Coulda, Shoulda, Woulda by liketheriver (team challenge)

[liketheriverrun]

Title: Coulda, Shoulda, Woulda
Genre: Gen/team/h/c
Rating: T.
Word count: ~8000
Warning: None
Spoilers: Anything through Season 5 but nothing really
Author Notes: Thanks as always to Koschka for the beta and to Laryn for the idea that someone like Major Slater might exist.
Summary:  Caring for your injured CO isn't the easiest job for a Marine.  And Sheppard's isn't the only team on Atlantis.

Coulda, Shoulda, Woulda

by liketheriver

The building where they’re holding Sheppard and McKay is damp and smells of mildew. The walls are actually seeping water, which considering that a stream runs adjacent to the facility, we are probably below the water table on this planet. After four days, I can just imagine how Dr. McKay is complaining about the conditions. Although, after four days, we weren’t even sure that either he or Sheppard were still alive. But if the intel we received is good, then we’ll know for certain in just a few minutes.

Ronon and Teyla are probably already on their way back to Atlantis seeing as we found them two floors up. Both of them wanted to come with us, but Ronon had a dislocated shoulder and Teyla realized the only way she would get him to leave the search and rescue to us and not hamper the rescue would be for her to accompany the Satedan back in the Jumper. They are a stubborn bunch, that’s for damn sure. I have no doubt that if we had found Sheppard and McKay first, they would have insisted on continuing the search for their other teammates, too.

Lorne’s voice sounds in my ear and I hold up a hand to stop my team in the hallway. "Slater, I think we’ve found them."

"Alive?" I ask hopefully.

"Looks like," he replies in a whisper. "But we have at least ten guards. We’ll wait for your team before we set off the flash bangs."

"Copy that. We’re on our way."

With a hitch of my head, I get us moving again. Polson is on my heels followed by Malloy with Delph pulling up the rear with the life signs detector in his hand.

"Major," he calls to me quietly. "I’m picking up three life signs behind us."

"Malloy," I instruct the sergeant, "you stay with Delph. Polson, you’re with me." I turn my attention to our one team member with the ATA gene. "Delph, you make sure we don’t get any surprises from behind and the coast is clear when we hightail it out of here."

"You got it, Sir," Delph promises with a boyish smile that belies his thirty years of age and a pat to the C-4 in his vest pocket.

From the stories he’s told, Scott Delph spent most of his allowance as a kid buying bottle rockets and M-80s and using them in ways that had him grounded during half his high school years. His love of explosives only grew when he joined the Marines after college.

"And, Captain," I warn, "try not to make too big of a mess."

The mischievous grin on Scott’s face just grows. "Me make a mess, Major? Never."

"Paulie, see if you can keep him under control," I tell Malloy.

"No promises," the big guy responds, rolling his eyes at our wisecracking teammate.

Paul Malloy is actually the oldest member of our team. He was a starting receiver on his varsity football team but not good enough to go pro and college just wasn’t something he was interested in, but leaving his hometown in Pennsylvania was, so he ended up one of the few and the proud who eventually ended up here in the Pegasus galaxy. With his broad square jaw and his flat top, Paulie looks like he just stepped foot out of a Marine recruiting poster and he could go toe to toe with the most hard ass drill sergeant when it comes to whipping the newbies into shape who arrive on Atlantis. But get a few beers in him and he sings Barry Manilow songs that he knows by heart, a talent we have been made privy to way too many times.

Leaving them to their task, Polson and I continue to the rendezvous with Lorne’s team. Mike Polson is fairly new to Atlantis and has yet to be assigned to a permanent team. The sergeant isn’t normally my fourth man; that honor typically falls to Dr. Drayman out of engineering. But we usually don’t bring scientists into the field on anything other than routine missions, and definitely not on one involving a rescue from a hostile adversary. Believe me, as good as Bernie is in the field when it comes to deciphering some Ancient piece of tech, you do not want him covering your ass with suppressive fire unless you want your ass filled with that suppressive fire. In fact, the only team that does bring their civilian on missions like this is the one we’ve been called in to bust out of an alien prison.

Lorne edges back away from the doorway when we arrive and I fill him in on the situation on our tails.

"Then let’s get this show on the road," Lorne orders before telling me, "McKay’s in the cage on the left, Sheppard on the right. We’ll get Rodney; you take care of the Colonel."

Nodding in agreement, I close my eyes and plug my ears against the flash bangs Lorne deploys. And then we’re storming the room and taking out the sons of bitches who decided kidnapping members of our expedition would be a good idea. That was one big ass mistake on their part.

Polson shoots the lock off of Sheppard’s cage, a metal box no more than three feet tall by five feet wide and I crawl in the small opening to check on our CO. God, who would have believed a Marine would willingly be reporting to an Air Force officer? But that’s just the way the SGC works.

