Friendship, Week 2: Running (1/2)

[sga_genadmin]

Title: Running
Author: titan5
Genre: Friendship
Prompt: The best-laid plans
Word Count: around 18,000
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Summary: Ronon and John are on the run from the Wraith.
Notes: Set early in season four. Many thanks to sharpes hussy for her beta work. I did some tinkering after her suggestions, so all mistakes are mine.


[ Part One] [ Part Two]

Running Part 1

John suppressed a yawn, glancing around to watch Ronon's eyes drift closed. Teyla, sitting beside him, didn't look much more awake. Massaging the back of his neck, he rolled his shoulders and turned his head to entertain himself by looking at Rodney on his other side. His eyes were closed, his chin resting on his chest. Grinning, John nudged the scientist lightly in the ribcage, startling him awake almost instantly. A moment of panic quickly gave way to a scowl, making John's smile widen.

They had been with the Balterians all afternoon, hopeful for a trade agreement that would net them some of the village's fresh fruit and vegetables. The people had been friendly, eager to entertain their visitors and to feed them samples of their offerings. John was pretty sure Ronon and Rodney had eaten their way through half the village storehouse, all in the name of sampling the wares. But it was late and they were tired and John was still trying to think of a way to end the festivities without insulting anyone. It would be nice to just return to Atlantis with a friendly trade agreement and no hostilities for once. Even Lorne had started making subtle, yet snide remarks about his team's ability to get into trouble lately.

There was a pause in the informal speech being given by Akil, the rather heavy leader of the village. He was short, with a round face and a nervous smile that made John keep looking over his shoulder. He'd noticed Ronon doing much the same thing all day. Everyone else seemed at ease, so John hoped the man was just uncomfortable with the whole leadership thing in general. John stood when the man approached him and clapped him on the shoulder.

"This has been really great, Akil, but we need to be going. It's late and we need to report back to our leader about the trade agreement."

Akil's eyes darted around and he laughed nervously. "Nonsense, you must stay a little longer. Perhaps some more anasthus to drink," he insisted, motioning toward a girl with a pitcher.

"Um, Colonel," said Rodney, hesitating for a moment. "I've gotta go . . .uh, you know." He motioned abstractly toward the door.

"Oh, right, okay," John said, nodding. The Balterians had the equivalent of outhouses scattered throughout the village, one being just outside the community building they were now in.

Reddening slightly, Rodney nodded toward their host and hurried out of the room. John had a hard time not laughing at him. "All that juice he drank," he explained to Akil, who just smiled as he followed Rodney out with his eyes.

"Excuse me, Colonel Sheppard, I must check on something," Akil said, giving a small bow before disappearing to talk to a small group of frowning men in the corner. John was beginning to get an uneasy feeling about the strange glances his team was getting from the native people of the planet.

"Something's up," whispered Ronon over his shoulder, even as he carefully scanned the room.

"I'm getting that same bad vibe," John said softly, all the while continuing to smile and nod at the Balterians.

Edging closer to them, Teyla tilted her head a little toward John. "I also feel something is not right. Perhaps we should take our leave."

"My thoughts exactly," replied John.

Without words, or even conscious thought, they aligned themselves in a loose circle with their backs together as they all stood in the center of the room, feeling very defensive in the growing quiet. The outer door suddenly exploded open and Rodney stood panting just inside the room until he found them with his eyes. Rushing over with the room full of people staring, he leaned over and sprayed spit all over John with his frightening revelation.

"We've got to leave this place now. These people are Wraith worshippers and they're waiting on them to come pick us up."

John's head wasn't the only one on the team that whipped around to stare at the physicist. "What? Are you sure?"

"The guy watching for them reported to chief sheriff Hylas, or whatever his title is, just outside the . . . you know, that place I went."

"Toilet?" suggested Ronon.

Ignoring them, John glanced over to see Akil watching them closely. "Okay, we'd better get out of here fast then. I think Akil is suspicious." They began slowly moving toward the entrance as a group and they were almost there when Akil confronted them.

"Colonel Sheppard, where are you going?"

"Back home," John said, his voice neutral, but his eyes hard and dark.

"You really need to stay."

"No, we really don't," John replied. He motioned for Teyla and Rodney to move outside, which they did, while he and Ronon kept an eye on the people in the room. "Thank you for your hospitality, but we've made a recent discovery that indicates we need to leave."

Akil's smile completely disappeared. "That is ashamed, Colonel. We have invited friends to have dinner with you."

"I think you mean they plan on having us for dinner," corrected Ronon.

John and Ronon quickly drew their weapons as they backed out the door. "We've developed this aversion to being the main course, so you'll excuse us if we don't stay," said John. As he and Ronon cleared the door, Ronon jammed it shut while John yelled to Teyla. "Get Rodney to the gate. We'll be right behind you."

He could barely hear her affirmation or Rodney's complaints over the pounding on the doors of the building. He and Ronon were backing away from the structure with their weapons up and ready when the barrage of arrows began raining down on them. Crap, he'd forgotten about the outside guards and there were apparently quite a few of them. He heard Rodney yelp just as he and Ronon let loose with a volley of fire, temporarily ending the onslaught of arrows.

"Rodney," he called as he and Ronon ran to catch up with the other members of the team, now sitting just inside the edge of the surrounding forest. Rodney had leaned back against this elbows as Teyla examined an arrow that had gone all the way through the meaty part of his calf. She looked up at John, her expression serious.

