John slogged through the thick leaves, each step dragging in the debris and shushing with annoying crunches 'til he thought he might go mad from the constant noise. He wrapped the wool coat even more tightly around himself, wishing for the 100th time that he hadn't popped all the buttons when he'd yanked it off Ivan.
Keep walking.
Stick to the plan.
It was a stupid plan.
The forest around him grew dimmer and dimmer as he walked, the failing, early evening light combining with denser vegetation to create a dingy gloominess. He'd need to find shelter soon if he didn't find a clearing or some open patch of ground. For the 200th time, he pulled out the blood-smeared scanner and checked the screen to see if his dot had appeared yet. Still nothing.
Frustrated, John kicked weakly at the leaves, stubbing his toes against the rocky soil. Damn rocks. They were still interfering with the signal. He shoved the scanner back into his pocket and kept walking, the tiny tingle of fear growing ever so slightly as he felt his strength failing, his optimism waning. Almost as if to prove the point, a sudden, sharp icicle of pain stabbed him through his middle, and he stopped, doubling over slightly and wincing. He held his arms wrapped tightly around himself until the pain faded and he could breathe again. The monster in the closet of his shaky control snickered, inching the door open another notch. John stood gasping for another long moment, then pushed himself forward again. Keep...walking.
The sharpened ache finally faded a little and John was able to concentrate on his surroundings, his focus shifting urgently to the need to find shelter. There were precious few options in the overgrown but otherwise featureless forest. He thought about simply plopping down next to a log and starting a fire - he had one match in his pants pocket - then suddenly imagined himself running from a blazing conflagration as he realized the leaves piled all around were a forest fire waiting to happen. He'd have to choose a spot for a fire very, very carefully.
He pressed his bandaged arm against the hole in his belly and felt the saturated ball of fabric begin to slip against blood-slicked skin. The wound was bleeding again. He'd have to choose the time for a fire very, very carefully. He had only one match, and probably not enough in him to haul wood all night long.
John peered into the tangle of a fallen tree, looking at the cave-like hole the roots had excavated as the ancient giant had laid itself down. He walked on by. He glanced down the trickling path of a tiny stream he had to step over looking for an overhanging bank or gravel beach he could build a fire on. He crossed and kept on walking. The sun was no longer in his eyes, but he hardly noticed because they were barely focused on anything more than a few feet beyond him anyway. He heard nothing but his own crunching footsteps and even that began to fade into a hum of background noise, drowned out by the silence pressing from inside his ears.
A long stretch of aimless steps passed under his feet when he looked up suddenly and realized that he'd zoned out completely. He stopped for a moment in confusion. Where was he? Was he even still going West? The sun was low, behind the trees. He grabbed for the scanner, peering at the blank grid on the machine's smudged screen. Why wouldn't it work!? What good was the damn thing, anyway. It could only receive information. He needed to SEND an SOS, not sit around waiting for the thing to tell him he was dead because he hadn't found shelter and he hadn't found a way to signal his team.
In a fit of temper, he threw the scanner onto the ground and stalked away a few steps, wincing when the stress of anger and growing panic flared along the spike in his middle. He stopped again, breathing hard and rubbing his eyes. He needed to send a message. The scanner only received information. Or did it?
A sudden idea began to take hold and John scrambled back to scoop up the scanner, looking at it with renewed interest. He started walking again, but his fragile concentration was now on the device. He poked through menus, triggered all the mental commands he knew, looking for some feature that might generate a signal, or make some kind of electronic noise that a jumper could pick up from altitude and distance. He sighed, not for the first time wishing Rodney was there to show him what to do. Rodney would know. If he could only somehow get the thing to talk to Rodney, he could tell it what to do...
John blinked at the crazy path his mind had taken. That made no sense. A scanner couldn't talk to someone. He looked at the screen and saw a little message.
Initiate data download?
