic."
"Oh that's rich, coming from you," Rodney shot back.
Ronon refrained from replying. Instead, he eased back to his feet and led them through the shadows.
John's knees buckled and he fell unceremoniously to the ground. The hot grit of sand scratched his cheek, but felt warm and somehow comforting. His body went limp and his eyes slid shut.
"Ach no! You're not doing this, Colonel. Now get up!"
John peeled his eyes open and focused his gaze on a set of standard Atlantis-issue boots. He squinted and rolled on his back, his gaze travelling up to meet with Carson's determined expression.
"You're not doing this on my watch, lad." Carson pointed at John. "Up!"
John inhaled deeply. He could feel his strength seeping out of him into the warm sand. "Can't…" he whispered, "tired…."
"Yes, you can," Carson insisted. "You have to."
John closed his eyes. Somewhere in the back of his head, something nagged at him, something… insistent, something that held onto him with rugged tenacity; something he couldn't shake.
"Aye," Carson's voice softened, "that's it. You're a survivor, John, you always have been. It's no different this time."
"Teyla… Ronon… Rodney," John whispered, memories coming back to him. "They're… safe. Have to do this… for them."
"No." Carson answered flatly. "Do you really think they'll just leave peacefully? Ronon? Teyla? Even Rodney?" Carson squatted and looked him in the eyes. "Do you think any of them could live with themselves if they let this happen to you?"
"Leader… my… responsibility. I die… they live." John managed. Warmth permeated his body and, God, it felt so good, so… inviting.
"John!"
Carson's shout pulled him back and when John managed to raise his eyelids, he found he couldn't tear his gaze from the intensity that radiated from Carson's ice blue eyes.
"Who will watch over them if you die?" Carson asked quietly. Slowly, a smile formed on his lips. "They're coming for you. Just like you would for them. They're your team, John. They'd never leave you to die. So the question is: are you going to fight or not?"
John drew in a deep breath. Deep down a small voice called to him. Carson was right. John might be willing to sacrifice himself for his team, but that didn't mean his team would let him…
… and who would watch out for them if he couldn't? Groaning, he pushed himself up on his elbows.
Carson's smile widened. "That's it." He reached out. "Now, take my hand!"
----------------------------------------------------
Stopping in front of his friend, Ronon's brows furrowed. Sheppard was limp and motionless, his body hanging from his arms, his legs barely taking any weight.
Teyla gently lifted his head. "John?" she whispered.
Sheppard's swollen eyes slowly opened, but his gaze was unfocused and his eyes were glassy. Tension rippled through his body and he shivered as what looked like a chill shot through him.
"He can't possibly be cold!" Rodney whispered intently.
"He is not," Teyla affirmed. "He is still very hot and needs water." She cradled Sheppard's face in her hand and held his head up. "He is in shock."
"Heatstroke?" Rodney whispered.
Teyla nodded. "At least."
Another spasm tensed Sheppard's body and he groaned quietly. "Crson…" he slurred, "w…won't… quit… watch… thr backs…."
Ronon handed his crossbow to Rodney, and pulled the waterskin strap over his head. He popped the lid open, and gently dribbled some water on Sheppard's cracked lips.
For a moment, Sheppard didn't respond, but then his tongue passed over his lips and his groan was urgent. Ronon poured a small bit of water into Sheppard's mouth and the colonel's lips immediately closed before he swallowed hard.
"Sheppard," Ronon whispered. "We have to move."
Sheppard's expression cleared slightly, and his nod was jerky as another shiver gripped him. "Gave… or…dr…"
"Yeah, well, we'll argue that later," Rodney answered as he looked around.
Ronon capped the waterskin and looped the strap back over his head, before he pulled the knife from his tunic and quickly cut one of Sheppard's arms free.
Sheppard groaned in pain as his arm dropped.
Without a word, Teyla stepped forward and took his arm across her shoulders, bearing his weight while Ronon cut his other arm free and looped it over his shoulder.
Sheppard's knees buckled, but Teyla and Ronon held fast to him.
"No way he can walk." Ronon held tightly to Sheppard, and turned to face him. "I'll carry him."
Teyla looked at him for a moment. "Are you sure you can?"
Ronon quirked his brows. "Yep." He crouched and, with Teyla's help, laid Sheppard's body over his shoulders. He straightened with a quiet grunt and shifted Sheppard's weight into what the colonel called a fireman's carry.
"R…non… no…." Sheppard's voice was scratchy and barely above a whisper as he moved feebly in Ronon's grasp.
Ronon turned his head towards Sheppard's. "Easy buddy," he answered softly.
"We must hurry," Teyla urged, as she took the crossbow from Rodney. Holding it tight, she led them away from the camp.
"It won't take them long to figure out what happened.," Rodney followed behind Ronon.
"We must find a place where we can tend to John and defend ourselves if necessary," Teyla answered.
"The ruins." Ronon shifted Sheppard's weight and tightened his grip. "And I've still got more water for him."
"As much as I'm so into self sacrifice, we're all going to need water soon," Rodney pointed out
"John needs it more than we do." Teyla gave him a hard look.
"Yes," Rodney snapped, "I get that. But we're no use to him dead from dehydration!"
"What are you saying, Rodney?" Teyla asked.
"There has to be some source of water close by. Rali's people couldn't survive without it, and it stands to reason they'd make their camp close to it."
"Too close for us to risk," Ronon grunted.
"As opposed to charging blindly into a sandstorm with Sheppard half dead and one waterskin between us?" Rodney shot back.
"It has been several hours, Rodney." Teyla's voice was slightly exasperated. "The storm very well might have passed."
"If it had, then Woolsey would've already sent help and they would've already found us by locking in on our transmitters." Rodney drew up next to Ronon. “Even if we could get to the gate, in case you haven’t noticed, we don’t have radios or GDOs. There’s no way we could let Atlantis know that it’s us dialing in.” The moonlight illuminated his features, showing the intensity of his expression. "We need water and, like Teyla said, a place to defend ourselves until Atlantis finds us."
Ronon stopped and stared hard at Rodney for a moment but, as much as he wanted to charge back to the Stargate and get Sheppard back to Atlantis as soon as possible, he had to admit that Rodney was making a lot of sense. The Stargate was a long way off and without water, radios or GDO’s…. "You’re right," Ronon admitted quietly.
"Damn straight I am," Rodney retorted.
"McKay," Ronon growled, but his reply was cut off by Teyla's quiet but urgent voice.
"Someone is out there." Her voice was low.
Ronon crouched and eased Sheppard onto the ground. He nodded at Rodney. "McKay?"
Rodney knelt behind Sheppard and supported him, keeping his burned and mangled back off the coarse sand.
"Whoever it is, do not kill them," Teyla whispered.
"She's right," Rodney affirmed. "They might know where water is."
Ronon drew in a deep breath. These people had captured them, tortured his friend and left him for dead. In his mind, they didn't deserve any quarter from him… but they needed water, and they needed information to survive, and whoever this was might be able to give them that. He nodded once, before turning away and cautiously walking towards where he knew, instinctively, someone was. As he drew closer, he could hear the man's feet in the sand, heavy and even, the stride unsuspecting in its cadence. Before the stranger had a chance to react, Ronon leapt forward, grabbing him by the throat. He dropped two large skins of water as his hands flew to Ronon’s and clawed at them.
Ronon grunted as his captive kicked him hard in the leg. Exasperated, he lifted the man almost all the way off the ground. The captive’s struggles weakened as Ronon's grip choked him. Ronon pulled him closer, his face scant inches away. His gaze narrowed as he recognized Mela's features in the moonlight. "Keep struggling and I'll kill you."
Mela stilled, his wide eyes locked on Ronon's.
Slowly, Ronon lowered him down. He spun the young man around and twisted one of Mela's arms behind him. He smoothly drew his knife and pressed it against Mela's throat. "Move," he snarled, setting Mela marching back to his team mates.
Teyla relaxed her stance when she recognized Ronon, and lowered her crossbow. Her gaze settled on their captor. "Mela."
Ronon motioned with his head towards where he'd found Mela. "There's two large waterskins back there, not far."
Teyla nodded once and trotted past him to retrieve them.
"Why are you doing this?" Mela’s voice wavered slightly. "We would have let you go once your leader's sacrifice was complete." His tone hardened slightly. "We are a people of honor. Our word is binding."
"Well," Rodney's voice was acerbic as he held Sheppard, almost protectively, "forgive us for not being willing to sit around and watch Sheppard suffer and die to satisfy your archaic religious beliefs about a race of people who were only slightly less human than you are… though in your twisted, ruthless case, they were probably a lot more human than you are!"
"McKay," Ronon warned as he felt Mela tense under his grasp. Ronon tightened the blade against Mela's neck and the young man stilled, but the tension was still there. "Where's the water?" Ronon demanded.
"I will not help you," Mela spat.
Ronon pressed the blade tighter and drew a small amount of blood on Mela's neck. "Then you're of no use to us," he answered darkly.
"Ronon."
Ronon turned his head slightly, his gaze settling on Teyla as she walked back towards him, the two waterskins slung over her shoulders.
She stopped next to him and stared for a long moment at Mela, before she fixed her gaze on Ronon's. "Do not kill him."
"Why not?" Ronon shot back, his hatred strong. "He's just as responsible as Rali for what's happened to Sheppard!"
"He is only a boy," Teyla answered quietly.
"I am a warrior of the tribe, woman," Mela spat, "and counted as a man!"
Teyla turned an impassive look on Mela. "If we believed that, we would kill you for the threat you pose to our survival." Her gaze narrowed. "This is not an argument you want to win… boy." She returned her gaze to Ronon. "He took no effort to hide his tracks. We can follow them to the water source easily enough."
Ronon still held tightly to Mela, his anger only slightly dampened by Teyla's words. "He'll just go back and warn the tribe."