"I do not believe it struck the bone," she reported.

"I can pull it out," volunteered Ronon.

Sighing, John shook his head. "No, Carson went over the whole not removing embedded structures in the field thing with you after the incident on the prison island."

"He can't run like that and we need to be running," said Ronon firmly.

"Yeah, I know," admitted John. He looked at the arrow a moment and then kneeled down beside Rodney's leg. Rodney blanched.

"Wait, you just said we shouldn't remove it." Rodney's voice was nearly an octave higher than normal.

"I'm not," said John. "I'm going to break part of it off and then we'll secure it as best we can so you can be mobile."

"I can't run on this leg," said Rodney incredulously.

"You could wait on the Wraith. I'm sure they would give you a ride," pointed out Ronon.

"Oh, right. Running it is. Okay, just . . . hurry up and do it." Rodney turned his face away and John quickly broke most of the exposed part of the arrow off. As Teyla began wrapping a field bandage around the remaining arrow and wound, Ronon began firing at the people now exiting the community building. John stood and joined him in keeping the natives at bay.

"You need to hurry!" John yelled, moving forward a step to improve his line of sight. He could hear Rodney groaning, but couldn't risk taking his eyes off the angry people trying to advance on their position.

"We are ready," Teyla called.

"Take Rodney and go! We'll try to keep them busy and give you a head start." He knew Rodney would be moving slowly, in spite of the motivation of impending death by Wraith if he didn't get to the gate quickly enough.

"We will radio you when we are there," she said. John was peripherally aware of his teammates moving off into the forest as he and Ronon picked off villagers for a while. Eventually, the return fire of arrows stopped and they took the opportunity to run deeper into the forest. They ran for a while in silence before stopping to listen for anyone following.

"It's going to take them a while to make their way around to the gate," said Ronon, voicing John's thoughts. They had been at the far side of the village and were presently heading away from the gate. Teyla would have to swing an injured and complaining McKay in a wide arc to get back on track to the stargate through dark, unfamiliar territory.

"We need to distract these guys if they're going to have a chance of making it," said John. He looked up at Ronon, who was barely breathing hard.

"Split up?"

John nodded. "That's what I was thinking. You need to leave a wide trail for a while so they'll follow us and not them."

Ronon looked down the pathway of broken branches. "It's going to be hard to make a wider path than McKay."

Grinning, John had to agree. McKay was nothing if not loud, even when he wasn't around. "Let's just embellish on his trail and make it lead away."

Ronon returned his grin, looking a little too excited about the coming game of hide-and-seek. "I'll go left, you go right."

"Radio when you think you've lost them. Two clicks in case I've still got natives or Wraith on my tail." They would lead their pursuers on a merry goose chase until they thought Rodney and Teyla were far enough ahead and then let their trail fade away to nothing.

Nodding, he and Ronon went to work, trying to take McKay's messy signs and turn them into a forked trail that would lead anyone following towards them and not their teammates. Fifteen minutes later, they heard the telltale signs of a large group of people moving through the forest. They were making no attempt to be quiet, so they were either very confident or very stupid. John was hoping for stupid.

"Okay, this will have to be good enough. Good luck," said John.

"Don't need luck," retorted Ronon with that same feral grin.

Frowning a bit, John gave a single nod. "Okay, whatever. Just don't get yourself captured or killed. We'll meet later."

"You either," Ronon said gruffly before turning down the wide pathway he'd made. John sighed and headed down his own pathway, jogging away from the approaching trouble. This was probably going to be a long night.

oOo

Four hours later, John knew for sure it would be a long night. He'd had to dodge natives three times, once getting into fistfight. He was avoiding using his gun because it would give away his position to the others. They had apparently split up into small groups, which made John happy. He and Ronon had planned to make their escape route obvious, but multi-directional and confusing to keep them guessing as to which was the real path. It was hard to keep that going and still stay ahead of the pack, and he was about to the point he wouldn't have time to continue his ruse.

Add to that the fact that he was pretty sure he'd heard darts earlier, but his line of sight had been blocked by the canopy. That meant if there weren't Wraith already in the woods searching for them, there would be soon. He jumped when his radio clicked twice.

"Sheppard," he whispered.

"Colonel, it is Teyla." Her voice was also whispered, so soft he could barely hear her.

"Where are you?" he asked, his gut knotted with worry.

"We have made it to the gate, but there are two Wraith guarding it. I will have to remove them in order to get Rodney through. What of you and Ronon?"

"We split up to try and lure the bad guys away, give you more of a chance to make it to the gate."

"You did well. We did not encounter anyone until we reached the gate. I must go, they are coming this way," she hissed and then the line was dead. John was frantic, but there was nothing he could do. He didn't dare call her back and chance giving her away. He stood where he was for several minutes, hoping she'd call back and tell him they were going through the gate, but realistically, he knew she might not have the chance. He finally gave up and started moving again when it began to drizzle.

An hour later he was soaked and shivering. Even though the rain was a slow one, it was constant, and the tree limbs constantly brushing up against him were like dozens of small waterfalls. A sudden sneeze caught him completely off-guard. With no chance to stifle it, the sound almost seemed to echo around him, screaming his position. He froze.

For a moment, all he could hear was the soft patter of the rain on the leaves of the canopy. It would have been relaxing under different circumstances, but now it was just distracting and annoying. Crunch. John's head snapped around at the sound of a dead branches being crushed under the foot of a pursuer. Crouching low, he inched toward a cluster of bushes that might provide better cover.

