Unfamiliarity

Days had passed since he had seen another human being. While he still had enough food to last a few days, he was lacking in water. His aimless wandering had turned to a resolute goal of finding something to drink. So far, nothing.

There were trees everywhere he looked and bushes and scrub. The heat had the sweat pouring down his back in streams, and seeking shade wherever he could find it. Even beneath the canopy though, it reached him. The rays seemed to soak in and live in the forest he was trawling through.

Making things even better were the bugs. Twice the size of a mosquito from Earth, they had vicious attacks and left behind even bigger, itchier spots on every surface of his skin – even that which had been covered by thick clothing, or covered by earlier bites. They had the ability to bite through anything, and so they did.

He slapped one away as it landed on his upper left arm and then hurriedly hid behind some bushes when an unfamiliar noise filtered into his mind. Something rustled through the forest. Whatever it was, it was loud. And it was heading in his direction. Quickly.

Controlling his breathing, he edged to the side and chanced a look in the direction the sound was coming from. Nothing jumped out at him. He was glad for that. But there was, a moment later, movement in the forest. He could see something shift in the trees not too far ahead of him.

Either that or he was hallucinating again. Sleep deprivation and the unfamiliar surroundings had resulted in his mind playing tricks on him a few times. Usually there was nothing harmful about those hallucinations. He would see something out of the corner of his eye, or think he saw a face of a friend in the pattern in a tree's bark. But this time was different; he was sure of it.

He fought the urge to call out and see if it was someone he knew. Knowing his chances, it was more likely to be an enemy or someone who would soon become an enemy. The situation was best treated with care. Extreme care. Possibly bullets.

Pulling his gun, he checked it was set to fire. Last round left. He'd be out of bullets soon.

He waited.

Soon enough, he could make out a grunting sound like someone exerting themselves way beyond their limits. There was the sound of metal clanking. Branches and leaves crunching underfoot and being brushed aside.

And then… it couldn't be.

"McKay," he croaked, sighing his relief.

"You want to aim that thing somewhere that isn't me?" Rodney replied. His tone was irritated but with an edge of happiness to it.

"Yeah. Yeah, sure." He lowered it. "You got something to drink?"

McKay tossed him a bottle. "Plenty more where that came from."

The words didn't quite reach him. "More in your bag?"

"I meant back home, on Atlantis, you know... but I do have another bottle," he replied. "Not my first rescue mission." The last of his words were emphasised.

"Thank you, McKay," he said after a few gulps of water. "For coming back for me."

McKay shrugged and smiled. "I never left. Now, let's get you back to the others and go home."

"Let's," he said with a grin. "I'm in desperate need of a shower."

Fin.