Something More

One of John's favorite things about gate travel was the cool ride, literally. Stepping into the wormhole was like plunging into the Pacific on a hot summer day. However, exiting on the other side could be downright rude, especially on a world like this one. He groaned inwardly and unzipped his tac vest a little when he followed Ronon and Teyla into the sauna that was M4Y-328. Rodney, who hadn't stopped griping since breakfast, was right behind him, still talking.

"All I'm saying is it's not fair that a moron like Tunney gets another award while real scientists like me get nothing and oh my God it's like a thousand degrees here," McKay exclaimed, wiping at the sweat already beading on his forehead. "Can we come back when it's winter?"

"This is their winter," Teyla informed him. "Labdro is a tropical world."

"No kidding," John muttered. "Remind me what we get from these people."

Teyla frowned as she surveyed the jungle before them. "I do not believe we get anything from them. They are members of the Coalition. We serve as their protectors."

Ronon stepped next to her. "What's wrong?"

"I am unsure," Teyla replied, moving forward to examine some trampled undergrowth. "The foot traffic on this trail seems…unusual." She knelt and picked up a crumpled fern. "I was not aware the Labdronians had enough trade to have cleared a path so wide."

Ronon traced his fingers over the fern's crushed leaves. "Wheel marks."

"Is there something strange about that?" McKay peered over his shoulder. "Wouldn't they need a way to get their…whatever they've traded for home?"

Teyla nodded slowly. "Yes, using wagons is common." She stood and turned, scanning the area. "Perhaps I have underestimated the need. Many worlds are struggling to survive after the devastation Michael and the Replicators caused. If the Labdronians have enough risva to—"

"Risva?" John grimaced. "That purple root thing that tastes like sour milk?"

Ronon grinned and pounded him on the back. "You get used to it after a couple of days."

John snorted. "Not planning on being here that long." He turned to Teyla. "What do you think? Keep going?"

She glanced around again, her brow still furrowed, and then she sighed. "Many things have changed in the past few years, including trade patterns. We should proceed."

McKay held up a hand while he checked his scanner. "Nothing out of the ordinary, and certainly nothing of interest." He tucked the device away and pulled out another. "I've got life signs about a half-kilometer ahead."

"How many?" John asked.

"Hard to tell. I'd guess about five hundred or so."

"Five hundred?" Teyla repeated. "Are you certain?"

"Well, it's not exact but it's close," McKay said. "Why?"

"There should be over three thousand people here."

John adjusted his P-90. "Maybe they're helping another world with a harvest or something."

"Perhaps," Teyla said, looking uneasy.

"A culling?" Ronon suggested.

"I sense no Wraith," Teyla replied.

McKay's scanner beeped. "I'm not showing any residual energy signatures from darts."

John toyed with the idea of going home, but the list of worlds they needed to reestablish contact with after Atlantis' little six month jaunt to the Milky Way was growing by the day. "Let's go find out why these fine people wanted to see us."

Teyla took point, walking past him with a tenseness he rarely saw in her. Ronon followed, his eyes continuously scanning and his right hand hovering over his blaster. McKay's hands were in constant motion without a P-90 to hold, patting the vest pockets containing all his precious equipment. John checked the area one last time before heading after them.

The stiffness in Teyla's posture thawed as they neared a village that was in no obvious distress. Small thatched huts in good condition stood in straight rows. Vivid flowering plants lined the streets and a couple of squealing toddlers splashed in a puddle of water. The scent of roasted meat wafted from a crackling fire in the center of the village where a group of elderly women chatted. One looked up then rose and hurried to a nearby hut. Moments later, several older men emerged and headed toward the team.

Teyla stepped forward and inclined her head. "Good day. I am Teyla Emmagan. This is John Sheppard, Rodney McKay, and Ronon Dex. We bring greetings from Atlantis."

A man with a fringe of gray hair and an unsteady gait bowed stiffly. "I am Hasso. You are too late."

Teyla shot a glance at John who shrugged. "Too late for what?" she inquired.

"You do not know?" Hasso asked as several farmhands wandered up. "Then why are you here?"

"We were informed by the Coalition that you requested to see us." Teyla frowned, the tension creeping back into her shoulders. "Was that incorrect?"

A few middle-aged women drew near, holding tightly to the hands of their children. "That was weeks ago," one of them said. "Where have you been?"

"We, uh…" John scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck and gave an apologetic grin. "We were away for a while. We've been working our way through all of the requests we received."

"Away?" a large man growled. "You were away? Where did you go?"

"Cosren," Hasso chastised. "Let me handle this."

"Why should I?" Cosren demanded. "You haven't done us any good so far."

Several in the crowd voiced their agreement. Hasso flushed and leaned to whisper to one of the men with him while John scanned the angry faces pressing in, wondering when so many had shown up. His grip tightened on the P-90, and when he took a step back, he bumped into Ronon who was also trying to find some distance from the rapidly closing circle of townspeople.

"Please," Teyla said. "What has happened?"

"Slavers," Hasso replied. "They have been attacking defenseless worlds all over the galaxy." He shook his head. "So many societies lack sufficient labor to bring in their harvests. Many are resorting to unsavory means in order to survive."

"They came here?" Ronon asked.

Hasso nodded.

"While we were in the fields, they took my wife, my daughter and both my sons," one man cried.

"My husband," a woman called.

"And my children," another sobbed.

"My momma is gone," a little girl whispered.

"Why did you leave us?"

"We called for help, but you never came."

The mood grew ugly as the sea of people continued to shout questions and accusations.

"You were supposed to protect us!" Cosren shouted over the din. "We trusted you!"

John was never sure exactly what happened next. Suddenly Ronon was yelling, clawing at his eyes, and Teyla was on her knees with blood seeping between the fingers of the hand she had pressed to her forehead. Something heavy smashed into John's right arm and pain exploded as bone snapped. He staggered sideways and turned enough to see the wooden farm tool before it slammed into his side. The air whooshed from his lungs and he dropped to the ground.

He crawled forward to avoid another blow, his mind in overdrive. He was too close to use his P-90; he might hit one of his team. Red flashed as Ronon fired blindly. Villagers shouted. Children screamed. Rocks peppered the ground. Blood roared in John's ears, muffling all sound as he struggled to draw breath.

Only Rodney's scream pierced through.

John jerked toward the sound. A blade flashed, and Rodney screamed again when it plunged into his chest.

Rage blasted through John, numbing the agony in his arm and side. His vision focused, narrowed, sharpened to a battle-heightened clarity. He reached across his body, ripped the .45 from his thigh holster and fired in one smooth motion. Rodney's attacker dropped.

John whirled, aiming at his assailant. "Don't make me kill you."

The man paused, the hoe-thing raised over his head. Then he seized and collapsed as red energy washed over him. Automatic gunfire thundered and John glanced back to see Teyla, wobbly but determined as she stared down the mob. They backed away when she sprayed another burst of bullets over their heads.

"Ronon!" John shouted as he crawled toward Rodney. "Call for help!"

Ronon stumbled, wiping a hand over his swollen, splotched face then took off like a shot, his blaster stunning a hole through the crowd. John knelt next to Rodney who was gasping, eyes wide in panic.

"Hey, McKay." John kept his voice light, his fear carefully hidden. "How are you doing?"

Rodney's gaze latched onto him. "John?" His fingers curled and uncurled but he didn't reach for his chest.

"I need to unzip your vest, okay?"

"O-o-okay."

Keeping his injured arm pressed to his side, John unzipped the vest and jacket then pulled up McKay's shirt to expose the wound. A shallow, jagged line of oozing red stretched from Rodney's sternum to his side.

John grinned in relief. "Looks like something in your vest deflected that knife. Guess I'll have to quit razzing you about all the crap you carry."

"Yeah," Rodney mumbled. "Told you I needed it." His breath caught and he groaned. "When did it get so cold?"

