Breathing in the beautiful aroma of a hot mug of coffee, Lieutenant Terry Kerrigan leaned back in her chair, as Colonel Sheppard stepped into the conference room, Doctor McKay on his heels. It had taken her a while to ditch the habit of launching to her feet and standing at attention every time her CO walked into the room, but now she felt comfortable with a friendly hand gesture. Today, she shot him with a finger gun while sipping at her coffee, the rest of her team following her lead, while Sheppard smiled his trademark crooked smirk.
"Okay, kids," the Colonel said as he pulled out a chair, "let's talk about P4V-872."
Once their CO sat down, Kerrigan's team recognised the mission briefing as officially started, and straightened up accordingly.
McKay cleared his throat, "Preliminary MALP telemetry shows dense vegetation and trees not unlike the bushland of rural Australia, though what appears to be a path is maintained leading away from the gate."
"And there's nothing of immediate interest within the MALP's range?" Kerrigan asked.
"Nothing," the Colonel answered, "which is why you guys get this one."
"Something so simple even a bunch of Jar-heads can handle it," the Lieutenant surmised for her team.
"Should be," Sheppard nodded. "Assuming this is your standard touch base with the locals, see if they're interested in a trade deal, then you'll be back by lunch. Just don't get complacent. Keep your wits about you and you'll be fine."
"As per usual," McKay intersected, his fingers drumming away on his ever-present laptop, "there's no mention of P4V-872 in the ancient database, but in the unlikely event you find anything worth my time, do not touch it. Take note of where it is, and someone more qualified can be sent to pick it up."
Kerrigan's team laughed. "Do not touch the strange tech, got it," Terry said, "anything else, boss?"
When McKay remained silent, absorbed in whatever he was working on, Sheppard fixed the Lieutenant with a serious gaze. "Obviously, with the amount of trees so close to the gate, there's no way to get a jumper through. If anything goes wrong and you need back-up, we'll only be able to reach you on foot, so if you can't all make it back to the gate and need extraction, dig in and trust that we'll come for you."
Kerrigan nodded, the faith she and all the marines held in Colonel Sheppard was absolute. He'd never left a man behind.
Stepping through the gate into bright sunshine, filtering through greyish leaves, Kerrigan took a deep breath. "It sure smells like eucalyptus."
Private First Class Catherine Sullivan scoffed, "What do you know about eucalyptus trees?"
"I went to the zoo once, saw some koalas. They were eating gum tree leaves," Kerrigan explained, slipping on sunglasses.
"Everyone's been to the zoo, doesn't make them flora and fauna experts," Lance Corporal Thomas Blackburn said.
"Everyone's a critic," Kerrigan said as she struck out along the dirt trail, winding its way through the smooth, silvery-grey trunks. Her team fell in behind her in their standard order, with PFC Sullivan on the six, LC Blackburn in the middle with-
"You know," began Doctor Tessa Jaques, the only civilian on AR-16, and an Australian, born and raised, "the smell is similar to a standard eucalyptus forest, but not quite the same."
Kerrigan stopped in the middle of the path, forcing the rest of her team to stop, as she turned to face the insurgent bastards. "Okay, fine, it seems that the trees on the alien planet managed to evolve differently than the ones on earth, are you all happy now?"
Receiving their affirmative nods, she spun back around, holding her P90 in patrol position, and they continued along the path.
Eventually, they came across a rural township, where they were greeted casually by the locals, who seemed used to off-worlders coming to trade. After listening to several interested parties and a slightly tall tale from a young and rather friendly boy, they headed back to the gate to check in with Atlantis.
"Unscheduled off-world activation," Chuck announced, as Mr. Woolsey walked across the gangway bridging his office and Stargate Operations. He came up behind the gate technician just as Colonel Sheppard finished jogging up the stairs.
"No IDC, just radio coming through. It's Lieutenant Kerrigan," Chuck informed them, not waiting to be asked.
"Put her through," Woolsey said calmly.
"Contact with locals established, sir," Kerrigan's voice, slightly warbled by the radio, announced. "They seem pretty keen on trade, sir. Apparently, they're not the only village on the planet, just the closest to the gate."
"What sort of trade are they interested in, Lieutenant?" Woolsey asked.
'A bit of everything, it seemed," Kerrigan said, "We had several offers already, looking to barter all sorts, including what seems to be livestock not unlike sheep, as well as local produce, and even certain minerals. If I had to wager, I'd say they're pretty well inland, as in our brief look about their markets, salt seems to be a rare commodity."
"That makes sense, during the time of the Roman Empire salt was worth more than gold," Woolsey mused. "We could work a trade for produce, we can always do with more sources for food."
"Lieutenant, this is Colonel Sheppard," John said, weighing in for the first time, "what's the security there like? Do you feel it's safe for your team to stick around?"
"Security is very relaxed, sir, if there is local law enforcement, they don't have a noticeable presence," Kerrigan responded.
"That could be good or bad," Sheppard said.
Woolsey didn't seem concerned, "I'll trust the Lieutenant's judgement. If you think it's safe, then I authorise you to go back and see what sort of supplies we could attain, with salt as our barter."
The line stayed silent for a moment, then, "We'll head back to town then, check in at... 1400 hours."
"Affirmative, Atlantis out." Woolsey walked back to his office, but Sheppard remained, staring as the wormhole winked out, unable to explain the apprehension he felt.
Sheppard loitered in the control room for as long as he could justify to himself, then decided to head over to the gym, where he planned to meet Teyla in half an hour. He'd be early, but that'd give him a chance to warm up a bit.