Teyla cocked her head. "Do you think they do not already know that we have escaped?" She looked around. "I traded with people such as this before. Some of the finest spices in the galaxy come from desert worlds." She looked back at him. "It is very likely they have built a structure around their water source to protect it. If so, that will provide us with water, shelter and a defensible position to await rescue."
"I vote for the water and defensible position, if we're counting," Rodney piped in.
Teyla stared at Ronon a moment longer, before she walked over to Sheppard and knelt by him. Uncorking one of the water skins, she gently tipped it and dribbled water on Sheppard's lips. "John?"
Sheppard groaned, his head stirring slightly against Rodney's shoulder, before he licked his lips. "W..ter," he whispered.
Teyla looked up at Rodney. "Lift his head."
Rodney obliged and Teyla tipped the waterskin, allowing some water to flow into Sheppard’s mouth.
Sheppard's body tensed and, in a surge of strength, he lifted his hands towards the waterskin, thirst driving him. His groan was desperate as he instinctively tried to take in as much water as he could as quickly as he could.
Teyla pulled the waterskin away and squeezed his shoulder, her touch stilling him. "Slowly, John," she insisted, "or it will make you sick. Do you understand me? Slowly."
Gradually, John's gaze cleared as he checked his instincts as much as his condition would allow. His eyes found hers, and he nodded slightly.
Teyla returned the nod and again tipped the waterskin allowing, him a couple of swallows before she pulled it back and capped it.
Ronon watched the exchange, his anger only blunted by his concern for his friend. His gaze fell to the top of Mela's head for a moment, before he lowered the knife and spun the youth around to face him. "You're lucky… this time." Before Mela could comment, Ronon punched him hard in the face, knocking him cold with one shot. With very little gentleness, he lowered Mela to the ground.
Teyla looked up at him and nodded once in approval.
"Don't thank me yet," Ronon muttered as he walked over and knelt next to Sheppard, on the opposite side of Teyla. "I still think we're going to regret it."
"R…grt what? Sheppard whispered.
"Lettin' McKay talk us into coming to this planet in the first place," Ronon answered with dark humor.
"How was I supposed to know there was a crazy, primitive tribe here that would accuse us of sacrilegious acts and try to kill us?"
Something that might have been a chuckle escaped Sheppard's mouth. "Shld've left me," he insisted quietly, mirth fading, "wld've let ya… go."
Ronon's gaze narrowed. "Bullshit," he answered.
"Okay, someone needs to back off on the action movies," Rodney answered. He looked down. "See what you've done, Sheppard? You've corrupted him."
One side of Sheppard's mouth turned up slightly, before another shiver swept through him. He tensed, his teeth chattering. "C.. cold."
Teyla touched his brow. "You are very warm John. It is shock from the heat."
"Y.. yeah," Sheppard managed. "B…burned?"
"Yes," Teyla whispered.
"Sheppard," Ronon's voice softened, "can you stand? We need to move."
"D…nt have… choice…." Sheppard shifted weakly.
Ronon grabbed his arm. "I'll carry you."
"No…" Sheppard protested, but Ronon ignored him. Looking instead at Rodney
"Push him up," he ordered. With Rodney's help, he picked Sheppard up again, and then looked at Teyla."Lead the way."
----------------------------------------
Rali stared at the severed ropes, his anger swelling. Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard had given him his word, and Rali had taken it. The other offworlders would have been let go once their leader was dead; Rali had sworn it. Yet they had acted, and now his tribe's very survival was at risk.
Rali looked towards the cages. Though dawn was close, their presence was still hidden by darkness, but he'd seen their emptiness and had felt fear grip his heart. His eyes flicked to one of his people, who ran up to him.
"Interpreter." The man was slightly breathless. "Anouat is dead. Someone broke his neck."
Rali's eyes slid shut. And now they have killed one of my tribe…. After a moment, he opened his eyes and stared hard at the messenger. "They cannot be allowed to escape," he stated flatly. "Their transgression against Those That Came Before cannot go unpunished, or we risk their wrath." He looked up. "First light is soon; that will make finding them easier." Rali pointed at tracks leading away from the spot where he stood. "They went in this direction. Bring me thirty of our most seasoned warriors. We will track them down and kill them…," Rali sighed, "and hope that will appease Those That Came Before." He glared hard at the messenger. "Go," he snapped, watching as the man turned and ran towards the main part of the camp.
---------------------------------------------
Teyla scanned Mela’s tracks, her gaze following them towards a stone structure that stood out against the flat desert. She looked back at Ronon before pointing. "There."
Breathing heavily, Ronon smiled. "You were right."
"R…non…" John slurred, "tired…hot…."
Teyla's gaze switched to John's limp form and her smile faded. He seemed to be wavering back and forth between delirium and lucidity. His condition was grave; while they had rescued him, his escape from death still was not a sure thing… but then again, neither were any of their fates.
"Almost there, buddy," Ronon reassured him quietly.
Teyla turned east, her gaze settling on the growing dawn. "He does not need to be in the sun again."
"Yeah, well, neither do we," Rodney answered, his voice hoarse.
Teyla looked back at him, before pulling one of the waterskins off her shoulder and handing it to him. "Take some water, Rodney." She looked at Ronon, who shook his head.
"Don't want to put him down until…" Ronon panted.
Teyla nodded. Ronon was a fit man, maybe even more fit than any of them, but carrying John through sand was taking its toll on him. She looked towards the structure before looking back at him. "It is not far."
Ronon nodded.
Teyla's gaze switched to Rodney in time to see him cork the waterskin and sling it over his shoulder. She furrowed her brows in a questioning way, but he just waved his hand almost aimlessly.
"I got it, okay?" Rodney's tone was almost annoyed, but Teyla smiled slightly. She turned back towards the structure and continued on, leading them towards it.
The sun was well up over the desert when Teyla led them into the structure's shadow. She ran her hand over the rough stone surface. following its wall around and out of the shadows back into the sunlight, looking for an entrance. She smiled as she spotted three rough steps that lead downward before turning a sharp angle.
Raising the crossbow, Teyla approached the steps slowly, looking for any sign of danger.
"Careful," Ronon's words echoed the caution in her actions.
"H…hot…"
John's mumble was barely loud enough for Teyla to hear him, but hear him she did, and the weakness in his voice, weakness of a man normally robust and strong, went straight to her heart. She took a deep breath and looked back. "Wait here."
"Teyla…," Ronon started but Teyla raised her hand.
"I will be fine." She turned and carefully walked down the three steps before turning a sharp corner to her right. The stone steps were weather worn and crumbling, some of them barely resembling steps anymore. An arched doorway was carved into the side of the building and led down into darkness. To her right, the remains of what looked like a pedestal blocked half the stairwell, but she easily navigated around it. Stepping carefully, she made her way downward, her feet slipping on the bits and pieces of the weathered stairs.
At the bottom, she stopped and looked around, trusting her senses to warn her of danger, but her instincts were quiet. She let out a relieved breath and turned back to look up towards the daylight. "It is safe!" she called, waiting until she saw Ronon appear, his large form blocking most of the light. "Be careful, the stairs are damaged."
Ronon nodded and carefully stepped and slipped his way down, Rodney right behind him. Teyla turned away and spotted an unlit torch sitting in a metal basket near the doorway. Next to it, a flint, steel and tinder lay in a small hole in the side of the wall. Teyla grabbed them and quickly lit the torch. She turned around in time to see Ronon settle John against some rubble in the center of the room. She winced at John's weak and broken cry as his badly burned and ravaged back made contact with rough stone.
"Sorry, buddy," Ronon answered. He leaned back and sat down hard, before resting his arms on his bent knees.
Rodney knelt next to him and held out the waterskin. "Here."
"Sheppard," Ronon panted, but didn't reach for the waterskin.
"What, so you're a camel now?" Rodney snapped. "Take it. We have another skin and if I'm right about this place, we'll have all the water we need." He shook the skin emphatically at Ronon, water sloshing invitingly inside it.
Ronon glared at Rodney for a moment, before taking the waterskin and uncorking it. He drank deeply.
Teyla lodged the torch between two pieces of rubble, knelt next to John and gently squeezed his shoulder, wary of his severe burns. "John?"
John's head moved weakly. "Cn't… quit… gotta watch… keep… safe…"
Teyla shifted her hand from John's shoulder to his cheek and stroked it gently. "John," she repeated, "we are safe. You are safe."
"Yeah, verdict might still be out on that one…." Rodney's voice trailed off as Teyla stared hard at him.
"The water source must be close." Teyla sighed. "Can you find it, Rodney?"
"Right. Rodney stood. "Shutting up and finding water now."
Teyla returned her attention to John and uncorked her waterskin. "John, water." She tipped it, splashing a little water on his lips.
John's eyes opened and he looked up at her. "T…yla? He whispered. His gaze refocused on the waterskin. "W…ter."
Teyla smiled and poured a small amount of water in his mouth, which he swallowed immediately. She poured more and he swallowed each mouthful. After several, she pulled back, fearful of making him sick and worsening his condition. Tipping the skin, she took a long drink for herself, before looking up as more light sprang to life in the room. On the opposite side of the chamber from her, she spotted Rodney lighting yet another torch and lodging it into a metal holder on the wall. Her gaze settled on a large stone formation positioned against the opposite wall that looked vaguely like a fountain. "Is that…?"
"Yep, water," Rodney interrupted. "Thought we should at least be able to see what we're doing." He lit yet another torch, placed it in its holder on the wall and looked around, momentarily admiring his handiwork. "That's better."
Teyla nodded her head towards the fountain. "And there is plenty?"
Rodney walked over and splashed his hand in it. "Tons."
Teyla smiled, before she poured water over John's chest and arms. She glanced at Ronon's questioning look. "It will help him stay cool. His resistance to the heat is compromised. He will not be able to stay cool as the day progresses. In his weakened state, that could be very dangerous."
John groaned and tensed. "H…hurts…."