"What?" John was so hot he thought his clothes were going to melt. Sweat had soaked through his shirt and must be trickling down his back and legs because his pants clung to his knees when he shifted.

But Rodney wasn't perspiring anymore. His face should have been beet red and streaked with sweat, not bone white like it was now.

John moved back and glanced down. "Oh, God," he breathed.

Blood was staining the bright green grass a dark crimson, pooling underneath Rodney, soaking into the knees of John's pants. Where the hell was it coming from?

"I need to roll you on your side, okay?"

Rodney closed his eyes and nodded. John shifted until his knee was against McKay's hip then he grasped Rodney's shoulder and gently rolled him, scooting close to keep him on his side. Rodney moaned, low and pained, and John sucked a breath through clenched teeth as rage flowed through him again. The knife had stabbed deep into Rodney's right side under his ribcage, just above the waist of his pants. Trying to not think about the major organs that could be hit, John yanked out a pressure bandage and pressed it to the wound, sealing it. Rodney arched and cried out, a broken sound that made something inside John twist painfully.

"Sorry," he whispered, easing Rodney onto his back. "Hang on. Help's on the way."

Rodney blinked sluggishly. "Am I dying?"

John plastered on a smile. "It's a scratch, McKay. You're going to be fine."

"Don't lie to me." Rodney groaned, his breath hitching. "On second thought, lie to me."

"I don't have to lie. You're really not dying." Please don't die. "Ronon will be back here any minute with an army of doctors and soldiers. You'll be terrorizing nurses in no time."

Rodney's eyes drifted shut. "Promises, promises."

"Stay with me, McKay." John tapped Rodney's face. "Open your eyes."

McKay mumbled something unintelligible and turned his face away.

"Rodney, open your eyes," John demanded. "Right now, McKay, or I tell Zelenka who raided the fudge his sister sent him last month."

Rodney's lids fluttered open. "You ate some, too."

"Did not."

"Did too."

"Prove it."

A weak grin creased Rodney's face. "I've got footage."

John's brows shot up. "You've got cameras in the jumpers?"

Rodney nodded. "Best blackmail material comes from there."

"I bet."

Voices shouted and John felt the flurry of activity around them as boots pounded into the village, but he couldn't make his fingers loosen their grip on Rodney's jacket even after Carson skidded next to them.

"Oh, Rodney," Beckett clucked. "What have you done to yourself now?"

"Hey, Carson," Rodney slurred, blinking languidly. "I'm dying."

"I already told you that you're not dying," John said.

Rodney's snort turned into a groan. "You suck at lying, too."

"Do not."

"Do too."

"Gentlemen," Carson interrupted. "I think now might be a good time to get Rodney home." He glanced at John. "If you could just let go, Colonel…"

Letting go was absolutely the last thing John intended on doing.

"I'll take good care of him, John," Carson murmured, "if you'll let me."

"'Course, Doc. Sorry." John stared at his hand, willing his fingers to uncurl. Nothing happened.

"You might check on Teyla."

He jerked and his fist unclenched at the mention of his teammate. He had been so focused on keeping Rodney alive and awake that he'd forgotten about the injuries Teyla and Ronon had sustained. Carson, damn him, always knew exactly how to motivate.

John turned, his mind noting with approval the bold stances and impressive firepower of the squad of Marines encircling them as he searched for Teyla and Ronon. He didn't see Ronon, but he spotted Teyla being helped toward the gate by a couple of corpsmen, a bandage wrapped neatly around her head.

John jogged toward them. "Where's Ronon?"

"He's back on Atlantis, Colonel. Whatever he was doused with has made him very sick," a corpsman answered.

"How sick?" John whispered, dreading the answer.

The corpsman's brows drew together in confusion then her eyes rounded. "Oh, he'll be fine. He just won't be eating much the next few days. It was like pepper spray."

John's knees wobbled with relief even as a sympathy pang shot through him. He'd been hit with OC once during his Special Ops training and had puked his guts out for three days. And that hadn't been the worst side effect. Poor Ronon would probably be holed up in his quarters for a week. Keeping an ear on Carson and company, John turned his attention to Teyla. "How are you doing?"

She smiled wanly. "I have been better."

"Concussion?" he asked the corpsman.

"I don't think so, but we'll know more once the med team gets her under the scanner." The woman glanced at him and did a double take. "What happened to your arm, Colonel?"

"Huh?" John looked down at the limb dangling at his side. He'd forgotten thanks to the adrenaline still pumping through him. "Oh, that. Some guy used a farm tool like a baseball bat. Broke my arm and bruised a few ribs."

"I should take a look to–"

"Coming through!" a deep voice shouted.

John jumped out of the way as two Marines raced by carrying an unconscious McKay on a stretcher. Carson ran alongside, IV in hand and barking orders into a radio. Teyla's face pinched tighter as she broke into a wavering jog. Knowing he'd be in Carson's way, John fought his instincts and hung back with Teyla and the corpsmen. The Marines drew in close, surrounding them, and quick-marched to the gate.

"John Sheppard!"

Marines surged around John when he pulled up short and wheeled, astonished to see Hasso shuffle out of the jungle and onto the path. "What?" John growled, struggling to keep his boiling temper under control.

Hasso flinched at the machine guns in his face, but he didn't back away. "What happened…" He waved a gnarled hand toward the rapidly disappearing group caring for McKay. "My people…" He hung his head then looked up at John with pleading eyes. "They have suffered so much. Please be merciful."

John opened his mouth then snapped it shut and closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. "I don't know what you've been told, but vengeance isn't our style." John swallowed thickly as he pushed away the images of his battered team. "You don't have to worry about us coming back."

"I see." Hasso stepped back and bowed. "Good journey to…" His voice caught as tears welled. "Please. The slavers have taken people from so many worlds. You will search for them, won't you?"

"I don't–"

"Not for us, but for the other worlds. They took the young and able-bodied, the ones who can work long hours in the fields. People's children." Hasso met John's eyes. "And grandchildren."

John stared blankly at him, his mind refusing to function. Hasso waited then his eyes dimmed and he bowed again, offering John a whispered good journey.

A Marine touched John's elbow. "We need to get you home, sir."

John gave a jerky nod and hurried toward the shimmering wormhole Teyla was stepping through. When he arrived in Atlantis, Teyla and the corpsmen were waiting. His brain seemed to detach from his body as they walked quickly down the halls, his feet moving of their own accord while he absorbed the sights and sounds around him. A Marine snapped to attention, his heels clicking audibly. The enticing scent of perfume lingered where two corridors intersected. A couple of scientists breezed past, deep in discussion. Zelenka trotted by, muttering in Czech and furiously wiping at a smudge of lipstick near his ear.

Suddenly exhausted, John weaved toward the wall and trailed his good hand along it for support. The smooth metal was warm to the touch and the connection with Ancient tech tingled through him.

"We are almost there, Colonel," a corpsman said. "Can you make it or do we need a wheelchair?"

John blinked, wondering when he'd stopped. "I'm fine," he replied, offering Teyla a small smile as he pushed off and continued.

The adrenaline was wearing off. He'd hoped he'd have pain meds flowing through him before reality returned, but he wasn't going to make it. The distant ache in his arm and side throbbed harder with each step he took until he had to bite down on his lip to keep from crying out.

The infirmary bore the signs of the chaos they had missed. Three techs were clearing the triage area, which was littered with uniform parts, gauze, instruments, and the bloody remnants of a familiar pressure bandage. A nurse ushered Teyla behind a privacy curtain while another attempted to do the same with John.

"No," John said. "Not until you tell me about McKay."

"I don't know any–"

"Then go find out," he snapped, knowing he'd have to apologize later for being rude, but too tired and worried to care at the moment.

"All right, Colonel," she replied in a voice filled with infinite patience and understanding. "But will you at least wait in the exam area while I do?" She gestured toward a gurney peeking through an open slit in the curtain.

