~ Misdirection ~
Author's Note: Stories that strand Sheppard and Rodney together have been done probably "thousands of times", with lots of similar elements ~ some banter, danger, whump, etc. The title has probably been used thousands of times, too. But here it is, "thousands of times... plus one".
Another Author's Note follows this chapter.
Word Count, Chapter 1: 4340
Characters: Sheppard, Rodney, Teyla, Ronon, Lorne with some Beckett, Keller and Woolsey.
Disclaimer: 'Stargate Atlantis' and its characters are not mine. I would not have left them under the aegis of those whose interest lay elsewhere.
SGA ~ SGA ~ SGA
"You know, Rodney, that only works on 'Star Trek'." John grinned at the heavy breathing he heard behind him, proof that Rodney was gathering enough breath ~ above and beyond the oxygen needed for their trek ~ to make a retort. Walking's good for him.
The two men were on their way back to the Gate, performing their half of the foot survey of the planet. According to the Database there was a thriving population, but the team had found no one in their initial sweep. Neither Teyla nor Ronon was familiar with the world and a lot could change in the ten-thousand years since the Ancients had recorded their findings. The Gate was in a dense forest and there was no evidence of recent use. Still, it was better to make as thorough a search as possible, so John had sent Teyla and Ronon in one direction and he had taken Rodney in the other direction of their broadened sweep.
"Hah," Rodney huffed, partly in indignation and partly out of breath from exertion. "Very funny, and actually, there's not that much wrong with the science of 'Star Trek'. In fact..."
John tapped his earbud and spoke before McKay had time to regroup completely. "Teyla, Ronon. Anything?"
"No, John," Teyla answered with just a touch of boredom. "We have not seen any signs of current or past inhabitants."
"Let's just go home. No one's here," Ronon added loudly.
No trading partners, but maybe an alpha site.
Rodney began again. "As I was saying, your ignor-"
John stopped abruptly and raised a fist.
"What is it?" Rodney asked, more annoyed than fearful. It wasn't the first time John had stopped, seemingly for no reason. Truth was, his Spidey Sense had been tingling since the team split up, something he'd been careful not to mention to Rodney.
"McKay!" John ordered quietly. "I hear something." John shoved Rodney to the ground and raised his P-90, whispering into his radio. "Ronon, Teyla, what's your position?"
"We are approaching the Gate, John," Teyla answered.
"Get a move on, Sheppard, so we can leave," Ronon inserted. "If McKay can't keep up, remind him he'll be late for lunch."
John saw Rodney firm his lips. He glared McKay into silence and motioned for him to start moving while keeping low. "There's someone out there. We're being foll-"
SGA ~ SGA ~ SGA
"John?" Teyla stopped and looked at Ronon. "John?"
"Sheppard, say again." After a brief pause Ronon turned back the way he and Teyla had come. "Come on."
Teyla grabbed Ronon's arm. "Ronon! We have no idea of their position and we could make matters worse."
"You saying we should do nothing?"
"No, but going in blindly is foolish. They should be nearing the Gate. Think. Where would they be?" she asked earnestly.
Ronon stared at her grimly, then suddenly he ducked and yanked her down. "There's someone out there," he whispered.
"Can you see how many?"
"Can't tell. There's activity near the Gate, but I can't get a visual. Must be wearing some kind of camouflage. You hear the hum? Like people in a crowd murmuring."
"We are outnumbered. We must leave and bring back help." She stared Ronon in the eye for a long moment. "The DHD is close. I can crawl in the underbrush and dial unseen. If they do not use the Gate, perhaps its activation will scare them away."
Ronon finally nodded. "Give us time to get through before they can overtake us." He grasped his blaster firmly. "Go."
When the first chevron lit the murmuring paused briefly, then the noise became louder and more excited. Ronon still had no visual ~ the presence of an adversary was indicated by the movement of the brush and the agitated whispers. A wave of arrows suddenly appeared as Teyla tapped the last key to open the Gate. Then the wormhole whooshed and the murmurs turned to frantic wailing. Teyla sent her IDC and Ronon raced after her ~ she was calling for a rescue team as she entered the puddle.