John stopped by his quarters on the way there, quickly changing out of his BDUs into sweatpants and a t-shirt, and grabbing a water bottle. When he arrived at the gym, twenty minutes early, he spotted AR-7 and AR-9 having a joint workout in the main area. A workout, that is, that seemed to be more of a competition than anything, and included the civilian members of the team, not just the military sides. The Colonel watched wistfully, thinking of how often he had tried, in the early days, to whip McKay into better shape. The man wasn't unfit, per se, but John felt if he took the time to build up a bit more endurance, Rodney wouldn't spend as much time griping on missions. I dreamed a dream... Sheppard thought to himself.
With a nod and a vague wave at the two Recon teams, Sheppard headed to the separate room used almost exclusively for sparring. Grabbing a sparring mat and dropping it on the floor, he took a deep breath, then began stretching.
Teyla had taught him several stretches that were 'crucial to mastering the bantos', but most of them were well beyond his joints. Most of the stretches he focused on had been taught to him by multiple physiotherapists over his career, and even before that. He'd had a penchant for trouble even as a kid, and especially as a teenager.
He felt his body start to loosen up and relax, as he slowly forced the usual stress and tension out, and Teyla arrived, a good ten minutes before their arranged time. Without a word, she deposited her bag on the low bench under the window overlooking the ocean, and settled on the mat, running through her own stretching regime.
Sheppard's watch ticked over to 1130, Atlantis Standard, and he hopped up off the floor.
Teyla held her stretch a moment longer, then rose gracefully. Retrieving two pairs of bantos rods, she handed one set over to John, then assumed her ready stance. Sheppard, standing opposite to her, shifted his grip on the rods, spun them in hand, then took his stance.
They started out slowly, focused on form, Teyla keeping a sharp eye on the Colonel's posture, though, after years of training with the Athosian, he had become rather adept at self-correcting; dropping his shoulders, staying soft in the knees, and activating his core muscles.
Once Teyla was satisfied he was maintaining control, she stepped up the pace, moving faster and faster, until perspiration wet both their brows, and their breathing became heavier. Their dance continued to pick up speed, and she began clipping the Colonel occasionally. Soon, Sheppard knew, he'd lose his edge, and Teyla would call the session. She refused to go past the point of control; if you couldn't make your muscles work in cohesion, she'd decide you were too tired to train anymore.
John's strikes started getting sloppy, and Teyla pulled back, lowering her rods. Sheppard knew this meant she had called the spar, and so, lowering his own rods, he wandered over to the bench, where he had left his towel and water. Wiping the sweat off his face, he took measured swigs from his bottle, while Teyla did the same.
"That was an excellent session, John," the Athosian said.
"You're just saying that because I didn't end up in the infirmary," John said with a smile, "you can still kick my butt any day."
"Improvement is still improvement, no matter how small."
"Just for that bit of cheek, you've got babysitting duty next time Rodney finds something 'interesting' in a pile of Ancient ruins," Sheppard said, as he returned Teyla's bantos rods and they headed towards their respective quarters.
"See you at lunch, Colonel."
The emphasis on his rank let him know he was in trouble, but he decided to worry about it later, as right then a shower was calling his name.
Cleaned up and dressed properly in his BDUs again, Sheppard met Teyla, Ronon, and McKay in the mess a little after 1230, where they ate lunch listening to Rodney complain about his lab underlings, Dr Zelenka, and stubborn ATA technology that wouldn't work for his artificial gene. After the first few minutes of this tirade, John knew where it was headed, but he wasn't going to make it easy for the scientist.
"...it's like no-one actually knows how to proof-read their own work, and sure, I'm likely to catch mistakes they could never have seen because I'm a genius and they're, well, not, but it's the principal of it! Half of these mistakes are glaringly obvious! So much so, you'd think an eighth grade high school student ran the maths, not a supposedly accredited college graduate!" McKay paused to shovel some food in his mouth, and had barely swallowed when- "And don't even get me started on all these potentially vital systems that won't power up for me just because my gene was introduced! I mean, it's been years since the first ATA gene therapy was developed, you'd think they'd have come up with a more comprehensive treatment by now, so I don't need to drag natural carriers down to my lab every five minutes, especially when they never seem to volunteer," at this, Rodney glared at Sheppard.
Ronon shrugged, giving Rodney a hard glance. "You're just jealous Sheppard can use your favourite tech better than you."
Rodney spluttered a moment before continuing his rant, "I am not, I am merely pointing out the questionable priorities of certain members of this expedition; our core mandate, after all, is discovering technologies, not whatever voodoo nonsense Carson's got going on."
"Does that cover the voodoo nonsense that Keller's got going on?" Sheppard asked with a smirk.
McKay's face drained of colour. "If you tell her I said that I'll-"
"Do what? You really wanna threaten me when you've been going on for the last ten minutes that you need my help?" Sheppard asked, as Ronon openly snickered while Teyla turned her head, her lips pursed as she tried not to laugh.
"What do I have to do to get you to keep quiet?" Rodney asked, looking a bit panicked.
"Hmm..." Sheppard pretended to think, while he enjoyed holding McKay over a barrel for a moment, "One chocolate bar from your stash, and no yelling at me while I play light-switch for you today."
Rodney seemed suspended in agony as he tried to think a way around this until, with a sigh, he conceded. "Fine. But if you breathe a word of this after I've held up my end of the bargain I promise you won't sleep comfortably for a week."
"One more thing," Sheppard clarified, "you need to let me leave before 2 o'clock."
"But that only leaves-"
"2 o'clock, Rodney, or I won't help at all."