Teyla inhaled deeply, pushing aside her emotions. "I know, John. I am sorry, but it will help." She looked up at Ronon who knelt on the other side of John. "Lift him up." She set down the waterskin and pulled her t-shirt over her head, leaving only her sports bra to cover her. "We need to rinse his wounds. Then we can cover them with my shirt and keep them clean from the rocks." Using her knife, she cut the shirt and ripped it along the seam, opening it up so it would cover his back better.
Ronon nodded and gently took John's arms. "C'mon Sheppard, nice and easy." He lifted, pulling John forward.
John groaned again. "Wha…?"
Teyla craned her head and got her first good look at his back. In many ways, she wished she hadn’t. Red and angry lashes covered his back and torso. Where he wasn't cut, the skin was a deep pinkish red and already blistering. Through the blisters, she could see that the next layer of skin was also a hot red color. He was burned very badly and, combined with the numerous deep lacerations, his back was a mangled mess. They'd barely managed to pull him back from life threatening heatstroke and dehydration, but if they didn’t get him help soon, there was a strong chance he could die simply from the added effect of the warming day.
"Teyla?"
She looked up, meeting Ronon's questioning gaze. She pressed her lips into a thin line and Ronon nodded slightly before he pulled John forward and rested the colonel's forehead on his shoulder. He looked down at John's back and his expression darkened with anger.
"Water isn't a concern anymore.…" Rodney froze as his gaze fixed on John's back. "Oh God…."
Teyla looked up quickly. "Rodney." She held out her cut up shirt to him. "Please hold this."
Rodney nodded silently and took the shirt.
Teyla took a deep breath and uncorked the waterskin. "John? I am sorry, this will hurt."
"Hurt… team…," John mumbled, his voice muted by Ronon's torso.
Carefully, Teyla tipped the waterskin and poured a small amount of water over John's shoulders and down his back.
John's reaction was instantaneous. He tensed and cried out, his hands reflexively latching onto Ronon's upper arms.
Ronon returned the gesture and grabbed John's elbows, trying to steady him. "Easy, buddy."
Teyla tried to tune out John’s cries as she poured more water, letting it rinse down over the burns and the cuts, washing away the dirt and grime and cooling his hot skin. She could see the tension ripple through his back muscles but she held tight to her determination, only stopping when his back was as clean as she could make it. She capped the nearly empty waterskin and held her hand out to Rodney, who handed her the shirt. Carefully, she draped the shirt over John's back. She held onto the top and nodded to Ronon. "Lay him back."
Ronon slowly laid John back against the rubble while Teyla made sure the shirt stayed in place, protecting his back from the stones.
John's body abruptly went limp, his head lolling to one side as he slipped into unconsciousness.
Teyla handed the waterskin to Rodney to be refilled. "That is all we can do for him," she said quietly.
"His back…," Rodney whispered.
Teyla nodded. "I know. He needs medical care."
Ronon stood and walked towards the stairs. "Gonna go watch for trouble. Rali's people know their home. It won't take them much to find our tracks."
"Or Mela," Teyla added. "He will tell them where we have gone."
"Could've killed him," Ronon answered.
Teyla shook her head. "As you said, they still would have found us."
"Yeah." Rodney walked back with the refilled waterskin. "Let's just hope that Lorne and the cavalry get here before Rali and his boys do."
Teyla nodded silently as she watched Ronon disappear up the stairs.
Rali froze, abruptly raising his hand to stop the men behind him as a figure ran across the sand towards him. He squinted and after a moment, was able to make out identifying features. He sighed and nodded, a small smile turning up his mouth, as Mela lurched to a stop in front of him. "Mela, we feared the offworlders had killed you."
Mela inhaled deeply and took a long drink from a waterskin presented to him, before nodding in acknowledgement to Rali. "They captured me on the way back from the well, Interpreter. The woman…," he frowned, "she convinced the big man not to kill me. I am not sure why." He shook his head. "But they revealed their plans to me. They are at the well. They plan to wait there until their people arrive."
Rali furrowed his brows. The big man had killed Anouat; the way his neck was broken so quickly and efficiently left no doubt of that, and yet Mela had been allowed to live. These people and their ways confused him. Rali impatiently pushed aside that confusion and focused on his tribe's redemption and survival. "Then we must reach them before their people do. Mela," he smiled slightly, "my son, are you fit to join us?"
Mela took another drink from the waterskin and nodded. "Yes, father. The honor is mine." He handed the waterskin to one of the warriors, who in turn gave him a spear.
Rali nodded once. "Then, let us finish this." Without another word, he led his warriors off across the sand.
------------------------------------------
"Mr. Woolsey, sir, the storm has passed on M5Y-962."
Richard's hand reflexively cupped his radio, before he pushed back from his desk and briskly walked across the bridge between his office and ops. He stopped in front of Amelia. "Please hail Major Lorne to Ops immediately."
"Already have, sir," Amelia responded.
Richard smiled. "Open a channel to the planet please." He turned and crossed ops to the balcony overlooking the active Stargate.
"Channel open, sir."
Richard tapped his headset. "Colonel Sheppard this is Atlantis. Please respond." He took a deep breath and waited as the silence lingered. Turning, he looked back at Amelia, who shrugged.
"Signal is getting through, sir. I can't detect any interference."
Richard looked back at the gate. "Colonel Sheppard, this is Atlantis. Do you read me?" He shook his head at the silence before walking back to Amelia's station. "Can you connect to the MALP?"
"Connecting now," Amelia's hands flew over her laptop keyboard.
"Mr. Woolsey, sir, what's going on?" Lorne ascended the last couple stairs on the back stairwell and walked across Ops.
"Major." Richard nodded once. "The sandstorm on M5Y-962 has finally moved on, but we're unable to reach Colonel Sheppard's team on the radio. We're connecting to the MALP right now." He looked down at Amelia, who nodded.
"Link established, sir," Amelia answered. "The MALP still seems somewhat functional, which is a miracle considering what sand does to technology."
Richard looked to the hanging screen at the back of ops and squinted. Bright sunlight greeted his gaze, but the image was fuzzy at best. "Can you clean that up any?"
"No, sir." Amelia shook her head. "We're lucky to have any video feed at all. The MALP's systems are pretty beat up."
"At least we can confirm that the storm's passed." Lorne watched the screen for one more moment, before turning to face Woolsey. "There's no reason why they wouldn't respond now, if they could. They have to be in some kind of trouble. Request permission to lead a team offworld to find them, sir."
Richard nodded. "Granted. Take a Jumper."
Lorne smiled. "Was thinkin' the same thing." Stepping around Woolsey, he headed for the back stairs.
Richard could hear him barking orders in his headset as he disappeared down the stairwell. He looked at Amelia. "Keep trying to hail Colonel Sheppard's team." He didn't wait for a response as he walked back to the balcony and looked down at the gate. So much for the routine reconnaissance mission.
He didn't think he'd been standing there long, maybe ten minutes, so he was surprised when the Jumper bay doors suddenly opened, and a Jumper slowly descended into the gate room. He tapped his headset. "Major, given the circumstances, I want an update in one hour."
"Copy that," Lorne responded.
"Good luck, Major." Richard watched as the Jumper accelerated through the wormhole.
----------------------------
"So, you think you're going to be there to watch their backs again? To save them when they need to be saved?"
Pawing his way up a sand dune, John paused and looked up. "What?"
"What makes you think you can save them, when you didn't save me?" Arms crossed over his chest, Abrams stared down at John. "You left Brendan and me alone! In a Hive! The Wraith found us and fed on me! I died! He died! We both… DIED!" His voice had risen to a shout.
"I didn't know," John muttered, as he struggled to crest the dune. "No life signs. There was no way we could've known a Wraith had survived for ten thousand years!" Reaching the top of the dune, John sat back on his heels, his hands resting on his bent knees. He looked up at Abrams. "Don't think a day goes by where I don't regret my decision."
Unmoving, Abrams stared at him. "Your regret doesn't change the fact that I'm dead. So, before you decide you need to go back to watch out for your team, think on that." His gaze narrowed in anger. "Why don't you just die already?"
John looked away, fighting the helpless feeling that threatened to overwhelm him. Suddenly, everyone he'd lost; every regret he had, every misstep, made itself painfully known to him.
Was Abrams right?
"Don't you dare give up."
John's heart dropped to the pit of his stomach at the unmistakable voice that compelled him to listen. He looked up. "Elizabeth?" His tone was incredulous.
The hardness around her features softened just a bit, and a small, fond smile touched her mouth. "John."
He looked away, the sting of regret still aching. "I lost you too," he whispered.
"No." Elizabeth knelt next to him. "That was my choice."
He looked over at her. "I couldn't save you." His brows furrowed in pained frustration. "I was ten feet away, and I still couldn't save you." With a surge of strength he pounded one fist in the sand. "If anyone should think I failed, it should be you!"
"No." Elizabeth's tone was firm. "You saved Atlantis and everyone in the city, John. My sacrifice was my choice, and you couldn't change it, no matter how much you wanted to." She shook her head. "Just like your team is choosing to save you now, or die trying. That's a choice they've made, and one you can't change. I think you owe it to them not to make their choice a vain one, just as you made sure mine wasn't."
John stared deeply into her green eyes, his mind reeling over the shift in perspective that his sense of duty… and even, he admitted, his stubbornness tried to deny to him. Resolution replaced guilt and he nodded. "Yeah."
Elizabeth's smile widened. "That's the John Sheppard I know."
John looked away, put a hand down and pushed himself to his feet. When he turned back, she was gone….
----------------------------
"..lizbth…"
Teyla's brows furrowed and she gently squeezed John's shoulder. "John?"
Slowly, John's eyes opened. "T..yla…." one side of his mouth lifted slightly. "C…ame fr… me…."