Huh? Why had it given him that prompt? John struggled furiously to focus, to understand something that seemed just out of his exhausted reach. Data download... Shrugging, John touched the screen for Yes. A new message blinked for a few seconds, to be replaced by "No device found, download failed. Try again?" John thought for a moment, then thumbed "Yes" again, this time looking closely at the blinking message. "Searching for device" it blinked, to be replaced again by "No device found..."
Searching. Searching for device. Was the scanner sending out some kind of request? Looking for another computer to talk to? Rodney linked the scanners to Atlantis' databases all the time...what did he call the thing they did when they hooked together? Handshaking! That was it. Was the scanner sending a request to shake hands...or data...or whatever?
Try again?
Yes. What the hell. John pushed the screen, then pushed it again. He started walking again, every so often touching the scanner with his thumb.
Try again? Yes.
The next time his stomach flared up in a plaintive protest, John dropped to his knees with the pain, growling in desperate pants to hold it back. One more time he was able to wrestle the demon back under control and he staggered to his feet, putting one in front of the other. Crunch after crunch, step after slow step, his body begging him with pain to stop walking and sit down for a while. He tried not to listen, he knew that if he sat down, he wouldn't get up again. Not without help. But his stomach had a point...he was really, really tired...
Try again? Yes.
The ground under his feet changed texture, and it took him a moment to recognize that his feet were no longer balancing over hard pebbles and jagged rocks, but sinking slightly into soft gritty sand. He took one more step before he snapped his mind to his surroundings. The foot splashed slightly and he hastily pulled his boot out of the shallow water he'd been about to walk into. John looked blearily around.
He was standing on the sandy bank of a wide but shallow forest river. The cheerful babble of the water in front of him spilled over a small rocky waterfall out of a narrow and deep rocky channel a few hundred yards to the north of his beach. It then spread out quickly into the flatter shallower landscape below the falls. At this point, the water chased over rocks and around daring vegetation that had found purchase in the many sandbars and tiny islands within the river's suddenly carefree and vague borders. In fact, for as far as he could see to the south, it looked not so much like a proper river, but a wide swath of swamp that happened to have a current and clear water rather than mud. With a hopeful jerk, he looked skywards, desperately wishing to see clear sky. Instead, the tall, impressively beautiful trees of this part of the forest spread wide at the canopy and stretched across the river, creating a brown network of branches that wove together into a tunnel-like roof over the water.
John sighed, thinking like a pilot for a moment and realizing that, from above, the canopy would look just as impenetrable as the rest of the forest. But there was plenty of room to land a jumper on the beach he was standing on. Someone just needed to tell the jumper all they needed to do was find or burn a hole through the tunnel's thin roof above his position, then they'd have space to spare.
John stood swaying at the water's edge. He really felt like crap. He really needed to sit down before he fell down. Finally, finally giving in to the fatigue, he stumbled back to the edge of the beach, where the ground had first begun to get sandy. The shock and pain and despair he'd been holding at bay for so long writhed with anticipation as it sensed victory. He began to shudder, his hands shaking as he forced himself to clear a patch of leaves away from the sand and dig a small fire pit. He stumbled a short distance back into the forest to an ancient fallen tree and managed to carry a load of sticks and twigs to the beach, returning one more time to drag a rotted chunk of the trunk back as well. He had kindling, he had fuel enough to last...a while. He splashed his face and took a few sips of the cool river water.
Before succumbing completely, John built a teepee out of his kindling and set out a pile of twigs and dried leaves for tinder. He patted his pocket, reassuring himself the match was still there.
Then he set his back against the smooth broad tree trunk that was nearest to his firepit and slid down to the ground, his knees drawn up in front of him. He wrapped the smelly wool coat tightly around him, and cradled his aching wrist against his throbbing abdomen. The forest was not dark, he did not start his fire, yet, but it was dim with the shadows of evening. The leaves lost their color as the light faded, transitioning from fall cheer to winter pallor in the blink of an exhausted, bleary eye. John shuddered harder as shock began to take a gleeful hold, and he tugged the collar up on the coat to wrap more snugly around his neck as well. He pulled out the scanner again and propped it on his lap where he could see the screen and poke the thing without pulling his hand too far out of the warm nest he'd created.