McKay sighed again, as though he were the most hard-done-by person on the planet, "Fine."
As it turned out, there was one part of their bargain Rodney didn't end up honouring, which was the 'no yelling' clause. They'd been at it for about fifty minutes when, after McKay tweaked a handheld device they were trying to identify, it gave out a jolt of electricity upon attempted activation, spitting out sparks and smoke.
McKay had yelled about idiot flyboys until he had been able to determine that Sheppard hadn't been seriously harmed, just burned on his palms. Ordering the nearest subordinate to clean up the mess, Rodney had then insisted on accompanying John to the infirmary.
"After all, I need to keep an eye on you to make sure you honour our bargain," the doctor explained as they walked through the corridors.
Sheppard scoffed, "I'm not bound to that agreement anymore, you yelled at me."
"Only because you managed to yet again hurt yourself in a completely safe environment."
"Completely safe?" the Colonel asked incredulously, "Since when has mucking with Ancient tech ever been 'completely safe'?"
"Okay, so the tech wasn't safe but you can't tell me if it was anyone else we would have had this same problem."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You know damn well your luck is crap," Rodney said as they rounded a last corner, their destination in sight, "or maybe you've got good luck, but only in crappy situations."
Sheppard shook his head, "I have no idea what you're talking about."
Carson looked up from the chart of another patient, and visibly sighed at the appearance of Doctor McKay and Colonel Sheppard walking through the infirmary doors. John raised his burnt hands by way of explanation, and Doctor Beckett nodded his understanding, turning his attention back to the chart, after pointing them out to Doctor Keller.
"Well," Rodney began, "you excel at having bad things happen, but you either miraculously survive, or are rescued at the last minute, or, as in this case, things don't turn out as bad as they could have been."
"What could have been worse?" Doctor Keller asked, coming to stand next to McKay.
"I was borrowing Sheppard's ATA gene and he got zapped," Rodney explained.
"Where did the energy make contact and for how long?" Jennifer said, pulling out her pen light and flashing the Colonel's eyes.
"My hands, maybe for a second," Sheppard said, blinking in annoyance, "is the pen light the first thing they teach you in medical school?"
"Yes," Keller chirped brightly, "we use it specifically to irritate unruly patients. Show me your hands."
John held out his hands as ordered, which Doctor Keller tutted at, gently poking the raw flesh. "Not too bad, we'll just clean and wrap them up."
As Jennifer ducked away to grab antiseptic and sterile wipes, McKay launched into an analysis of what must have gone wrong with the device, pausing only to say that, as they still didn't know what it was meant to do, he could only theorise, then Keller was back, quickly and efficiently cleaning the burns.
"You might like to get something cold on these to numb the pain a bit, and the bandages will need daily changing, which you will get done here," she threatened, "but as I said, it's really minor, so you should be able to go about your day. I'll give you a dose of ibuprofen to take the edge off the pain and reduce the inflammation."
As the Doctor gently wrapped a gauze bandage around John's left hand, his watch started beeping, a pre-set alarm letting him know it was 1345 Atlantis Standard. "Uh, doc? Can we wrap this up? No pun intended."
Jennifer smiled as she got to work bandaging his right hand. "Got a hot date, Colonel?"
Sighing at Rodney's exasperated look, he shook his head. "Nothing like that, so don't call me 'Kirk', Rodney. Lieutenant Kerrigan's team is due to check in at 1400."
"They'll be fine, you're worrying about nothing," McKay said dismissively, "and I was not going to call you Kirk."
"You were thinking it, I could see it in your eyes," the Colonel glared at Rodney. "AR-16 is still a bit green, this is only their third unaccompanied mission."
"Aren't marines always a bit green though?"
"Rodney," Keller interrupted.
"What? I thought-"
"Well rather than thinking, you can tell me what sort of energy was dispersed from the device," Jennifer said in her doctor voice.
"Uh, just usual," McKay answered after a beat.
Keller placed a butterfly clip on the gauze bandage. "You're sure?"
"Positive," Mckay stated with confidence.
"Alright, I guess I don't have any reason to keep you under observation, Colonel. You're good to go," Keller said. "Sorry I don't have a lollipop for your good behaviour."
"Dang, I was hoping for a lollipop," Sheppard said with only a hint of sarcasm, "thanks, doc. See you later McKay."
Checking his watch again, Sheppard's pace was brisk as he walked up to the control room. He arrived right on 1400 hours, and decided to hover at the back of the room, out of the way of the technicians, as the minutes started to tick away infuriatingly slowly.
Each minute that passed increased John's agitation, as the gate remained silent, still. Part of John wanted to dial out to P4V-872 right then, but he knew if Kerrigan were about to dial out, then Atlantis dialling in would prevent her team from doing so.
Once his watch read 1415, he couldn't stand it any longer. "Chuck, dial Kerrigan's team."
The technician looked up. "Uh, they're only fifteen minutes late."
Sheppard shook his head, "Lieutenant Kerrigan has never been late to check in. Dial it up."
Shrugging, Chuck began dialling out.
The sound of the first chevron engaging brought Woolsey out of his office, looking suspicious, but his expression cleared up when he saw the Colonel standing beside the DHD console.
"Checking in on the young Lieutenant?" he asked in an amiable tone.
Taught with tension, Sheppard only gave a stiff nod.
The seventh chevron locked, and John immediately attempted to raise Kerrigan on the radio. "Atlantis base calling Lieutenant Kerrigan."
Silence.
