All in to Win Part 3 (final chapter)

It was a dog's nose! What could he do against a dog-or-whatever's nose? All Rodney knew was that the baying was getting closer no matter how hard he ran. As his lungs threatened to cease and his heart threatened to burst he came to understand that this contest, if that's what it could euphemistically be called, was probably un-winnable. They've designed my inevitable death, manufactured my demise, I'm a rat running on a deadly wheel and someone's about to throw the switch! I'm a dead-man, Hello! – Dead man running here...

But in an unceasing and desperate counter-measure to his own terrified pessimism still he ran and ran until he found himself in a spot where the trees surrounded him and the wind had stopped. Rodney bent over and blew for a minute, trying to gather some oxygen back into his starving cells, and then held his breath for a few seconds - long enough to confirm that he could no longer hear the dog-whatever's weird howl. Not foolish enough to assume that he had actually out-run the hunter and his track animal, he assumed they were as flesh and blood as he was and if so needed at least some minutes of rest.

His legs tingled with exertion but Rodney did not make the mistake of sitting, not even for a minute. His wrist ached terribly and he knew if he sat down it would be all that much more difficult to rise again. Plus there was the risk of his feet swelling at the sudden cessation of movement and all the other muscles in his body that would violently protest such a flurry of rest and then run. And he knew he was getting dangerously dehydrated from lack of water, soon his muscles would begin to cramp from it. Then he would suffer worsening dizzy spells, unconsciousness, coma and death if he tried to go another day like the last almost - Rodney glanced at his watch - three days.

Rodney cradled his painful wrist to his chest like a broken child. It was swollen and he could feel the growing numbness in the tips of his fingers as the nerves and arteries in the injured limb were compressed. At least his fingers no longer hurt. Rodney made his feet move and broke into a jog, finding and once again sticking to the path this time as the cuts on the soles of his feet, burning like fire, made it impossible for him to move through dense brush. At least running numbed that pain, too.

As he stumbled/ran, with his good hand he felt around in his pocket for the one remaining hard tack biscuit and was about to bite down when he came upon a strange sight. A long-limbed bush as tall as a building sat next to the path, its naked branches being gnawed upon by dozens of little rodent-like animals, busily consuming the last of the delicate leaves. Rodney stopped, taking a few seconds to study the two-legged creatures which ceased their chewing to stare curiously back, their constant gnawing making the bush quiver as though it was alive. But once their tiny brains clued in that their dinner had been rudely interrupted they squeaked with alarm and scattered in all directions.

All but one. A young one, clinging by ridiculously long toes to a low branch, and one Rodney reasoned that was not in tune to its older cousin's flee from any strange creature instinct. Rodney held out his hand to it and it drew its long neck back in fear. Then an idea struck him. He switched the biscuit to his painful left hand he held it out again. This time the rodent sniffed it. The odd little creature gave him an idea and Rodney kept the biscuit as still as he could while the animal nibbled contentedly as his right hand drew closer and closer to the tiny thing, until his fingers were inches from the nape of its neck.

One snatch and the tiny thing was screeching at him and struggling furiously, trying to bite him anywhere it could sink its razor teeth into flesh. Rodney plopped on the ground and untied one of the two filthy rags encasing his sore feet, forcing his injured wrist to do work it should not be doing while his uninjured one did its best to keep the animal's sharp teeth from puncturing his arm. He tied the bloody rag around the tiny rodent as best he could without pulling it too tight – he didn't want to hurt it - far from it in fact. He wanted the creature to survive and thrive. Mostly he wanted it to run in a direction, like through the bush, which would take the dog-whatever's nose away from his true heading.

Rodney finished tying off the rag and then let the tiny animal go. It squeaked madly at him one last time and dashed off through the forest to find its brethren, trailing the bloody rag along the ground behind it.

Rodney struggled to his feet, which was getting harder and harder to do, and set off once more - this time with one foot bare and unprotected - and a pronounced limp.

XXX

Sheppard watched Rodney's rodent ruse and nodded to himself. Survival tactics, fool the enemy, it might just buy him some time. "Zelenka - where does that gorge run?"

Zelenka switched to the planet's satellite feed. "The river splits a few kilometers closer to the main camp. It basically drains into a fertile delta and then into a massive lake ten kilometers further down."

"I wonder how many of their victims chose to jump into the gorge as a last resort." Sheppard wondered aloud.

Beckett looked over at him, and at Weir. None of them had left the control room and the events playing out on the ancient screen for more than few minutes at a time since the show had begun and they were all starting to look as wired as their frazzled nerves. "I guarantee no person would survive such a fall." Beckett said. "It's a hundred meters at least. Death would be almost instantaneous and if you didn't die right away you'd break your spine and drown."

