Yet another fic for the Adventures of Answerman and Flyboy series.

Written for the 'Scars Challenge' on the 'sga ficathon' lj.

Summary: Sheppard's in trouble…again.

Characters: Sheppard, McKay, Carson

Rated: PG for a couple of words

Spoilers: Storm/Siege (season 2)

Thanks to Gaffer for the beta.

Skin Deep

"Major Sheppard, come in please. Major Sheppard?"

A man's voice continued to call worriedly over the dislodged earpiece. He sounded agitated and mumbled in an unfamiliar language in the background when no one answered. Then there was a brief pause before the calling began again

"Major Sheppard, come in please."

The man in question didn't move. Sheppard's position offered little space and he only had the ability to shift his head slightly to the left. His face was pressed into the floor grate by the weight of the broken staircase resting across his back. Unable to think clearly, he could only listen to the continued calls demanding him to answer.

"John, it's Elizabeth, can you hear me?"

A woman this time, his fog filled mind informed him. Powerless to stop the groan that slipped past his torn lip and broken front teeth he whispered, "Elizabeth?"

"Major Sheppard? Major, we can hear you. Can you give us your position?" It was the one with the accent again, his words coming much more quickly this time before the woman was back.

"John, where are you? Are you hurt?" He heard her speak to someone else named Carson but he couldn't focus long enough to follow the conversation.

His mind began to drift, the callers voices fading into the roar in his ears before darkness threatened to completely enfold him. He almost let go, almost, until another voice snapping with impatience burst brusquely from the earpiece.

"Sheppard, next time you decide to go pull a Chariots of Fire in some unknown, unstable, and uncensored section of Atlantis, maybe you'll remember who has to track your skinny ass down before his first cup of coffee, while in the middle of a rather important set of tests that might someday prove useful in saving lives against the wraith. Not to mention being rather busy at putting this shot to hell city back together again."

"Rodney..." The woman tried to interrupt the angry man.

"No, Elizabeth, I'm not done. Radek, expand the field over the storm damaged areas, sections eight through twelve." A tapping noise clattered briefly before the angry man was back. "Sheppard, I need a little help here. The relays were fried when the shield was raised and it's not like I've had the opportunity to run all over kingdom come fixing every short circuit with Carson breathing down my neck for the past two days. Give me a grunt if I'm close. Did you go past the pier?"

The rapid run of words was difficult to follow but the injured man knew he needed to answer. Trying to shift his pinned shoulder in an attempt to ease the stabbing pain below his neck and free his hand to reach the comm. unit, he gasped at the sudden piercing jolt that rippled down to his toes. "Argh!" he cried out, his breaths coming in short gasps until it passed.

"Major!" several voices shouted in unison.

"I hope you didn't just try to do something really stupid." The snarky voice was back, although worry leached across his words, and Sheppard latched onto them like a lifeline. "Let's try this again without the dramatics, shall we? Past the pier? Yes or no?"

"Yes," he coughed.

"Good. See, that wasn't so hard now, was it? Okay, I'll keep this simple because I know all that hair gel clogs your brain synapses. Past the pier, did you take a left or right?"

Sheppard had to think about this one. He'd been running on adrenalin after a nightmare had awoken him. Kolya had been there, a gun was pointed at a woman. Elizabeth, his mind offered. Did he go left or right? Left or right? "Left," he finally answered with a gasp, although not entirely certain if that was correct.

There was an unmistakable grunt in reply. "Sheppard, Elizabeth has already sent a rescue team, so I only have a couple of more questions before the cavalry can find you. I know you have this warped sense of enjoyment for running along the maintenance platforms of the upper spires. Did you follow the same path where you hid the weapons during the siege?"

"Ro'ney?" The name from earlier suddenly made sense and he tried again to lift his head to gain his bearings but remained pinned. Pieces of metal were scattered around him, the floor was cool and felt damp, and darkness was filtering across the edge of his vision.

"I'm here," the scientist replied, the snark now gone and only worry remained.

"Fell," Sheppard whispered as his eyes closed against his will.

There was a brief silence before Rodney returned. "Almost there, just hang on a little longer and soon you'll be back in Carson's clutches trying to con me into planning your escape."

"Fell," he breathed again.

"Major… did you fall, or did the platform collapse?"

What little energy the brief adrenalin rush had given him was gone. Now wasted to the point of an overcooked noodle, Sheppard couldn't answer even if he wanted to.

"Damn it, Sheppard, answer me! Now is not the time for a nap, even if it is only five o'clock in the morning," Rodney snapped.

The force of the words gave him one final push. "Col'pse," he mumbled before losing consciousness. He never heard the worried cries calling for him to stay awake. He never saw the team of Marines clear the debris. He never knew Carson knelt at his side, holding pressure to the wound on his back the entire time until he could be safely transported to the infirmary.

oOo

Sheppard awoke to find he was lying on his chest, propped with a pair of pillows beneath him; one under his torso, another under his head. Weak and groggy, but feeling little pain, he was able to open his left eye, for it wasn't smashed into the soft pillow, and see if anyone might be close enough to bring over a glass of water… Or at least some ice chips.

To his dismay, he discovered the room to be dim, and there was no one seated at his bedside. The steady rhythm of monitors beeped quietly and the warmth from blankets and painkillers lulled him back to the edge of sleep. It was the sound of shuffled soft footsteps that stopped him from letting go entirely. When they slowed and then stopped in front of him, he found himself at the mercy of Carson's meds and could only listen in an attempt at identifying who it was.

The blanket over his back was pulled away and hands touched the area between his shoulders, then traveled down his arm to stop at his wrist. Clearly it had to be Carson. Moments later the blanket was returned and he was given a soft pat to the shoulder.

"How is he?" a recognizable voice asked from somewhere further away.

The hand on his shoulder jerked, but remained put. "Rodney," Carson shushed quietly, "what are you doing here in the middle of the night?"

"I just finished adjusting the sensor grid and getting it all back online." The scientist yawned deeply as he moved closer.

"You should be in bed, lad; you've had a long day and didn't get much sleep last night."

There was only a grunt and the sound of a chair being pushed across the floor. A waft of infirmary air blew across Sheppard's face and he knew it had to be from McKay sitting down at his side.

"Just thought I'd check to see how he was doing before I turned in." Another deep yawn joined by a sniffle this time could be heard.

"He'll be fine. The damage to his back will leave minimal scarring and an appointment with the dentist will set him up with a pair of caps as soon as he's ready."

This time it was Carson who yawned. The two doctors were making it very hard for Sheppard to stay awake and he shifted slightly to get more comfortable. The warm hand on his shoulder patted him again when he stifled a yawn of his own.

"It's time we all got some rest."

"Yeah." Rodney's voice sounded slightly slurred, sleep close on his heels.

"Rodney, you're not sleeping in that chair. Now get up before you find yourself with a bloody crick in the neck and I spend all day tomorrow listening to you fuss."

The chair squeaked as the scientist stood. His departing footfalls didn't go far before he stopped. "You sure he'll be okay?"

"Aye. I am a physician and do know what I'm doing."

There was a scoff and a chuckle further away. "Don't get me started. You're nothing more than a glorified witch doctor. I'm already scarred for life after listening to him do the nearly dead routine this morning. Hearing you ramble at this hour will surely put me in a coma."

The hand finally moved from Sheppard's shoulder as Carson followed Rodney to the door. He allowed himself to drift with their quiet argument. The accented, "You're not the only one scarred for life," was the final straw. Everything was the way it should be and he let the sandman take over.

The End