John nodded tiredly and headed that way, easing his aching body onto the bed with a grimace when his side screamed in protest. Too exhausted to attempt to remove his vest or boots, he stared at a scored area on the wall and wondered what had caused the damage. He didn't realize he'd zoned out until a hand landed on his knee. He reacted automatically, leaping to his feet and slamming his opponent to the ground, his fingers digging into the man's neck.

"John?" Carson croaked.

"Shit, Doc, I'm sorry." John snatched his hand away and climbed to his feet. "But you really shouldn't sneak up on people like that."

Carson pushed up on an elbow, gingerly rubbing his throat. "I called your name several times, son." He stood and helped John back on the gurney. "You were a million miles away."

"Guess so," John sighed. "I was thinking…" He blinked, really seeing Carson for the first time – wearing bloodstained scrubs with a surgical mask dangling under his chin. "Oh, God. Is he dead?"

"What?" Carson glanced down then gasped. "Oh, lad, I'm so sorry. No, Rodney's still in surgery. Laney said you had questions—"

John gaped at him. "You walked out on the surgery? My questions can wait. Go help Rodney!"

"I helped Doctor Renshaw with pre-op, but he is doing the surgery. I was in the observation room." Carson held up a hand. "And before you ask, Grayson Renshaw is the best we have at repairing arteries, plus I just finished a twelve hour shift."

"Repairing arteries?" John massaged a throbbing temple, certain Carson was making sense and equally sure he couldn't figure it out.

"The knife nicked Rodney's renal artery." Carson held up his fist, palm out, his thumb pointing to the side. "The artery is basically at the interior center of the kidney." He gestured toward his thumb. "A stab wound that far from the spine might have lacerated the outside edge of the kidney but would normally miss anything vital. However…" Carson flipped his hand over so his thumb was facing the other direction. "Rodney's kidney is backwards so that the artery is nearer to his right side."

John swiped a hand over his face. "Can you save him?"

"The wound isn't life threatening." Carson squeezed John's shoulder tightly. "He needs fluids to build up his blood pressure and some antibiotics to prevent infection, but he'll be fine." He flashed a grin. "He's going to be sore and cranky for a while, and I'm sure he'll let you know about it at every opportunity. Now, why don't you sit back and let us take care of you."

It wasn't a question. John nodded and allowed Carson to swing his legs onto the gurney. Two nurses magically appeared, easing his injured arm out of his vest then cutting away his uniform shirt. Gentle hands helped him lie down, and he felt the prick of an IV needle in his good arm while Beckett scanned him.

Carson studied the results, typing a few notes into the record then sending a nurse to bring something that John's weary mind couldn't translate into layman's terms. "Your ulna and radius are broken, but the breaks are clean," Beckett said, "and your ribs are bruised but not cracked." He nodded his thanks to the nurse who had returned with a vial and a syringe. "Ronon is in his quarters sleeping off whatever he was sprayed with. He'll be out of commission for a couple of days." Carson injected the medicine into the IV port. "Teyla has a lacerated scalp and a whopper of a headache, but no fracture or concussion. You'll need to wear a wrist-to-elbow cast for about six weeks."

John groaned at the thought of being grounded for so long then reconsidered. Ronon and Teyla would heal faster, but Rodney's recovery would probably be a while. They could all use the downtime. Before John could ask any questions, the most wonderful of pain meds hit his system. So instead he nodded, closed his eyes, and drifted on a cloud of numbness, falling asleep in seconds.

When he awoke the next morning, he found Rodney ensconced in the bed next to him with wires everywhere and a dizzying array of monitors. John was sure the fact that he knew the function of each one said something depressing about his team's luck, but he decided to not follow that rabbit trail. He did study each one carefully, pleased to see Rodney's vitals were strong.

"Quit staring," Rodney mumbled. "Injured man trying to sleep here."

"McKay?"

Rodney cracked one eye open. "Who were you expecting?"

Joy made John's throat swell so he gave Rodney his best death glare until he could speak. "Well, I was hoping that redhead from chemistry might drop by…"

Rodney's lips twitched. "What kind of drugs does Carson have you on?"

"What are you saying? You think she's out of my league?"

"I think she's married and has two kids in college."

John stared at him. "You're making that up."

"Nope." Rodney grimaced then huffed a breath that might have been a moan. "She talks about them all the time. Can't get her to shut up. One's set to graduate with honors from MIT in the spring and the other is on the Harvard Law Review." He closed his eyes, shuddering.

John sat up, ignoring the twinge in his side. "You need me to—"

"I mean, law? That's worse than medicine."

"I should have known," John muttered, slumping back down to stare in horror at his arm. "What the hell?"

Rodney's mouth quirked up again.

"What did you do?" John demanded.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." The blush creeping up Rodney's neck to his face and ears said otherwise.

"You are a dead man."

"You can't possibly think I did that." Rodney's breath hitched and his thumb spasmed over the pain pump trigger. Finally the lines creasing his face relaxed. "I haven't been out of this bed. I've been unconscious."

McKay was involved somehow, though. He might not have been an active participant, but he definitely knew who the culprit was. John would pry the information out of Rodney one way or another. But the grin on McKay's face as he fell asleep was almost enough to make up for the six weeks of humiliation John would endure.

He settled into the bed then gently eased the arm encased in a bright pink cast with yellow flowers under the sheet.

xxx

John was officially released the next morning. The quick trip to his quarters for a fresh uniform turned out to not be so quick. He tried on every long sleeved shirt and jacket in his wardrobe and none of them fit over his damn cast. After tugging on a t-shirt and uniform pants, he headed to Ronon's room.

He knocked on the door after he rang the chime three times but didn't get an answer. "Ronon?"

"What?" Ronon moaned.

"You all right?"

"Go away," came the muffled reply.

"Okay," John called. "Let me know if you need anything." He turned to go.

"Sheppard!"

John leaned his good arm against the doorframe and braced his head on it. "Yeah?"

"How are McKay and Teyla?"

"Beckett sent Teyla to her quarters last night and told her to stay there for at least a day. McKay made it through surgery fine. Doc says he'll be in the infirmary for a few days then light duty for about a month."

"He'll love that."

"I know." John grinned. "I'd hate to be Zelenka. I'm headed back there now."

Ronon was quiet for a second. "How are you?" His voice was clearer, as if he'd moved close to the door.

John glanced down at his arm. "I'll be fine. Doc released me an hour ago."

Ronon groaned then mumbled, "Gotta go."

John smacked his fist on the door frame then pushed away as the faint sound of retching reached him. McKay was asleep when John got back to the infirmary so he pulled up a chair and eased into it with a wince.

"How is he?"

John started at Teyla's voice. He twisted carefully to get a good look at her. Other than a huge knot on her forehead and several bruises on her neck and arms, she looked whole and healthy. A bit of the weight crushing him lifted.

"Thought you were supposed to be resting in your quarters," he said.

"That was yesterday," Teyla replied with a smile. "And I could say the same about you."

He gestured at the chair. "I'm resting."

Her eyes narrowed as she studied him, but she didn't pursue it. "How is he?" she asked again, squeezing John's shoulder.

Rodney's mouth twitched and his breathing quickened.

"Oh, you know McKay," John said loudly. "It was a scratch. All he needed was a band-aid."

Teyla's brows shot up as Rodney's eyes flew open.

"That's a lie," McKay declared. "I had a very serious injury. I could've died."

Teyla tweaked John's earlobe then stepped forward to pat Rodney's arm. "We were very worried."

"Yes, we were," John agreed. "How are you feeling?"

McKay sniffed and shifted to his left, plucking nonexistent lint from the blanket. "Do you know how much damage this sorry excuse for a bed is doing to my back? Carson the Tyrant won't let me have any coffee or take a shower. And apparently my staff has mutinied. Radek refused to bring me a radio or my laptop." He activated the controls to incline the bed then folded his arms over his chest. "Entertain me."