"Colonel Sheppard," I yell to be heard over the skirmish still taking place outside. I also grab his shoulder to gain his attention since he’s practically curled into a ball on the floor thanks to the flying bullet and the effects of the flash bang. "Colonel, can you hear me?"

He peeks out at me, one side of his face a mass of purple and black and one eye almost swollen shut. "Slater?"

"Yes, Sir," I confirm with a reassuring smile. "We’re here to take you home."

"Home sounds good," he tells me, pushing himself up from the ground as best he can. "Home sounds real good."

After four days, I imagine it would.

I steady him when he nearly goes face down even on his hands and knees. "Then let’s get the hell out of here."

I start out in front of him and he tells me, "McKay’s in the other cage. Get him out."

"Lorne’s taking care of that," I promise and I can see that they already have our chief science officer on his feet outside the small pen where the enemy has been holding him.

McKay staggers in his own disorientation and Lorne catches him before he goes down. "Where’s Sheppard?" the scientist demands as Sanchez pushes him toward the exit. Turning even as he’s being hustled out of the room, he calls a worried, "Sheppard?"

I can just make out Lorne as he reports, "Major Slater’s got him, Rodney. It’s going to be okay." And they disappear through the door with McKay still trying to look behind him.

I stand, reach an arm down and hoist Sheppard to his feet. He sways but stays standing. "Teyla and Ronon…"

"We found them. They’re probably already back on Atlantis by now."

Sheppard nods and I can see the relief wash over him from the news. "They okay?"

"No worse than you," I assure him, wrapping his arm around my shoulder to get him moving when he shakes his head in an attempt to clear it and nearly goes down again.

Polson covers our sixes as we start back the way we came, and the three of us slow when we hear the sound of gunfire ahead of us.

"Slater," Lorne’s voice comes through my radio. "We’ve got hostiles between us." Apparently those three bodies Delph had seen had multiplied.

"How many?" I ask, weighing my options for getting us out of here.

"A couple dozen at least."

Dozens to their six weren’t good odds, for any of us. "Can you guys make it out?"

"Olson’s team is holding the front door open for us. McKay is already with them."

"Good to hear. Although, that kind of leaves us in a bind," I point out. "Seeing as I don’t remember there being a back door to this place"

"I don’t think they realize you’re behind us," Lorne continues, the sound of gunfire causing him to yell to be heard. "We’re keeping them pretty busy for the time being. Capt. Delph thinks he can take their numbers down pretty quick."

Understanding where he was going with his train of thought, I tell him, "We’ll fall back to the room with the cells. Tell Delph to see if he can keep from bringing the ceiling down on us."

"Copy that," Lorne agrees. "Standby."

"Oh, ye of little faith," Scott taunts back. "Although you might want to cover your ears, Major. Population control can get a little noisy sometimes."

I turn us around and Sheppard is instantly asking, "What’s wrong?"

"We’re cut off," I explain. "My guys are going to try to clear a path for us."

He actually resists moving, coughing before asking, "What about Lorne and McKay?"

"Dr. McKay is probably already in the Jumper by now. Once Delph blows the hall, we’ll be right behind them."

A few seconds later, a gleeful, "Fire in the hole," rings in my ear, and the entire building rumbles. Plaster from the ceiling rains down on us and the lights flicker before everything settles.

"Are we clear?" I ask through my radio.

"Well," Lorne drawls, "the good news is that we don’t have a problem with the hostile forces anymore. The bad news is that we don’t have a hallway anymore either."

I groan and apparently Scott hears me. "Sorry, Sir. This building is so old it’s just crumbling away. But we should be able to dig a hole through in about half an hour."

"We’re cut off," I tell Sheppard then key my radio again. "We’ll come down and help dig from our side, too. That should speed things up."

I motion Polson down the hall in front of us and follow behind helping Sheppard along. As we get closer to the detonation point, I start noticing a spider web of cracks on the floor beneath us and think this doesn’t look so good. And that’s when the floor shifts beneath my feet.

"Oh shit."

I’m not sure if I say it out loud or Sheppard does, but we are both obviously thinking it.

"Major!" Polson exclaims, starting to come back to where we stand when he sees what’s happening.

"No!" I order. "Don’t come any closer. It won’t support the weight."

In fact, it apparently can’t support the combined weight of me and Sheppard, because the floor gives way with a loud crack and the next thing I know, I’m plunging into freezing water.

Surfacing, I gasp from the shock of the cold and start looking around for Sheppard. "Colonel?"