Try again? Yes.
He really hoped it was doing something. Sending some signal or infa-red blast or...something. Anything. He dropped his head on his knees and gritted his teeth as a wave of agony rippled through his body following yet another violent shudder, pain sinking its jaws into him as tenaciously as the shock. A low moan escaped his tightly clenched jaw and he shifted on the sand, writhing with the consequences of holding the monster back so long. He suffered many long minutes of punishment before the wave passed on, leaving him panting and gasping and chilled, even as his face felt hot and flushed. He leaned back against the tree again to catch a breeze on his face, recognizing the heat as the first spike of a soon-to-be raging fever. Great. Maybe he should've kept walking after all. His body was just really enjoying the whole rest-rebound thing too thoroughly. Licking his lips, he touched the screen again.
Try again? Yes. Searching for device. No device found...
As bad as the pain was, as weak as his body was, he continued to hold the despair at bay. He had a fire when he needed it. He'd found a place for a jumper to land...no small feat in this dense tangle of a forest. He had the scanner. He firmly convinced himself that it was broadcasting some sort of signal as it repeatedly requested a handshake. It might not be as good as an honest to gosh SOS, but if anyone was out there looking they'd see it. He had to believe that. And if anyone saw it, they'd ask Rodney about it.
The next shudder rattled his teeth, and his choking gasps of defiant endurance fell into the babbling water not far away to be quickly drowned. John was nearly unconscious with the effort by the time the pain crested and finally faded for a time. He growled in frustration, mustering his strength while he had the chance. His hand shakily touched the scanner.
Try again? Yes.
And again. And again. Someone was out there. Someone would see it.
Rodney would figure it out.
As the tremors took him again, his courage began to slip ever so slightly.
He just hoped they would figure it out in time.
Teyla shivered a little and zipped up her jacket another inch as the forest grew dimmer. It wasn't that it was so late in the day as much as it was just more...gloomy. The bare branches were thicker and there were many more evergreen trees casting shadows and blocking the view. She shot a glance at Ronon who prowled through the forest at her left, about 25 yards off, and saw that he too kept looking nervously at the sky and squinting more as the light seemed to offer less and less information to their straining eyes. Beyond him, she could see the alert, wary steps of two more of their companion Marines. They had decided to spread out in a long line, still walking west as quickly as the landscape allowed. Lorne had made the suggestion with a wary look at Ronon, fearing with good reason the man's reaction to the implications of the change in strategy.
But as they walked further and further, even Teyla herself began to feel they were now looking not for a man on his feet who was in some way also looking for them, but for a man down. The scanners were useless for detecting lifesigns so all they had were their eyes and their ears. Every now and then, a searcher would shout Sheppard's name, and there would be a tense, expectant moment of silence as everyone listened for a reply. They were only ever met by silence.
"I figured out how the radiation is interfering with the LSD," Rodney suddenly piped up at her right shoulder. McKay seemed to take technology's failure to offer any assistance quite personally. Teyla shook herself out of the deep worry she'd fallen into to bring her mind to the statement.
"That's wonderful! Can you adjust for the problem?" Her voice maybe sounded a bit too hopeful because Rodney shot an apologetic look at her and slumped in genuine sorrow.
"No, no. I just... I just understand it now. That, and why we can pick up transponders but the radios are garbled. Oh, and why it's worse here than at the village. It has to do with the - "
"That's great, Rodney." Teyla cut him off abruptly, uncharacteristically uninterested in listening to a rant in technobabble. "I'm sure it's very interesting." Rodney took a breath, then gave up, too worried and anxious himself to really be offended, and they walked on in silence instead. Ronon bellowed Sheppard's name next, and despite telling herself yet again to resist the impulse, she still found herself holding her breath and listening, hoping, praying for an answer. Only silence and the constant shushing of many pairs of feet through deep leaves did so.