John rolled his eyes. "Dream on."

A slight smile curved Teyla's lips. "I would be honored to do so. My people's history is told through elaborate hand gestures and poetry. Would you like to hear the story of Elem's Discovery of the Tuttle Root or perhaps The Eight Hour War with Manara?"

John had to bite the inside of his mouth to keep from laughing at the dismay in Rodney's eyes. He glanced at John who stared back and brandished his pink cast. Rodney's mouth tightened.

"Why don't you recite both of them, Teyla?" John suggested. "McKay has plenty of time on his hands."

"What a wonderful idea," she said, eyes twinkling with mischief as she turned to locate a chair.

"I hate you," McKay whispered.

John grinned and stood. "Have fun."

xxx

After Ronon emerged from his self-imposed exile a couple of days later, the three of them took turns keeping Rodney company until Carson lifted his ban on laptops. By the end of the week, Rodney had been released from the infirmary with orders to take it easy, which he interpreted as using everyone around him as his personal staff. The fourth time he radioed John in the middle of the night to demand another pot of coffee was the end of John's patience.

"I'm not your butler, McKay. Get your own coffee." John glanced at the clock. "It's three in the morning. Why aren't you asleep?"

"Because I can get more done now since everyone else is asleep. No one is bothering me."

John yawned and stretched as he calculated the odds of successfully locking McKay out of the comms system. Not good. "You're in your quarters. Who's bothering you?"

"The sycophants that work for me – and I use the term 'work' loosely – are in and out or constantly calling with questions. It's almost as bad as being in the lab."

"Then why don't you go to the lab?" Maybe he could convince Radek to disconnect Rodney's computer from the network. No, knowing McKay, he probably housed the network in his room.

"Because I can't sit on those damn stools. I asked Woolsey for a chair, a nice one, but he said you needed more ammunition. What the hell does that mean?"

John waved the lights off and sighed. "It means that all those bullets we use cost money and the price keeps going up while the budget keeps going down."

"Wow," Rodney said. "You sound like a bureaucrat."

"No more calls, McKay. Not to me or anyone else. Get some sleep then tomorrow go find a comfortable chair. We've got a ton of them stored around here. The Ancients traveled between galaxies on ships, and they're pretty smart. I bet they understood ergonomics."

Rodney was quiet for a second then, "Hey, that's not a bad idea. I wonder why no one thought of it before."

John glanced at his so-comfortable-it-was-like-sitting-on-air desk chair that he had liberated from a lab his second week on Atlantis. "I have no idea. Goodnight, McKay."

xxx

Once Rodney located the perfect chair – it only took three days and twelve people to find it – he planted himself in his lab and began terrorizing his staff as life slowly reverted to normal. For everyone but John. His stupid arm got in the way of everything: writing, shooting, sparring, even playing chess. At least that was what he was blaming it on. Jogging hurt his ribs. He was restless, unsettled, on edge. He snapped at people over little stuff. He'd yelled at the line server in the Mess because the man had the audacity to give someone else the last piece of toast and John had to make do with a bagel.

Irritated with himself for being irrational, John stomped down to the gun range to take out his frustrations on an unsuspecting paper target. Loading and unloading his .45 took time, but he needed weak-hand firing practice. He was on his third clip when he felt Ronon materialize beside him.

"What?" John used his elbow to hold the gun against his side and chambered a round.

Ronon blasted four targets in quick succession, hitting center mass each time, then sat down and pulled out his cleaning supplies. "What?"

"Why are you here?" John elaborated.

"Sights are out of alignment." Ronon peered down the muzzle of his weapon then polished it with a cloth.

John aimed and emptied the magazine, each shot landing inside the center and second circles. "Bullshit. You keep that thing in mint condition." He balanced the gun under his arm again and ejected the clip.

Ronon hopped to his feet and reeled in the target. "Not bad."

John yanked it out of his hands and crumpled it, tossing it on the ground. "Not good enough." He pulled out a fresh target.

Ronon took it from him. "Says who?"

"Says me, that's who." John glared at him until Ronon hung the target and sent it sailing to the three foot mark. "That's not far enough," John said.

"That's how far the guy stabbing McKay was."

John's heart tried to pound out of his chest. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Ronon leaned against the wall, arms folded. "Means you've been blaming yourself for what happened."

"What?" John shook his head. "No I haven't."

"Yeah, you have. You're pissed, really pissed. Everyone can see it."

"No, I…" John set the gun on a countertop and sat down. Was it possible? "Are you sure?"

Ronon sat next to him. "Oh, yeah. Been there, asking myself what I could've done different."

John nodded. His dreams were filled with possible scenarios.

"Wasn't your fault."

John sighed and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "We all knew something wasn't right. We should've turned back."

"Maybe."

"Maybe?" John turned his head to look at him. "What do you think we should've done?"

"Not let them get so close."

"I don't normally, but everything seemed so peaceful… It was stupid."

"It was a mistake," Ronon said.

"A mistake that almost cost Rodney his life."

"Could have been any of us, has been at one time or another." Ronon slid the energy cell from his blaster and diligently cleaned the interior. "Dangerous job. McKay knows that."

John shook his head. "He's covering it well, but I think that attack really rattled him. He keeps his back to the wall in the Mess and he rearranged his lab so he's always facing the door."

"He'll get over it. Takes time."

"I know, but I can't let that happen again. We need to be more careful in the future, even with folks we consider allies."

Ronon took a small tool from his pocket and adjusted the sights. "Teyla says several worlds out there feel like the Labdronians."

John sat up straight. "Really? They're mad because we left?"

"Yeah. Halling thinks the Genii are behind it."

"Of course they are." John pinched the bridge of his nose as a headache began to throb. "Guess we need to rewrite some of our off-world procedures."

"Guess so." Ronon aimed his blaster at the target he'd hung for John. When he fired, the paper flamed and disintegrated. "We done here?"

John stood and holstered his handgun. "Yep."

xxx

John, Ronon, Lorne, and Teyla spent the next couple of weeks writing and adjusting mission protocols. As one team then another returned with injuries from villager attacks, they refined the procedures further. Teyla and a team of diplomats were sent to meet with Coalition representatives in the hopes of halting the violence. Ronon and Lorne took teams off-world to train on the new rules while John combed through mission reports, searching for patterns of attack and any evidence of Genii involvement. The only highlight of the month was the day Carson removed that freaking pink cast.

Rotating teams off-world for training had cut down on the silly grins and giggles when he entered a room. John had threatened to dump Rodney's coffee stash in the desalination plant, had watched several hours of security footage, and had bribed Carson with twelve-year-old Scotch, but nothing had worked. He still didn't know who was responsible, though he suspected. Very little scared Rodney more than losing his coffee.

John was reading the latest transcript from Teyla's negotiations when Rodney barged into his office.

"I need a jumper."

John looked up in surprise. "Why?"

"I'm glad you asked." Rodney grinned and pulled up a chair. "I've been tracking a planet in the gamma quadrant since we arrived." He set his laptop on the desk and positioned the screen so they could both see it. "It's a suicidal planet."

"McKay, I don't have time for this."

"No, really. Watch."

A solar system appeared on the monitor: a bright orange sun, six planets, and more moons than he could count. The planet closest to the sun was huge, Jupiter-size huge. Rodney clicked something and the planets started to orbit.

"Watch the big one," Rodney whispered.

Its orbit was egg-shaped with the sun near the smallest end. It whirled around the sun while the others plodded along. Then the display froze.

"Do you see it? This is its farthest point from the sun."

John nodded. "Yeah, I get that. Why-"

Rodney clicked a button and the first image of the system layered over it. "Can you see what's happening?"

John leaned forward and peered at the screen. "The orbit's getting smaller."

"Exactly!" McKay crowed. "Now look at this."

Another image of the solar system appeared. The orbit was much bigger.