The water is only about chest deep, but the hole we fell through is a hell of a lot deeper than that so that only a small amount of light can make it down through the opening a good fifteen feet above us. My P90 is still clipped to my vest and I turn on the flashlight to scan the space we’ve fallen into. It looks like it was a man made space, maybe an attempt by the original builders to go deeper but abandoned when they hit a cavern. I’m no geologist, but the water pouring in from above seems to be from the stream we had been following on the surface dropping underground and pooling in the chamber before flowing out more slowly.

"Colonel Sheppard?" I yell over the echoing sound of falling water.

"Here," he answers, gulping air as he clings to a large chunk of the floor that fell with us and is leaning against the back wall. "You okay?"

I slosh my way over to him. "My balls have taken up permanent residence in my chest, but otherwise I’m fine."

Sheppard gives a small snort as he continues to breathe heavily between coughs. "I know… the feeling."

I use the light to look him over. As banged up as he was before the fall, it’s kind of hard to tell if there are any new injuries. "How about you?

He waves off the question then leans against the stone mass and coughs a few more times. "Just last night I was telling McKay the first thing I wanted to do when we got back was take a nice long shower." He exhales in exhaustion. "For some reason, this isn’t what I had in mind."

"Major Slater?" Polson’s head appears in the opening as he shines his own light down on us. Another chunk about the size of my fist falls from above and splashes a few feet away.

"Stay back!" I order, but his head vanishes on its own.

His voice shouts from back away from the edge. "Are you two okay?"

"Yeah," I answer in my own yell. "Just stay away from the edge so you don’t join us for a swim."

"I contacted Major Lorne to let him know what happened," he reports. I realize I didn’t hear him on the radio and that it’s apparently been lost in the fall. "Is there another way out down there?"

I scan the cavern. "Negative. The water’s getting out somehow but nothing we could fit through if we could find it. You’re going to have to bring the rappelling gear from the Jumper when they clear the hallway."

"Maybe I should go help with the digging then," the young man suggests.

"Good idea," I nod in approval even though he can’t see it. "You’ll know where to find us when you’re done. And I’ve lost my radio."

"I’ll come back to check on you in a few minutes, then," he promises.

With Polson gone, I turn my attention back to Sheppard who is shivering where he stands. The water is no doubt chilly but nothing that’s going to cause someone to go hypothermic… that is no one healthy. After what he’s been through, the cold alone could do him in. "You should get up out of the water as much as you can."

"I’m fine," he argues.

I shake my head. "No offense, Colonel, but no you’re not. You’ve had a rough few days and if you sit up on the top there, you’ll get out of the cold hopefully before you go into shock."

"You don’t need to be in here anymore than I do," Sheppard points out.

I give my best nonchalant shrug. Sure I’m cold, but if I let him in on the fact that I think so, he’ll never climb up on the stone piece. "I grew up in Wisconsin. This would be nothing more than a leisurely dip in the lake for the polar bear club I was a member of as a kid. Hell, the lake was colder than this in the summer."

"Wisconsin, huh?" he stalls, teeth chattering but not moving to climb out of the water.

I don’t push it, simply tell him breezily, "I would have worn my Badger’s jersey but it just didn’t seem like a good idea to be caught wearing a red shirt on a hostile alien planet."

"That’s an awfully good point, Major."

When he still doesn’t move, and is visibly shivering harder, I try to coax him again. "Seriously, Sir, you really need to get out of the water."

He frowns as he looks me over, convinced I’m not going into hypothermia in the immediate future, and finally says, "Give me a boost."

I do as he asks and he grimaces as he climbs up and cradles his ribs as he coughs again. I don’t know if it’s a new injury from the fall or an old one from the beatings he’s obviously taken, but in the long run it really doesn’t matter. But it does make me wonder about the last time they fed him. Reaching into my vest pocket, I pull out a Milky Way bar. "Hungry?"

He eyes it, and I can see him considering it, like he doesn’t want to seem needy but definitely wanting to take it. "You sure?"

"Oh, absolutely," I insist. "I have a whole case of them back in my quarters."

"Thanks," he mumbles and tears into it immediately.

I don’t let on that I notice how his hands are shaking as he eats it because it might be considered a weakness and that’s not something Colonel Sheppard shows very often. Hell, I’m surprised he even asked for help climbing onto the stonework he’s now perched on. He’s a good CO that way, even if he’s Air Force. He doesn’t ask anyone under his command to do anything he wouldn’t do himself… well, except for KP duty or the like. But he’s not going to throw you to the lions unless he’s the one leading the way. Some of the guys think it’s grand standing, always seeking the limelight. But you can’t deny John Sheppard and his team has been through the shit more times than most of us can count. And if they consider themselves the fucking rock stars of Atlantis, then who am I to point it out that they aren’t as invincible as they like to appear?