SGA ~ SGA ~ SGA
"Arrows?" Rodney squawked as he went down on one knee. He looked at the shaft sticking out of the tree bark, only a finger's width from his hand. "You've got to be kidding me!"
"How many?" John asked quietly. He readjusted his jacket while keeping an eye to the rear. "Check the LSD." He turned to look forward when he received no reply. "Rodney? ...McKay!"
Rodney jerked, as if suddenly unfrozen. "Uh, right, right." He pulled the LSD from a vest pocket and tapped some keys. "This isn't- There's something wrong. Nothing's out there."
"Nothing? What about us?"
"Our blips show up but-" Rodney tapped more keys. "I don't see how this..." He looked up. "Unless they're not human."
"Yet they've developed the arrow? And that sure sounds like a crowd of people to me." Sounds more like a mob. The clamor of pursuit was increasing ~ distorted angry voices and the rustle and snap of movement in the brush slowly drawing nearer.
John noted the wide-eyed look and the incipient hyperventilation that meant Rodney was on the verge of falling apart. Zero to Panic in less than a second. It was one of the reasons he'd sent Teyla with Ronon and had kept McKay ~ handling Rodney took patience. Teyla had the patience, but they'd all been bored even before they'd split up. Never send someone to do what you wouldn't do yourself. As for Ronon, if he tired of McKay, John figured Ronon would find a way to leave Rodney up a tree.
Another round of arrows shattered their brief respite and John reached out once again to shove McKay. "Rodney, keep moving, and keep your head down." John rose stiffly to his feet and moved with an awkward gait, bent over and periodically looking back, trying for a glimpse of their unknown pursuers.
The natives had home-field advantage. John could see nowhere to hide and they were cut off from the Gate. If he knew Ronon, the big guy and Teyla were on their way, or, they'd returned to Atlantis for backup. Either way, John needed to find a safe place to await rescue. Up a tree's not much of a choice. No cover, no way to make a stand, and judging by the noise following them, he and McKay were very much outnumbered.
SGA ~ SGA ~ SGA
Teyla stood at the top of the Gateroom main steps, observing the activity below. Lorne's four teams were making last-minute preparations and additions to the standard gear for Gate travel.
"You should stay here."
Teyla didn't acknowledge Ronon's remark.
"We'll bring them back," he averred.
"I know."
He touched her shoulder and went down to meet Lorne.
Richard Woolsey left the Control Room balcony and came to stand beside her. "I know it's hard, but it's the right decision. This is not a diplomatic mission. Your place is here."
"I know."
Woolsey signaled Chuck to dial and turned to face forward. "Knowing it's right doesn't make it any easier to stay behind."
"No, it doesn't."
Jennifer Keller came racing into the Gateroom. She scanned the organized bustle, elbowed her way through the Marines and ran up the stairs, breathless, to stand beside Teyla.
Teyla felt Jennifer squeeze her arm, but she stood without moving and watched the teams line up to go through the Gate.
SGA ~ SGA ~ SGA
Not making very good time. John considered their flight, an uneven course trampling dense groundcover, winding around trees. They were still heading away from the Gate...and leaving a trail.
Rodney was rambling a non-stop monologue about the inherent disagreeableness of outdoors, forests, hiking, Big Foot, antisocial aliens... John felt the wind pick up, which cut him to the bone, and he pulled his jacket tighter while McKay continued his quiet rant, adding incidentals to a list of personal persecutions.
"...coffee rationing, astrology, sour-apple gum, eeeeow-"
John ducked at a new storm of arrows and looked up to see Rodney whirl his arms and grab at a tree branch and disappear.
"McKay!" John dove forward and grabbed Rodney's wrist as he dangled over a river canyon. The sharp drop had been concealed by vegetation ~ they'd nearly stepped into oblivion.
"...help," Rodney squeaked.
"I gotcha," John rasped, grasping McKay's vest and feeling the burn of stretched muscle. "C'mon."