"This is from the last scan the Ancients took of the system, over ten thousand years ago. They have data going back two hundred thousand years." McKay practically vibrated with excitement. "Suicidal planets have been theorized. We even have one in the Milky Way we've been watching, but to be this close is—is—" He dropped in his seat. "So, you see why I need a jumper."

"You want to go watch a planet orbit a sun." John's brows arched. "Are you that bored?"

"Bored! Were you watching?"

"Yes, Rodney, I was watching." John leaned back in his chair. "Why today? We've been here for over five years."

"Because it will be closer to the sun in a few hours than it ever has been. Its proximity causes massive plasma tides on the sun which is what's changing the orbit."

"Won't it be even closer tomorrow?" John asked.

"Well, yes," McKay admitted. "But we're scheduled for a mission tomorrow and I…" He trailed off as his computer beeped. His expression morphed from confused to shocked to elated to neutral in the space of a minute.

"What's wrong?"

"Hmmm? Oh, nothing." Rodney closed his laptop, keeping his eyes averted. "Anyway, the fourth planet has a gate and I estimate the trip from there to the optimum vantage point is about seven hours. So, can I?"

"Can you what?"

McKay heaved a sigh. "Have a jumper. It's why I'm here."

"Oh. No, you can't."

"What?"

"Not by yourself. You know the rules."

Rodney rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on. You get kidnapped one time and the rest of us have to pay for it?"

"It's not up for debate, McKay," John snapped.

Rodney arched back, eyes wide. "Sorry. I didn't know that was a sore subject for you."

"It's not. It's just…" John sighed and rubbed his eyes. "When do you want to leave?"

"I need to grab a couple of things." McKay leaped up. "Maybe twenty minutes?"

John nodded. "I'll meet you in the jumper bay in twenty."

Rodney was halfway to the door when he reversed course. "You'll what?"

"I told you no one goes alone." John entered the flight plan in the database and sent Woolsey a mission request.

"Fine." Rodney's mouth twisted in a scowl. "But no bitching at me that you're bored. Bring your DS or something."

John patted his vest pocket. "Never leave home without it."

McKay snorted in reply and left.

John turned off his computer then hurried to his room to pack a few items for the hours he'd be spending in the jumper while Rodney did…science stuff. Maybe he'd misjudged how that attack had affected McKay. He hadn't expected Rodney to be quite so gung-ho about going back into the field. Then again, they were just going to observe a planet. Not much dangerous about that. With a shrug, John headed out.

When he reached the Jumper Bay, McKay was standing at the base of the ramp, staring into the jumper, his lips pressed into a thin line.

John walked past him, dumped his gear on the rear bench then glanced over his shoulder. "What are you waiting for?"

McKay's hand strayed unconsciously to his back. "I thought I was ready," he whispered, shoulders hunched to his ears.

"Rodney?" John walked back to the top of the ramp. "What's wrong?"

McKay swallowed thickly. "Nothing." But sweat was trickling down his face. "I can do this."

"Do what?" John's pulse sped up when Rodney simply stood there. "Are you worried about going off-world?"

"Maybe. I don't know." McKay exhaled loudly. "I can't be if I'm going to be on the team, right?"

If? "Is that what this is about?" John asked. "Facing your fears?"

"No." Rodney flushed but he met John's eyes. "Well, maybe a little. But I really want to observe that planet."

John nodded. "Fair enough." He moved forward, slid into the pilot's chair, and waited.

After a minute, Rodney sat next to him. "I've got a few things to set up before it reaches the closest point so let's get a move on. Chop chop."

"Now you're in a hurry," John groused, hiding a grin as he ran through pre-flight and received permission to leave. "Dial it up."

One thrilling ride later, they were soaring over the desolate landscape of a dead planet – barren rock as far as John could see. No water, no vegetation, no life at all.

"Was there anything in the database about this world?" John asked.

"Not much," Rodney answered, looking a little more relaxed. "The Ancients used it to study this system, specifically the suicidal planet, and to conduct some experiments."

"What kind of experiments?"

McKay shrugged. "I couldn't find anything else. Janus had some info but I haven't been able to decode it yet."

"Decode it?" John input the coordinates of the observation point and headed into space. He never tired of being among the stars.

"Janus not only hid his lab, he encrypted his files," Rodney replied as he hooked his equipment into the jumper's systems. "He was serious about security. Every subject is in a different code."

"Did you bring the file with you?"

McKay grinned at him. "Of course."

John set all the sensors to maximum and engaged the autopilot. "Let's take a look."

They spent the next few hours tossing ideas back and forth on possible encryption algorithms. John worked on potential number/letter combinations until Rodney cursed a blue streak and chucked his stylus across the cabin.

"What?" John asked.

"That sneaky bastard didn't encode in Ancient. It's in Furling."

"What the hell is Furling?"

McKay stabbed at his keyboard. "One of the four great races of the Milky Way. They, along with the Nox—"

"The who?"

"You know what? Never mind. Furling is just another ancient language." McKay typed furiously, checked something on a different screen then continued typing. "I got a job offer."

John blinked at the non sequitur. "You what?"

Rodney's hands stilled for a second but he didn't look up. "I got an offer for a job." He tapped another couple of keys then set the laptop on the console. "There. Decryption is running. Once it finishes, the translation program will start. We should have the contents of Janus's files in a couple of hours."

"Good. That's good." John checked their position and the long range sensors, not quite sure what to say. "I, uh…" He scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck. "I mean, um, when did you… you know… apply?"

"Apply? What are you…? Oh." McKay's mouth twisted. "People like me don't apply for jobs. They contacted me."

"So, you weren't looking to leave?" John turned off the autopilot and grasped the controls, needing to occupy himself with something.

"No," Rodney answered quietly. "I would've told you if I were."

John nodded. "I thought after our last mission, or maybe since Keller stayed on Earth…"

McKay looked away. "Yeah, well, Chippewa Falls isn't exactly next door to New York."

"It's a damn sight closer than Pegasus." John flicked a glance toward Rodney. "Or does it matter?"

Rodney shifted uncomfortably as his cheeks reddened. "It matters."

"Have you heard from her lately?"

"Got an email last week. Her dad's out of the hospital but the prognosis isn't good. She wants to spend as much time with him as she can."

"I can understand that," John murmured, regret stinging him again. Would he have done what Keller did – give up everything to take care of her dad – if he'd had the chance?

"Me, too."

An awkward silence stretched, but John couldn't think of a single useful thing to say. The HUD beeped.

"What's wrong?" Rodney asked.

John sighed. "Nothing. We're coming up on the observation site." He adjusted the vector then pivoted the ship.

"Why can't I see— Oh, wow."

Wow indeed. John's jaw dropped as the planet and sun came into view. The green gas giant was so close to its star he could actually see the tug of gravity between them. The equator of the planet elongated, reaching for the sun, while the fiery orange corona rippled and swirled. Solar flares erupted and collided with plumes of green, igniting with such power the planet shook.

"Are you getting this?"

McKay nodded as he darted from one piece of equipment to another, too busy to speak. John sat back and watched the dance between planet and star, entranced. Very little he'd seen in Pegasus compared to this.

After a while, Rodney took a seat. "That's just impressive."

"Yeah," John whispered.

"Did you darken the viewscreen?"

"No." John pulled his gaze away to glance at the controls. "Safety protocol."

"For all their screw-ups, the Ancients could be pretty smart."

John rolled his eyes. "Well, they did invent the stargate."

"Exactly. Pretty smart," Rodney said. "And they let the Wraith emerge. Not so smart."

"Good point." John stared out the viewscreen. "How long does this planet have?"

McKay shrugged. "Not long. Thirty thousand years or so."

"Oh, is that all?"

"That's a blink of an eye in the life of a planet." Rodney stood and began unclipping his equipment.

"Are we done?"

"Unless you want to sit here until this time tomorrow."