Weir added "Hence the bodies in orbit. Whoever jumps gets later scooped from the river and dumped in orbit or somehow transported there." Rodney would not jump. Rodney panicked about impending doom –which usually spurred him on to even greater brilliance than usual to save them all when disaster struck– and he often complained whenever he was hurt, hungry, tired, or out of coffee, but despite it all Weir knew he was not a fatalist – he would not simply jump when it seemed he was out of options, Weir was sure of it. "Rodney won't jump. He'll find another way." She spoke so she could hear Sheppard's reassurances, too. Sheppard knew Rodney better than anyone.

Weir felt her innards go cold when all he said was "He has to."

Weir swallowed hard, feeling useless for the hundredth time since it had all begun because they were not at all able to help Rodney, Ronan or Teyla. "Radek," Weir suddenly asked "can we send a message – to the hybrids? Warn them to back off - to stop this? Maybe threaten them that we're coming to rescue our people?" Even if we're not.

To her continuing disappointment, Zelenka shook his head. "Tapping into their live feed is one thing but actually getting a proper message through, one they would understand... no way, it would just come out as noise to them."

Weir tried not to let her frustration with Zelenka show on her face. He was an excellent scientist and researcher but he was no Rodney. A thought struck her - when was the last time she had actually made sure Rodney knew that? Had she or anyone among her staff expressed to Doctor McKay how she and all of Atlantis appreciated his extraordinary abilities? Had she ever expressed to him how thankful she was that countless times he had worked himself to the point of physical collapse trying to keep Atlantis safe against their enemies? Had she ever said how grateful she was that, after all these years and the things he had personally endured, he had stayed on protecting the city and the people that had come to - often secretly - care for him? She's not sure she ever had spoken the words aloud. Well if - when – she saw him again, this time she would make damn sure to do so.

Suddenly Sheppard sucked in a breath, and he looked over at her as an idea took shape in his mind. "Radek, how much noise do you think you can generate?" They had been thinking too high tech, reaching for too high of a goal. "We can't send a message through but we can still send noise - right? Do you think you could make that noise bad enough and loud enough that they'll stop to see what the trouble is? Maybe repair the Gate to full function even if it's only for a few minutes?"

Weir caught on instantly. "John, that's brilliant – Radek?"

But Zelenka was already switching wires and pressing buttons. "This'll take a few minutes to set up but..." Eyes bright, he looked at Sheppard with respect for the one good idea they'd had since the whole awful mess started. Anxious to get going on it he said "Give me fifteen minutes and I'll deafen them for you Colonel."

Sheppard nodded and then turned to Weir. "I'm going to need two Jumpers ready to go in the Gate room in sixteen minutes." Sheppard touched his ear bug, "Lorne – ready two teams of two. Meet me in the Gate room in ten. Full weapons and armor - this is a rescue and it'll be hot both ways." Sheppard sprinted to the Jumper Bay, working out the mission details en-route.

XXX

The gorge appeared before him right at the edge of the trees and it forced Rodney from a limping run to a full stop. It stretched as far as he could see in both directions and his heart dropped to a new low. Suddenly he understood why the hunter had not caught up to him; he hadn't stopped to rest as Rodney had hoped, he'd been simply taking his time knowing the gorge was here to stop his preys' escape.

Rodney didn't need to scout to know that this newest obstacle reached the electrified fence on one side and whatever barrier they no doubt had put in place on the other. Very faintly, above the wind, Rodney heard the distant sound of running feet to tell him the hunter was upon him, only minutes away now. He could hear no howling dog-thing so his little rat-rag ruse had possibly bought him some extra time though it was moot now anyway, since he had nowhere to go.

Rodney knelt down to look over the edge. The drop was a hundred meters straight down and the water angry, fast, and churning around and over rocks. Even if the jump didn't break his neck which it likely would, the chances he wouldn't land on a boulder was less than fifty-fifty. Down was out of the question.

But what about over? At its narrowest the gap was only eight or nine meters across. Rodney looked around, but there were no vines or anything that he could weave together into a respectable rope, even if he had such time as would make that feasible. Plus he doubted he could throw anything that far and even if he could there was nothing around that would serve as a reasonable grappling hook. And his wrist would make any hand-over-hand to the other side impossible to execute anyway.

The only other possibility was a bridge. Rodney looked up at the tall, thin trees, splitting the setting sunlight into dust-strewn lasers. These were so much like Lodge pole pines, so much like home.