Frowning, feeling adrenaline spike, Sheppard tried again, "Atlantis base calling anyone on Atlantis Reconnaissance sixteen."
A wash a static came over the radio, before- "Atlantis base, this is Lieutenant Kerrigan. It's good to hear your voice, Colonel." Kerrigan's voice was accompanied by gunfire, the rapid staccato clatter typical of the P90s, and, disturbingly, wraith stun blasts.
"Sorry we didn't make check in, we've been pinned down in a firefight for three hours," Kerrigan said, sounding exhausted.
"Three hours?" Sheppard felt his gut clench, "what happened?"
"The short version; we were on our way back to the village when-" she cut off a moment, and more gunfire carried across the radio. "We were on our way back when the wraith turned up. They must have come by ship, because we've heard darts overhead. We assumed they'd have the gate blocked, so we made to reach the village, assuming they have somewhere to take refuge during cullings, but Doctor Jaques got crash-tackled by a wraith, broke a leg and knocked her out cold; since then we've been holding out in the bushland, about four klicks from the gate."
The Lieutenant was silent for a moment, as the radio quietened, then became very vocal following the sound of an explosion. "SHIT! Sully's been hit! Tom, get to her and stop that bleeding!"
Sheppard was already bolting down the stairs, gesturing one of the SOs to hand over their tac vest and P90, feeling annoyed that he had only had his pistol on him. Flicking his radio over to Atlantis' emergency military frequencies, he ordered Lorne to prep his team, told Ronon and Teyla to meet him in the gate room mission-ready five minutes ago, then got onto Doctor Beckett.
"What and where am I needed?" Carson responded immediately.
"Kerrigan's team is pinned down by wraith, and from the sounds of things PFC Sullivan just got hit with a grenade," Sheppard said in clipped, professional tones, zipping up his filched vest as Ronon came running up, blaster in hand. Ronon was always mission ready.
"Sounds like a bloody walk in the park," Beckett said with a clatter of equipment in the background.
Flicking back over to Kerrigan's frequency, John heard Woolsey assuring AR-16 help was on the way, even as he gestured to Chuck to pull up the MALP's current video feed.
"The immediate area around the gate is clear, they might not think they need to guard it," Atlantis' leader called down.
Pacing in agony, acutely aware that every passing second could mean life or death to the people trapped just through the gate, Sheppard pilfered the rest of the gate room security of their spare ammo, as Teyla came sprinting down from the control room, saying, in rushed tones, that Lorne and the medevac team would be a few minutes behind her.
"We're not waiting that long," the Colonel said as he raised his P90 to ready position, switching off the safety and resting his finger against the trigger. Following his lead, Teyla and Ronon approached the Stargate with him, then stepped through without pause.
Sheppard let Ronon take point, as he was able not only to track AR-16, but spot signs that wraith infantry might be near. Moving as fast as was practical, they soon caught up to the pitched firefight.
At this point, Kerrigan was the only one firing, with Jaques unconscious, Sullivan bleeding out, and Blackburn elbow-deep in her blood, trying to stem the flow with a pile of ineffectual soaked field dressings. The only thing they had going for them was the large, old fallen tree trunk they had managed to take cover behind.
As Ronon and Teyla took up offensive firing positions, forcing the wraith to duck behind trees to avoid the maelstrom of fire, Sheppard bolted across the small clearing, ferns and dry grass crackling around his legs, leapt over the trunk, then dropped down into cover with Lieutenant Kerrigan.
"Glad you could make it, sir," Terry said, slightly breathless and nicked and bleeding from shrapnel, "wouldn't be a party without you."
"I brought you a present," Sheppard said, handing over three clips for her P90.
"You certainly know what the ladies like," Kerrigan holstered her pistol, as she quickly reloaded one of two P90s lying at her feet, then set her sights back on the wraith, firing with renewed vigour.
Glancing over at PFC Sullivan, John pulled the field dressings out of his borrowed vest, tossing them over to LC Blackburn, who added them to the pile pressed into Sullivan's stomach.
"Colonel, we're planetside. We've managed to establish an outgoing wormhole back to Atlantis, med team en route, arrival two minutes," Major Lorne's calm voice came over the radio, and shortly after Beckett's voice burst across the radio, too, as he interrogated Blackburn on Sullivan's condition.
It felt like an eternity before they actually turned up in the mini-clearing, but within moments, Ronon and Teyla were providing suppressing fire for Carson and his field medics, litter in tow, as Lorne's team fanned out to flank the wraith forces.
Once Beckett had taken over care of PFC Sullivan, LC Blackburn picked up and reloaded the second P90 at Lt Kerrigan's feet, joining the defensive line, while clipped orders were thrown about behind them, as Beckett and the field medics worked to stabilise Sullivan.
As the doctor worked, more wraith turned up, with the unmistakable whine of darts flying overhead, and the new arrivals forced Teyla, Ronon, and Lorne and his team to fall back to the patchy, crude cover of the fallen tree, effectively cutting them off from the gate.
"Doc?" Colonel Sheppard called back, "how are we going?"
"Sullivan is too unstable to move yet," Carson said harshly, reacting to the stress of the situation.
Sending another burst into a wraith drone, Sheppard grimaced, but elected not to remind him of the time limit before the door home closed.
"Twenty-four minutes until the gate closes." Well, Lorne could always remind Beckett.
"Doing the best I can here!" the Doctor yelled irritably. That was never good.
They continued to burn through ammo, though it seemed for every wraith they dropped two more took its place. Three, if they managed to drop one permanently. 15 minutes passed, as their window drew closed, and the wraith showed no sign of letting up.