The sensation of movement from over his right shoulder sent him whirling around just in time to partially block the oncoming blow from one of the villagers. The man had a good two inches on him, but John had the benefit of his military training and experience. Recovering quickly, he was able to trade blow for blow with the attacker for several moments. Then Murphy decided to put in an appearance, since the day had gone so well until now, and his foot slipped in the mud, sending him down hard on his backside.

The native was on him in a second, knocking the P90 away as John tried to bring it up. With his left arm up blocking a blow, John let his right drop to the butt of his sidearm. The man sitting astraddle his stomach was apparently aware of what he was doing, because he buried a large knife he'd pulled from the sheath at his belt deep into John's upper arm. The pilot couldn't even scream, feeling like the breath had been yanked from his lungs. The world spun and for a brief moment, he was completely disoriented and consumed with the pain. A jerk on his arm brought him back with startling clarity. The tip of the knife was stuck in the dirt below him and the native was trying to yank the thing out. It pulled free with sickening slicing motion and this time John managed a guttural cry.

Anger and adrenalin flowed through him, dulling the fire in his bicep. His left hand closed around a stick that was at least two inches in diameter and he swung it up against the attacker's head with all the force he could muster. It took several seconds of panting and convulsive swallowing before his head cleared enough for him to try sitting up. The native who had attacked him lay unconscious, sprawled in the dead leaves beside him. John reached over to check for a pulse. There was one, but it seemed weak, and judging by the pool of blood underneath the man's head, he wasn't sure there would be one for long.

There was nothing he could do for the attacker and if he was honest, there wasn't much he wanted to do. His arm was screaming at him and the most he could do with it was twitch his fingers. Digging around in his vest, he pulled out a field bandage and tied it around the bleeding wound as tightly as he could. There was both an entrance and exit wound, so getting the thick part to cover both with the use of one hand was an exercise in the almost impossible, but he finally managed. Using a tree as support while he got to his feet, he stood leaning against it for several moments, listening to the fall of the rain and wishing he was in a warm, dry bed with some good drugs.

John took one last look at his attacker before he trudged off through the woods. The knife that inflicted his injury lay beside the man, the blade now almost washed clean of his blood. He picked it up and wiped the remaining red on the former owner's pants. "Guess this is mine now," he grumbled before staggering through the trees, trying not to make too much noise.

oOo

The gray light of dawn was just barely becoming perceptible as Ronon stood with his back pressed to the trunk of the tree. Concentrating on the sounds around him, he was unaware of the rough bark pressing into the skin of neck. The rain had finally stopped a while ago, but small cascades of water were occasionally dislodged from above by the slight breeze that had begun stirring. Ronon was now sure that the sounds he heard were not those produced by the forest, but those of approaching footsteps. When he was certain of his target's location, he whipped around the tree, his gun extended in front of him, his finger on the trigger.

As his arm complete its extension, the barrel of a gun appeared inches from Ronon's face. In his hesitation, he recognized the face and the hard look of the man in front of him.

"Sheppard," he growled, irritated he'd almost shot the pilot, relieved to see he'd survived the night.

His expression easing as he dropped his gun, John sighed. "Ronon."

The soldier before him was worn and tired and very wet. Ronon stepped back as he also dropped his gun, seeking an explanation to the haggard appearance. It was then he noticed that his commanding officer was gripping the gun in his left hand because the right arm dangled uselessly beside his torso. A blood soaked bandage was tied around John's upper arm and pain lines radiated out from his eyes and across his brow.

"What happened?" he asked succinctly.

"Native with a big knife and a nasty attitude," John replied. He reached awkwardly across to put his gun back in the holster and then pulled a large knife from where he had wedged it in one of the vest pockets. Ronon hadn't even noticed the dark, carved handle sticking out at an odd angle. "So, what do you think?" John asked as he handed over the knife.

Ronon studied it, hefting it back and forth as he tested the weight and balance. "Not bad. You should keep it."

"Oh, I plan to," John replied darkly, glancing down at the red bandage. "It's nice and sharp. I can testify to that."

Ronon looked again to his comrade's arm as he returned the knife. "We need to change that."

"Can't. I've already changed it once and that was my last field bandage." John looked Ronon over, eyeing his coat pockets. "Unless you happened to have one stashed somewhere?"

"Nope," Ronon replied. Sheppard had never insisted that Ronon wear a uniform or tac vest and the Satedan now wondered if he was regretting that decision. Sheppard just shrugged and looked around the forest.

"I haven't seen anyone for a while, but I heard darts earlier. I'm guessing we have Wraith on the ground who might decide to come after us."

"They will," said Ronon. The villagers would have had to explain why their offering wasn't there to be offered and the Wraith would be beyond angry. He doubted the people of the village would survive the encounter, but he planned on making sure he and Sheppard did. "We need to get moving."

John nodded tiredly. "Right."

Ronon watched the sluggish movements of his friend, forcing himself to put one foot in front of the other. From his position behind him, he began to notice that his CO was shivering. The morning air was cool and damp and Sheppard's clothes were soaked from spending the night in the rain. Ronon's coat had kept most of the rain off his clothing and skin and he'd had more of problem trying not to overheat with his continued movement.