So, I stick to small talk. "Me, personally, I prefer a good Snickers bar, but Bernie’s allergic to peanuts." When it’s obvious Sheppard doesn’t know who I’m talking about, I clarify. "Bernie Drayman out of engineering. Sometimes when he gets pissy in the field a snack takes the edge off."

Sheppard’s lips quirk at my explanation. "Never underestimate the power of chocolate on a genius’s attitude."

I give a rueful smile. "Sad to say, it took me a couple of years to learn that lesson."

"McKay pointed it out within the first month we were here," Sheppard tells me as he stuffs the second half of the candy bar in his mouth. Leaning his head back wearily against the wall, he closes his eyes as he chews, fighting off a few lingering coughs. "Problem was, there were only a limited number of contraband snack foods floating around that first year. His mood has improved greatly since we started receiving regular shipments from Earth."

"It must have been rough that first year," I note.

"Eh, Rodney’s not so bad once you know how to wrangle him… and tune out the bitching."

"I meant having to barter with alien civilizations for pretty much everything must have been a little nerve wracking."

He shrugs, dismissing the seriousness of the situation they had been in. "It made bribing the geeks a hell of a lot harder, although the poker games were much more cut throat in those days."

I can only imagine what it would have been like to step through the gate with Dr. Weir and Colonel Sumner in command. To spend a year cut off from Earth with no way to return, to discover the Wraith and watch as their Hive ships drew closer with limited forces to resist them and no hope for escape. I can only imagine because, even though I was supposed to be among the Marines under Sumner’s command, I was booted from the expedition at the last minute.

Sheppard seems to be scrolling back through his memories and cracks an eye open. "You came through the gate with Everett didn’t you?"

"Yeah," I confirm. "Got my chance to see Atlantis at last and it was on the verge of being annihilated."

"I can’t imagine the call for volunteers to hold the city until the Daedalus showed up would have been that appealing."

"Well," I admit, "I did find the first recruiting session much more attractive, regardless of the fact that it might have been a one way ticket. But I couldn’t turn down the opportunity to finally make it over here."

"The first call?" Sheppard asks in confusion.

"For the original expedition crew," I explain, "the one you came over with. I was supposed to come, too, but I was bumped at the last minute to make room for a… uh… new member."

Both of the colonel’s eyes open in surprise. "Me? You were bumped to make room for me?"

"The SGC was pretty strict about the number of people allowed on the expedition. Logistical calculations and the like, I guess. So, one major came in, another had to go out." I wave my hand to encompass me as the major that got the boot.

"I had no idea they bumped someone so I could come," he tells me honestly, almost apologetically.

"Hey, I can’t say as I blame them. I mean, you have the gene naturally and the gene therapy didn’t even take with me when I did arrived. In the long run, it was for the best."

Sheppard shuts his eyes again and shakes his head slowly. "I suppose that depends on your perspective."

"I doubt the expedition would have made it that first year without you, Colonel," I tell him honestly. "After all, if you hadn’t brokered the alliance with the Athosians, it would have been a hell of a lot harder to negotiate trade treaties with the other planets."

"Brokered the alliance?" Sheppard gives a little chortle that turns into another cough and I notice for the first time how thick it sounds and start to suspect it’s more than just the plunge into the water that’s causing it. "Let me give you a little advice about brokering alliances, Slater. If an attractive woman who happens to be the leader of her people asks if you want a cup of tea, find a way to choke it down."

"Tea, Sir?" I ask in confusion.

He nods in confirmation, eyes still shut. "And ferris wheels don’t hurt either."

"I’ll try to remember that, Colonel." I doubt I did a very good job of hiding my patronizing tone.

"The point is, I didn’t do anything special to ‘broker an alliance’ with Teyla and the Athosians besides show them a little common courtesy. You could have done just as good a job at it as me." Sheppard wraps his arms around himself as he shudders and then falls silent for a long moment. "In fact, they never would have ended up on Atlantis if I hadn’t brought the Wraith down on their settlement and pretty much destroyed any chance of them returning to Athos… all because I have the ATA gene. So, who knows? The fact that you don’t have the gene could have worked out better for the entire goddamn Pegasus galaxy."

Everyone pretty much knows that then Major John Sheppard shot Colonel Sumner and woke the Wraith during a rescue attempt of his CO and several other Marines and Athosians. The details weren’t part of predeployment briefing with Colonel Everett, but the rumblings in the hall after the data burst and distress call came through the gate from Atlantis spread the word better than any strategic planning session ever could. John Sheppard was a loose cannon, he’d taken command and was in way over his head, he never should have been allowed to go regardless of his genetics.