"...um," Rodney said in a remarkably unruffled yet strained voice. "I think I'd rather just stay here, thanks."
"C'mon, McKay," John ordered, "give me some help here." His arms ached and he knew he couldn't do it alone.
"Actually," Rodney continued calmly. "There's a ledge under the overhang. If I can just..." He began to swing.
"No! Wait until I have a good grip!" Crap. John lowered his shoulders over the edge to eyeball the situation. He took hold of Rodney's other wrist. "Okay, on three. One...two...three!"
Rodney landed on all fours with a painful curse and John, upside down, almost didn't believe his eyes ~ McKay had been skewered in the lower buttock. What had yanked the man out of his self-absorbed rant had been an arrow in the backside. "So, I guess this means you'll have matching dimples."
"Oh, har, Colonel Smartass. Thank you for the concern."
"Out of the way," John warned, before he grabbed a branch, slipped over the edge and landed heavily next to his teammate.
"What're you doing?" Rodney grumbled. He gingerly shifted onto his side, howling when he completed the process.
"Keep it quiet, McKay," John puffed as he lay flat, lined himself up behind a boulder, and used his feet to push the rock over the edge. "We were leaving a trail," he panted. "Now the trail goes over the edge and into the water. We drowned. Get it?" John lowered his head to the ground. All he wanted was sleep. He counted to five, then sat up to examine McKay.
"Now what're you doing?" Rodney demanded.
"Taking out the arrow," John replied, pulling the knife from his belt and cutting the wooden shaft. "And pipe down."
"Wait! Get your hands off me!" Rodney hissed. "I need anesthesia, sterile surroundings, actual surgery by a real doctor!"
"Thought you didn't trust voodoo practitioners," John teased. "It's a shallow thru 'n' thru, Rodney, in and out of the fatty part of the cheek. Not even a lot of blood. And it's not a triangular arrowhead, just a sharpened wooden point. There. All done."
Rodney looked like a sullen two-year old as he eyed John. "These are my favorite boxers!" he sulked.
"Favorite?" John smiled as he slit both trousers and boxers.
"Ow! What's that?"
"Alcohol."
"It's hand sanitizer!"
"So?"
"It burns!"
"Yeah, I know." John sat back, satisfied with the packing and bandaging job he'd done on the distinctive wound. Guess I'm an expert. The sounds of murmuring grew near. John put a finger to his lips to warn McKay and wearily picked up his P-90. Long minutes later the distorted whispers and the swish of feet in the brush overhead were gone and there was silence.
"Now what do we do?" Rodney asked.
"We wait."
SGA ~ SGA ~ SGA
"Bravo Team!" Lorne shouted, and Marines raised their shields in formation to block arrows raining on the last rescuers emerging from the Gate. "Launch smoke grenades!" Lorne turned to Ronon. "Here's where we find out if this is going to work." He watched the Marines as they broke into groups and moved out. He grinned. "Just like a magician ~ smoke and mirrors."
Ronon eyed the obscuring haze as he crossed the platform. "We can't see them, they can't see us. They lose the advantage of knowing the forest ~ no landmarks."
"I only see wisps of movement in the smoke and they don't show up on the LSD. These guys aren't human?"
"Sounds like a pack of humans to me. When we find McKay, ask him. I'm sure he'll have a theory."
"How many do you figure?"
Ronon cocked his head. The indistinct sounds of communication he might not understand, but coughing was the same in any tongue. "Maybe a dozen. Some will remain at the Gate."
Lorne nodded and keyed his radio. "Colonel Sheppard, this is Major Lorne. Do you read? Colonel Sheppard, do you read? ...They're probably out of range. There's nothing on the LSD."
"Sheppard and McKay would have come this way." Ronon started forward, eyes to the ground. "No sign they were here. They were cut off or knew the Gate was guarded."
"If they holed up, in a cave, it would explain no life signs."
Ronon nodded and took the lead. Lorne signaled for silence and the rescue party headed out as directed, positioned to provide protection and cover as they moved.