A diluted stream of blood trickled down Sheppard's right hand, something he seemed completely unaware of. Beginning to process the blood loss his friend must have suffered, Ronon coupled that with a sleepless night spent in a cold rain. Sheppard needed to get warm and dry and they needed to make sure the bleeding had stopped or they soon would be dealing with shock. He was about to suggest they seek shelter somewhere when a stunner blast lit up the tree right beside the colonel's head with blue. It looked like the rest stop would have to wait.

oOo

Rodney stood nervously as they watched the MALP go through the portal on its way to the planet where Sheppard and Ronon were hopefully still running for their lives. They had sent one through shortly after he and Teyla had returned to Atlantis the night before, only to find the place swarming with Wraith. Carter had insisted they wait awhile, hoping the Wraith would leave the planet, or at least the vicinity of the gate so they'd have a chance to get through.

"I promise, Rodney, we'll find a way to go after them," said Sam, coming up to stand beside him. She looked down at his leg and then back up at his face. "Should you be on that leg?"

"No, not really," he replied, shifting his weight slightly against the crutch.

"You should at least sit down," she offered.

"Too nervous," he snapped. He wasn't mad at her. He knew she had made the right call when she refused to let them go through. They wouldn't have made it ten meters. It was just hard to sit and wait when you knew your friends were in grave danger, especially when they put themselves there to save you.

"The MALP is through and we're receiving a signal," reported Chuck as he watched the controls before him.

Rodney moved a step closer to Sam so he could have a better view of the monitor. As the picture came on, the scenery around the gate began to stroll by, complete with several Wraith, their attention locked on the technology. A male looked right into the camera before laughing (or maybe that was more of a roar) and firing at point blank range.

"There goes another one," muttered Chuck with an exaggerated sigh.

"They're so dead," Rodney muttered.

"Ronon and John will make it." Teyla's soft voice from behind him startled McKay, causing him to lose his balance. Sam grabbed one arm while Teyla stepped up to grab the other, steadying him before he fell, but not before he shifted his weight to his injured leg. "I am sorry, I did not mean to startle you," she apologized.

"Sit down, Rodney," insisted Sam at the moan escaping from his lips. He let them guide him to an open chair and plopped heavily down, his leg burning and throbbing where the arrow had been removed.

"No, it's okay," he breathed out when he was able. "I just didn't realize you were there. You saw, then."

Teyla nodded. "I saw. I know it looks bad, but Ronon survived by evading the Wraith for seven years. This time he has John with him. They will be fine."

"Yeah, well, pardon me if I'm not so optimistic. As you just said, the colonel is with him and that brings a whole new batch of trouble to the situation. And he was running from one or two Wraith at a time, not a whole battalion, or whatever kind of military groups they have. Let's not forget the angry villagers that shot me as we were trying to leave. I somehow doubt they've gotten more friendly since the Wraith arrived."

"They are probably dead," Teyla said coldly, sending a shiver down Rodney's spine. "When the Wraith arrive to find their offering gone, they will not be merciful."

"They did that to themselves," said Sam.

"I agree," said Teyla with a brief nod. "What are we to do? Although I think John and Ronon can keep hidden for a time, they will not be able to do so forever."

"We have to go after them," said Rodney with an urgency he felt down to his core.

"We're going to have to do something very hard. We're going to have to wait."

"Wait?" asked Rodney, narrowing his eyes at Sam. "Wait for how long?"

Sam looked at Teyla. "If they don't find Ronon and John, will they eventually give up?"

The Athosian stared across the room for several seconds, obviously processing her answer. "Eventually, they will have to. If they believe John and Ronon to still be there, evading them, they will leave a few drones behind to catch them at the gate. If they become convinced they are no longer on the planet or dead, they will all leave."

"How long before they leave if they think they're still out there?"

Sighing, Teyla shrugged her shoulders, a habit she had picked up from her Earth friends. "It is hard to say. A lot depends on the particular hive seeking them and if they know who they are hunting. Most likely they will search for three to four days."

Nodding, Sam rubbed her chin with her index finger. "Okay, first we have to stop sending MALPs through because that shows our interest. As long as we keep doing that, they'll know John and Ronon are there. If we stop checking, it will look like we've lost interest and maybe they'll think we have them back."

"Right," Rodney said, snapping his fingers. "They have to know that some of us got through the gate. Maybe they'll think we all did and we were just checking to see if they'd gone."

"I am not sure that will work," Teyla said reluctantly.

"Only choice we have," said Sam. "There are too many to go through now and the Daedalus won't be here for another week. We wait."

"I really hate this," said Rodney, staring down at the floor and feeling totally useless.

"I know," said Sam. "We all do."

oOo

John felt the sharp pain in his right ankle about the same time he was aware of it twisting underneath him. His staggering gait, brought on by exhaustion and blood loss, combined with the uneven ground to send him crashing into the wet underbrush. He quite literally saw stars, or at least some bright flashing lights, as his injured arm struck the ground underneath the weight of the rest of his torso. Being unable to lift the appendage to break his fall really sucked big time. Go figure.

"Sheppard!"

The hissed whisper cut through the haze, forcing John to focus on clearing his head quickly. Oh yeah, currently being chased by Wraith. "I'm 'kay," he said through gritted teeth, already trying to push himself up even though his vision hadn't yet cleared. The chattering teeth had paused for a moment at least. Pain apparently overrode hypothermia. Who knew?

Strong hands grabbed his uninjured arm and yanked him quickly to his feet. "We need to find shelter," the big man advised.