I even had a few people tell me that the SGC was probably wishing I’d been the one to go after all. Bet they wish they’d never let that Air Force prima donna step foot through the gate. A Marine wouldn’t have let things go FUBAR like they had. And for a while, I believed them. My opinion didn’t change when I walked through the gate to see the entire expedition stressed and exhausted and scared shitless but ready to take their last stand against an enemy they didn’t stand a snowballs chance against defeating.

It wasn’t until after the Wraith were sent packing that we found out what had really happened. How McKay and some other scientists had managed to take out one Hive with an Ancient satellite weapons. How Sheppard had been willing to personally deliver a nuke to one of the Hive ships above Atlantis. And the thing was, he could have had someone else do it. There were plenty who had received the gene therapy by then. But he didn’t. And I eventually realized over the years since that Sheppard would do anything for Atlantis. Sure, Sheppard had been the one to wake the Wraith and maybe that wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t been on the expedition, but it was only a matter of time before they would have found out about Atlantis and Earth. Only a matter of time before they had come looking for a way to finally defeat their old enemy the Ancients once and for all. And without Sheppard and McKay, it’s doubtful the Wraith would have been stopped.

So, Colonel Sheppard can second guess all he wants; he wouldn’t be the only one. And maybe I would have been able to do a better job than him. But things happened the way they did and there’s no going back. And now’s not the time to consider those possibilities anyway, not when Sheppard is sitting here bruised and shivering and obviously feeling like shit just for doing his job. That’s why I ignore the comment and try to go back to keeping his mind on more positive things.

"Well, the Athosians aside, your ATA gene must have been invaluable that first year. If nothing else, you learned to pilot the Jumpers."

The Colonel’s mouth turns up at one corner. "That is some pretty cool shit right there."

I have to admit that not being able to fly a Jumper is probably my biggest disappointment with the gene therapy not taking with me. Seriously, any kid who grew up watching Star Wars would kill to be able to play Luke Skywalker for real.

"I would think being a pilot and all it would be. Although I imagine it was a pain having to teach everyone else with the gene how to fly them."

"I needed everyone with the gene flight ready back then. For some it was like pulling teeth to get them behind the controls. Carson hated flying more than anyone I knew. It was funny because typically it was the science staff that balked and you would think they would be the ones clambering to fly a damn spaceship. Except Rodney… I couldn’t keep him out of the pilot seat."

His laugh at the memory turns into a coughing fit that has him doubling over. I place a hand on his shoulder to brace him so that he doesn’t fall from his perch and can feel the heat of skin against my hand from his fever. With the chaos of the escape, I hadn’t noticed it before, but there’s no denying it now, and it has me looking anxiously up at the hole for any sign of rescue, even though I know it’s really too soon. "It shouldn’t be much longer, Colonel," I promise.

Sheppard looks at me with fevered eyes as soon as he’s able to speak again. "You got McKay out, right? Someone got him out of that fucking cage?"

"He’s safe," I tell him yet again. "Probably hanging out in the Jumper right now waiting for you to show up."

I leave off my thoughts that Dr. McKay is also probably complaining about the delay. The thing is, everyone knows Rodney McKay is a pain in the ass, but that’s not something you say out loud to John Sheppard. The colonel can say whatever the hell he wants about his team, that’s his prerogative, but almost no one says anything negative to his face about them. It’s not that he’s come out and said not to, we just all inherently know that he doesn’t tolerate that sort of talk from others.

I understand completely. We finally gave Bernie a bear whistle after he got lost for the third time while taking a piss behind a tree, just so we could find him. Delph even made him up a GPS map of Atlantis showing all the key points...and to give him shit about his lack of direction. To pay him back, Bernie filled his bed with plastic spiders, because Scott gets the heeby jeebies if you recite Little Miss Muffet in his presence. Paulie gets faint at the sight of blood, but when I fell down a hill and ended up nicking an artery in my leg, he sat by my side and told me the stupidest knock knock jokes he could come up with while Bernie applied the compress to slow the bleeding until Scott could bring help from Atlantis. And as soon as the medics showed up, Paul moved off into the trees and sat with Bernie with his head between his knees so he wouldn’t faint. Everyone has their weaknesses and every team leader knows what they are for the people under his command. And, yeah, they’re fair game for ribbing for those on the team. But I guarantee if someone else had put those spiders in Scott’s bed, or gave Bernie shit about his lousy sense of direction, or goaded Paulie about nearly passing out, there would have been hell to pay. And you better believe Sheppard feels the same way about the members of his team.

"Good," Sheppard says almost more to himself than me. "That’s good." Leaning back once more, he fights another cough and lets his eyes drift shut again. A few seconds later, he mumbles, "Give him a candy bar if you have another one handy."