When they'd been walking for over an hour, Ronon suddenly flung his arms in frustration at some internal conversation and rolled his eyes when he caught Teyla's concerned glance in his direction. "It's getting dark. Sheppard will look for shelter soon," he replied to the question in her eyes.
"Meaning, finding him will be even more difficult. I know," she sighed. "Jumper two will return soon with reinforcements and lights. We will not stop searching." Ronon nodded, unreassured. The med-evac jumper was still hovering overhead, shadowing them in their slow march across the forest floor. Both jumpers had soon given up an aerial survey - all they saw were trees and more trees. Oh, and the river that crossed their path up ahead, but without the LSD scanners, there was little extra help they could offer.
"That's just strange," Rodney exclaimed, again bursting into conversation as if they had all been just waiting for him to speak. Teyla took a deep breath, forcing herself to find patience.
"What is, Rodney?"
"I keep getting these weird blips on the scanner, then it tries to open a data connection. Keeps failing, though..."
Teyla cocked her head, "A data connection to what? The jumper?"
Rodney shot a look above his head then shook it in negation. "No. It thinks it's talking to another palm scanner." He suddenly shouted down the line of Marines who turned towards him with curiously annoyed expressions, "Hey! Who's messing around with the scanner?" There were shrugs and head shaking all down the line.
"No one?" shouted McKay again, then shrugged himself. Several more weary footsteps passed under his feet and he kept his eyes glued to the scanner, almost tripping over a thick branch as he remained distracted. "There it is again!" He stopped completely and Ronon cocked his hip in exasperation as the line faltered to a complete halt. But Teyla was watching Rodney carefully. He seemed lost in deep thought, as he often did when he was about to puzzle out some difficult dilemma, or think of a creative solution to a problem. She walked briskly over to stand near him, leaning a bit to also look at the screen.
"What have you got, Rodney?" she prompted softly, missing John keenly in that little moment. John was the one who had the right touch with the brilliant, touchy scientist, and it was he who was most often able to goad the man into completing and sharing an important thought.
"It just keeps...popping up," he said pointing to the screen. As she watched, a message flashed briefly in the corner, blinked, then faded. "See?! There."
"What does it mean."
"I don't know. Nothing unless... No that's not possible."
Teyla pursed her lips, forcing calm again, "What's not possible?"
"Something is sending a handshaking request. Over and over. It's not consistent, but, well..."
"Could it be John?" Teyla went straight to the point.
"He didn't have a scanner with him. The bandits took ours."
Ronon joined them, having grown impatient with waiting. "Maybe Sheppard got it back from the bandits," he said succinctly, a gleam of hope growing in his eyes.
Rodney shook his head, "That just doesn't sound reasonable."
"This IS Sheppard we're talking about..." The three teammates shared a significant look, excitement growing in each of their eyes. The enthusiasm that suddenly burned through the group was contagious, and Rodney suddenly grinned and nodded.
"Can you use it to track him?" Teyla demanded.
"Not exactly, but I can probably figure out a...a... Marco Polo kind of thing to let us know if we're at least going in the right direction."
"A...what?" Ronon snapped. He disliked it when his teammates used colloquialisms in urgent situations.
"Marco Polo, you know, hotter or colder or, just never mind." Rodney poked furiously on the tiny screen for a long moment then stood tapping his foot, waiting. When the screen flashed it's little message in the corner, this time the display was accompanied by a graph that Rodney squinted at carefully. He turned a deliberate 45 degrees to the South and waited again. Finally he bobbed his head with a wide grin.
"This way, we need to go this way!" And he took off towards the west, Lorne shooting a look and a shrug at Ronon then jogging quickly after him.
Ronon rolled his head at Teyla, "We were already going that way," he complained, but jogged off after McKay none the less.