Listing strongly to one side, John gave a small nod. "Sssselter . . . good." Okay, the chattering was back. Glancing at Ronon, now that he could see again, he saw worry . . . lots of worry. "M-good." The expression on the Satedan's face said Ronon didn't believe him.

"That way," Ronon said, pointing to their right. The ground had flattened out a little, although still heavily wooded. The area they were now heading for was more mountainous, which meant the going would be harder. John held no illusions about his condition. He was barely on his feet.

"Sure as-a g-g-g-good 'dea?" he slurred. He was so cold, he couldn't get his mouth to work properly. He finally realized that Ronon had one arm around his waist, partially supporting him as he limped on his now painful ankle.

"Should be some caves. The rock is right. We can find a good one and hide for a while, catch our breath."

"Mean me?" John knew who the weak link was here.

"We could both use some rest, Sheppard. Now quit whining like a baby before you give our position away."

John tried to hide the grin that crept across his face, he just wasn't very good at it.

"And quit grinning," Ronon said firmly, but without malice.

"But w-w-we're havin' . . . s-s-s-omuch f-f-fun."

Ronon just sighed as he hauled John through the forest. Realistically, he knew even Ronon was tired at this point. They'd been up all night running from natives and Wraith and continued that through most of the day. It was past noon. They were hungry, thirsty, and wet, as it had rained off and on all morning. Truth be told, he'd just about kill for a long drink of cool water followed by a warm, soft bed to sleep in. Too bad that wouldn't be happening any time soon. He grunted as Ronon almost lost his balance in a slick wad of wet leaves and mud, jerking them both sideways.

It was another thirty minutes before they stopped, with Ronon looking at the rock wall in front of them, a big smile on his face.

"N-n-now look . . . grinning," John said, trying to figure out what was making the big man so happy.

"We have a hidey-hole."

John jerked his head around to stare at the his friend, thinking maybe they should censor what they let Ronon watch from now on. "H-h-hidey h-h-hole?"

Ronon just tightened his grip on John and began walking straight toward the rock cliff. There were several large boulders in a pile and they moved to the left of the large grouping. They were right on top of the rocks before John saw the crevice leading around them and into a small opening in the face of the cliff. How Ronon had seen it from that distance, he would never know. He could only surmise that such skills were probably one reason he had survived his years as a runner.

Getting down to crawl into the small opening with little maneuvering room around him was awkward and painful, but a few minutes later, both men were inside a small cave. It was narrow, only about six feet across, but at least twenty feet long, carved deeply into the stone mountain. John pulled himself along until he could lie against one wall, just grateful to be lying down somewhere dry. His arm, head, and ankle pulsed with the beating of his heart and he just wanted to pass out.

"We should get those wet clothes off you."

Lifting his head a few inches and scowling as deeply as he could, John leveled his best glare at his smirking teammate. "Didn't know . . . you cared."

"I don't . . . just don't want to carry you all the way to the gate. We need to get you warm and dry."

With a heavy sigh, John pushed himself up into a sitting position, groaning when the movement pulled on his arm. "Ronon . . . Wraith . . . outside . . . remember?"

"They'll never see this place and you're soaking wet."

John ran his left hand down the front of his pant leg. "More like . . . uncomfortably damp," he said between shivers. It had finally stopped raining, allowing his clothes to begin drying a little. Now that they were out of the cold wind, he was already beginning to feel a little warmer. At least he could string a few words together in an understandable sentence now . . . more or less. Lifting his head, the far corner of the cave caught his attention. The two sides curved around to meet almost in a point at the back, the diluted light from the opening casting weird shadows against the uneven walls.

"What?" asked Ronon, instantly on alert as he followed John's eyes. "Did you see something?"

Squinting, John pulled himself up straighter. "I'm not sure . . . does this thing . . . go b-b-b-back farther?"

Getting to his feet, Ronon began creeping to the back of the cave. "I don't . . . wait . . . " John watched as the big man suddenly straightened and then moved forward, disappearing from sight. A second later, he stepped back in sight with a broad grin. "You were right. There's a whole other room back here. Not bad Sheppard."

"I have. . . my moments," John mumbled. Ronon quickly closed the distance between them and helped him to his feet. Swaying only once, John pulled away from the Satedan's loose grip and made his way to the nearly hidden entrance to the next chamber. The two walls came together at a sharp angle, leaving only a narrow passage to step through into a room that was easily twice as wide as the one they'd just left. John used the rock wall for support as he limped through the opening, moving far enough in to slide his back down the cool, rough surface.

Closing his eyes a few minutes, John tried to breathe evenly, hoping the burning throb in his arm would slow down and take the sudden little flashes of pain in his ankle with it. When he finally opened his eyes, it was to Ronon crouched a few feet away, watching him. He licked his dry lips, which now seemed like a complete waste of time since his mouth was at least as dry as his lips. "What?" he asked sharply.

"Clothes are still wet."

And that little announcement brought the cold, damp cloth covering his skin to the forefront of his attention, making him shiver. "Thanks f-f-for r'minding me."

"Sheppard." The statement was firm and the look accompanying it was just as firm.

John sighed in exasperation. "Still Wraith out there . . . and I don't exactly . . . have a change of clothes . . . with me."

"You have one of those emergency blankets in your vest. You can use that while your clothes dry out. And they aren't going to find us here . . . at least not for a while."