SGA ~ SGA ~ SGA
McKay had a need to talk. All the time. It made Ronon crazy. John lay under an emergency blanket and felt the cold seeping into his body. Talking was Rodney's way of controlling a situation. It amazed John that after years on a team the man still had no feel for being in the field. For a guy who came up with last-minute solutions or was required to implement someone else's idea at the eleventh hour, his first reaction to any predicament was a proclamation of doom. No faith. John knew there was always a solution ~ as long as there was time. And John's job was to make sure Rodney had the time to execute the solution.
Which was why it was often best not to tell McKay the truth. It wasn't that he couldn't handle it, but he needed a sense of security, someone to create an aura of order, to tell him to focus so he could process the information slowly. Rodney didn't adapt well to sudden change. He still can't roll with the punch.
"I probably have a raging infection after your ham-handed poking about and don't we have something stronger than Tylenol?" Rodney was still managing a monologue, grousing while working on the hand scanner. "Nothing like the great outdoors for ideal working conditions. I think I have a fever. Field antibiotics aren't enough. I'll probably get gangrene."
"You're fine, Rodney. Hand me your radio."
"I lost it when you trampled me into the ground," Rodney replied without looking up. "Where's yours?"
"Lost it with the first arrow attack. Can you find a way to contact the teams? They need to know about the terrain."
Rodney looked up. "You think they're close?"
"They're close ~ Lorne's and at least two other teams. They'll have LSDs and Ronon can always track us, but the unexpected landscape is another matter. See what you can do."
SGA ~ SGA ~ SGA
"Still no life signs." Lorne looked at Ronon, then looked at the surrounding forest. "How many?"
"A couple to watch each team. We're not worth attacking and we can create unpleasant conditions. When we all return to the Gate we may have trouble, if they think we'll bring others."
"We have tear gas if things get dicey."
Ronon eyed the forest as if seeing beyond the trees into the distance. "A lot of foot traffic came this way... Human feet."
"Colonel Sheppard, this is Lorne. Do you read...?"
"Sir! I hear- Here's a radio!" One of the Marines reached down into the flattened brush and held up the unit.
"Here's another one," a second Marine added. "It's broken."
Ronon took the radios and carefully examined the broken one. "Arrow. Dead center, the whole way through." He firmed his jaw and looked at each face. "We pick up the pace. Keep your eyes open. We need to gain some ground."
SGA ~ SGA ~ SGA
"This would be a lot easier if I had my laptop but no, this was supposed to be a meet-and-greet, not a get-shot-in-the-ass mission-gone-haywire where I'd need to crunch data."
John opened his eyes at Rodney's latest comment. McKay hadn't stopped tapping keys...or talking. He was working with his usual energy and absorption, his face flushed and shiny, his brow creased as he made adjustments to the hand scanner.
"Huh. I don't get this. If I alter the settings, you know, to pick up a different biosignature, the blips come and go." Rodney lowered the LSD. "I'm tired of this... Actually, I'm just tired." He ran his fingers back and forth on his forehead and sighed.
John turned his head to scan the horizon. The shadows were lengthening. Darkness would make it more difficult for the rescue teams to find them, even with LSDs. And the temperature was dropping. John shivered under the plastic blanket. C'mon, Chewie. We're running out of time here.
"Why do our missions go bad more often than other teams'?"
"We go on more missions," John answered tiredly.
"I'm not talking absolutes, I'm talking relative. The percentage of our missions that end up in the toilet is higher than anyone else's. I think we're cursed," Rodney declared. He'd given up on the scanner and was just lying on his side, his hands still.
John sighed. "We're the lead team, Rodney, which means we make more first-contacts than other teams. Any...awkwardness is usually going to happen with first-contacts."
" 'Awkwardness'? You have a genius for understatement." He looked around. "I suppose you're enjoying this 'quiet afternoon communing with nature'. And where's the rescue team you said was coming ages ago? 'Beam me up, Scotty,' thanks."
John's lips lifted briefly. "I'm with you, buddy, but that only happens on tv. They'll be here."
"Getting back to 'Trek', there are a lot of good ideas, even if the methodology was off-track. In fact, I can name several concepts in the 'Trek' universe that spurred real research..."