They hit the river shortly thereafter and Rodney paused on the bank. The search party gathered around him, their postures expectant, their expressions annoyed. Once the thrill of hope was upon them, they were unhappy to stop moving for any reason.
"McKay?" Ronon growled in warning.
"Just wait! I said it wasn't consistent. If it is Sheppard, he's having to manually send the request over and over. If he gets distracted or passes ... gets distracted, then I've got nothing to work with. It's actually been a while since I saw the last blip."
A nervous ripple went through the group at the suggestion that Sheppard might become unable to continue his SOS and there was a tense hush as the whole group waited. The river ran deep and silent past them. Teyla looked up and down the bank, then studied the land across the ripples. If John had met the river here, he would most likely not have tried to cross it. It looked deep and swift...and cold.
"There!" Rodney shouted, snapping her attention back to the group. Rodney swiveled, then turned to follow the bank to the South.
They trailed the river's edge, a second blip on the scanner finally confirming their course and worrying them with the widening delays. The signals were definitely coming fewer and further apart. They had to concentrate briefly on scrambling down a rocky mini-cliff alongside a frothing waterfall, then they stood staring at the sudden change in the river's appearance as it spread out and grew wide and shallow. The group spread out too, as the also wide beach they walked along offered plenty of room to wander.
Rodney was walking slowly, still in the lead, gazing disgustedly at the scanner and Teyla understood his frustration. There had been no more blips for quite some time. When she saw a line of footprints crossing her path, it actually took her a second to realize what she was seeing. She froze and snapped her concentration to the ground, dropping to one knee briefly. The line of prints led from the river back towards the forest.
She leaped to her feet again, finding Ronon at her shoulder. Their combined excitement was electric.
"There!" She shouted, pointing. A little pile of sticks had caught her attention, the teepee like structure and the cleared pit of sand standing out on the otherwise featureless beach. She ran to the pit, sweeping her eyes around the beach, then back towards the forest. Where was he? Had he left the beach to gather more wood? He was obviously planning to return...
Her gaze finally fell on the huddled lump of brown, curled up against a nearby tree, and she gasped in alarm. The figure was so still, blended in so perfectly with the forest colors, she hadn't recognized it for who it was.
"Sheppard. He's here. Over here," Ronon had also finally spotted their friend and called loudly to the others, but Teyla heard the strangled worry in the tone.
She dropped quickly to her knees beside John, calling his name softly and touching the shoulders that slumped over limp knees. He moaned softly and Teyla's heart fluttered in relief, grateful even to hear a sound of pain over the silence of her fears. She shot a look at Ronon who had squatted down on his other side. The rest also gathered around, Rodney planting himself at Sheppard's feet, bouncing in worried happiness. The rest formed a loose circle, and pulled out their flashlights to illuminate a wide circle in the rapidly fading light at Lorne's quiet suggestion.
"John. Can you hear me? We're here now, we found you. Help is here..." She spoke more firmly and shook him more solidly, finally reaching for his head that she lifted tenderly, eager for the sight of his face. His head radiated the damp heat of fever, warming even the light touch of her fingers. Ronon pressed against John's shoulder and he started slightly, pushing back to lean against the tree on his own. He blinked in confusion for a moment, then looked around in bleary recognition. A tiny hint of a smile cracked the corner of his lips and the relief Teyla saw in his eyes was almost frightening.
"Hi," he said.
"Hi, yourself," Rodney answered, his voice petulant with quite happy relief. "Did you forget the doubling back part, Sheppard? Because I've just spent half the day chasing your sorry self through the woods and you owe me a new pair of insoles. My arches are killing me."
John's grin grew wider, "Aja? Kids OK?" he panted, wisely ignoring what McKay had said, understanding what he'd meant.
"Yes. They're fine. Thanks to you, actually. They made it offworld to join the rest of their people."