"No, no, that's okay." John ran the sensors. "Lots of radiation out there."

"But none in here, right?"

"Nope. Guess the Ancients got the jumper shielding right, too." John plotted the course and banked the jumper, heading back to the gate. "So, about that job…"

Rodney froze for a second then finished putting away his gear. "What about it?"

"What kind of job is it?"

"Oh. I'd be the head of research at a think tank that is studying forms of dark energy, specifically scalar fields."

"Um, wow. That sounds…"

"Boring as hell, I know. But the last three guys there won the Nobel Prize in Physics." McKay glanced down at his hands. "Pays good, too."

"Everything you've ever wanted." John loosened his white-knuckled grip on the controls. "Good for you."

Rodney turned toward him. "You think so?"

"Hell, yeah. Fame, fortune, the girl. What more could you want?"

"Yeah, what more," McKay mumbled.

When he didn't go on, John asked, "If you weren't looking, how'd they find you? I mean, you haven't exactly been on the radar."

Rodney laughed softly. "I have no idea. At first I thought of Sam, but she knows I wouldn't…"

"You wouldn't…" John prompted.

"I mean, I thought about leaving once—"

"Really?"

"Yeah, but then Jennifer…" McKay's face flamed as he tugged at his collar and cleared his throat. "Anyway, I haven't really considered it lately."

"But you are now." John squelched the disappointment rising inside, keeping his expression neutral, wanting Rodney to decide for himself.

"Like you said, it's everything I've ever wanted. How can I not consider it?" McKay exhaled slowly, his eyes on his computer. "Oh, hey. The translation is almost complete."

John nodded, staring at the speck in the distance that held the stargate and home. Rodney was leaving. He might have used the word "consider" but John knew it meant "done deal." He'd been in the military long enough, and boarding school before that, to know nothing was permanent. People flitted in and out of his life so fast most of the time he didn't bother to establish more than a surface relationship. Atlantis had changed that, but in the back of his mind, he'd known it wouldn't last. And it hadn't. First, it was Ford. Then Carson and Elizabeth. He'd almost lost Rodney, Teyla, and Ronon on more occasions than he could count. At least the only thing trying to suck the life out of Rodney at that think tank would be boredom.

And the only backstabbing he'd have to worry about would be the office politics.

A quick glance showed McKay engrossed with the translation – on the edge of his seat, eyes glued to the screen, a smile growing as he absorbed the information. Nobody soaked in knowledge like Rodney.

God, he was going to miss him.

"Anything interesting?"

Rodney silently handed over a data pad. John began reading, amused and pleased that McKay would think to make a copy for him. Of course, it was probably because Rodney didn't want to share the same screen. The man was a speed reader who expected everyone to keep up.

John had barely read a tenth of the material when, hours later, the HUD beeped to announce final approach to the planet. Then it beeped again.

McKay's head popped up. "What was that?"

"I don't know." John scrolled through the HUD data. "I had the sensors set to maximum. Seems like they've located a structure on the surface. About twenty klicks from the gate."

Rodney glanced at his watch. "We're not due for another hour. Want to take a look?"

"Are you sure?"

"It's a hunk of rock." McKay waved at the viewscreen. "What could go wrong?"

John shot him an incredulous look. "Seriously?"

"I didn't say I wasn't taking a gun."

John checked the atmospheric conditions. "We've got high levels of radiation out there."

"Maybe it has a jumper bay or a place we can dock. Can't we at least take a peek?" McKay wheedled.

"I guess it won't hurt to look." John changed course and headed toward the designated area. "It's gotta be here somewhere."

"There!" McKay pointed toward a massive boulder. "Can you see it?"

John squinted at the mound of gray and brown rock. "No, I— Wait, yeah, I see the outline of the door." He circled the structure that perfectly blended with its surroundings, his brows arching when the HUD registered a shield covering the facility and extending about a hundred yards in every direction. Whatever the Ancients had been doing here, they didn't want anyone to notice. "Good news, McKay. Looks like there's a shield we can park under. Should protect us from that radiation."

Rodney grinned like a kid at Christmas. "So, we can check it out?"

"Let's dial in and ask Woolsey." After getting permission from Atlantis, John circled the facility again, searching for a spot to land inside the shield. "Have you figured out what they were experimenting on?"

"No," Rodney huffed in frustration. "I tried doing a keyword search but it went nowhere. I got lost when I tried skimming – Janus had a unique narration style."

"I noticed. What have you found?"

"A lot of stuff about that suicidal planet."

John touched down and turned off the engines. "So why camouflage the facility?"

"Probably to hide whatever experiments they started doing later on." McKay stood up. "Are we going to sit here or go find out?"

John gestured toward the opening hatch. "Let's go."

While McKay stuffed the data pad in his pocket and grabbed his scanner, John checked the ammo in his P-90 and slipped an extra magazine in his vest. He waited for Rodney to clip on a P-90 then they clomped down the ramp. John closed it with the remote before they headed to the door. A little McKay magic put them inside a chamber that smelled stale and old. A puff of fresh air washed over John as the ventilation system kicked on, and lights flickered and pulsed.

"Anything?"

Rodney frowned at his scanner. "No, not even much of an energy signature. Whatever powers this place is almost dead."

Three doors separated the chamber from long corridors. The first led to a group of rooms that appeared to be living quarters. John and Rodney backtracked and tried the middle hallway, finding one lab after another. Any samples had long since turned to dust and the control panels were missing vital crystals.

Rodney swore and tossed a blackened shard to the ground. "I can't even find enough decent ones to get one panel working."

John poked through a pile of discarded vials and beakers. "We can always bring some back from Atlantis. Take a few pictures so you know what you'll need."

"That's not a bad idea." McKay took his camera from a pocket and started snapping photos. "What are you looking at?"

"Not sure. I think this one has a label on it." John picked up the tube and rubbed his thumb over the dim writing. "Do you recognize this?"

McKay peered over his shoulder. "No, but," he pulled out the data pad with a flourish, "I can look it up." He pecked at the pad, frowned, and pecked some more. "Oh…oh, God. John, we need to get out of here now."

Experience had taught John all the levels of McKay panic. He knew when to slap him on the back of the head and when to run. Quietly breathed panic meant run for your life.

John didn't hesitate, sprinting down the hall, his P-90 at ready. "What is it?"

"Damn Ancients. How do I get myself into these things?" Rodney fumbled with a pocket, finally ripping out the LSD. "Shit. Twenty life signs headed our way."

"On this world? How is that possible?" John flattened against the wall, swiped the door and peeked into the main chamber. Empty. "Where are they?"

"Um…" Rodney turned right then left. "Coming down the left corridor in a hurry."

"Any outside?"

McKay stabbed at the controls. "Yes. About five."

"Let's go."

They were in the middle of the chamber when the door to the left hall flew open. Something pierced John's left side with the force of a sledgehammer, slamming him to the ground. Pain, fierce and mind-numbing, exploded in his chest and radiated down his arm and leg, ripping a guttural scream from him. Then he was being dragged across the floor and the agony whited out his vision and hearing. After an eternity, the thunder of automatic gunfire broke through the haze of pain, and John realized he wasn't moving anymore. Dazed, all he could do was blink as Rodney's horrified face solidified over him.

"Sheppard?"

"What," John croaked, "…happened?"

Rodney let the weapon dangle from his vest as he knelt next to John. "I need to see. This is going to hurt."

"See…what?" Why couldn't he catch his breath? What the hell was wrong with him?

"Um… Trust me, okay? I'll explain later."

When Rodney unzipped John's vest, pain blasted through his chest again. Blackness attempted to swallow him as he tried to twist away. A voice John barely recognized as his own begged Rodney to stop.

"Sorry, sorry." McKay raked his fingers through his hair as his gaze darted around the room. "Think!"

"Tell…me."