"I’m sure Major Lorne made sure Dr. McKay had something to eat," I assure him. He seems a little confused by my answer and I remind him, "Major Lorne was the one who got Dr. McKay out. Remember?"

He shakes his head minutely as if to dismiss what he had said before. "Right. Lorne. I just… must have spaced it."

"Don’t worry about it. It’s easy to do." But I am starting to get a little worried about him.

I walk over to look up at the hole above us, hoping to see or hear any sign of someone coming to pull us out, but there’s no one. The sound of Sheppard coughing again has me cursing to myself. I should have known he was sick when I pulled him out of that pen. If I had, I would have… hell, what would I have done differently? Pushed him ahead? We got out as soon as we could. Made Lorne take him and left me with McKay? For all I know, Rodney’s as bad off as the colonel and I could have ended up down here with a sick scientist instead of my CO.

Coulda, shoulda, woulda.

I could linger on those sorts of thoughts all damn day and not come up with anything that would answer how we ended up here like this. Just like I spent a lot of time considering how I ended up staying behind back on Earth while some son of a bitch Air force officer got to travel to another goddamn galaxy in my place. But then four months after the gate closed and no one had heard anything from the Atlantis expedition, my dad was diagnosed with lung cancer; five months later he was gone. And then I think about what it would have been like to have gone to Atlantis, to have survived the Wraith, to finally make contact with Earth once again only to find out my dad had died two months earlier. It would have brought up a whole other round of coulda, shoulda, woulda thoughts.

Since then, I try my best not to question these things. Sure, I could have gone through the gate and been one of the first people to step foot in the City of the Ancients in over ten thousand years. Sure, there’s the chance I could be the lieutenant colonel now and Sheppard would still be flying helicopters in Antarctica. Sure, there’s the chance that I could be the rock star of Atlantis these days with an entourage of the best and the brightest Atlantis has to offer. But then I wouldn’t have learned all the lyrics to The Copacabana from Paulie or how to read Scott’s tell in a poker game or found out from Bernie that Japanese movies about blind samurai can be pretty damn cool. And I wouldn’t have had those last few months with my dad.

Being the armchair quarterback is easy; throwing the Hail Mary pass in the big game is something else entirely. Right now I need to concentrate on seeing this play through to the end and making sure we don’t reach a fourth and ten, because I wasn’t yet ready to step back and punt. And lingering on what I could have done isn’t going to help anybody right now.

I look back to see Sheppard’s chin has dipped to rest on his chest and I slosh my way back over to him. "Colonel, how’re you doing?"

He wakes with a start, looking around in a mild panic before the fog clears and he recognizes me. "We’re still in the water."

"Yes, Sir, we are," I confirm his rather blatantly obvious observation. "But the others should be through the debris soon."

Realizing he’s safe… or relatively so, he relaxes back against the wall again. "Was kind of hoping we’d back on Atlantis and eating dinner by now."

"It’s Mexican night," I tell him. "I hear we got a shipment of fresh avocadoes for guacamole on the Daedalus yesterday."

"The Daedalus is in already?" His words are slurred lazily, but I’m afraid it’s more than just exhaustion causing it. "Last I checked they weren’t due in for a couple of days."

"Well, it’s been a couple of days since you’ve been able to check," I remind him.

"I guess you’re right," he admits. "McKay’s better at keeping up with the passage of time in these situations than I am." He tries to pull his knees up closer to his body for warmth but winces in pain from his busted ribs. "Funny, his internal clock only seems to function when he’s being held prisoner. When he’s in the lab it just shuts down."

He coughs again and I think that it sounds worse, wet with a raspy rattle, and I wish I had something dry and warm to offer him.

"Bernie never lets you forget what time it is," I tell him in hopes of keeping him talking. "Especially when he’s ready to head back to the gate. I’m surprised he doesn’t have a digital readout on his forehead."

Sheppard grins at the image I’ve presented before coughing some more. When he finally stops, he’s shivering so hard his teeth are chattering and I’m frowning in worry to see it.

Fortunately, Polson finally shows back up. "Major Slater, can you hear me?"

"Polson!" I move back over to the hole to better talk to him. "What the hell is going on up there? How much longer?"

"They’re making progress; I can hear them on the other side of the debris pile but still no daylight. Major Lorne wants to talk to you. I’m going to drop down my radio."

"Ready," I yell up when I see his hand appear above the hole and I catch the radio easily. "Lorne, this is Slater. What’s taking so long?"

"What can I say, it’s a big ass pile of rock and debris," Lorne tells me. "How are you guys doing?"

"I’m fine. Sheppard’s another matter. I think he’s sick."