"Home was never like this." He muttered. There were however, dozens of fallen logs but even so, he did a quick calculation in his head, each would weight hundreds of pounds, far too heavy for him to lift never mind somehow holding it up away from gravity as he edged it across the gorge. But there were also other trees that were half fallen...near to falling...they just needed the right encouragement and even one would be enough to support his weight as he crossed.

Rodney tried not to think how he would manage crossing such a high gorge, with his fear of heights to boot, while injured and on a single log with only the circumference of his upper leg. Thankfully, though, most of the tilting trees were thirty or more meters long, he just needed to locate one that was close to the gorge and leaning the right way.

There it was. It was long enough and thick enough with its broken roots close enough to the edge of the cliff. All he had to do was find a shorter limb for leverage and he should just be able to...Rodney located just the right one, a two meter long deciduous limb and spent a few seconds working out the angles. He only had once chance at this before the hunter would be upon him.

"Don't fuck this up Rodney." He said under his breath as he worked the thick limb into place at the base of the leaning pole. Another leaning pole had caught it up and was preventing it from making it all the way to the forest floor. Had the pole been allowed to fall naturally, he would already have the needed bridge, but luck hadn't been running his way an awful lot on this planet.

Rodney took a breath and asked Teyla's gods to cut him some much needed slack, pressing down with all his might on the shorter limb, and then leaning all his weight on it until his feet left the ground. It was enough to dislodge the pine's already half upturned roots and with a great groan it let go of its hold on the loose soil, falling with a great crash across the gorge.

Teyla's gods were, however, not so willing to see him celebrate his victory for long, and to prove it an arrow suddenly imbedded itself into his left upper arm. Rodney looked down curiously. One second his arm was fine, the next a bloody tip of an arrow was sticking out the front of it. He watched fascinated as a droplet of blood fell to the dirt.

Then the pain hit and he bit down hard on his lip. A memory suddenly flashed across his mind. Ronan had been shot once with an arrow on a planet where the natives had not much welcomed the Lantean's impromptu visit. Rodney had watched as Ronan broke off the feathered end and then pulled the offending thing out of his forearm, tossing it aside with annoyance.

Rodney knew he had to get rid of it and with his good arm, reached across his chest until he could wrap his fingers around the feathered end, breaking it off in one smooth motion. The arrow had not hit bone but had gone through only about a half inch of fatty flesh, just missing the underlying muscle. He then pulled the shaft through with little resistance and threw it to the ground.

Turning around he saw that the hunter was only a few hundred meters away now and as he ran was readying another arrow in his bow, this one appearing much longer and far more lethal looking.

Rodney was out of time. He hoped the pine log was stable enough and would not shift beneath his feet as he crawled over the tangle of roots and soil onto the log. It was much narrower at the other end and he knew it would be more and more difficult to balance as he made his way to the other side. "Okay, McKay, you can do this...you can, don't look down, just don't look down...come on...one foot in front of the other and repeat."

But the going was painful and slow. His one naked foot protested the ill treatment of its wounds by stinging badly and with each step the partly closed sores and blisters were torn open again, causing fresh blood and fluid to flow, making each new step slippery. Rodney called up every lesson he could remember from Teyla's meditation classes to stifle the pain he was in. Using his arms to balance, he was making good progress though and knew he was nearly to the other side. Only a meter or two to go.

Suddenly a terrible pain in his right thigh knocked him off his feet and it was all he could do to wrap his legs and arms around the narrow tree to stop from plummeting to the gorge below. He clung there desperately, turning his head as far as he could to see what was wrong. Two sights met his stunned eyes. One was a long, thick shaft sticking out of his right upper leg and the other was, behind him at the end of the log, the hunter already pulling another arrow from his quiver to finish the job of killing him.

As fast as his trembling limbs could manage Rodney swiftly pulled himself forwards on the log. First his hands, painful wrist and all, and then his legs, until his fingers brushed the soil on the other side. Then, finally, he was able wrap his right fist in some twists of grass and pulled himself to solid ground once more.

He turned his body half way, waiting until the hunter had stepped foot onto the log at the other end, and then kicked at the pole with his left leg until it rolled sideways down a slight incline. It was not enough to send the log to the watery depths below but it was enough to discourage the hunter from trying the same route across. The log at Rodney's end was resting on its thinnest and weakest point, as would now make a crossing impossible for anyone.

But Rodney realised all the man had to do was maybe readjust the log or make himself a new bridge in much the same way so he waited, lying flat in the grass until he saw the fellow sling his bow and reach down to fix the single log bridge from his side, and then he kicked at it again as hard as he could. With an inner shut of triumph he watched the log roll and then disappear over the edge, hitting the water below with a large splash.