"Doc, we gotta go!" Lorne yelled as Beckett's frantic work continued, trying to preserve Private First Class Sullivan's life.
"We can't exactly go anywhere at the moment, Major," Sheppard pointed out.
Lorne's face showed the frustration Sheppard felt. The fact of the matter was that there were an unknown number of hostile wraith between them and the gate, and if they went on in the direction of the village, the moment they passed the tree line, they'd be scooped up by the darts, circling like vultures. Surely, by this time, the culling would be completed. Sheppard tried hard not to think about the civilians that had lived on this planet, tried not to think about all those poor souls that would wake up in a wraith storage cocoon.
Doctor Jaques stirred, grimacing in pain and raising a hand to her head. She was helped to sit up by one of the field medics. Shakily, she drew her side arm, only to be chastised by the medic, who pointed out that, with her concussion, she had as much chance hitting her team mates as she did hitting wraith.
"Alright, I think we've got it for now," Doctor Beckett said, having loaded Sullivan onto the litter, "Jaques will need help walking, lad," he said to the medic that had stopped her using her gun, who nodded, crouching next to Tessa and pulling her arm over his shoulders.
"Then this is the perfect time to use whatever heavy artillery we've got," Sheppard said with a meaningful look at Lorne, who primed a grenade.
"Let's see how these bastards like it," the Major said, tossing the frag into the midst of the wraith.
No-one left their heads up to watch the explosion, which sent wood and metal shrapnel flying in all directions, causing a serious lull in the near-constant wraith fire.
A silence fell, and in that silence, they heard an ominous creaking, before, with an almighty snap, one of the older silver-barked trees fell, its hollowed trunk crashing into its neighbours, before collapsing completely onto the ground, crushing several wraith as it went.
"Nicely done," Sheppard commented, as they peered over their trunk.
"I'm thinking one more..." Lorne murmured, already priming a second grenade.
"NO!" The panicked voice pulled them all back, to see a deathly white Jaques with her hand stretched out, as if to physically stop Lorne tossing the grenade.
"Tessa, this is no time to get all tree-hugger on me," Kerrigan snapped.
"It's not that!" Doctor Jaques insisted, "Bushland like this is always extremely dry and flammable! We're lucky nothing caught fire from the first grenade; if so much as a cinder lands in the long grass, this whole place will go up in flames within seconds, we'll be roasted in a minute! There's a reason Australia's fire warning system has 'moderate' as its lowest setting."
Lorne paled at this, immediately putting the safety pin back in the grenade, and Sheppard was sure he felt the blood drain from his own face. Maybe Rodney was right about his version of good luck.
"I guess we have to clear our path the old-fashioned way," Sheppard said, just as Teyla called out a warning, bringing her P90 up to fire on something behind Carson, and soon they saw what Teyla had sensed- the wraith had outflanked them, and now had the Lanteans surrounded.
Firing desperately, Sheppard looked at their options, which were few and far between. His brain working overtime, John tried to see a way out of this mess, then Lorne narrowed their choices when he announced their 38 minute window had closed.
Cursing, Sheppard stood up, and nailed three wraith with head-shots in succession, then jumped over the log, moving forward quickly, claiming their newly-felled tree as the new forward defence line, calling everyone up, thus allowing the first trunk to provide cover for the rear guard. Surrounded but well-dug in, they fought grimly against the tide, as the sun began to set, casting orange hues, making the pale grey trees look like fire. It was going to be a long wait until Atlantis landed a connection back to P4V-872.
"Why haven't they given up yet? There's no way they haven't culled the rest of the planet in the time we've been here," Kerrigan asked, desperation sinking into her voice, as she loaded her last mag in her side arm, having spent all the spare ammo Sheppard had brought two hours ago.
"I don't kn-"
"No, you don't, lass!" Beckett's shout carried over the noise and confusion of the drawn-out firefight, as he began administering CPR to Sullivan.
Jaw set, Sheppard doggedly fired, exhausting the last of his ammo supply, too. The constant stress was draining his energy, his body only able to sustain the high levels of adrenalin for so long. His hands stung like hell from the burns, though they seemed to have happened a life time ago. He never had got the chance to take that ibuprofen. But if he felt tired, if he felt drained, how must Kerrigan and her team feel? They had to get out of here soon.
The minutes kept slipping by, each one feeling like a failure. A failure to escape, a failure to protect, a failure to his people, the men and women who trusted him to look after them. Ah, shit, he thought, watching Beckett desperately try to keep Sullivan alive out of the corner of his eye, hearing the last few rounds fire at their seemingly endless foe.
Able to close the distance now, as the storm of bullets slowed to a trickle, the wraith started getting bold, and it looked like they'd be down to hand-to-hand combat shortly. "Do you think they know who we are?" Sheppard asked the air, drawing his knife.
"It does seem likely, they are far more interested in us than the villagers," Teyla said, scrounging for relatively straight, strong sticks, guns lying forgotten on the ground.
"Figures," Sheppard grumbled, before being crash tackled to the ground unexpectedly, hitting his head hard enough to see stars. He heard his name called in a panicked voice, as the wraith that had knocked him down straddled him, only to be shot in the chest by Ronon's blaster, the only weapon that still had ammo. A boot near his head kicked his knife over to his hand, having been knocked out in the fall. Latching on to the handle like a lifeline, the Colonel sat up, driving the knife through his assailant's skull, then kicking his legs to get the son-of-a-bitch off them. Standing up, he raised the knife to a combat-ready position, when he heard the best thing in the world- his radio.
"Atlantis base calling Colonel Sheppard."