A fond smile pulled at Teyla's mouth. His voice was weak, but still there was a note of sincerity to it; words and a tone that spoke of deep commitment that she believed, surprised even him. "Yes. We would not leave you behind."
"Though you didn't exactly make it easy on us," Rodney groused as he knelt on the other side of John.
What might have been a weak chuckle escaped John's mouth. "M…kay…."
Teyla grabbed the waterskin. "Here. Drink." She uncorked it and slowly tipped it over his slightly parted lips.
John's left hand shook as he rested it on the side of the skin. After a couple of swallows, he pulled back. "You… guys?" he asked, his voice slightly clearer.
"We are fine. The well here has plenty of water and we have all drunk our fill." She lifted the skin again. "Take more, John."
He nodded weakly and again rested his hand on the side of the skin. After several more swallows he pulled back. "Good," he muttered.
Teyla corked the waterskin and set it aside. Gently, she ran a hand down his cheek. "You're much cooler. How do you feel?"
John breathed deeply. "Like… shit. Nauseous… my back… on fire…." He winced and grunted quietly. "Hurts…."
"Your back is badly burned," Teyla explained gently. "And the lashes…."
"I… get it…," John interrupted weakly. He tried a small smile again. "…'M alive." He moved his head a little and looked around. "Ro…non?"
"Standing watch," Rodney answered. "Somehow I don’t think Rali's people are just going to let us go without trouble."
"We are hoping that a rescue team reaches us before the natives do," Teyla added. She looked up as, on the heels of her words, Ronon rounded the corner and slid down the stairs. "Rali's people." He grabbed a crossbow and loaded a bolt.
"Oh, that's just great." Rodney stood. "Any sign of a Jumper?"
Ronon paused and looked up long enough to shake his head. He grabbed several more bolts and set them behind a large piece of rubble, before taking cover not far from John.
Teyla sighed, before steeling herself for the inevitable battle. She grabbed the remaining crossbow and handed Rodney a knife.
"What the hell am I supposed to do with this?" Rodney stared at the knife, before throwing her a dark look.
Teyla knelt next to John. "Defend yourself," she answered, before looking down, movement catching her eye as John struggled to sit up.
"Help me… up…" John's arms shook before giving out and he fell back against the rubble, crying out as his back impacted hard against the stone.
"John, no." Teyla put a restraining hand on his chest. "You do not have the strength."
"H..ve to…." John struggled., "dangr…"
"Sheppard, don't make me come over there and sit on you," Ronon growled.
"Lie still, and be a good colonel," Rodney added. He looked down. "Seriously, you can't… and you know it."
John's head fell back against the rubble in resignation. "Damn…."
Teyla looked away from him and towards Ronon as she heard him shift his weight a half second before she heard voices outside.
"They're coming." Ronon's voice was flat.
Teyla's gaze focused on the doorway, adrenaline surging through her in anticipation of the coming fight. But instead of warriors tumbling down the stairs, the echo of a strong voice flowed down to them.
"We know that you are in there. You must pay for your transgressions. We will be merciful if you surrender."
Teyla inhaled deeply. "Rali."
"Son… btch…," John added.
"Among other things," Rodney muttered.
"Answer me!" Rali insisted. "I have thirty of my best warriors out here! Surrender and I give you my word that your ends will be swift and painless."
"Do we answer?" Rodney whispered.
Teyla looked over at Ronon, whose gaze narrowed dangerously. She'd seen that look before, and knew what his reply would be, before he said it.
"The first one that comes down those stairs gets an arrow in his chest." Ronon’s tone was flat and emotionless. "Then he'll have his answer."
"Give 'm… me…"
"No," Teyla looked down at John. "Even if we were willing to do such a thing," she reasoned, locking gazes with him, "I believe we are past the point where that would suffice."
"This is your last chance," Rali shouted. "I will not ask again!"
Teyla held John's gaze for one more moment. In his eyes, she saw resignation, oddly mixed with resolution, all overshadowed by a deep fondness. She smiled slightly.
Slowly, John's mouth curved up just a bit, as he returned the gesture.
Teyla shifted her attention back to the open stairwell and waited. Silence shrouded them as even Rodney chose to remain quiet, but the feeling was still one of comfort to her. Words, it seemed, weren't needed. Taking a deep breath, Teyla braced herself for the coming fight.
Part 3
Part 1
Author: sgafan
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: Story: ~23,700; Part 2: ~8,600
Spoilers: Season 5, post Whispers
Warnings: Mild Profanity
Summary: When Sheppard's team violates local custom during a routine reconnaissance mission, they find themselves in a fight for survival that teaches them all a little bit more about what it means to be part of a team, and just how far each of them will go to defend the others.
A/N: HUGE thanks to my intrepid beta reader: TanaquiSGA for being a sounding board for this story, her encouragement and for her flexibility in beta reading the fic for me, last minute! *hugs* sister!
Richard Woolsey walked across the short bridge between his office and Ops. Stopping in front of one of the main control panels, he met the technician's friendly gaze. "Amelia, any word from Colonel Sheppard's team?" He knew she would've called him had the colonel made contact, but still, it felt right to ask.
"No, sir," Amelia answered. "It's been six hours and," she looked down at her laptop, "fifteen minutes."
Richard nodded. He knew the time, but appreciated her thoroughness. "The colonel isn't known for his punctuality. Just once though, I wish he could at least make an effort to be on time." He sighed. "Dial M5Y-962 please." He turned around, walked out to the balcony and rested one hand on the top railing, watching the gate as each chevron lit and then the wormhole flushed into existence.
"Channel open, sir," Amelia informed him.
Richard tapped his headset. "Colonel Sheppard, this is Atlantis. Please respond." He waited a moment, his gaze narrowing at the silence. "Colonel Sheppard," he repeated, "this is Atlantis calling for our scheduled check in. Please respond." As the silence lingered, he looked back at Amelia, who shrugged.
"The signal is getting through, sir."
Richard looked back at the wormhole. Lack of punctuality was one thing, but Sheppard never flat out missed a check in unless something was wrong. He turned towards the second technician and paused, drawing a blank on the man's name. Why can't I ever remember…? He pointed vaguely. "Hail Major Lorne. Have him report to Ops immediately."
"Chuck," the technician muttered, before he activated communications.
"Amelia," Richard returned his attention to the female technician, "can you connect to the MALP?"
Amelia nodded. "Yes. Just a minute, sir." Her brows furrowed as she typed several commands. "Stand by, sir. I'm having problems establishing a link."
Richard walked around behind her and stared at the hanging display, his patience thinning as a sense of wrongness started to flush through him. He was about to turn to Amelia when the display flashed, before settling on the MALP telemetry. He arched his brows. "I can't see anything." He looked back at Amelia.
"I don't know what's wrong, sir." She turned back to her laptop. "We're receiving the signal. I can run a diagnostic."
"You don't have to."
Richard's gaze left Amelia and focused in on Major Lorne, who was crossing ops, his sights set on the brown, fuzzy display. "Major?"
Lorne pointed at the display. "It's a sandstorm. That's why you can't see anything."
Richard looked back at the telemetry. "Are you sure?"
Lorne chortled quietly. "Yep. Spent some time in and out of Ahmed Al Jaber, and all over Kuwait. I know a sandstorm when I see one."
"Could that be interfering with communications?" Richard looked first to Lorne and then Amelia. Both of them nodded.
"Damn straight," Lorne answered. "Always gave us hell in the desert." His gaze narrowed slightly. "Colonel's team missed their check in?" he asked.
Richard nodded. "We've been unable to hail them." He turned and faced Lorne. "Is it possible they took shelter and can’t communicate with us because of the storm?"
"Yes, sir,” Lorne agreed, though his expression suggested he wasn't convinced. He shook his head. "But I don't like not knowing that for sure. I mean, why didn't they just return to Atlantis?"
"Perhaps it came on too quickly." Richard doubted the validity of his own words. He looked at the active wormhole for a second, before turning his attention back to Lorne. "Is it possible to fly a Jumper in that?"
Lorne sighed. "Possibly, yeah, but I don't know for sure. Stuff's always grounded in that crap. The Jumpers are definitely more advanced, but I don't know if they can take that or not."
"It's likely sir," Amelia interjected, "that the Jumper sensors would be useless regardless of whether it can fly or not."
"So even if you were able to fly in it," Richard concluded, "if Colonel Sheppard's team isn't in the ruins, you'd be blind and without communications, looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack?"
"They must've taken cover in the ruins," Amelia added. "It’s the only source of shelter around."
"Then it's likely," Richard followed the argument to its logical conclusion, "that they simply can't communicate with us because of the storm?"
"Likely," Lorne admitted.
Richard's gaze narrowed at Lorne's hesitant expression. "I don't like not knowing for sure any more than you do, Major, but the most reasonable assumption is that they're safe. Until we know something to the contrary, it's too risky to send anyone else." He paused before going on. "I believe that Colonel Sheppard would agree with me."
Lorne pressed his lips together before nodding. "Yeah," he admitted. He added again, "I just don't like not knowing."
"Neither do I, Major." Richard looked at Amelia. "Shut down the gate." He returned his attention to Lorne. "I don't suppose we have any idea how long this could last?"
Lorne shook his head. "Sandstorms on Earth can be really localized and last anywhere from a half hour to several hours. Here? No idea."
Richard smiled thinly at Amelia. "Dial M5Y-962 every thirty minutes until the storm passes. When it does, please notify myself and Major Lorne immediately."
"Yes, sir," Amelia answered.
----------------------
Water!
John's breathing was hoarse, but still he forced hot air into his lungs, and out… in and out, the rhythm giving his scattered mind something to focus on as his body screamed for water.
"Why are you doing this, sir?"
The sand felt hot and rough under his hands and John shifted his weight back on his knees. He braced his hands on his thighs and looked up. For a moment, disbelief silenced him as he stared at the young man looking dispassionately back at him. He found his voice. "Ford?"