But it was impossible to feel anything but agony and Rodney lay gasping for air as the pain from his thigh overwhelmed his senses. He had never felt such pain in his life, a flesh-on-fire pain, as though his leg had been cut in two.

For the moment he was at least under cover of a sort, in tall grass and, he hoped, difficult to see. But not totally invisible as became evident when another arrow sliced through the air over him, missing him by inches. He was lying only a meter or so from the trees and their relative safety but eventually the hunter fellow would fall his own tree and be upon him. Rodney braced himself and sat up, then crawled as fast as the horrid pain would allow.

Finally out of sight he pushed his back up against a tree and just sat for a minute, sucking in great draughts of air and then blowing it from his lungs trying to quell the agony in his thigh. This pain had violently shoved aside the discomfort from his other injuries, making them seem laughable now. Broken and aching wrist, stinging feet...nothing compared to this physically shocking, thought-paralyzing intrusion.

Rodney looked around but could see no hunter. The fellow was as trapped on his side of the gorge as Rodney was on his own, the only difference being that the hunter's heath was intact and it wouldn't be long until he found his own way across, whether by log-bridge or something else. Who knew, Rodney thought, maybe the bastards had a secret way that was kept hidden from the "contestants".

Rodney opened his eyes and looked down at his leg. The arrow stuck out of his flesh by almost a foot. Its tip had gone deep and Rodney knew he would not be able to travel on the leg unless he removed the offending shaft and wrapped up his thigh somehow. He also knew it would be painful as hell to rip it out but he could see no other choice.

Rodney touched the tip of the arrow and tried to move it, just a tiny bit, and cried out. "Fuck!" It was a bad wound. Very, very bad. Rodney looked around in the brush near his right hand and found a short stick that had fallen from the canopy overhead. Putting it between his teeth to stifle his screams, he wiped slippery blood from his hands on his pants and then wrapped his good right hand around the shaft of the arrow, taking a couple of steadying breaths.

Biting down hard on the stick he pulled.

The shock of the pain bent him double but he did not let up on trying to yank the arrow out, his arms shaking with the effort. Once he could no longer stand the pain he let it go, spitting out the stick in his mouth along with a string of spit. The arrow had not budged.

The agony he was in now as opposed to a moment before was so bad that tears formed and silently fell, leaving tracks of salt-water down his dirt-smeared cheeks. Rodney didn't even care if it made him feel weak to cry a little. Even if he had never seen Sheppard cry or Ronan, or even Teyla for that matter, he would have forgiven any of them for it if they felt the pain he was now feeling and had given way to tears. It was simply impossible not to hold them back now. He didn't even feel sad anymore about dying, he just hurt everywhere and he was so horribly, horribly tired that staying where he was felt like the right thing to do now. Even though he had made it over that last hurdle and was free from the hunter for a few minutes more, he didn't care.

Then Sheppard's voice bit into him from another time. "Get your ass in gear McKay. This isn't just about you."

"Right...right, John, sorry...m'sorry..." Rodney whispered, not wanting to disappoint his friend and leader. Teyla and Ronan, they were still prisoners. They needed him. Rodney had no idea if he could help them even if he made it to the end, but he certainly could do nothing for them if he was dead.

With no small amount of agony Rodney bent his left leg double and un-wrapped the filthy strip of rag from his foot, leaving it lying in the dirt beside him for a moment. Then he once again shoved the stick between his teeth, wrapped his right fist around the shaft of the arrow and, screaming his pain into the stick between his lips, bent the arrow hard and fast until he heard it snap. Tossing the broken end away he wrapped the dirty rag around the wound and the protruding tip to stop the flow of blood as best he could. Then using the tree behind him, with enormous effort he pulled himself to his feet.

Taking a moment to let the sudden light-headedness pass, he eased the leg to the ground, seeing if it could take any of his weight and then, with a soft cry, raised it up again. Rodney felt despair creeping in like a black fog. How would he travel in this condition if he could not even bear the slightest weight on the leg? He needed a cane. Crutches would be even better but since there was no medical supply store nearby... Rodney began scouring the nearby brush for a likely stick, hoping one was within reach or at least within hopping distance.

XXX

When Weir had seen Rodney get hit by the hunters' arrow, she had feared the worst. "Oh god..." covering her face with steeple-ed hands, waiting for Rodney to move so she and Beckett would know he was still alive. Once Rodney did, she breathed a sigh of relief.