"You don't know that . . . and I'm not fighting Wraith naked." He wasn't sure if the thought of defending himself against a life-sucking Wraith in his boxers was funny or horrifying, but he wasn't prepared to find out. If they came barging into their little hidey-hole, then John was making his last stand dressed.

Ronon grunted his disapproval, but moved back against the opposite wall to sit down. "I'm not taking the heat for this when we get back and you're sick."

Nodding once, John decided to suspend further movement of his head when it cranked up the headache that had been building. "Fine, I'll be happy to take the blame. It's not like I won't be in trouble anyway." He looked down at his right hand in his lap and tried to make a fist. His fingers barely twitched and the pain it stirred up took his breath away and made his eyes water. Oh yeah, trouble.

"How bad do you think it is?" asked Ronon quietly.

"Not broken . . . but there's muscle damage . . . maybe nerve . . . bad enough I won't be much help if they find us."

"They won't."

John wasn't sure if Ronon was trying to convince him or trying to convince himself. Either way, he hoped he was right.

"You should rest."

Irritation rumbled within John at the statement. He wasn't sure if it was because Ronon was basically giving him an order or because of the weakness it implied. The problem was that he was right. John could barely keep his eyes open, exhaustion settling in hard now that they had a relatively safe place to hole up for a while. The irritation drifted away with the admittance that he really wanted to be able to close his eyes and sleep for a while. "Wake me in two hours." Somehow that didn't come out sounding quite as forceful as he'd wanted.

"Yeah . . . right."

Was it his imagination or had that sounded a bit condescending? He'd just have to figure it out later because his lids had already closed and there was no getting them back open.

oOo

Ronon watched Sheppard jerk awake with a start, sitting upright only to fall back against the wall with a grunt of pain. After a few moments of ragged breathing, the pilot opened his eyes to stare at Ronon. "How long?" he asked, his voice rough with sleep and pain.

"Almost four hours."

Scowling, John's lips drew up in a tight line as he pulled himself more upright. "I told you to wake me two."

"You needed the sleep."

"So do you," John said accusingly. He glanced around the cave and then back to Ronon. "Anything happen I should know about?"

"Nope."

"You know you really shouldn't talk so much. It gets annoying."

Ronon grunted in response, but a small smile turned up the corners of his mouth. "I'm practicing to beat McKay."

John's eyebrows rose and he twisted his head a bit. "Oh, he has a sense of humor after all. Good to know." His expression darkening a bit, John glanced toward the entrance. "Speaking of McKay, I wonder if they made it back to Atlantis."

"Teyla can take care of McKay," Ronon announced with a sense of finality.

"Yeah, you're probably right." He didn't look or sound convinced, but Ronon couldn't make any guarantees. He was just going on gut feelings, not actual knowledge. Despite his confident prediction, worry twisted his own gut at the moment, worry for all three team members because Sheppard didn't look too good.

"You should probably eat. Do you have anything?"

Looking down at his vest, John brought up his good arm and opened one of the pockets. Pulling out two powerbars, he tossed one to Ronon. "You need to eat too, especially since you may be carrying me before this is over."

Snorting loudly, Ronon shook his head. "No, you can walk. I'm not carrying you, you're heavy."

John rolled his eyes as he struggled to get the package open with one hand. "I meant figuratively, not literally. No way in hell I'm letting you pick me up and carry me." Frustrated, he gave up for a moment and frowned at Ronon. "And I am not heavy. You must be thinking of Rodney."

"You're heavier than you look," he said, watching John fiddle with the package again. Scrabbling across the dirt floor, he took the powerbar and ripped it open, handing the gaping package back to John. "There."

"Thanks," John said with a grimace as he watched the former runner return to his seat. Folding the foil wrapper back, he eyed the food warily before taking a small bite. Ronon knew that meant his stomach was unsettled, another sign that wasn't particularly good.

Opening his own bar, Ronon ate the thing in three enormous bites. When it was swallowed, he glanced over to find John staring at him. "Hungry much?" the man inquired incredulously.

"Still am," he said, patting his stomach.

John shrugged the shoulder of his good arm. "Yeah, well I've got two more, but we should save them in case this drags on a while."

"Agreed," Ronon said standing. "I'm going to look for some water. We can go a lot longer without food than we can without water."

"Yeah, but we don't have anything to put it in. I lost my water bottle somewhere in the whole escape process."

"I'll find something."

John looked uncertain, as if he wanted to stop Ronon but didn't know how. He had to know they needed water and that he was in no shape to help. He finally gave a tiny nod. "Okay, just . . . be careful."

Ronon grinned. "Always am," he said as he slipped through the narrow opening and crept toward the entrance. The light was beginning to fade early, from the clouds no doubt, and for that he was grateful. He hated leaving Sheppard unprotected, but he knew his friend needed water even more than he did. The way the bandage and his shirt were soaked, the officer had lost a lot of blood, more than he was letting on. This would also give him a chance to check out the Wraith situation. And if he was lucky, maybe he'd find them something better to eat.

oOo

Sam Carter stood just inside the entrance to the mess hall, watching Rodney and Teyla sit quietly at a table next to the far wall. Most of the dinner crowd had left, leaving the room fairly quiet and almost empty. Sighing, she grabbed a cup of coffee and walked over to their table.

"Mind if I join you?"

Rodney glanced up and then shrugged his shoulders. "Might as well. I'll warn you, though, the natives aren't necessarily friendly tonight." He stabbed at the half-eaten pie in front of him and then pushed the plate away. "They need to figure out there are actual people trying to eat this stuff. I want to requisition a new cook book on the Daedalus's next run."