For a minute, a wide playful smile split Ford's mouth. "Yes, sir."
John lifted one shaky arm. "Want to give me a hand here, lieutenant?"
Abruptly, Ford's smile disappeared. "No, sir."
John's hand dropped. "What?" He shifted his weight and struggled to rise, only to pause as Ford put a strong, restraining hand on his shoulder, pushing him down.
"Don't, sir. Just let go."
"I can't." John pushed against Ford's grip.
"Why are you doing this?" Ford asked quietly., "As soon as you're dead, your team is free. That was the deal. So why are you hanging on?" Ford let go of John's shoulder and knelt next to him. "It's not so bad, you know, dying." A bittersweet smile crossed his face. "So why don't you just let go? Stop torturing yourself."
John's brows furrowed as Ford's words gave him pause to consider. "I… I can't."
"Why?"
John shook his head. "I… don't know. I just… can't." His emotions churned and he looked up at his friend, his teammate… another black mark he carried. "I never gave up on you, Aiden."
Slowly, Ford's mouth turned up in a small smile. "I know, John," he answered quietly. "Let go," he insisted.
John's gaze narrowed as Ford's image dissolved. "Ford?"
"You bloody well better not let go!"
John's head jerked to the right and settled on a hand extended out to him. His gaze traveled up the arm and body before reaching Carson's intense gaze.
Carson impatiently pushed his hand at John. "You still got life in you, lad, and I damn well expect you to hang onto it."
John took his hand and found strength in Carson's confident grip….
John's blurred gaze focused on a long shadow that appeared just inside his line of sight. He blinked hard and coughed weakly as coherent thought battled with incoherent.
"He still lives. The desert has not taken him yet."
Rali… John forced his head up. Shaking with the effort, he still managed to look Rali square in the eyes. Then his weakened muscles gave in and, with a grunt, he let his head fall to his chest.
"Night comes, Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard. I hope for your sake that Those That Came Before take you before the sun rises on another day," Rali's words were quiet.
John felt like he'd swallowed sand paper, but willpower drove his words. "Go… t' hell…." He watched as the shadow disappeared. Retreating into himself, John focused on his breathing, his gaze once more fixed on the sand.
----------------------------------------------
Ronon smiled, confident the darkness would hide his triumph as he yanked his hands apart. "I'm free," he muttered.
"About time." Rodney's voice was barely above a whisper. "Only took you another three hours…after it got dark."
Ronon looked around, double-checking to make sure there was no one close by, before he reached up and pushed on the top of his cage. "Next time, you can get loose if you think you can do it faster," he replied. Reaching through the bars, he found the tough, thick strand of rope that bound his cage closed. Pulling at the knot, Ronon started working it loose.
"Can you get out?" Teyla asked.
Ronon nodded. "Yeah, but we've only got a couple minutes before that guard circles back." He started in on the rope again. "If I can get free, I can follow the guard, kill him, take his weapons, come back and free you two."
"Oh lovely. And all just that easy, I assume?" Rodney's voice was decidedly cynical.
Ronon refused to be baited. "Yep." He kept working on the rope.
"We're not going to have time to get Sheppard loose and get out of here before the villagers realize we're gone," Rodney insisted.
Ronon worked the knot free. "We will if I kill the guard quietly."
Rodney blanched. "True."
"Ronon," Teyla's quiet voice hailed him.
Ronon immediately sat back and crossed his hands in his lap. With the darkness only broken by distant, flickering torchlight, he appeared to still be tied, unless the guard chose to scrutinize him further, something Ronon thought was highly unlikely. He remembered how boring and monotonous guard duty could be. Without a good reason, the sentry wouldn't give him more than a cursory glance as he walked his path. Ronon leaned back against his cage and was silent.
Passing near the cages, the guard barely looked at him, before continuing on his way.
Ronon waited a few moments longer, only moving when he was sure the guard had gone on. Sitting up, he quietly opened the top of his cage. He stepped out and straightened. "I'll be right back."
"What if someone comes by and sees that you're gone before you get back?" Rodney whispered.
"Play dumb?" Ronon answered, thinking of something Sheppard would say.
Predictably, he got the same kind of reaction out of Rodney, who snapped, "Very funny." back at him.
Ronon turned and headed the guard. He had an idea of the sentry's route, but wasn't certain. So he quietly followed as the guard walked back towards the main camp, behind several tents and out to the further perimeter of the camp. Ronon knew he'd have to choose his moment carefully; when the guard stopped and looked out across the desert, Ronon knew his chance had come.
With a silence belying his size, Ronon silently approached the guard and grabbed him from behind. Without a moment's hesitation, he seized the man's head and twisted hard, breaking his neck and killing him instantly. Noiselessly, the guard went limp in his grasp.
Ronon slowly eased him to the ground and grabbed the crossbow and all the bolts the man carried. A quick pat down of the body produced two knives and a waterskin on a long strap. He hung the waterskin across his shoulders, slipped the knives into his tunic, and hurried back to Teyla and Rodney. Working quickly, he cut the binding straps on each cage, before cutting the bonds on each of his team member's wrists to free them. Then he handed Teyla one of the knives.
"What about me?" Rodney whispered.
Ronon just silently looked at him and, after a moment, Rodney sighed in resignation.
"Right. Good point."
Ronon started towards Sheppard's position, Rodney right behind him and Teyla on the six. He kept an eye on the camp but resisted the urge to look behind him as Rodney went on whispering.
"Where is everyone?"
"Most appear to be inside," Teyla answered.
Ronon raised his hand, stopping them so all three could crouch in the shadows as a couple of tribesman walked amongst the tents. "Not everyone."
"This is crazy." Rodney shifted his feet as he knelt behind Ronon. "We're going to get caught."
"Sheppard's right," Ronon answered quietly. "You do need to be more optimistic."
"Oh that's rich, coming from you," Rodney shot back.
Ronon refrained from replying. Instead, he eased back to his feet and led them through the shadows.
John's knees buckled and he fell unceremoniously to the ground. The hot grit of sand scratched his cheek, but felt warm and somehow comforting. His body went limp and his eyes slid shut.
"Ach no! You're not doing this, Colonel. Now get up!"
John peeled his eyes open and focused his gaze on a set of standard Atlantis-issue boots. He squinted and rolled on his back, his gaze travelling up to meet with Carson's determined expression.
"You're not doing this on my watch, lad." Carson pointed at John. "Up!"
John inhaled deeply. He could feel his strength seeping out of him into the warm sand. "Can't…" he whispered, "tired…."
"Yes, you can," Carson insisted. "You have to."
John closed his eyes. Somewhere in the back of his head, something nagged at him, something… insistent, something that held onto him with rugged tenacity; something he couldn't shake.
"Aye," Carson's voice softened, "that's it. You're a survivor, John, you always have been. It's no different this time."
"Teyla… Ronon… Rodney," John whispered, memories coming back to him. "They're… safe. Have to do this… for them."
"No." Carson answered flatly. "Do you really think they'll just leave peacefully? Ronon? Teyla? Even Rodney?" Carson squatted and looked him in the eyes. "Do you think any of them could live with themselves if they let this happen to you?"
"Leader… my… responsibility. I die… they live." John managed. Warmth permeated his body and, God, it felt so good, so… inviting.
"John!"
Carson's shout pulled him back and when John managed to raise his eyelids, he found he couldn't tear his gaze from the intensity that radiated from Carson's ice blue eyes.
"Who will watch over them if you die?" Carson asked quietly. Slowly, a smile formed on his lips. "They're coming for you. Just like you would for them. They're your team, John. They'd never leave you to die. So the question is: are you going to fight or not?"
John drew in a deep breath. Deep down a small voice called to him. Carson was right. John might be willing to sacrifice himself for his team, but that didn't mean his team would let him…
… and who would watch out for them if he couldn't? Groaning, he pushed himself up on his elbows.
Carson's smile widened. "That's it." He reached out. "Now, take my hand!"
----------------------------------------------------
Stopping in front of his friend, Ronon's brows furrowed. Sheppard was limp and motionless, his body hanging from his arms, his legs barely taking any weight.
Teyla gently lifted his head. "John?" she whispered.
Sheppard's swollen eyes slowly opened, but his gaze was unfocused and his eyes were glassy. Tension rippled through his body and he shivered as what looked like a chill shot through him.
"He can't possibly be cold!" Rodney whispered intently.
"He is not," Teyla affirmed. "He is still very hot and needs water." She cradled Sheppard's face in her hand and held his head up. "He is in shock."
"Heatstroke?" Rodney whispered.
Teyla nodded. "At least."
Another spasm tensed Sheppard's body and he groaned quietly. "Crson…" he slurred, "w…won't… quit… watch… thr backs…."
Ronon handed his crossbow to Rodney, and pulled the waterskin strap over his head. He popped the lid open, and gently dribbled some water on Sheppard's cracked lips.
For a moment, Sheppard didn't respond, but then his tongue passed over his lips and his groan was urgent. Ronon poured a small bit of water into Sheppard's mouth and the colonel's lips immediately closed before he swallowed hard.
"Sheppard," Ronon whispered. "We have to move."
Sheppard's expression cleared slightly, and his nod was jerky as another shiver gripped him. "Gave… or…dr…"
"Yeah, well, we'll argue that later," Rodney answered as he looked around.
Ronon capped the waterskin and looped the strap back over his head, before he pulled the knife from his tunic and quickly cut one of Sheppard's arms free.
Sheppard groaned in pain as his arm dropped.
Without a word, Teyla stepped forward and took his arm across her shoulders, bearing his weight while Ronon cut his other arm free and looped it over his shoulder.
Sheppard's knees buckled, but Teyla and Ronon held fast to him.
"No way he can walk." Ronon held tightly to Sheppard, and turned to face him. "I'll carry him."
Teyla looked at him for a moment. "Are you sure you can?"