Becket had watched the entire scene unfold as well and was not so immediately relieved. "That is a bad wound, Elizabeth." Beckett informed her. "And the fact that he can't pull it out tells me it's lodged in the femur. It might have even gone through the bone which means the leg is broken."

Weir stared at the screen as they watched Rodney whack at the nearby bushes, looking for something. "What is he doing?"

"Looking for a cane I hope. " Becket answered. "But as long as that arrow is still in his leg, the wound will be unable to clot and he'll continue to bleed. Plus there's the risk of infection -"

"I know." Weir said sharply to shut him up, suddenly unable to stand hearing anymore dire news. She didn't have to hear it; she could see it as plain as day. "Please, Carson, I know." She tapped her ear bug. "John. Zelenka is almost ready."

"We're ready here, just give the word and dial the Gate."

"And John, Rodney made it across the gorge..."

"I knew he could do it."

"But it doesn't look like he's going to make it out of the trees, he's...badly wounded now."

A pause, then "What happened?"

"He's been shot twice by arrows. Becket tells me one is quite serious and Rodney can hardly walk so someone is going to have to go in and bring him out." She knew the Jumper would not have room enough to travel through the trees so that someone, whoever it turned out to be though Weir suspected John himself would go, would have to travel on foot.

Sheppard's words were strictly military but his tone was as sober as she had ever heard him. "Understood. Sheppard out."

In the Jumper Sheppard swivelled in his pilot's seat and tapped his ear-bug so the team in the second Jumper could hear him "Jumper teams - listen up. The second we are through that gate, Major Lorne'll be taking over piloting this Jumper while I handle the drone. Lieutenant Stackhouse, once you and Dalhousie are clear of the Gate immediately cloak the Jumper and blow that second orbital Gate to as many pieces as you can. Then get back to Atlantis through the ground Gate and do not, I repeat, do not wait for us. Is that understood?"

"Aye-aye sir."

Lorne looked worried. "Sir, we're not really going to hit them with drones..."

"No, we're going to hit the air over them with a drone. It'll be like a big flash-bang. A few on the ground might get scorched but it'll leave Teyla and Ronan mostly unharmed – I hope. Now we'll have only have a few minutes to finish this once we're through and those hybrids go down, so let our people and those prisoners out fast then set the charges for the ground Gate. If all goes well I'll be back at the Jumper within ten minutes with Rodney."

"You're going?" Lorne asked. "Sir, I'm faster over ground."

"True but it's my decision."

"Sir..."

"That is my decision, Major."

"Yes sir but what about the hybrids?" Lorne asked, itching to kick some hybrid ass. "Are we just going to let them go after what they've done to McKay and the others?"

From too much experience Sheppard knew when it was best to seek retribution, and when it was best to cut your losses and get the hell out of Dodge. "There's most likely a hybrid ship in orbit and we cannot risk a confrontation with only two Jumpers. The Daedulus is three days out and Colonel Caldwell is better equipped to deal with the bastards." Though Sheppard understood Lorne's anxiety to make Michael's freaks pay for fucking with one of their own. "Maybe next time, Major." Sheppard had no doubt there would be a next time. That's the trouble with the Pegasus galaxy; it never seemed to run out of enemies.

XXX

Ronan had to cover his ears when the horrid noise erupted from the Stargate and then only increased in volume. It was similar to what screeching nails across a surface would sound like if amplified a thousand times. Ronan watched as the hybrids covered their veined ears and began to shout to one another. Finally one of them approached the Gate and began to work the controls but was unable to stop the ear-splitting whine.

Ronan smiled a bit, and Teyla raised an eyebrow at him in question. He turned and shouted directly into her right ear. "Sheppard's on his way."

XXX

Weir asked Radek. "We only get once chance at this Radek, are you sure...?"

Zelenka jumped up from the where he'd been working beneath the controls and plopped down in the chair in front of the panel. "It's ready Doctor Weir. This should encourage them to repair the Gate to full working order so they can discover what's wrong. They have no choice you see - a diagnostic cannot be run on a Gate unless all the systems are fully operational."

Weir decided that it made sense and thanked ancient know-how. "Colonel Sheppard, Doctor Zelenka is ready to implement our plan and dial the Gate."

"Acknowledged."

XXX

Ronan had not once let his eye stray from the guards that stood watch over their prison. One of them had a Wraith weapon, and one had confiscated his own Satedan weapon for himself, and had it slung on his right hip. Ronan did not like that guard very much. The din only increased and the guards staggered back as though the noise had physical weight and was pushing at them, making them move.