Sam just cleared her throat and didn't mention that she'd eaten a piece earlier and it was perfectly fine. Rodney was obviously just being Rodney. "Look, I just wanted to tell you that I know this isn't easy, the waiting and the wondering."

"It is not," agreed Teyla earnestly. "But we know it is the only way to possibly get Ronon and John back alive. We can wait if we must."

Nodding, Sam pushed a stray strand of hair back behind her ear. "I don't want you to think I'm giving up on them or not doing everything we can. Our hands are tied for now, but the minute we can go after them, we will."

"We know," said Rodney. He looked at her in a way that made her uneasy, as if he was looking inside her head. The Rodney she'd known years earlier had never seemed to care enough to look that intensely at anyone other than himself. "I've read enough mission reports to know you understand, probably more than just about anyone else."

With a small smile, Sam nodded. "I guess I can honestly say, been there and done that." She looked at each of them in turn, reading the pain on their faces. "And I know it never gets any easier. Just try to keep hope, okay?"

"We will not give up on either John or Ronon," Teyla said firmly. "We will bring them home."

"Yes, we will," added Rodney confidently. "Besides, Sheppard's got more lives than a whole herd of cats. I'm sure he'd be willing to share one with Ronon."

Sam almost laughed when Teyla quirked one eyebrow up at Rodney's analysis of the situation. "I've heard Ronon's had a few close calls himself. Between the two of them, they'll be fine."

"Exactly," said Rodney. "We'll arrive to rescue them only to find Ronon's dispatched half of them with his knife collection and Sheppard's formed an alliance with the other half. Nothing to worry about."

oOo

It was dark when Ronon returned and he cautiously slid into the front cave, stopping to listen for any sounds. Hearing nothing, he quietly slid to the back of the narrow room and paused to listen again. The second chamber was now pitch black, but he could faintly hear the slight wheeze of someone breathing.

"Sheppard?" he whispered, his knife up to attack anything that came his way.

The breathing hitched and was followed by the sounds of fabric scraping. "Ronon?"

"Yeah, it's me," he answered, relieved to find nothing had happened to Sheppard. He moved into the rear cave by feel and by memory since he couldn't see anything. A small light came on about the time he sat down and he looked up to see Sheppard had retrieved the small flashlight from his vest.

"You okay?"

Ronon answered by pulling out an odd looking pouch and handing it to the injured man. "Water," he explained.

John hesitated only a moment before accepting the container, drinking heavily from it for several seconds.

"I didn't see any Wraith, but I did find signs that they've been here recently. We should probably move toward the gate in a few hours."

John nodded as he stared at the animal skin pouch for a second before handing it back to Ronon. "Where'd you find that? Looks like something out of an old cowboy and Indian movie."

"Took it off one of the men from the village. He was dead."

"From us?" John questioned.

"Wraith." He didn't go into detail about the five desiccated corpses he'd found together in the forest, where the Wraith had apparently caught up to them and decided they were no longer worth keeping alive. If they were lucky, the creatures had had their fill and moved on. If not, they'd be running again soon. It wasn't like he hadn't done it before, just not with company.

Ronon held up the strips of cloth he'd cut from one of the cleaner shirts. "We need to work on your arm."

Grimacing, John nodded and levered himself up to a sitting position. Ronon crouched next him and stared at Sheppard for a moment. "This is going to hurt."

"Yeah, tell me something I don't know. Just do it." Sheppard looked away as Ronon removed the old bandage, now stuck to the wound with dried blood. Ronon rinsed the wound with some of the water and then covered it with the cleanest of the cloth strips. Sheppard grunted a couple of times, but made no other sound. When he was finished, Ronon used a larger piece to make a sling so that Sheppard's injured arm was more secure.

"Better?" the big man asked.

Sweat dotted Sheppard's brow and his face was drained of all color. "Ask me that . . . in a few minutes."

Ronon nodded in understanding and pointed to Sheppard's foot. "Want me to wrap the ankle?"

"Nah, I think it's just twisted or I probably wouldn't be walking on it at all." His breathing seemed to have settled down from the previous gasping, which Ronon took as a sign that the pain was settling as well.

With a nod, Ronon stuck the few remaining strips in his coat pocket and scooted back to lean against the wall.

"Why don't you get some sleep, buddy," Sheppard suggested. "I'll keep watch this time. I have a feeling you're going to need it before this is over."

Ronon knew he was right. He'd been on the go for a day and a half now and he was nearing his limits. He'd need extra reserves to get them to the gate alive since Sheppard wouldn't be able to do much in a fight. "Wake me if there's trouble."

"I will," John said as he turned off the small light. "Don't let the bedbugs bite," he said quietly from across the cave.

"No bedbugs. Might be a few tagglewarns though."

"Oh great, do I want to know what that is?

"Nope."

John sighed in the dark. "Okay, going with ignorance is bliss. Or at least it was until you told me otherwise."

"They aren't bad. Keller could pull them out."

"Oh, for the love of . . . just stop talking. At least McKay just talks nonsense technobabble that doesn't leave me feeling like things are crawling all over me." The light came on for a moment and John checked his arms and legs. Scowling at a grinning Ronon, he turned the light back off. "Go to sleep. And that's an order."