Ronon quirked his brows. "Yep." He crouched and, with Teyla's help, laid Sheppard's body over his shoulders. He straightened with a quiet grunt and shifted Sheppard's weight into what the colonel called a fireman's carry.
"R…non… no…." Sheppard's voice was scratchy and barely above a whisper as he moved feebly in Ronon's grasp.
Ronon turned his head towards Sheppard's. "Easy buddy," he answered softly.
"We must hurry," Teyla urged, as she took the crossbow from Rodney. Holding it tight, she led them away from the camp.
"It won't take them long to figure out what happened.," Rodney followed behind Ronon.
"We must find a place where we can tend to John and defend ourselves if necessary," Teyla answered.
"The ruins." Ronon shifted Sheppard's weight and tightened his grip. "And I've still got more water for him."
"As much as I'm so into self sacrifice, we're all going to need water soon," Rodney pointed out
"John needs it more than we do." Teyla gave him a hard look.
"Yes," Rodney snapped, "I get that. But we're no use to him dead from dehydration!"
"What are you saying, Rodney?" Teyla asked.
"There has to be some source of water close by. Rali's people couldn't survive without it, and it stands to reason they'd make their camp close to it."
"Too close for us to risk," Ronon grunted.
"As opposed to charging blindly into a sandstorm with Sheppard half dead and one waterskin between us?" Rodney shot back.
"It has been several hours, Rodney." Teyla's voice was slightly exasperated. "The storm very well might have passed."
"If it had, then Woolsey would've already sent help and they would've already found us by locking in on our transmitters." Rodney drew up next to Ronon. “Even if we could get to the gate, in case you haven’t noticed, we don’t have radios or GDOs. There’s no way we could let Atlantis know that it’s us dialing in.” The moonlight illuminated his features, showing the intensity of his expression. "We need water and, like Teyla said, a place to defend ourselves until Atlantis finds us."
Ronon stopped and stared hard at Rodney for a moment but, as much as he wanted to charge back to the Stargate and get Sheppard back to Atlantis as soon as possible, he had to admit that Rodney was making a lot of sense. The Stargate was a long way off and without water, radios or GDO’s…. "You’re right," Ronon admitted quietly.
"Damn straight I am," Rodney retorted.
"McKay," Ronon growled, but his reply was cut off by Teyla's quiet but urgent voice.
"Someone is out there." Her voice was low.
Ronon crouched and eased Sheppard onto the ground. He nodded at Rodney. "McKay?"
Rodney knelt behind Sheppard and supported him, keeping his burned and mangled back off the coarse sand.
"Whoever it is, do not kill them," Teyla whispered.
"She's right," Rodney affirmed. "They might know where water is."
Ronon drew in a deep breath. These people had captured them, tortured his friend and left him for dead. In his mind, they didn't deserve any quarter from him… but they needed water, and they needed information to survive, and whoever this was might be able to give them that. He nodded once, before turning away and cautiously walking towards where he knew, instinctively, someone was. As he drew closer, he could hear the man's feet in the sand, heavy and even, the stride unsuspecting in its cadence. Before the stranger had a chance to react, Ronon leapt forward, grabbing him by the throat. He dropped two large skins of water as his hands flew to Ronon’s and clawed at them.
Ronon grunted as his captive kicked him hard in the leg. Exasperated, he lifted the man almost all the way off the ground. The captive’s struggles weakened as Ronon's grip choked him. Ronon pulled him closer, his face scant inches away. His gaze narrowed as he recognized Mela's features in the moonlight. "Keep struggling and I'll kill you."
Mela stilled, his wide eyes locked on Ronon's.
Slowly, Ronon lowered him down. He spun the young man around and twisted one of Mela's arms behind him. He smoothly drew his knife and pressed it against Mela's throat. "Move," he snarled, setting Mela marching back to his team mates.
Teyla relaxed her stance when she recognized Ronon, and lowered her crossbow. Her gaze settled on their captor. "Mela."
Ronon motioned with his head towards where he'd found Mela. "There's two large waterskins back there, not far."
Teyla nodded once and trotted past him to retrieve them.
"Why are you doing this?" Mela’s voice wavered slightly. "We would have let you go once your leader's sacrifice was complete." His tone hardened slightly. "We are a people of honor. Our word is binding."
"Well," Rodney's voice was acerbic as he held Sheppard, almost protectively, "forgive us for not being willing to sit around and watch Sheppard suffer and die to satisfy your archaic religious beliefs about a race of people who were only slightly less human than you are… though in your twisted, ruthless case, they were probably a lot more human than you are!"
"McKay," Ronon warned as he felt Mela tense under his grasp. Ronon tightened the blade against Mela's neck and the young man stilled, but the tension was still there. "Where's the water?" Ronon demanded.
"I will not help you," Mela spat.
Ronon pressed the blade tighter and drew a small amount of blood on Mela's neck. "Then you're of no use to us," he answered darkly.
"Ronon."
Ronon turned his head slightly, his gaze settling on Teyla as she walked back towards him, the two waterskins slung over her shoulders.
She stopped next to him and stared for a long moment at Mela, before she fixed her gaze on Ronon's. "Do not kill him."
"Why not?" Ronon shot back, his hatred strong. "He's just as responsible as Rali for what's happened to Sheppard!"
"He is only a boy," Teyla answered quietly.
"I am a warrior of the tribe, woman," Mela spat, "and counted as a man!"
Teyla turned an impassive look on Mela. "If we believed that, we would kill you for the threat you pose to our survival." Her gaze narrowed. "This is not an argument you want to win… boy." She returned her gaze to Ronon. "He took no effort to hide his tracks. We can follow them to the water source easily enough."
Ronon still held tightly to Mela, his anger only slightly dampened by Teyla's words. "He'll just go back and warn the tribe."
Teyla cocked her head. "Do you think they do not already know that we have escaped?" She looked around. "I traded with people such as this before. Some of the finest spices in the galaxy come from desert worlds." She looked back at him. "It is very likely they have built a structure around their water source to protect it. If so, that will provide us with water, shelter and a defensible position to await rescue."
"I vote for the water and defensible position, if we're counting," Rodney piped in.
Teyla stared at Ronon a moment longer, before she walked over to Sheppard and knelt by him. Uncorking one of the water skins, she gently tipped it and dribbled water on Sheppard's lips. "John?"
Sheppard groaned, his head stirring slightly against Rodney's shoulder, before he licked his lips. "W..ter," he whispered.
Teyla looked up at Rodney. "Lift his head."
Rodney obliged and Teyla tipped the waterskin, allowing some water to flow into Sheppard’s mouth.
Sheppard's body tensed and, in a surge of strength, he lifted his hands towards the waterskin, thirst driving him. His groan was desperate as he instinctively tried to take in as much water as he could as quickly as he could.
Teyla pulled the waterskin away and squeezed his shoulder, her touch stilling him. "Slowly, John," she insisted, "or it will make you sick. Do you understand me? Slowly."
Gradually, John's gaze cleared as he checked his instincts as much as his condition would allow. His eyes found hers, and he nodded slightly.
Teyla returned the nod and again tipped the waterskin allowing, him a couple of swallows before she pulled it back and capped it.
Ronon watched the exchange, his anger only blunted by his concern for his friend. His gaze fell to the top of Mela's head for a moment, before he lowered the knife and spun the youth around to face him. "You're lucky… this time." Before Mela could comment, Ronon punched him hard in the face, knocking him cold with one shot. With very little gentleness, he lowered Mela to the ground.
Teyla looked up at him and nodded once in approval.
"Don't thank me yet," Ronon muttered as he walked over and knelt next to Sheppard, on the opposite side of Teyla. "I still think we're going to regret it."
"R…grt what? Sheppard whispered.
"Lettin' McKay talk us into coming to this planet in the first place," Ronon answered with dark humor.
"How was I supposed to know there was a crazy, primitive tribe here that would accuse us of sacrilegious acts and try to kill us?"
Something that might have been a chuckle escaped Sheppard's mouth. "Shld've left me," he insisted quietly, mirth fading, "wld've let ya… go."
Ronon's gaze narrowed. "Bullshit," he answered.
"Okay, someone needs to back off on the action movies," Rodney answered. He looked down. "See what you've done, Sheppard? You've corrupted him."
One side of Sheppard's mouth turned up slightly, before another shiver swept through him. He tensed, his teeth chattering. "C.. cold."
Teyla touched his brow. "You are very warm John. It is shock from the heat."
"Y.. yeah," Sheppard managed. "B…burned?"
"Yes," Teyla whispered.
"Sheppard," Ronon's voice softened, "can you stand? We need to move."
"D…nt have… choice…." Sheppard shifted weakly.
Ronon grabbed his arm. "I'll carry you."
"No…" Sheppard protested, but Ronon ignored him. Looking instead at Rodney
"Push him up," he ordered. With Rodney's help, he picked Sheppard up again, and then looked at Teyla."Lead the way."
----------------------------------------
Rali stared at the severed ropes, his anger swelling. Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard had given him his word, and Rali had taken it. The other offworlders would have been let go once their leader was dead; Rali had sworn it. Yet they had acted, and now his tribe's very survival was at risk.
Rali looked towards the cages. Though dawn was close, their presence was still hidden by darkness, but he'd seen their emptiness and had felt fear grip his heart. His eyes flicked to one of his people, who ran up to him.
"Interpreter." The man was slightly breathless. "Anouat is dead. Someone broke his neck."
Rali's eyes slid shut. And now they have killed one of my tribe…. After a moment, he opened his eyes and stared hard at the messenger. "They cannot be allowed to escape," he stated flatly. "Their transgression against Those That Came Before cannot go unpunished, or we risk their wrath." He looked up. "First light is soon; that will make finding them easier." Rali pointed at tracks leading away from the spot where he stood. "They went in this direction. Bring me thirty of our most seasoned warriors. We will track them down and kill them…," Rali sighed, "and hope that will appease Those That Came Before." He glared hard at the messenger. "Go," he snapped, watching as the man turned and ran towards the main part of the camp.