"We're still here, just," Sheppard replied, scanning the darkened bush for threats. The sun had fully set, and the endless pale grey shapes of the trees all looked like wraith in the wan moonlight.
"What do you need?"
"A jumper full of ammo," Lorne said.
"We need reinforcements, the wraith refuse to leave," Sheppard said.
"We've got twenty marines ready to go, and the gate is still clear."
"Fuck yes!" Blackburn whooped.
"Send them, we have to get Sullivan out of here now," Sheppard ordered, then turned his attention back to the wraith he could hear ghosting through the trees.
They attacked en masse, as though they were trying to bury the Lanteans in wraith bodies, and desperate, hand-to-hand fights broke out all over the place. Sheppard stuck to Beckett's side, trying to look after both the Doctor and his patient. The field medics were all military, trained to handle this type of situation, but Beckett, while no stranger to hostile situations, was obviously terrified, even as he point-blank refused to leave Sullivan.
"We just have to hold out until the reinforcements arrive," Sheppard assured the Scottish physician, while exchanging blows with two wraith. Ronon spotted him, and sent two blasts into the back of each wraith, dropping them, then turned, twirling his sword in a deadly ark, facing off against yet more of the bastards.
Just when Sheppard was going to get back on the radio and demand what was taking so long, P90 fire echoed through the trees, and the marines quickly cut their way through, swiftly reaching their holdout. Fifteen men and women, armed to the teeth, swarmed through and surrounded the Lanteans, executing any of the downed wraith that dared stir.
"Gate corridor is clear, sir," one of the marines snapped a salute that Sheppard was far too exhausted to reciprocate.
"How about it, doc?" the Colonel asked Carson wearily.
"Let's get off this bloody planet," he said fervently, moving to grab one end of the litter, but was beaten by the marines, who easily but gently picked it up, and they set out, back to the gate.
Five of the marines had been left to guard the Stargate, maintaining communication back to Atlantis, keeping their crucial window open. As the procession came into view, wounded in the middle, flanked by marines, and Sheppard watching the six, the marines fanned out, watching the eerie bushland while the gate was shut down and instantly re-dialled, establishing a connection back to Atlantis that they could ride home on.
As the Lanteans filtered through the gate, Colonel Sheppard stayed behind, insisting, as always, to be the last back home.
Standing in the gate room, John heard the Stargate wink out behind him, as he took a head count. Teyla, Ronon, Kerrigan's team, Lorne's team, and Carson with his field medics, all accounted for. Taking a deep breath, John let it sink in; he had done it, he had gotten all his people home, if not in one piece.
A water bottle was passed to him, the gate room security officers knowing that was what was needed after a hasty extraction. Gratefully accepting the bottle, Sheppard moved to sit on the nearest staircase leading down from the gate. His legs almost collapsed under him as he sat wearily, then skulled half the bottle.
Taking more measured sips of water, he studied the almost confused soldiers milling around, as the room collectively came down off the adrenaline buzz. As Beckett finished settling Sullivan on a stretcher, he and the medical team that had been waiting for their return rushed off, the Scottish Doctor already back on the radio as he filled Doctor Keller in, who, if Sheppard knew her, would be ready and waiting with a surgical team.
The field medics dragged off the other injured expedition members, limping their way to the infirmary, but the remaining soldiers seemed unwilling to leave the room just yet. John tried to imagine what it must have been like, being stuck on this end, waiting in the gate room as the technicians tried to secure a connection for over two hours. A glance up at the control room confirmed Rodney's presence, looking pale but relieved, and as their eyes met, McKay gave a brief nod. Thanks for not dying, Sheppard took that to mean. Nodding back, Sheppard finished off the last of his water. Thanks for not giving up on us.
Completely exhausted, and starting to feel that wraith tackle, Sheppard lay back against the floor, arms spread to either side, and just breathed. Shit, that was close.
Unnoticed by any of the marines wandering the room, Sheppard slid his eyes closed, slipping away into unconsciousness...
When he woke, it wasn't in a wraith cocoon, it was on a firm mattress with crisp sheets, and far too much ambient lighting. That's right, he realised, they had made it home. It still didn't explain why he was in the infirmary.
Squinting at the light, he peered around suspiciously, but only when he tried to swing his legs down off the bed did he get answers. The attempted movement sent a knife of pain through his outer left thigh, and the instinctual attempt to curl in on himself revealed a real wall-banger of a headache. Well that's a concussion... what happened to my leg?
He tried to think at what point his leg had been injured, but came up with nothing, then Doctor Beckett called his name. Trying to spot the physician, John whipped his head around, which was seriously unadvisable.
"Over here you lug," Carson called from... the bed on the right, next to him?
"Aye," Beckett said, catching his incredulous look, "Keller is responsible for this."
"What did you do?" Sheppard asked curiously.
"I started to scrub in to operate on Sullivan, so Keller had me sedated."
John's gut clenched, "And how is she?"
"Stable," Carson assured him, "still in the ICU, obviously, but she got out of surgery around midnight."
That didn't quite match up with Sheppard's reckoning of time. "How long was I out for?"
"Eighteen hours, give or take. You've been awake, so to speak, concussion and all, but not coherent, so it's no surprise you don't remember."
Sheppard grimaced, "It felt like I closed my eyes, just for a second."
"Yes, about that," Beckett said in his 'cranky doctor' voice. "What on earth were you thinking? You nearly gave poor Rodney a heart attack, finding you passed out in a puddle of your own blood. You should have gone straight to the infirmary."
"I was bleeding?"