John closed his eyes and let Rodney rattle on.
SGA ~ SGA ~ SGA
They made good time. Lorne had chosen a good crew; Ronon knew his back was covered and he didn't have to slacken the pace. The trail was clear, the ground trodden by many individuals with no care for stealth. The rescuers ran with added energy when Lorne picked up the two life signs. Good as Ronon was, McKay's frantic voice came unexpectedly and out of nowhere.
"Sheppard!...Sheppard!"
Ronon raised a fist to halt the rescue party. "McKay?"
"Ronon? Oh, thank God! Down here! Careful ~ it's a cliff!"
Ronon held the two teams in place with a gesture, then stepped forward cautiously, slowly, until he could peer through broken bushes to the chasm beyond. "McKay?"
"Yes, yes. Hurry. We're under here."
Ronon eased to his knees, then lay flat on the ground, sliding forward to peer back under the edge, where McKay scooted forward with an ungainly motion. "You okay?"
"Yes, yes, I'm fine. It's Sheppard. I can't wake him and he's really cold. And- What are you doing? No! Wait! There's no room! You can't come down here! Stop!"
"Move aside, McKay," and Ronon grabbed a branch, slipped down and landed gently on the ledge. "What happened?"
"I don't know. We were just sitting here talking..."
"Sheppard." Ronon pulled down the blanket and removed the P-90 from Sheppard's frozen grip. "His jacket's soaked."
"What?"
"Blood. He was hit," Ronon said forcefully, then he leaned out and called upward, "Lorne, Sheppard's been hit. He's unconscious. We need ropes to get him out of here." He moved the jacket aside and ripped open Sheppard's shirt. "We found his radio ~ pierced by an arrow. Must have nicked something important. He plugged the hole, but he's still bleeding."
"But we were talking...about missions...and 'Star Trek'..."
Ronon stared at the glazed look on the face of a frightened little man, not a soldier, not even a man with the common sense of a dog, but a man with an understanding of things Ronon had never thought to consider nor thought possible before coming to Atlantis, things Ronon could not comprehend and would never know. But Ronon knew fear. "McKay. Gather everything, pack it all up, so we can get Sheppard out of here." Ronon watched McKay straighten his spine and with purpose begin the task assigned to him...and he only complained once.
SGA ~ SGA ~ SGA
Retrieval was accomplished fairly easily. Rodney, awake and afraid, was more difficult to hoist to safe ground than his unconscious teammate. A stretcher was constructed for the injured man while McKay chose to travel on his own two feet to hasten the journey. He managed a hop-skip rhythm, needing only a little steadying on the uneven ground. Lorne radioed the two decoy teams, informing them of the colonel's condition, ordering them back to the Gate, ready to provide cover and support when the rescue party returned. The medic began an IV, applied pressure to the wound and wrapped Sheppard for warmth, but there was little else he could do. The blood loss was severe, possibly fatal without swift intervention ~ the rescue party all but ran back to the Gate, managing the awkward burden with a deftness born of desperation. The decoy teams contacted Atlantis, reported the medical emergency, and when the rescue party approached the Gate, despite the previous unfriendly encounters, the teams were allowed to leave the planet with no interference from the natives.
SGA ~ SGA ~ SGA
Teyla had stood at the top of the Gate Room main steps, out of the way of the orderly chaos of the waiting medical teams, until the Marines emerged from the puddle with John. She'd run to the platform as they set him on a gurney and her breath caught at his stillness and pallor...and he was so cold. She'd run with Ronon behind Rodney's gurney, trying not to lose sight of John. And then there was nothing to do but wait.
Hours later, after Mr. Woolsey had heard the story from each team member's viewpoint and Rodney had been given a clean bill of health, Jennifer Keller approached the waiting teammates.
"He's doing well," she began, "but it was bad. He had to be stabilized before surgery and his blood pressure was still dangerously low. Lieutenant Ortiz saved his life ~ he would have bled out before he got here. And we still nearly lost him."
"But he's okay, right?" Rodney asked nervously.