---------------------------------------------
Teyla scanned Mela’s tracks, her gaze following them towards a stone structure that stood out against the flat desert. She looked back at Ronon before pointing. "There."
Breathing heavily, Ronon smiled. "You were right."
"R…non…" John slurred, "tired…hot…."
Teyla's gaze switched to John's limp form and her smile faded. He seemed to be wavering back and forth between delirium and lucidity. His condition was grave; while they had rescued him, his escape from death still was not a sure thing… but then again, neither were any of their fates.
"Almost there, buddy," Ronon reassured him quietly.
Teyla turned east, her gaze settling on the growing dawn. "He does not need to be in the sun again."
"Yeah, well, neither do we," Rodney answered, his voice hoarse.
Teyla looked back at him, before pulling one of the waterskins off her shoulder and handing it to him. "Take some water, Rodney." She looked at Ronon, who shook his head.
"Don't want to put him down until…" Ronon panted.
Teyla nodded. Ronon was a fit man, maybe even more fit than any of them, but carrying John through sand was taking its toll on him. She looked towards the structure before looking back at him. "It is not far."
Ronon nodded.
Teyla's gaze switched to Rodney in time to see him cork the waterskin and sling it over his shoulder. She furrowed her brows in a questioning way, but he just waved his hand almost aimlessly.
"I got it, okay?" Rodney's tone was almost annoyed, but Teyla smiled slightly. She turned back towards the structure and continued on, leading them towards it.
The sun was well up over the desert when Teyla led them into the structure's shadow. She ran her hand over the rough stone surface. following its wall around and out of the shadows back into the sunlight, looking for an entrance. She smiled as she spotted three rough steps that lead downward before turning a sharp angle.
Raising the crossbow, Teyla approached the steps slowly, looking for any sign of danger.
"Careful," Ronon's words echoed the caution in her actions.
"H…hot…"
John's mumble was barely loud enough for Teyla to hear him, but hear him she did, and the weakness in his voice, weakness of a man normally robust and strong, went straight to her heart. She took a deep breath and looked back. "Wait here."
"Teyla…," Ronon started but Teyla raised her hand.
"I will be fine." She turned and carefully walked down the three steps before turning a sharp corner to her right. The stone steps were weather worn and crumbling, some of them barely resembling steps anymore. An arched doorway was carved into the side of the building and led down into darkness. To her right, the remains of what looked like a pedestal blocked half the stairwell, but she easily navigated around it. Stepping carefully, she made her way downward, her feet slipping on the bits and pieces of the weathered stairs.
At the bottom, she stopped and looked around, trusting her senses to warn her of danger, but her instincts were quiet. She let out a relieved breath and turned back to look up towards the daylight. "It is safe!" she called, waiting until she saw Ronon appear, his large form blocking most of the light. "Be careful, the stairs are damaged."
Ronon nodded and carefully stepped and slipped his way down, Rodney right behind him. Teyla turned away and spotted an unlit torch sitting in a metal basket near the doorway. Next to it, a flint, steel and tinder lay in a small hole in the side of the wall. Teyla grabbed them and quickly lit the torch. She turned around in time to see Ronon settle John against some rubble in the center of the room. She winced at John's weak and broken cry as his badly burned and ravaged back made contact with rough stone.
"Sorry, buddy," Ronon answered. He leaned back and sat down hard, before resting his arms on his bent knees.
Rodney knelt next to him and held out the waterskin. "Here."
"Sheppard," Ronon panted, but didn't reach for the waterskin.
"What, so you're a camel now?" Rodney snapped. "Take it. We have another skin and if I'm right about this place, we'll have all the water we need." He shook the skin emphatically at Ronon, water sloshing invitingly inside it.
Ronon glared at Rodney for a moment, before taking the waterskin and uncorking it. He drank deeply.
Teyla lodged the torch between two pieces of rubble, knelt next to John and gently squeezed his shoulder, wary of his severe burns. "John?"
John's head moved weakly. "Cn't… quit… gotta watch… keep… safe…"
Teyla shifted her hand from John's shoulder to his cheek and stroked it gently. "John," she repeated, "we are safe. You are safe."
"Yeah, verdict might still be out on that one…." Rodney's voice trailed off as Teyla stared hard at him.
"The water source must be close." Teyla sighed. "Can you find it, Rodney?"
"Right. Rodney stood. "Shutting up and finding water now."
Teyla returned her attention to John and uncorked her waterskin. "John, water." She tipped it, splashing a little water on his lips.
John's eyes opened and he looked up at her. "T…yla? He whispered. His gaze refocused on the waterskin. "W…ter."
Teyla smiled and poured a small amount of water in his mouth, which he swallowed immediately. She poured more and he swallowed each mouthful. After several, she pulled back, fearful of making him sick and worsening his condition. Tipping the skin, she took a long drink for herself, before looking up as more light sprang to life in the room. On the opposite side of the chamber from her, she spotted Rodney lighting yet another torch and lodging it into a metal holder on the wall. Her gaze settled on a large stone formation positioned against the opposite wall that looked vaguely like a fountain. "Is that…?"
"Yep, water," Rodney interrupted. "Thought we should at least be able to see what we're doing." He lit yet another torch, placed it in its holder on the wall and looked around, momentarily admiring his handiwork. "That's better."
Teyla nodded her head towards the fountain. "And there is plenty?"
Rodney walked over and splashed his hand in it. "Tons."
Teyla smiled, before she poured water over John's chest and arms. She glanced at Ronon's questioning look. "It will help him stay cool. His resistance to the heat is compromised. He will not be able to stay cool as the day progresses. In his weakened state, that could be very dangerous."
John groaned and tensed. "H…hurts…."
Teyla inhaled deeply, pushing aside her emotions. "I know, John. I am sorry, but it will help." She looked up at Ronon who knelt on the other side of John. "Lift him up." She set down the waterskin and pulled her t-shirt over her head, leaving only her sports bra to cover her. "We need to rinse his wounds. Then we can cover them with my shirt and keep them clean from the rocks." Using her knife, she cut the shirt and ripped it along the seam, opening it up so it would cover his back better.
Ronon nodded and gently took John's arms. "C'mon Sheppard, nice and easy." He lifted, pulling John forward.
John groaned again. "Wha…?"
Teyla craned her head and got her first good look at his back. In many ways, she wished she hadn’t. Red and angry lashes covered his back and torso. Where he wasn't cut, the skin was a deep pinkish red and already blistering. Through the blisters, she could see that the next layer of skin was also a hot red color. He was burned very badly and, combined with the numerous deep lacerations, his back was a mangled mess. They'd barely managed to pull him back from life threatening heatstroke and dehydration, but if they didn’t get him help soon, there was a strong chance he could die simply from the added effect of the warming day.
"Teyla?"
She looked up, meeting Ronon's questioning gaze. She pressed her lips into a thin line and Ronon nodded slightly before he pulled John forward and rested the colonel's forehead on his shoulder. He looked down at John's back and his expression darkened with anger.
"Water isn't a concern anymore.…" Rodney froze as his gaze fixed on John's back. "Oh God…."
Teyla looked up quickly. "Rodney." She held out her cut up shirt to him. "Please hold this."
Rodney nodded silently and took the shirt.
Teyla took a deep breath and uncorked the waterskin. "John? I am sorry, this will hurt."
"Hurt… team…," John mumbled, his voice muted by Ronon's torso.
Carefully, Teyla tipped the waterskin and poured a small amount of water over John's shoulders and down his back.
John's reaction was instantaneous. He tensed and cried out, his hands reflexively latching onto Ronon's upper arms.
Ronon returned the gesture and grabbed John's elbows, trying to steady him. "Easy, buddy."
Teyla tried to tune out John’s cries as she poured more water, letting it rinse down over the burns and the cuts, washing away the dirt and grime and cooling his hot skin. She could see the tension ripple through his back muscles but she held tight to her determination, only stopping when his back was as clean as she could make it. She capped the nearly empty waterskin and held her hand out to Rodney, who handed her the shirt. Carefully, she draped the shirt over John's back. She held onto the top and nodded to Ronon. "Lay him back."
Ronon slowly laid John back against the rubble while Teyla made sure the shirt stayed in place, protecting his back from the stones.
John's body abruptly went limp, his head lolling to one side as he slipped into unconsciousness.
Teyla handed the waterskin to Rodney to be refilled. "That is all we can do for him," she said quietly.
"His back…," Rodney whispered.
Teyla nodded. "I know. He needs medical care."
Ronon stood and walked towards the stairs. "Gonna go watch for trouble. Rali's people know their home. It won't take them much to find our tracks."
"Or Mela," Teyla added. "He will tell them where we have gone."
"Could've killed him," Ronon answered.
Teyla shook her head. "As you said, they still would have found us."
"Yeah." Rodney walked back with the refilled waterskin. "Let's just hope that Lorne and the cavalry get here before Rali and his boys do."
Teyla nodded silently as she watched Ronon disappear up the stairs.
Rali froze, abruptly raising his hand to stop the men behind him as a figure ran across the sand towards him. He squinted and after a moment, was able to make out identifying features. He sighed and nodded, a small smile turning up his mouth, as Mela lurched to a stop in front of him. "Mela, we feared the offworlders had killed you."
Mela inhaled deeply and took a long drink from a waterskin presented to him, before nodding in acknowledgement to Rali. "They captured me on the way back from the well, Interpreter. The woman…," he frowned, "she convinced the big man not to kill me. I am not sure why." He shook his head. "But they revealed their plans to me. They are at the well. They plan to wait there until their people arrive."
Rali furrowed his brows. The big man had killed Anouat; the way his neck was broken so quickly and efficiently left no doubt of that, and yet Mela had been allowed to live. These people and their ways confused him. Rali impatiently pushed aside that confusion and focused on his tribe's redemption and survival. "Then we must reach them before their people do. Mela," he smiled slightly, "my son, are you fit to join us?"