"Okay, short version. The Ancients tried their own version of the retrovirus." Rodney laughed, sounding slightly hysterical. "How stupid are we to think they wouldn't have tried?" He shook his head. "Anyway, they failed spectacularly, as only they can. Instead of getting rid of the Iratus bug part, they tried to get rid of the human part."

"You saying…big-assed Iratus bugs…on this planet?"

"In this facility. Take a look."

John gingerly rolled his head in the direction Rodney indicated. A big black…thing lay nearby, dark blood oozing from the multitude of wounds on its soft underbelly. As big as the creatures Michael had first created, but with a fringe of white fur running down its spine to the long barbed tail that was buried in John's side.

"Oh, God." John clenched his eyes shut and breathed through his mouth to keep the rising bile down. "Others?"

"I think the gunfire scared them. They went back down the hall, and I shot the door controls, but I doubt that will hold them for long. We need to go."

John's heart was pounding so hard he could barely hear Rodney, but instead of shaking with adrenaline he felt sluggish. The vise around his ribs tightened until his vision began to gray and he clawed weakly at the ground.

"What's wrong?" Fear made McKay's eyes huge in his face.

"Can't…breathe."

Rodney glanced back at the entrance to the chamber. "We only have a few steps to the door then a few more to the jumper. After that, we'll be home."

"Can't…can't…"

"Of course you can." Rodney's face scrunched in confusion. "I'm the pessimist, remember?"

John shook his head. "Legs…can't move my legs." He saw Rodney's hand drop to his ankle and squeeze but he couldn't feel it. "You have…to go."

Rodney rolled his eyes. "Please tell me we are not going to have this conversation again."

"I can…feel it, Rodney – the toxin," he rasped, wheezing with each inhale. "Worse than…the Iratus bug. Faster."

"Shut up and let's go."

"Can't move. Can't breathe. I don't…have much…time. You…need to leave."

McKay's chin jutted out. "Not without you."

John forced every ounce of rage into his eyes and voice. "Just obey an order for once!"

Rodney crossed his arms and shook his head. "Then give me one I can obey because I'm sure as hell not leaving you here."

"Please!"

"Nope." Rodney's eyes narrowed. "Where's your knife?"

"What?"

"Your knife. Don't pretend like you don't have one."

"On my…belt. Why?"

Rodney gently slid a hand under his back and lifted. Tears pricked John's eyes as the barb scraped against his ribs, but the pain had lessened from blinding to merely excruciating.

"Stop. Please."

"Sorry." Rodney moved away, knife in hand. "Now, I'm going to sever that tail as close to you as I can, and then we're going home."

"Rodney—"

"Don't bother arguing because I'm not listening. You are not fit for command in your current condition so I'm in charge."

"No more…war movies…for you," John murmured.

McKay knelt at his side. "I'll try not to hurt you."

"I'm going to…kick your ass…for this."

Rodney held his gaze. "I'll let you. Just don't die on me."

John closed his eyes, struggling for breath. "No…promises."

Rodney squeezed his shoulder then began hacking at the scaly tail. John arched up as the agony spiked, but the paralysis in his extremities prevented any change in position that would relieve the pain. He suspected the tip of the barb might have punctured his lung since all he could manage was shallow pants. Waves of pain tugged at his consciousness. He floated in a haze of red that was morphing to black.

"Sheppard!"

John's eyes flew open "What?"

Rodney sagged, his face pinched and sallow. "Damn it, don't do that to me again."

Tendrils of pain danced along John's nerve endings. "Sorry," he slurred. "Done?"

"Yeah." Rodney sat back on his heels, knife in one hand, LSD in another. "They're coming again, all of them, I think. Every direction." He wiped the blade on his pant leg and tucked it in his belt. "We need to go."

"Thought some…were outside," John mumbled.

"There are. Three, now." Rodney fished the jumper remote out of John's vest pocket. "I'm going to move you to the door, open it, clear the way to the jumper, and then pick you up and—"

"Hope like…hell they don't…catch us?"

"Yep. Ready?"

Rodney didn't wait for an answer. John watched him reach for his shoulders then he was sliding over the floor, staring at the mutilated Wraith bug receding behind them. McKay huffed and groaned and muttered about his back, but John heard the terror under the words.

"You should—"

"Don't say it," Rodney whispered. "Please, John. Please don't."

"I was…going to say…you should check…ammo."

"Oh. Yeah, I'll do that." Rodney leaned him against the wall. "Don't go anywhere."

"Funny."

The door opened. John heard the spray of bullets and McKay shouting. Something skittered across the ceiling but John couldn't move his head enough to see it. Then the P-90 roared close by and a black body fell at his feet. Rodney kicked it out of the way then knelt in front of him, pulling him across his shoulders. John gagged as the world tilted and the pressure on his chest doubled. Then everything went white when McKay began running.

When his vision cleared, John was lying on the floor of the jumper near the hatch. Rodney was firing at long black pincers that clung to the ramp as it rose. John tried to move, to shout, to do anything, but he couldn't. Finally the ramp slammed into place.

McKay glanced down. "Hang on, okay?"

John wanted to nod but nothing happened.

"Okay," Rodney said, stepping around him and dashing to the controls. "Just a few minutes, John. You have to hang on for a few minutes so I can get us home. Remember, you can't kick my ass if you're dead."

John smiled as the babble washed over him, wondering when it had become a balm instead of an irritant. The hum of the engines changed, signaling flight.

"And Ronon and Teyla don't get to because they wouldn't have followed that order either, and no one else on Atlantis has the balls to try to kick my ass because they know I will make their lives a living hell so you have to hang on. Are you listening to me?"

The pain was gone. Each breath was harder to draw. John's heart was fighting but it was going to lose. The paralysis was almost complete. He was an optimist but he was also a realist – he wasn't going to make it to Atlantis.

"Sheppard? We're at the gate. John! Damn it!"

Blackness hovered at the edge of his vision.

Rodney would go home to fame, fortune, and the girl. He'd be safe.

His heartbeat stuttered as the cold of the wormhole swallowed them.

Ronon and Teyla would take care of each other.

"Sheppard! Medical emergency!" Rodney's voice cracked as he yelled. "John!" His face appeared after the autopilot engaged. "Don't you dare die on me!" He disappeared then lunged back into sight, over and over again. "Come on, John. Fight!"

But he'd fought as long as he could. John blinked, the only movement left to him, hoping Rodney could read the apology in his eyes. Then he closed his eyes and exhaled one last time.

xxx

Waking up in the infirmary was an unexpected surprise for John. The faint odor of antiseptic was mixed with an exotic spice which meant Teyla was sitting with him. He lifted heavy lids enough to see her in the chair to his right, singing as she gently rocked Torren. His side throbbed dully, and with a start, he realized he had a tube down his throat. A beeping nearby sped up, and Teyla's eyes rose and widened, flicking behind him. But before she could move, the drugs tugged him back under.

The next time he woke, a massive pair of boots was propped up on the end of his bed. The tube in his throat had been replaced by one looped over his ears and resting under his nose. His side was on fire.

Ronon dropped his feet to the floor as he pressed the call button. "Hey."

"Hey," John whispered.

A nurse peeked in, grinned, and hurried away.

Something rustled to his left and he rolled his head toward it. McKay was slumped in a chair, sound asleep. He was haggard, worn, with a scruffy beard and huge purple bags under his eyes. John squinted. And a Barbie band-aid on his forehead? He turned back to Ronon.

"He won't leave." Ronon grabbed a cup and offered him an ice chip which he gratefully accepted. "Beckett threatened to sedate him. McKay dared him – told him he'd never have a decent night's sleep again."

"How long?"

"Three days."

"Band-aid?"

Ronon smirked. "Don't tell him."

"You?" Only two people on Atlantis could have convinced Rodney to not squeal about that pink cast, and he was looking at one of them. The band-aid, however, had to be the work of the other.

"Nope."