Ronan crawled over to the bars, his long knife ready to strike and slice through the hybrid's holster or even the hybrid's arm if necessary. Ronan didn't care which.

The hybrid working on the Gate finally finished his work of stopping the noise by setting in place the last crystal to its correct and full operation. Silence reigned once more and Ronan enjoyed seeing the hybrids let down their guard just seconds before the Gate sprang to life. The wormhole burst out in a two meter plume of energy and atomized the hybrid standing in the way before the creature had the chance to even look up. Ronan smiled at that.

In the next second Ronan and Teyla saw two Jumpers fly through the Gate and then cloak. Suspecting what Sheppard might have planned, Ronan warned Teyla "Cover your eyes."

Just she did so, a drone exploded in mid air, causing a flash so bright it would have blinded them instantly. Ronan then felt the shock-wave slam against the ground and the air around them, almost knocking him back on his ass. When he opened his eyes the clouds of dust and dirt obscured everything but he could hear the cries of the hybrids. In the next few seconds the dust settled enough that he could see them falling to the ground all around them like stones.

Ronan raised his knife and brought it down through the bars in one incredible precise motion, severing the downed hybrid's arm at the elbow joint and then scooping up his stolen weapon all in one clean strike. He turned to Teyla. "Ready?"

She nodded and Ronan aimed his weapon at the enclosure's lock, melting it off with a single hit. He took out another hybrid who had managed to stay on his feet through the explosion, mercilessly cutting him down with a sweep of his knife and then tossed that same knife to Teyla who then took out another dust coated hybrid much the same way. Leaving capable Teyla to kill any half conscious hybrids as necessary Ronan then proceeded to run as fast as his legs would carry him, his long limbs piston-ing hard, flying his body over the ground toward the tree-line, knowing Rodney was just over a kilometer from the fields surrounding them. He knew that would be where Sheppard would go once he saw that his plan had worked and the hybrids were down.

Just as Ronan suspected a whirl-wind of dust was stirred up near the trees. It had to be a landed Jumper, which was confirmed when Sheppard emerged from the aft door of the cloaked ship. "Ronan, good to see you're okay. Where's Teyla?"

"She's okay." And not one to waste time or use unnecessary extra words he added "I'm getting Rodney."

"I'm going; you help Lorne with the C4's." Sheppard said, turning away.

But Ronan grabbed his arm not caring that Sheppard's face darkened a bit in response. "I'm faster than you over ground and you know it and I can carry him back –you can't." When Sheppard hesitated, Ronan urged "Two minutes in and three out, maximum."

Sheppard knew it was the right decision even though he wished it could be him. He had sent his best people, including Rodney into this so-called mission and it should be him that gets them out, especially a team member that was injured. But Ronan was thinking straighter than he was. When it came to Rodney, he usually did. "Okay. Five minutes. We'll be here." Sheppard said then called over his shoulder into the Jumper. "Lorne, we've got four minutes to set those charges, let's go." And to Ronan "Bring him home."

XXX

Ronan counted the seconds until he knew he was in the general area where he had last seen Rodney on the hybrids screen. He stopped and crouched down, letting his long experience as a runner switch on in his mind like a light, letting it guide him through the brush and trees. Suddenly he saw them.

Rodney was in the foreground, pathetically hopping on his one good leg from thin tree to thin tree, using them as supports for his badly injured and still bleeding thigh. Ronan also saw some distance away the hunter, who had managed to forge his own bridge and catch up to Rodney with his bow and deadly arrows.

Ronan decided that the direct approach was best in this instance and stood up, straightening to his full six foot-two inches and stepping out onto the path in full view of both Rodney and the hunter. Rodney saw him, the relief on his face plain even from so far away. He then promptly collapsed to the ground, and was unmoving.

The hunter saw Ronan then, too, watching as the tall Satedan raised his right arm and aimed the weapon at the center of the other man's chest. The hunter stopped in his tracks and lowered the arrow he had been about to send fly into Rodney's back, knowing that a bow was no match for an energy weapon of any sort.

Ronan could see the indecision in the man's eyes but it only lasted a second before he turned and ran, Ronan sprinting after him, catching him in less than ten seconds and firing his weapon - set on stun – into the retreating man's back. It sent the hunter rolling into a boneless heap to the ground. Ronan walked up to him with his gun now set on kill, and stared calmly into the man's terrified eyes. "You hurt my friend." Ronan said simply.

The fellow - heavily muscled and young, as young as Lorne maybe - looked back at him defiantly, and then started making excuses. "It was him or me. I swear. They make us do this. They make us." He said.