Mela took another drink from the waterskin and nodded. "Yes, father. The honor is mine." He handed the waterskin to one of the warriors, who in turn gave him a spear.
Rali nodded once. "Then, let us finish this." Without another word, he led his warriors off across the sand.
------------------------------------------
"Mr. Woolsey, sir, the storm has passed on M5Y-962."
Richard's hand reflexively cupped his radio, before he pushed back from his desk and briskly walked across the bridge between his office and ops. He stopped in front of Amelia. "Please hail Major Lorne to Ops immediately."
"Already have, sir," Amelia responded.
Richard smiled. "Open a channel to the planet please." He turned and crossed ops to the balcony overlooking the active Stargate.
"Channel open, sir."
Richard tapped his headset. "Colonel Sheppard this is Atlantis. Please respond." He took a deep breath and waited as the silence lingered. Turning, he looked back at Amelia, who shrugged.
"Signal is getting through, sir. I can't detect any interference."
Richard looked back at the gate. "Colonel Sheppard, this is Atlantis. Do you read me?" He shook his head at the silence before walking back to Amelia's station. "Can you connect to the MALP?"
"Connecting now," Amelia's hands flew over her laptop keyboard.
"Mr. Woolsey, sir, what's going on?" Lorne ascended the last couple stairs on the back stairwell and walked across Ops.
"Major." Richard nodded once. "The sandstorm on M5Y-962 has finally moved on, but we're unable to reach Colonel Sheppard's team on the radio. We're connecting to the MALP right now." He looked down at Amelia, who nodded.
"Link established, sir," Amelia answered. "The MALP still seems somewhat functional, which is a miracle considering what sand does to technology."
Richard looked to the hanging screen at the back of ops and squinted. Bright sunlight greeted his gaze, but the image was fuzzy at best. "Can you clean that up any?"
"No, sir." Amelia shook her head. "We're lucky to have any video feed at all. The MALP's systems are pretty beat up."
"At least we can confirm that the storm's passed." Lorne watched the screen for one more moment, before turning to face Woolsey. "There's no reason why they wouldn't respond now, if they could. They have to be in some kind of trouble. Request permission to lead a team offworld to find them, sir."
Richard nodded. "Granted. Take a Jumper."
Lorne smiled. "Was thinkin' the same thing." Stepping around Woolsey, he headed for the back stairs.
Richard could hear him barking orders in his headset as he disappeared down the stairwell. He looked at Amelia. "Keep trying to hail Colonel Sheppard's team." He didn't wait for a response as he walked back to the balcony and looked down at the gate. So much for the routine reconnaissance mission.
He didn't think he'd been standing there long, maybe ten minutes, so he was surprised when the Jumper bay doors suddenly opened, and a Jumper slowly descended into the gate room. He tapped his headset. "Major, given the circumstances, I want an update in one hour."
"Copy that," Lorne responded.
"Good luck, Major." Richard watched as the Jumper accelerated through the wormhole.
----------------------------
"So, you think you're going to be there to watch their backs again? To save them when they need to be saved?"
Pawing his way up a sand dune, John paused and looked up. "What?"
"What makes you think you can save them, when you didn't save me?" Arms crossed over his chest, Abrams stared down at John. "You left Brendan and me alone! In a Hive! The Wraith found us and fed on me! I died! He died! We both… DIED!" His voice had risen to a shout.
"I didn't know," John muttered, as he struggled to crest the dune. "No life signs. There was no way we could've known a Wraith had survived for ten thousand years!" Reaching the top of the dune, John sat back on his heels, his hands resting on his bent knees. He looked up at Abrams. "Don't think a day goes by where I don't regret my decision."
Unmoving, Abrams stared at him. "Your regret doesn't change the fact that I'm dead. So, before you decide you need to go back to watch out for your team, think on that." His gaze narrowed in anger. "Why don't you just die already?"
John looked away, fighting the helpless feeling that threatened to overwhelm him. Suddenly, everyone he'd lost; every regret he had, every misstep, made itself painfully known to him.
Was Abrams right?
"Don't you dare give up."
John's heart dropped to the pit of his stomach at the unmistakable voice that compelled him to listen. He looked up. "Elizabeth?" His tone was incredulous.
The hardness around her features softened just a bit, and a small, fond smile touched her mouth. "John."
He looked away, the sting of regret still aching. "I lost you too," he whispered.
"No." Elizabeth knelt next to him. "That was my choice."
He looked over at her. "I couldn't save you." His brows furrowed in pained frustration. "I was ten feet away, and I still couldn't save you." With a surge of strength he pounded one fist in the sand. "If anyone should think I failed, it should be you!"
"No." Elizabeth's tone was firm. "You saved Atlantis and everyone in the city, John. My sacrifice was my choice, and you couldn't change it, no matter how much you wanted to." She shook her head. "Just like your team is choosing to save you now, or die trying. That's a choice they've made, and one you can't change. I think you owe it to them not to make their choice a vain one, just as you made sure mine wasn't."
John stared deeply into her green eyes, his mind reeling over the shift in perspective that his sense of duty… and even, he admitted, his stubbornness tried to deny to him. Resolution replaced guilt and he nodded. "Yeah."
Elizabeth's smile widened. "That's the John Sheppard I know."
John looked away, put a hand down and pushed himself to his feet. When he turned back, she was gone….
----------------------------
"..lizbth…"
Teyla's brows furrowed and she gently squeezed John's shoulder. "John?"
Slowly, John's eyes opened. "T..yla…." one side of his mouth lifted slightly. "C…ame fr… me…."
A fond smile pulled at Teyla's mouth. His voice was weak, but still there was a note of sincerity to it; words and a tone that spoke of deep commitment that she believed, surprised even him. "Yes. We would not leave you behind."
"Though you didn't exactly make it easy on us," Rodney groused as he knelt on the other side of John.
What might have been a weak chuckle escaped John's mouth. "M…kay…."
Teyla grabbed the waterskin. "Here. Drink." She uncorked it and slowly tipped it over his slightly parted lips.
John's left hand shook as he rested it on the side of the skin. After a couple of swallows, he pulled back. "You… guys?" he asked, his voice slightly clearer.
"We are fine. The well here has plenty of water and we have all drunk our fill." She lifted the skin again. "Take more, John."
He nodded weakly and again rested his hand on the side of the skin. After several more swallows he pulled back. "Good," he muttered.
Teyla corked the waterskin and set it aside. Gently, she ran a hand down his cheek. "You're much cooler. How do you feel?"
John breathed deeply. "Like… shit. Nauseous… my back… on fire…." He winced and grunted quietly. "Hurts…."
"Your back is badly burned," Teyla explained gently. "And the lashes…."
"I… get it…," John interrupted weakly. He tried a small smile again. "…'M alive." He moved his head a little and looked around. "Ro…non?"
"Standing watch," Rodney answered. "Somehow I don’t think Rali's people are just going to let us go without trouble."
"We are hoping that a rescue team reaches us before the natives do," Teyla added. She looked up as, on the heels of her words, Ronon rounded the corner and slid down the stairs. "Rali's people." He grabbed a crossbow and loaded a bolt.
"Oh, that's just great." Rodney stood. "Any sign of a Jumper?"
Ronon paused and looked up long enough to shake his head. He grabbed several more bolts and set them behind a large piece of rubble, before taking cover not far from John.
Teyla sighed, before steeling herself for the inevitable battle. She grabbed the remaining crossbow and handed Rodney a knife.
"What the hell am I supposed to do with this?" Rodney stared at the knife, before throwing her a dark look.
Teyla knelt next to John. "Defend yourself," she answered, before looking down, movement catching her eye as John struggled to sit up.
"Help me… up…" John's arms shook before giving out and he fell back against the rubble, crying out as his back impacted hard against the stone.
"John, no." Teyla put a restraining hand on his chest. "You do not have the strength."
"H..ve to…." John struggled., "dangr…"
"Sheppard, don't make me come over there and sit on you," Ronon growled.
"Lie still, and be a good colonel," Rodney added. He looked down. "Seriously, you can't… and you know it."
John's head fell back against the rubble in resignation. "Damn…."
Teyla looked away from him and towards Ronon as she heard him shift his weight a half second before she heard voices outside.
"They're coming." Ronon's voice was flat.
Teyla's gaze focused on the doorway, adrenaline surging through her in anticipation of the coming fight. But instead of warriors tumbling down the stairs, the echo of a strong voice flowed down to them.
"We know that you are in there. You must pay for your transgressions. We will be merciful if you surrender."
Teyla inhaled deeply. "Rali."
"Son… btch…," John added.
"Among other things," Rodney muttered.
"Answer me!" Rali insisted. "I have thirty of my best warriors out here! Surrender and I give you my word that your ends will be swift and painless."
"Do we answer?" Rodney whispered.
Teyla looked over at Ronon, whose gaze narrowed dangerously. She'd seen that look before, and knew what his reply would be, before he said it.
"The first one that comes down those stairs gets an arrow in his chest." Ronon’s tone was flat and emotionless. "Then he'll have his answer."
"Give 'm… me…"
"No," Teyla looked down at John. "Even if we were willing to do such a thing," she reasoned, locking gazes with him, "I believe we are past the point where that would suffice."
"This is your last chance," Rali shouted. "I will not ask again!"
Teyla held John's gaze for one more moment. In his eyes, she saw resignation, oddly mixed with resolution, all overshadowed by a deep fondness. She smiled slightly.
Slowly, John's mouth curved up just a bit, as he returned the gesture.
Teyla shifted her attention back to the open stairwell and waited. Silence shrouded them as even Rodney chose to remain quiet, but the feeling was still one of comfort to her. Words, it seemed, weren't needed. Taking a deep breath, Teyla braced herself for the coming fight.
Part 3
Part 1