Teyla then. Just wait until that woman wanted more popcorn. "Is he okay?"

"You mean the bump on his head? Yeah." Ronon slouched forward, shoulders hunched like a weight was bearing down on him. "He didn't know how he got it. Beckett thinks it might be from one of the creatures."

"He's been a mite worried about you," Carson said from the doorway. "We all have." He stepped in, nodding at Ronon who stood and moved to Rodney's side.

"McKay." Ronon shook his shoulder. "Wake up."

Rodney bolted upright, eyes wide, gasping for air. Then his gaze landed on John. His jaw tightened and he swallowed thickly. "About damn time," he muttered before getting to his feet and walking out.

Ronon waved and followed him. John turned to Carson for an explanation.

"You scared him, John. You scared all of us. He was doing CPR when we got to you." Carson raised the head of the bed while he rubbed the bell of the stethoscope on his sleeve then untied the neck of John's gown and slipped it inside. "Deep breath. Another one. Good." He helped John lean forward. "Okay, again."

John felt the cool metal move across his back and sighed in relief. "I guess the paralysis is gone."

"It took a while for it to dissipate. You were on life support for two days." Carson's gaze flicked over the monitors around John's bed. "You died, you know."

John nodded, eyes averted, and took another deep breath, relishing the feel of his lungs expanding. Pain spiked through his side and he grunted.

"Is your side hurting?" Carson asked.

"Yeah. Did you get that thing out?"

"Took a bit of finesse." Beckett pulled a syringe from his pocket and injected it in an IV port. "The tip of the barb was embedded in one of your ribs. You're going to be sore for quite some time."

"Great. More time off." John settled back as the medication began to flow through his veins.

"A few weeks at least. I don't want you destroying my handiwork." Carson patted his shoulder. "And don't worry about Rodney. He doesn't deal with loss well, and he came close to losing you. But he didn't. He'll figure it out soon enough."

John nodded, eyelids fluttering as sleep called to him before jolting awake when he remembered Rodney was going back to Earth. He made a mental note to be sure they were good before McKay left. His eyes drifted shut again, and he was almost asleep when he heard the door open and the chair on his left scrape. John fell asleep to the scent of coffee and the gentle tap of a keyboard.

A soft moan followed by a crash and a harsh curse jerked John back to wakefulness. He blinked in confusion, finally spotting Rodney picking his laptop up off the floor, knuckles and face white.

"Sorry," McKay muttered.

John grunted and closed his eyes, and then blinked them open to stare at Rodney who now sported a Dora the Explorer band-aid. "You okay?"

Rodney swiped a hand over his face and scrubbed his chin. "I need to shave." He glanced at John. "You, too."

John huffed a laugh. "I'm sure I do, but I've been busy being unconscious." He waited for a sarcastic retort that didn't come. "Rodney?"

McKay's face flushed bright red. "What?"

"What's wrong?"

"Wrong? What would make you think anything's wrong?" McKay's eyes flashed as he dropped his laptop in the chair and paced at the foot of John's bed. "One of my best friends died right in front of me is all."

"I'm not dead."

"Well, you were. For a full minute and a half." Rodney folded his arms over his chest and glared. "I counted."

"I'm sorry."

"What are you apologizing for? You didn't do it. Those damn Ancients with their experiments," Rodney spat. "They failed to find a solution so they abandoned their mess on a barren world and wiped all reference to it from existence so unsuspecting humans could stumble on it."

"You think other people have been there?" The thought horrified John.

"How else could they have stayed alive all this time? There's no DHD to dial out. Anybody who went there would be stuck."

"So, another one in the not-so-smart column." John grinned as Rodney made a face at him. "Lighten up, McKay. We survived. Thanks to you," he said pointedly.

Rodney smiled, looking flustered like he always did when he got a genuine compliment.

"I guess you'll be glad you won't have to worry about crap like this," John continued.

"What are you talking about?" McKay asked, moving back to his chair.

"Well, I doubt you'll have many Ancient experiments to deal with at that think tank."

"Oh, that." Rodney plopped into his seat and sighed dramatically. "I'm not going."

"What?" John tried to sit up but his side had other ideas. He slapped at the bed, searching for the controls. "What do you mean you're not going?" He banged the control against the rail until the bed began to rise. "I thought it's what you wanted."

McKay's chin lifted. "Turns out I was wrong."

John blinked at him. "Are you sure?"

"What kind of question is that? Of course I'm sure." Rodney poked at the computer then snapped it shut and stood. "The think tank will have to settle for a lesser mind since I am obviously needed here." He breezed out the door, almost knocking Teyla over.

She stared after him. "Is something wrong with Rodney?"

John shrugged. "I have no idea. One minute he's going back to Earth, the next he's staying here."

Teyla smiled as she took a seat. "Rodney was never going back to Earth."

"He said he was considering it."

"To consider something is not to do it. He may have thought about the benefits of that life, but it would not take long before he realized how empty it would be."

"Did he tell you that?" John asked.

"He did not have to. He is not the same man who came here years ago. What he valued then no longer matters. He has found something more. As we all have."

Her eyes held his, peering into him in that way she had that he'd never been able to block, peeling away layers until he was sure she could see his soul. John shifted and looked away, feeling his face burn.

Teyla patted his arm, looking satisfied. "How are you today?"

"Better," John announced. "Where did you find Dora the Explorer band-aids?"

A sly smile played at her lips as she arched a brow. "I have no idea what you mean."

xxx

John stretched his back then swiveled from side to side. Not a twinge of pain. Carson had declared him fit for mission status after a month of rest and rehab. The senior staff had combed through reports and interviews during that time, searching for any indication of where they could find the slavers the Labdronians had encountered. The new off-world protocols had cut down the number of injuries the teams suffered, but they hadn't helped in the strained relationship between Atlantis and the Coalition planets.

"You sure about this?" McKay sat on a bench, lacing up his boots. "You want to go after the slavers on our first mission back?"

"Going after them is the right thing to do." John handed Teyla a vest then got one for himself. "Besides, what usually happens when we do milk runs?"

McKay snorted. "We usually end up in the infirmary."

"Exactly. We might as well do something useful if that's going to be the end result." John loaded his P-90, stuck extra clips for it and his .45 in his vest, then clipped the weapon on and snatched a radio. "Lorne has been searching for these guys for weeks. We were the ones lucky enough to be on rotation following the first solid lead."

"Yeah, lucky. Remember you said that when I'm dragging your sorry ass through that gate in a few hours."

"I look forward to it, Rambo." John exchange glances with Teyla who quietly left. "You ready for this?" he asked once she was gone.

McKay blinked in surprise. "Me? I'm not the one who's been living a life of leisure for the past month."

"No, you were the one doing that the month before." John sat next to him. "This is a little more than taking a jumper ride."

"Thank God. I could use a little less stress."

"I'm serious, Rodney."

"So am…" McKay lowered his head and stared at the floor. "I've started taking self-defense training from Ronon again. I'll be better prepared next time."

"What happened wasn't your fault."

"Yours either." Rodney's knee bounced a couple of times. "I know the risks. I knew them when I agreed to be on the team." He glanced up. "I'm still on the team, right?"

John grinned and grabbed Rodney by the back of his vest, yanking him up.

"Easy." McKay pulled out of his grasp and tugged his vest in place as they entered the gate room where Ronon and Teyla were waiting. "I'm carrying valuable equipment."

"How could I forget?" John asked.

"Old age," Ronon offered.

"An inability to pay attention," Teyla said.

"Too much hair gel rotted your brain?" Rodney suggested.

John rolled his eyes in disgust. "Maybe I need to request another team."

McKay yawned. "No one else would take you. Guess you're stuck with us."

As the gate began to dial, John utterly failed to hide a smile. "I can live with that."

A/N: Written for the Jumper 3 zine for MediaWest 2010. Winner of Fan Q award for SGA gen story.