"Yeah, that’s why I’m calling you. McKay thinks the colonel has pneumonia or something. He started getting sick yesterday and was getting progressively worse…"

Lorne’s voice disappears to be replaced by an irritated one. "Oh for the love of God, give me that. What’s his name?"

In the background I can hear Lorne tell McKay, "Major Carl Slater."

"Slater, this is McKay. Lorne tells me you and Sheppard fell in the water."

"That’s right, Doctor. Colonel Sheppard’s here with me now."

"Look, the last thing he needs is to be freezing his ass off. You need to get him out of the water. I’m pretty sure he’s running a fever, too."

"Believe me, Dr. McKay, I would like nothing better than to get him out of here. And as soon as the others clear the way for the rappelling equipment, I plan to do just that."

"Is there at least something he can climb up on to stay out of the water?"

Apparently Sheppard hears his teammate’s voice because he looks around groggily. "McKay?"

That’s when I have an idea and hand over the radio. "Here, Colonel. You can talk to him yourself."

"Rodney?" Sheppard calls through the com.

McKay covers his relief with annoyance. "What the hell is with you, Sheppard? You can’t even get rescued without making things worse for yourself."

Sheppard smirks at the comment. "Wouldn’t want things to be too easy, now would we?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I would prefer they were easy," McKay snaps. "I know that’s a novel, not to mention foreign concept for you, but it would make for a nice change of pace."

The colonel’s grin spreads at what has to be a more than familiar bitch session. "Have you seen Teyla and Ronon?"

"They’re in the Jumper. Ronon’s shoulder is being set," McKay tells him and the unspoken implications of the statement have Sheppard’s grin vanishing.

"Where the hell are you?" he demands.

"I… uh… came back in to tell Lorne something."

"McKay…" Sheppard grumbles in warning.

"Look, I know you want to pretend you’re fine and that cough is just a little cold, but it’s just not the case. And then I hear you decided to take a swim and there is no way I was going to sit in a damn Jumper without letting someone know that you’re on the verge of full blown pneumonia."

I can hear yelling in the background and one of the men… Paulie I think… saying they’ve made a hole. "Squeeze a blanket through," McKay orders before telling his teammate. "Hold on, John, we’ll be there soon."

Sheppard ignores the reassurance. "Rodney, I’m fine. So get your ass back to the goddamn Jumper and stay there this time." His claims of being fine are shot when he starts coughing again.

"Yeah," McKay responds dryly. "Do me a favor, Sheppard, when they haul you out of that hole, try to find the lung you just hacked up and bring it with you."

"Goddammit, McKay. If Teyla and Ronon can stay in the Jumper, then so can you."

Sheppard groans when he hears a woman’s voice ask, "Are you talking to John?"

"Is there something wrong with the Jumpers that no one will stay in them where it is safe?" the colonel demands.

I don’t hear Teyla’s response as Polson calls to me again and drops a blanket down to us. I catch it and keep as much of it out of the water as I can and then move back over to drape it around Sheppard’s shoulders. He takes it gratefully, gripping it tightly around him with trembling fingers as Ronon informs him that the medics are making way too big a deal out of a dislocated shoulder.

I spend the next fifteen minutes or so listening to Sheppard argue with his team about where they are in comparison to where he is. Actually, a few minutes in, the colonel’s coughing makes him stop talking in more than one or two word responses, but the other three more than make up for the silence on our end. And then a harness is finally lowered down and I help him buckle it into place.

Taking the radio back, I report, "Okay, he’s ready."

"Standby," Lorne calls back.

Sheppard has left the blanket behind and he’s trembling as much from the strain of standing as the cold, but he tells me, "Listen, I really had no idea they would bump someone off the expedition just so I could go."

"Hey," I dismiss. "There’s no reason to apologize. What happened, happened. And honestly, I’m not sure I would be willing to put up with everything that you have to put up with."

"Don’t underestimate yourself, Slater. I’ve seen you in action, read your mission reports… they would have been lucky to have had you with them. You would have kept them safe."

I give me a smile of thanks that he would think I could have been so beneficial to the expedition as a whole if he hadn’t come along, then I shrug. "No offense, Colonel, but I was talking about your team."

"So was I, Major," he tells me sincerely.

"You’ll have to forgive me if I have a hard time believing that, Sir." Because, let’s face it, time and time again Sheppard has put his own life at risk to save his teammates when he didn’t have to be the one on the front line.

As he’s lifted up from the water, he looks down on me and grins. "Well, it’s the thought that counts. Right?"

It is the ultimate compliment from Sheppard that he would have trusted me with them, not just all of the expedition members but his team… even though he never would have met them. And that thought right there is mind boggling because it’s almost impossible to think of John Sheppard without automatically thinking of Rodney McKay, Teyla Emmagan, and Ronon Dex. They’re a package deal in almost everyone’s mind, whether they’re gearing up to head through the gate or eating breakfast together or waiting for one of their own to come out of a hole dripping with water.