John nodded sleepily, closing his eyes and shifting a bit with discomfort. Teyla picked up the hint right away and waved Abramowicz, med kit already open and ready, over to join her.
"You need to let us look at your wound, John." He frowned at the statement, looking almost scared.
"Knew...that was coming..."
He braced himself as Teyla and Ronon gently tugged on John's ankles to stretch out his legs. They let him stay leaning against the tree for now, simply because he'd stiffened up in pain-filled tension at even that slight motion. The arm he'd had resting on his lap flopped to the ground, still clutching the smeared, blood-blackened hand scanner. Teyla unwrapped the coat and John shivered, his teeth chattering. When she spread the rough brown fabric far enough to reveal the shirt and the other arm he'd had tucked inside the coat, she closed her eyes to keep herself from exclaiming in despair.
Ronon growled a vicious Satedan curse, and slapped his hand on John's shuddering shoulder. "Damn, Sheppard. Those bastards got you good."
John's shirt was stiff and crusted with blood from chest to hem, the massive blood stain seeping down into and spreading through into the waistline of his pants. He was pressing a wad of linen against the source of the mess with his linen wrapped hand, both also soaked in bright red. John just nodded, clenching his teeth against another deep shiver, the lack of a quick quip more telling than any admission or denial.
"Temp's high, blood pressure's low. We need to start replacing fluids and get him warm," Abramowicz said earnestly from Teyla's shoulder once he'd finished performing an efficient medical evaluation. "I wouldn't mind some help here, either," he added shooting Teyla a look that was part suggestion, part suppressed panic. She nodded to show she understood his concern, feeling a panic of her own creeping into her chest and speeding her heart.
"I'll carry him to the landing site," Ronon snapped, responding to the obvious tension in the air with ferocious desire to get moving, to solve the problem. They had identified a small clearing a single jumper could just squeeze into, but it was some distance from their current position. It was the best they had.
"I don't think that's a good idea," Abramowicz said quietly, turning to address Teyla sidelong - almost as if he didn't want Sheppard to hear him. "The Colonel has lost a lot of blood and he's in shock. He needs to be stabilized before he's moved."
"Then stabilize him," grunted Ronon.
"I'll do my best sir," the medic said confidently, "but what I had in mind was bringing Dr. Beckett here from the landing site instead of us taking the Colonel there."
Teyla was just about to radio the med-evac team to order just that, when John reached a shaking hand to rest on Teyla's knee. "Jumper can land here," he said.
Lorne took a step closer in sudden interest, as eager as Ronon to pursue solutions, "You have something in mind sir?"
Sheppard nodded, even though his eyes were closed. "Flares...on the beach. Drop straight in. Might lose some paint...but...plenty of room."
Lorne nodded crisply and immediately aimed his light at the canopy above, confirming for himself Sheppard's plan and picking a landing spot that would avoid the thickest limbs. In this case, the lack of leaves was a distinct advantage. Lorne had his flares out and glowing a moment later.
Ronon chuckled and looked at Sheppard fondly. "You picked a good spot to camp for the night," he rumbled in appreciation of the man's resourcefulness.
"Walked...all day...to find it," John grinned weakly, then cringed with a shudder, forcing himself not to curl up again.
"We need to get him warm. Ma'am, would you mind starting that fire there? Specialist Dex, would you help me lay the Colonel down so I can get pressure on that wound and start an IV?" Abramowicz was suddenly all business and neither Ronon nor Teyla were at all annoyed by the young man's orders. Teyla hastily examined John's fire pit, realizing it only had need of a match. She provided the spark and fed the flames more leaves and twigs until the sticks took hold and the blaze was soon crackling merrily. Calling upon a nervously bored Lt. Peterson, she asked him to search for some larger pieces of wood to add to the fire, which he was more than happy to do.