Ronan wondered if he should let the guy go. Maybe the man was telling the truth. Maybe he had been made to hunt Rodney, hurt him, cut him, chasing him down relentlessly until he was bleeding out, dying or dead. But the young hunter had also taken unfair advantage and had known in advance that he would win. That was hardly a fair contest. Plus Ronan had seen the glee in the man's eyes as he had aimed his lethal weapon at Rodney's back, the way his eyes had lit up as he was about to let his arrow fly and cut Rodney's spine in two. That had nothing to do with the game or winning or even the hybrids; that was just blood-lust. Ronan had seen it in the eyes of every Wraith that had ever hunted him. It was a look he had come to hate almost as much as the Wraith itself.

"No one can make you love killing." Ronan stated and fired.

"Come on, buddy" Ronan said to the now unconscious McKay, "let's get you home." He hoisted Rodney's weight onto his shoulders in what Sheppard called "fire-man-style" and ran back to the tree-line. Rodney did not wake up.

XXX

Sheppard piloted the Jumper back to the tree line in time to see Ronan emerge with Rodney draped over his wide shoulders. He set the Jumper down and Ronan piled in with his human cargo. "Let's go." The Satedan shouted and Sheppard didn't need to hear it twice, flying the Jumper to the Gate at a full clip and coming to a hover just before it. "Major Lorne, set the timer for five seconds."

Teyla gasped. "You are blowing up the Gate Colonel?" She asked, not believing her commander would strand innocents on a hostile world. "But there are dozens of other prisoners here. We cannot just leave them."

From experience Sheppard had also learned that no matter how hard you tried you can't save everyone. Do what you can and let God sort out the rest. "If we land, this Jumper will be overwhelmed with them and none of us will ever get out of here. We don't have a choice Teyla."

"But Colonel..."

"I said we don't have a choice. The Daedulus is on its way. Help is coming." He knew that Caldwell's ship would be too late to help most of the prisoners though. Michael's hybrids were not likely to leave behind any witnesses to their little game of kill or be killed.

Suddenly Lorne said "Colonel – look."

Not more than two hundred meters from where they hovered, a small ship appeared, uncloaking before their eyes. Lorne got out the Jumper's scanning device and punched a few buttons. "Its power signature is off the scale."

"Weapons?" Sheppard asked.

"No sir, something else...the readings..." He looked up. "The readings indicate ZPM's on Low-Steady."

Low-Steady meaning active ZPM's but on stand-by. Sheppard had heard Rodney use similar phraseology. "ZPM's?" Plural.

"Yes sir."

"That's what the hybrids were doing all of this for - ZPM's or at least ZPM parts." Sheppard knew they would not likely be able to grapple away any for themselves. The hybrids were beginning to wake up, some were already staggering around. And Rodney was badly injured. They had no choice but to go right now.

"Major Lorne. Start the timer." The Jumper went home.

Then in a blast just strong enough to do the job but not one that would cause much collateral damage, the Gate that had been feeding unsuspecting innocents into the hybrid's deadly gaming arena blew itself to pieces.

XXX

In the infirmary, with a pair of pliers in his gloved hands Becket took hold of the arrow still imbedded in Rodney's thigh and pulled with all his might, finally the thing popped from its solid hold on Rodney's split femur. Becket carefully drew it out as straight as possible, trying to avoid any further damage to the surrounding flesh. He worked for another hour on Rodney's injuries, x-raying and then setting his broken wrist and thigh bones, bandaging the wounds, inserting IV solutions and antibiotic feeds, and then had the nurses wash him and dress him in a gown, himself finally placing the oxygen feed in Rodney's nose by way of a pronged nasal cannula. He patted the sedated Rodney's still arm. "Sleep well my friend."

He removed his paper cap and gloves and left the surgery to speak to those he knew waited outside. At their anxious faces he said "Well, he'll be fine but we've got to watch that leg. He lost a lot of blood and I've got him on antibiotics to combat any infection that might have set in. He's okay but he's weak, so you can't disturb him for a while. Another day without treatment and he might have lost that leg."

Sheppard bit his lip. Chalk up one more survival-by-a-hair for Rodney McKay.

Teyla asked "When can we see him, doctor? We promise not to wake him."

Beckett knew it was pointless to give them an emphatic no since someone always later slipped in right under his nose. "All right, fine, but only one of you and don't wake him up, or I'll have the kitchen staff slip laxatives into all your field rations. If you need me I'll be getting some coffee. Anyone want anything from the kitchen?"

Everyone declined and thanked Beckett for once again saving their friend's life.