By the time I strap on the harness and am lifted out myself, Sheppard is already bundled in a blanket and being checked over by the medics as his team hovers nearby. It’s funny to think about what Sheppard said, about what it would have meant if he hadn’t come, hadn’t befriended Teyla, hadn’t asked McKay to join his team, hadn’t talked Ronon into coming to Atlantis. Sure Atlantis might have found a way to struggle through and survive, but it sure the hell wouldn’t be the same. And I get the feeling neither would Sheppard.

As my feet hit dry ground, I can see the medics taking Sheppard’s blood pressure. Teyla is squatting on the ground beside him, looking a little grungy from four days in a cell, but mostly unharmed as she rests her hand on Sheppard’s free arm. Ronon stands behind her with his arm in a sling, which is the only sign that he’s also been held captive. Although, to be honest, the Satedan's everyday attire looks like someone who’s been held prisoner or shipwrecked for a hell of a lot longer than four days. But he’s smiling happily to see the rest of his team, just like Teyla.

The only one not happy appears to be McKay.

"Look, do we need to do this here? We have a whole infirmary back on Atlantis with antibiotics and hot showers and hot meals delivered from the cafeteria."

"Oh, so now you want to go back to Atlantis," Sheppard gripes back.

Rodney waves a hand disparagingly to encompass his team. "Well, now that we pulled your waterlogged ass out of the drink there’s nothing keeping us here, is there?"

"Rodney," Teyla interrupts, "do you not think it would be prudent to start any necessary treatment that John may need as soon as possible?"

My attention is drawn away from the argument as a blanket lands around my shoulders and Scott gives a brisk rub along my arm as he drops the coverlet into place. "Enjoy your swim, Major?"

"Actually, Delph, I did. Although, maybe next time, you could manage to collapse the floor over a warmer pool of water."

I take a step and my legs wobble. Apparently the cold had gotten to me more than I had thought. Paulie is instantly on my opposite side supporting me. "Say the word, Carl, and I’ll make sure Bernie fixes it so that Delph doesn’t have warm water in his room for a week."

"It’s not my fault the architectural design of this building was substandard," Scott defends, placing a hand under my elbow to keep me from teetering over.

Both of my teammates keep me on my feet as they lead me over to where another medic is waiting and I tell Paul, "I don’t think that will be necessary, but I’ll keep the offer in mind."

"I’m not sure Bernie will take no for an answer," Malloy reasons, and I have a feeling he might be right. Bernie can get a little overprotective from time to time.

Scott groans beside me and I give him a sympathetic grin. "Sorry, man, but I told you not to make too big of a mess."

Now it’s my turn to have my vitals checked over by the medics and Delph and Malloy stick close. I notice Paulie watching Sheppard’s team across the way, and when the medic leaves, he squats and asks me in a conspiratorial and slightly awed whisper, "So, how was it being stuck with the colonel?"

"It was dark and wet but the ethereal glow emanating from him kept me warm." When Malloy gives me a funny look I roll my eyes. "How the fuck do you think it was? The man probably has pneumonia and was sitting in cold water shivering his ass off."

"Christ, what if he’d died on you?" Delph questions in dismay. "I mean even if it wasn’t your fault, could you imagine what it would be like to be the guy who couldn’t find a way to save Colonel Sheppard?"

Actually, I couldn’t imagine being that guy, just like I couldn’t imagine not coming to Atlantis, even if it was a year later than I should have. But I also shouldn’t regret the fact that I had been forced to wait, because if I hadn’t, chances are I wouldn’t have the team I have now. Not having Scott and Paul and Bernie is something else I couldn’t imagine… even if they were smartass pieces of shit sometimes.

"Thanks, Scott," I observe dryly. "I hadn’t thought of how I could have become the most hated man in all of Atlantis before now."

Scott’s attention is also drawn to where Sheppard’s team is now helping him stand, so he answers with a distracted, "No problem."

Seeing that we’re leaving, Paulie reaches down and pulls me to my feet. "It’s not all of Atlantis I’d be worried about; it’s those three." He hitches his chin toward Rodney, Ronon, and Teyla who are supporting Sheppard down the hall toward the exit. "I mean, look at them. It’s like they’re joined at the goddamn hips."

I do my best to hide my grin at how Malloy is still holding my arm even though the feeling has come back to my legs. "Yeah, well, to each his own, I suppose."

And I don’t complain as Scott falls into step on my opposite side as my own lead me out toward the Jumpers and back to Atlantis.

The End