The jumper came screeching and snapping through the canopy only a few minutes later, the craft quickly settling on the sandy beach amid a continuing shower of bark and twigs from its forced entry to the riverbed below. Carson was the first out of the hatch, and Abramowicz relinquished his spot to the Doctor with something like ecstatic relief. The young medic's worry was not lost on Teyla and she found herself wrapping her arms around her shoulders, feeling chilled with more than the swiftly falling night. As the rest of the med-evac team surrounded John, she was subtly pushed away from the efficient bustle to end up standing by the fire, watching in a daze. When she looked up after a while, she found Ronon and Rodney and Lorne also close by, also watching in wary vigil. The rest of the search team had gathered together at another spot on the beach, another fire crackling cheerfully at their feet. There was an enormous sense of waiting in the air.
Teyla found herself watching John very closely, feeling like their long search wasn't quite over yet - like she needed to see him to believe he was actually nearby. Beckett kept up a constant patter of questions and reassurance, partly for comfort, partly to keep the shocky Colonel conscious and alert. John would sometimes nod, sometimes whisper an answer to a question. But Teyla could see the strain on his face, the glitter of fever in his eyes in the rare moments they were open. When Beckett had to address the gunshot wound directly, John writhed and let escape a gutteral cry before clamping his jaw and burying his face in his hands. Teyla blinked back furious tears, and finally turned away to warm her hands at the fire, Beckett's insistent murmurs of confidence soothing her nearly as much as they were intended to soothe John.
Time passed without notice and suddenly Beckett was barking orders to bring a stretcher and the jumper pilot was leaping into the craft to bring the engines up. Teyla and the rest of her team shifted nervously, understanding that John would soon be taken back to Atlantis to receive the full care that amazing facility had to offer, yet still regretting that their friend would be taken from their presence so soon after they'd found him again. The sense of waiting was not released, only...deferred.
The med-evac team was efficient in loading a now-quietly-unconscious John onto the stretcher and he was wrapped in blankets from chin to toes, only the many snaking tubes attached to bags of fluids and medicines providing clues to the damage underneath. The useful brown wool coat lay discarded on the beach, looking more like an outcrop of rock than a garment. Unable to let John go without saying goodbye, Teyla walked assertively into the group of Marines who had picked the stretcher up and stood for a moment at his side, resting her hand on his blanketed shoulder. The escort waited patiently for her, politely looking away.
To her great surprise, John cracked one eye open to look at her and she smiled a winning smile, her own eyes glittering with unshed concern. He chuckled weakly, the sound no more than a soft exhale.
"See you soon," he whispered, very very softly.
"Yes," she breathed in reply, then dropped her head, clutching at him tightly, suddenly and embarrassingly overwhelmed by worry and exhaustion and fear and protective reluctance to let him out of her sight.
He frowned at her discomposure and she rebuked herself for worrying him. She was the one who should be offering comfort!
"Hey," he gasped. "I'm fine...or I will be. Beckett'll figure it all out...put me back together."
It was Teyla's turn to chuckle and she laid her hand across his feverish forehead since she could not touch him with her own. "Of course you will be fine. We will be nearby once you reach Atlantis."
Beckett finally popped his head out of the jumper and bellowed for them to hurry up, so Teyla stepped back, allowing the Marines to continue on to the ship. It began to rise off the forest floor almost before the hatch had hissed shut. She felt Ronon's hand on her shoulder briefly as they all watched the jumper disappear into the inky, starlit sky. Major Neglee was soon dropping jumper 2, their original air support craft, through the same hole in the forest roof, to pick up the search party and return everyone home.
Ronon suddenly grunted in exasperation and stretched his arms over his head in an effort to release tension. "I hate this part," he complained.
"What? Going home?!" asked Rodney in surprise. "Because that's my FAVORITE part of the day."
"No. The waiting part. Beckett's gonna have to cut on Sheppard for hours. I hate that part too."