"Yes, and fairly heavily," Carson said, still sounding irritable.
"Huh."
"Don't 'huh' me! I thought by now you'd have learned-"
"Do I need to sedate you again, Doctor?" Keller broke in, as she walked through to the main section of the infirmary.
"No," Beckett said apologetically. "I was just trying to impress upon him the seriousness of his reckless disregard for his health and well being."
"That would be what we call a lost cause," Keller said, giving the Colonel a hard stare.
Sheppard cleared his throat nervously. "Would someone please tell me what happened to my leg?"
Keller's gaze slid sideways to Carson. "Maybe his concussion was more severe than we realised?"
"Aye, it's possible."
"Do you remember getting tackled by a wraith?" Keller asked.
"Yeah," Sheppard answered, "it kinda sticks out like a sore thumb, or a sore head in this case."
"Funny," Keller pursed her lips. "You don't remember the part about landing on a broken bough and tearing up your left thigh?"
"I remember landing uncomfortably. I also remember being seconds away from becoming wraith chow, so forgive me for being a little distracted," the Colonel grumbled.
"Hmm." Keller seemed unsure whether or not to believe the man, but let it go anyway. "Well, you've actually torn your hamstring, I have no idea how you made it back to Atlantis under your own power, ruling out sheer stubbornness. The branch sliced some ragged cuts relatively deep in your skin around that area too, and still has more splinters than the average person gets in their lifetime, but we've been waiting for you to be properly awake before we take you in for surgery."
"That sucks, but what about my team? How's Sullivan and Jaques doing? Did anyone else get badly injured? It was too hard to keep track of at the time..."
Keller smiled, "Teyla and Ronon are fine, a bit banged up but no worse for wear, the same can be said for Lorne and his team, minus a sprained ankle and fractured collarbone. Lieutenant Kerrigan has some cracked ribs and some nasty burns from the first grenade the wraith threw, Lance Corporal Blackburn ended up with four broken fingers and a cracked pelvis, Doctor Jaques sustained no further injuries and is being kept for observation, and Private First Class Sullivan has five broken ribs, a broken shoulder bone, broken femur, and severe burns, but we expect her to pull through. Doctor Beckett was able to get to her in time to stop her bleeding out, and we were eventually able to repair all the damage to her internal organs back here."
"What about the field medics?"
"Hardly a scratch on them."
Sheppard lay back, feeling the last of the tension in his body relax. Letting out the stress with a relieved sigh, he then perked back up. "So when can I see my team? How long 'till I get out of here?"
"You can see your team soon, but like I said, I want to get you into surgery, and the sooner the better, before all that wood turns septic." Keller pet his good leg in a reassuring manner, then left, heading to the OR, calling in an operating team over the radio.
"Rodney, Ronon, and Teyla swung by just after breakfast," Carson said in a conversational voice, "they seem a lot louder when you're the one in bed."
Sheppard arched an eyebrow, "I never found that they were any different."
"You're almost always the one convalescing, you don't have too much experience as being the visitor."
"I'm not..." Sheppard's protest died on his lips. "Actually, I'm not even kidding myself at this stage. Occupational hazard, I guess."
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, before it was broken by a Doctor Rodney McKay.
"Finally, he's awake. You have a lot to answer to, pulling a stunt like that. I was sure you were dead, that you'd only dragged your sorry ass back to base so that you could inconvenience us all by expiring on the steps of the gate room. What the hell were you thinking?"
"Woah, calm down, I already got the third degree from Beckett, I don't need you jumping down my throat too," Sheppard snapped. Rodney's loud voice had not helped his headache one bit.
"I'll do what I want, that's what you do, isn't it!" McKay put on a fake pondering tone, "Oh, I just got back from a ridiculously dangerous rescue op, I probably need to check into the infirmary, but the rules don't apply to me, I'll just pass out quietly in the corner, let everyone else sort it out!" His volume increased, until he was all-out yelling.
Wincing, Sheppard recognised this was typical McKay. He must have been really spooked, and anger was the only way Rodney knew to express his fear. An apology was probably in order here, as well as an explanation that he hadn't actually known he'd been injured. "Look, Rodney, I'm sorry you were scared, but I honestly hadn't realised I was bleeding."
McKay scoffed. "You never seem to know. It's your body, how can you not know?" Scepticism dripped from his words and his posture.
John cast his eyes around the room, as he tried to think of the best way to explain how his brain worked in combat. "It's like... It's like there's a highway of information; pain, sensory input- everything, and everything I can hear, see, smell, and touch gets to use the express lanes. Everything that doesn't help, pain particularly, gets stuck on the slow lane, which gets backed up pretty quickly. I just don't hear about it, so to speak, until I'm in a safe environment, and my brain can get to the backed up information."
"That," McKay said after a beat, "is absolutely the stupidest thing I've ever heard."
Beckett cleared his throat, "That's actually how the human body works, especially in high-stress situations."
"Well, it's still dumb. What sort of evolutionary benefits does that present?" McKay pulled a chair over between Sheppard and Beckett's beds.
"It allows you to function at maximum efficiency in dangerous scenarios, until you are clear of the threat and can tend to secondary concerns," Beckett supplied.
"Bleeding out is a secondary concern?" Rodney asked incredulously.
"When there's a more immediate form death can take, yes." Carson crossed his arms over his chest, closing the conversation, for which Sheppard was grateful. He appreciated Rodney wanting to visit, to see with his own eyes the Colonel was okay, but the man really knew how to quadruple any headache.