Beckett looked back at them. "I'd be lying if I said it was all my doing." At Sheppard's drawn face Beckett patted him on the shoulder. "Don't worry Colonel, he'll be all right."

Sheppard looked over Ronan and Ronan understood, answering for Teyla as well. "Go ahead, Sheppard, we'll see him tomorrow." Teyla nodded and left with Ronan.

"Thanks." Sheppard entered Beckett's Post-operative Recovery area, passing through the part in the double set of white curtains.

Rodney looked...better than on the Jumper where his face had appeared almost bloodless. Now it was still pale but not lifeless. No, not at all lifeless now. Some colour, a shade just above greyish-pink, had returned to his thinner cheeks. His friend breathed easily and looked peaceful despite the plaster encased right thigh –where Becket had left off the weight of any sheets to reduce his patient's discomfort - the left wrist encased in plaster of Paris as well, the left upper arm wrapped in gauze, as well as his bandaged feet. The scientist looked more mummy than man.

Sheppard collapsed into the hard plastic chair, making himself as comfortable as possible for the vigil he planned to keep for most of this first night.

XXX

Two days later Caldwell sent a message to Atlantis and Weir delivered it herself to the infirmary where Rodney was now awake and sitting up. When she entered Rodney was playing cards with Sheppard. To her it looked like Twenty-One, an oldie but still a goodie.

"Rodney, you're looking much better." She said, trying to speak of something positive before delivering the negative. "And Colonel Sheppard - sorry to interrupt your game but I have a message from Colonel Caldwell."

Sheppard left the game and Rodney's side for a moment to hear whatever Weir had to say away from Rodney's curious ears. Weir understood. Sheppard wanted his team mate to rest, not to worry about things over which he had no control. "Unfortunately the Daedulus reports that when they arrived at the Gaming planet no ship was detected in orbit and no people, either hybrid or human, were found on the surface.

"The planet was culled by the Wraith thousands of years ago according to information Zelenka this morning just located in the ancient data base, that's probably why the hybrids' chose it." Weir knew Sheppard had held onto hope that the Daedulus would arrive in time to rescue at least some of the innocents on the planet that he and his teams had been forced to leave behind. "I'm sorry, John, but I hope you'll remember that there was nothing you could have done differently. Rodney's alive because of you."

It also meant the hybrids had got away and were free to set up their game of run-and-hide-and-die somewhere else, Sheppard thought. "Wish we could have got our hands on one of those ZPM's at least." He said wistfully. It might have made all this agony worth-while...maybe. But he would rather have Rodney back safe and sound than ten ZPM's, no question. Because the alternative didn't even compute.

Weir nodded, silently agreeing with him. A second ZPM would have been a nice reward for their trouble. However Rodney was back and would heal, at least physically. Their new resident psychologist – what was his name – MacEwan? – would be brought up to speed rather quickly on Rodney's past and present personal history of his mission-related Atlantis turmoil. No doubt the head-shrinker would have some well though-out questions prepared for the scientist's up-coming mandatory sessions, about which Rodney would complain loud and long. Weir felt quite content with the thought of it. It was good to have him home.

XXX

"Come on, Rodney, once more up and down the hall."

"I'm tired." Rodney snapped. "And Becket is a cruel man for assigning you as my physical therapist. He's evil, pure and simple."

"No, he's just concerned your hostile nature will tear a new ass-hole in Atlantis's one qualified physical therapist who we can't afford to lose to a McKay-induced suicide - plus he knows I've been through this myself. So once more up and down the hall."

"When in the hell did you ever go through this?"

Sheppard rolled his eyes "Not this as in being hunted in some twisted game but this - having a broken leg and other injuries, okay? So once more, come on, move your ass McKay."

"Oh that's some nice encouragement."

"Stop complaining." Sheppard said though secretly he hoped Rodney never would. Rodney and griping: it was one of the ways he had come to recognise everything in his world being as it should be.

Sheppard had Rodney's right arm slung over his shoulder and was helping him hobble along by walking with him and bearing some of his weight. Due to the wrist injury crutches were for now useless in his Beckett-ordered exercising of his bad leg as Rodney could not grip the crutches' handles. However a cane had proved to be inadequate in easing the pain in his feet or thigh, so it was this or nothing.

"Evil doctors..." Rodney said again just in case Sheppard hadn't heard him the first time, "and evil colonels, you're all just evil, evil, evil!"

"Yeah, yeah, come on, buddy," Sheppard encouraged gently, "I know it hurts but Sheppard's got ya', all right? I got ya'...and I promise I won't let go..."

END