"I expect a full recovery, but the next hours are critical. He's tough, but his body has suffered great trauma." As she turned to leave she smiled. "He's not awake, but you can see him."
"Is this my fault?"
"No, Rodney," Teyla said. "Come," and she directed him to John's bedside while Ronon sat at the foot of the bed. She took a seat of her own and wrapped her fingers around John's wrist.
SGA ~ SGA ~ SGA
John woke to Atlantis' gentle hum in the back of his mind. He could feel Teyla's hand on his arm and he knew without looking that Ronon had his feet on the bed. Rodney was deep in an energetic telling of what was clearly a matter dear to his heart.
"I'm serious. I tabulated all data from all Gate missions. Do you realize how many of ours end in disaster? Just last week I lost my favorite stylus on that trip to M2A-577, but seriously, we have an incident almost every third trip. Some teams have never had a problem. That's not reasonable, statistically. And if a Jumper could've been used this time in a flyover, we'd have thought it was all okay and gone later on foot and splat, disaster. I think Pegasus has a bull's eye painted on my back."
"Target area's lower on you, McKay," Ronon commented.
John must have moved, because Teyla squeezed his arm. He opened his eyes and tiredly smiled at her. Ronon's boots were on the bed and Rodney was sitting with only one cheek on a stool and one leg stretched to the side for balance. John cleared his throat. "I see you survived my 'half-assed' ministrations."
Rodney crossed his arms over his chest. "I had real surgery in sterile surroundings with a real doctor and real medications."
Beckett came around the privacy curtain and checked the drip line. "Which means he had a local and a couple stitches. Ye did a good job, Colonel. Not much left but a little sewing."
"So, in 'hindsight'," John smirked and Rodney frowned, "your favorite boxers were sacrificed, but it was worth it."
Carson Beckett, discreet medical man, maintained his professional demeanor by ignoring it all. "How are ye feeling, son?"
"Tired. Sore."
"I have no doubt. Ye had very delicate surgery and ye lost a lot of blood, but, providing ye follow instructions and don't overdo, ye'll be allowed out of here in a couple days."
"You should have told me," Rodney groused.
"And that would've helped how, Rodney?"
"I could have..."
"Panicked," Ronon inserted and Rodney glared at him.
John intervened, before the exchange became all-out war. "Did you ever get a look at the natives?"
"No. Lorne evened the field with smoke grenades," Ronon explained. "Only way to fight an invisible opponent."
"How could they have developed invisibility?" Teyla asked.
"I've been studying what little data I acquired and I have a theory." Rodney warmed to his theme and didn't see the others swap smiles. "They only showed up on the LSD when their physiology was in its natural state of being human."
"Their metabolism makes them invisible?" John frowned.
"No," Rodney said condescendingly, "physiology, not super-metabolism. They can mimic the composition of their environment, like almost being a tree, which won't show up on the scanner as a person. A super-chameleon. They were just really well disguised, not invisible, not super-fast. You're thinking of that episode, not one of their best, when the Enterprise encountered a distress signal from the last survivors of a race" -Rodney's audience wore varied expressions- "and their metabolism made them invisible and the leader was a really hot blon-" He stopped and glared at John. "The sexy alien fixated on Kirk-"
"As you said, not their best episode." John grinned and Rodney huffed and Beckett gently disbanded the visitors, sending them off for a midnight snack to allow his patient some rest. *~*
Author's Note: I wrote this to have Rodney shot in the other buttock with an arrow. It just wouldn't have the same...impact with someone other than McKay. And I wanted to show a little of Ronon's skills. It's never explicit in the series who is Sheppard's 2IC on the team, although in 'Enemy at the Gate' Teyla gives the orders on the Superhive (even though Lorne is present). So, I wanted Teyla to be the one who calls the shots with Ronon.
There is another tag scene (Chapter Two). This is a note to tell people to read no more if they are not John-and-Teyla fans. The story can end here and it is complete as a dramatic, suspenseful adventure. Stop, if you do not want to read ship stuff.
Thanks for reading.