Teyla and Ronon turned up at that point, looking like they'd had a rough night. Sheppard wondered whether they had been kept in the infirmary for observation, and if not, what sort of threats Keller had had to make to get them to rest in their quarters. Considering what Beckett said about them all dropping by after breakfast, they must have slept in their own beds. Had Jennifer had to get the large needles out? Grinning to himself, Sheppard realised the lot of them were staring at him.
"Ah- just imagining what it took to get you two to go to bed last night," Sheppard quickly explained with a small nod at Teyla and Ronon.
Rodney's face brightened. "Well, Jennifer got-"
"Nah!" Sheppard cut over. "It's funnier in my head."
Pouting like a child deprived of a treat, McKay started kicking at the ground.
"So, you two are definitely okay then?" Sheppard asked Teyla and Ronon.
Ronon shrugged with all his typical eloquence, but Teyla smiled reassuringly. "It was a stressful night, but we are unharmed, and all the better for seeing you awake and well."
"Sorry, but I've got to take him away and knock him out again," Keller said, as she reappeared wearing fresh scrubs.
"At what point do you plan to rest, lass?" Beckett asked.
"Once the good Colonel here is not at risk of further complications," Keller said amicably, as one of her nurses moved to the bed head, unhooking the few bits of apparatus that needed to travel with John's bed.
"Don't hold your breath," Rodney muttered.
"We will come back once you are out of recovery, Colonel," Teyla said, resting a hand on Rodney's shoulder, letting him know without doubt that he was expected to leave with her and Ronon.
"See you then," Sheppard said, as his bed was wheeled out and into the OR. The moment the anaesthetic hit, he was out like a light.
John woke feeling vaguely hungry, but the planet beneath him didn't seem entirely stable. Without opening his eyes, he felt there was something off, like he wasn't one hundred percent grounded. Deciding he needed whatever assistance may be nearby, he groaned.
When this didn't produce immediate results, he contemplated sitting up.
Far too difficult.
Groaning louder, Sheppard finally placed why he felt so spacey. The Good Stuff. Opening his eyes, a bleary glance to the right showed an amused Doctor Beckett, lying in his own bed, a dinner tray in his lap.
Letting his head roll back to neutral, Sheppard sighed. It usually took a few minutes to regain full use of his brain while waking up after use of morphine, especially if it was still in his system.
"Finally." That was Rodney. Where was the physicist? Sheppard slowly moved his head, taking in the room fractionally, eventually locating McKay, sitting in a chair between the beds again. With him were Teyla and Ronon.
"What, you've been waiting for me?" At least, that was what John tried to say. It came out more as "Wha? You beh await f'me?"
"Ladies and gentlemen, the Military Commanding Officer of the Atlantis Expedition. It's obvious why he's the man trusted to protect two galaxies," McKay's sarcastic retort seemed too loud. Morphine hangover plus concussion equals zero tolerance of McKay.
Grumbling, Sheppard pulled the bedsheets up, curling on his side faced away from the source of irritation.
"Oh, very mature there Colonel."
"Och, you're hardly acting like an adult yourself, Rodney," Carson chastised.
"What?" Rodney asked indignantly, "He's the one-"
"Who's just woken up from surgery, has a concussion, and is still on some fairly heavy-duty painkillers. Ease up Rodney," Keller said. "Good to see you awake, Colonel. Do you feel up to dinner yet?"
Sheppard rolled back onto his back. "I think I woke up because I was hungry," he said, his brain starting to resemble something like full capacity.
"Fantastic, I'll get a tray sent up for you," Keller said, gesturing one of the on-duty nurses, then resting against the end of Sheppard's bed. "We've finished repairs on your leg, the rest is up to you now. And I mean literal rest, to which ends, I want to keep you in the infirmary for two weeks- doctor's orders, no arguments, and then-"
"Released back to my quarters to rest-"
"Actually, no."
"No?"
Keller sighed. "Well, we all know how well that works. While you're on Atlantis you're never truly off-duty, you more so than anyone, so I've talked it over with Mr. Woolsey, and I want you to return to earth."
"Doc- don't you think that's a little extreme?" Sheppard asked uncertainly.
Again, Keller sighed. "I wish it was, but you have some serious damage to your muscle there, you need weeks of physiotherapy and rest, and, to be honest, I don't see you getting what you need to recover here."
"It's just," John shifted uncomfortably, "well, whenever I get sent back, I always worry..."
"No-one's going to usurp your place while you're gone, Colonel," Jennifer said kindly.
"Major Lorne hates your job anyway," Carson offered.
"And I would never accept another as our team leader," Teyla said.
"Same here," Ronon smirked.
"I don't have the time to break in a new military commander," McKay said in an off-hand voice.
"Besides, Mr. Woolsey can play the IOA to whatever tune he wants," Keller finished. "It pays to have an inside man."
His anxiety somewhat abated, John felt overly lucky, to have such a great family here. "Okay, so how long am I looking at here?"
"Two weeks in the hands of the SGC's exercise physiologist, and then another two weeks general rest. If you could spend that time with a relative, that would be ideal."
"Am I really looking at a six-week recovery period here?"
Keller smiled wryly, "Assuming you don't do anything stupid and prolong the healing process."
"Yeah," Sheppard sighed. As his dinner arrived, he sent Rodney to fetch his laptop. "Looks like I should get in touch with my brother."
THE END.
AN: There is a part two to this story, which is ready to go, but I've decided to post tomorrow, that way this will be First.
Edit note: Much to my mortification, I realised I forgot to put in line breaks. Shows me for doing my final edit on MS Word. Nonetheless, it is fixed now.