Teyla nodded, completely understanding his unease. They'd been so focused on rescue for so long that simply standing around and watching others complete the mission of bringing John home just felt...anti-climatic. The feelings unresolved, they watched the Marines kick out the fires, plunging the beach into sudden, starlit darkness, then began to walk slowly towards the circle of warmth cast by the lights spilling out of the open Jumper. Teyla almost decided that she was looking forward to sitting down for a long time in the infirmary. She had walked too many miles under too much stress today.
"Sheppard and I were supposed to run a training class of new arrivals tomorrow," Rodney suddenly blurted out, filling the silence as he so often did with whatever random thoughts happened to be flickering through his head. "He's not going to feel up to it by then."
Ronon shook his head at the ridiculously obvious statement. "Lorne will figure something out, McKay," he said.
"But we were supposed to go to M3X-999 to trade for more fruit and those zucchini things on Friday. Elizabeth is counting on that to manage supplies for the rest of the month!"
"Rodney! John is going to need a lot of time to rest and recover. He's simply going to be unavailable for a while. We will just have to...adjust." Teyla tried to sound as reassuring as she could.
"But what about - "
"McKay. We'll figure something out," Ronon growled, his patience wearing.
"Ok, ok."
They plopped wearily onto the benches in the jumper and Teyla found herself closing her eyes and sagging back against the soft seats as the hatch hummed closed, thinking about John and the day they'd survived together. John had saved himself as much as they had. At the very least, even separated, she realized they had been functioning as an efficient team, each contributing to the solutions, each trusting the others when they needed to be trusted. She suddenly smiled. Carson was part of that team too, perhaps she should trust him as John did. A sudden weight was lifted from her shoulders at the thought and she took a deep quiet breath of relief. She knew that John was still in danger, that his injuries were severe and life-threatening. She was also absolutely certain that Carson could pull him through.
There was a stretch of quiet with only the murmuring of the Marines as they chatted softly among themselves.
Rodney sat leaning over his knees and holding two scanners, one clean, one filthy and bloody, downloading the information from John's into his own. He suddenly looked up and blurted, "Do you think Sheppard will be back on his feet by next Wednesday? Zalenka and I were going to run simulations in the chair room and he said he'd help - "
"RODNEY!" Teyla and Ronon both snapped, in exasperation. Rodney just sighed and slumped back against the bench.
"I know. I'm just...worried about the guy. He didn't look so good on that beach."
Ronon slapped Rodney on the shoulder in a rare display of affection that almost knocked the scientist sideways off the bench. "Sheppard's tough. And stubborn. He'll be back to annoying soon."
Rodney nodded, scrubbing his face with his hands. "What a horrible day. I don't think I've ever been as scared as when we were sitting in the dark cellar with those little kids, just waiting for the bad guys to show up and slaughter us all. Sheppard couldn't stand it. Before I knew what he was up to, he took off, told me to watch after the babies." Rodney snorted. "Like I'm the one you would normally ask to babysit..."
"He's a good man," Ronon said softly, nodding in admiration for his friend.
"And a brave warrior," Teyla added firmly.
"He's smart, too. That trick to get the scanner to broadcast a handshaking request was clever."
Rodney suddenly looked up, horrified. "Don't tell him I said that! Seriously, the last thing any of us needs is Sheppard acting more smug than he already does!"
"I will keep the secret," Teyla said solemnly with a twinkle in her eyes and Rodney relaxed in relief.
Up in front, the jumper pilot began punching the keypad that would dial the Stargate and the group around her began to shift and stretch in anticipation of the journey through the wormhole and home beyond. Teyla remained relaxed against the benches, watching her teammates happily, and thinking about her promise. She smiled to herself, then almost chuckled. She had no need to tell John that he was brave or smart or resourceful, nor any reason to reveal that his friends and teammates thought of him that way.
John Sheppard had already figured that out.
FINI...
A/n: I did, in fact, do some serious research for this story by allowing my children to bury me in leaves. You really can see a lot through even a deep pile and really be completely hidden. Thanks for reading, and for the notes! They soothe the gloomy winter days to come...