Ronon smiled to himself as he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned his head back against the rock wall. When it came to bugs, Sheppard was almost as easy to bait as McKay.

oOo

Ronon had slept three hours, opened his eyes, and insisted that they had to leave. John just agreed without admitting that he was pretty sure he'd dozed off a couple of times. It was never more than a few minutes, but enough that he was left feeling even more like a liability.

He stumbled briefly, an uneven place in the ground wreaking havoc with his twisted ankle. John managed to right himself before Ronon's hand grabbed his arm. "So'kay" he mumbled, fighting to keep on his feet. They had been moving almost all night and now the gray light of dawn was beginning to stream through the trees. He was beyond exhausted, the constant pain in his arm the only thing keeping him awake.

"Where . . . are we?" John prayed for Ronon to say they were nearing the gate.

"Working our way back to the gate. You want me to help you?"

John would have sighed, but he couldn't spare the breath. He was panting and wheezing like an old man with emphysema. That combined with the way he was hot and then cold while sweating and shivering at the same time meant he was sick on top of everything else. Ronon would undoubtedly gloat about his correct prediction.

"No . . . no help . . . how far?"

Ronon looked up at the light streaming down through the trees. "It's almost midday. We better find a place to hide and rest. We might make the gate tomorrow if we cover a good distance tonight."

Another twenty-four hours of misery. Piece of cake, John told himself. "Cave?" he asked hopefully.

"No caves around here. We'll have to look for something else."

John had known that. Although the ground was still hilly, the rocks from before were gone. Whatever shelter they found would not be nearly as safe or as comfortable as what they'd had before. He stumbled again, this time landing hard on his knees before he had a chance to react. It took a moment for the world around him to stop rotating and he found himself swallowing back bile.

"Sheppard?" Ronon was beside him, one hand on his shoulder to steady him.

"I'm 'kay . . . just . . . give me . . . minute." It took another minute to be sure he wasn't going to puke or pass out. "Okay."

Ronon helped him to his feet, hanging onto his left arm until the Satedan was sure he wasn't going to collapse. "Ronon . . . "

"I'm not leaving you, Sheppard, so don't even start." His voice was firm and strong and the look on his face determined.

"Not sure . . . I can . . . "

"We'll stop soon. You can make it until then."

John stared at the man, his teammate, his friend. He wanted to tell Ronon to leave him, that he could make it faster without John slowing him down. Instead he said, "Thanks."

Ronon just grunted and urged him forward. Twenty minutes later, Ronon nodded toward a clump of bushes. "There."

John just stared. "There?"

"Yeah. Needs a little work, but it'll do."

"It's . . .clump'a bushes," John wheezed out, leaning on his left foot to get the pressure off his throbbing ankle.

Ronon just grinned knowingly. "Not for long." A few moments later, Ronon helped John ease down in front of a tree. "Stay here," he commanded and then slunk off almost without a sound.

John sat staring in the distance for several seconds, not really focusing on anything in particular. "Huh . . . for some reason I thought I was in charge," he mumbled before letting his head tilt back against the rough bark. His arm was screaming at him and every movement of his fingers made him want to tear his hair out. Drenched in sweat, he shivered in the slight breeze while trying to decide how he could hold himself together long enough to make it to the gate. He barely had the energy to blink.

"Sheppard?"

Jerking his head up, John flinched at the close proximity of Ronon's face to his. "What?" he asked, his voice scratchy and low. He suddenly realized he must have dozed off.

"Shelter's ready. You need to move." Ronon dipped his head toward the clump of bushes.

Following the runner's nod, John stared at the shrubbery before him. Squinting in concentration, he first thought the foliage looked no different, but then he noticed it seemed larger. "What did you do?"

"Come see," Ronon replied, taking his arm to help the pilot to his feet. It took a moment for John's legs to get working once he was on his feet, but when they finally did, the two men moved toward the shelter. Crouching down, Ronon crawled through an opening John couldn't even see until part of the Satedan disappeared.

"Huh," John breathed out before following. The space inside was small, barely large enough for the two men to stretch out side by side and only just high enough for them to sit. Branches had been weaved together and worked into the surrounding shrubbery in such a way as to make the makeshift shelter invisible from the outside. "Cool," John couldn't help but murmur in appreciation.

"If we're quiet, we should be safe here. Once it's dark again, we can head for the gate."

John nodded. "You really think we can make it tomorrow?" He hoped that hadn't come out sounding as desperate as he felt.

"We'll make it," Ronon replied, but the way his teammate was looking at him, John wasn't sure if he actually thought that or if he was saying what he thought John wanted to hear. As if Ronon was reading his mind, he said, "We can make it, Sheppard."

"Yeah, okay."

"Get some rest."

Rolling his eyes, John sighed. "Again with the orders." When Ronon just snorted in response, John grimaced and squirmed around the small space until he was lying down. He didn't like it, but he knew his only chance of making it through another night on the run was to do as Ronon said. No words were exchanged, but Ronon's expression and position told John that he would be keeping watch. "At least wake me to take a turn this time."

"Sure," Ronon said with a smirk.

It seemed like John had barely closed his eyes when he was jerking awake with a start. He raised up to his elbows before he processed Ronon sitting warily behind him shaking his head. John froze, military instincts taking over. It only took a few seconds for him to hear it. The sound of movement right outside their shelter. Movement that was too loud and too continuous to that of animals. John found himself instinctively holding his breath.

oOo

Concluded in Part Two