Author's Note: This is a tag to The Ark, written for Shelly. She requested a tag that filled in some of the whump that should have been there, but was blatantly ignored (as per usual). Obviously, there are spoilers for The Ark.

Special thanks to parisindy and her friend Lori for some really good ideas and help with the medical stuff. Any mistakes in that area are totally mine because I drew a lot from internet research as well.

Disclaimer: I do not own Stargate Atlantis or any of its characters.

The Trouble with Crash Landings - Chapter 1

John let his eyes open slowly, adjusting to the morning light streaming in through his window. He lay looking at it for a moment before he realized there was more light than there should be, meaning that he had slept late. He started to roll over so he could check the time, but the multitude of pains that shot through him brought him quickly back to his original position of lying on his back. He groaned loudly, taking full advantage of the fact that he was alone.

"What the . . . " Then it hit him, why his back and neck felt like every muscle had been stretched beyond their limits and his shoulders felt as if he'd hung from his arms all night. The shuttle landing. Actually it was more like hitting the dirt from a very high altitude than a landing. He groaned again, realizing that this meant he'd be sore for several days, with the next couple being completely miserable. He'd gone this route once before when a test plane he was piloting had gone down, plowing a furrow similar to the one he'd left yesterday. Happy he hadn't been seriously injured, he'd been shocked the next day when he was so sore he could barely move. A second trip to the infirmary had yielded some righteous muscle relaxants and he figured he just might have to make a similar repeat visit with Carson on this one.

He jumped when his radio buzzed, gritting his teeth as he twisted enough to snag his headset from the table. He was almost breathless by the time he had it hooked in place.

"Sheppard here."

"John, it's Elizabeth. I was about to head to breakfast and wondered if you had eaten yet?"

John brought his arm up to look at his watch. It was almost 0700. Definitely slept late. "Uh, no, I haven't. How about I meet you there in, uh, twenty minutes?"

"All right, that sounds good. I'll see you in twenty minutes."

John took a deep breath and rolled over on his side, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and sitting up. Fiery pain lanced through his right side and into his chest, taking his breath away and making his head swim for a moment. When the dizziness finally dissipated, John was left shaking, his entire body screaming at him not to move any more.

"You've really done it this time, John." He sat for a few seconds, working up his nerve before pushing himself to his feet with a loud groan and shuffling to the bathroom. This was gong to be a long day.

oOo

Elizabeth finally spotted John coming through the doors to the mess hall, almost ten minutes late. He paused and looked around, giving a small smile and nod when he saw her before getting into the food line. She crossed her arms, preparing her lecture about colonels who were tardy for their appointments. As she watched him however, her attitude slowly changed. He was slightly slumped over, barely scraping his feet along and grimacing every time he had to lift his arms to take a plate or cup. When his tray was full, he made his way over to the table, cautiously setting his plate down and easing into the chair across from her.

"John . . . are you okay?"

John winced as he shifted his seat forward and then puffed out a breath. "Yeah."

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes as she smirked. "You don't look all right. And I have the feeling you were still in bed when I called this morning."

John rested his right hand on the table as he hung his fork over the edge of the tray, poking his imitation scrambled eggs. "I was awake."

"And how long had you been awake?" When he didn't answer, she leaned forward. "I'll take that to mean not long. That's pretty late for you. You're usually up way before dawn running with Ronon."

"I know, but he's not supposed to run for a couple of days to give his shoulder some time to heal. I seem to have a bad case of the day afters."

Elizabeth cocked her head slightly. "The day afters?"

"You ever been in a car wreck, one that throws you all over the car?"

Elizabeth nodded. "Actually, yes." Understanding flooded her expression. "And the day after the wreck I hurt all over."

John smiled as he picked up a piece of bacon. "Exactly. I don't think there is one square inch of me that doesn't hurt." He took a bite of the bacon and chewed, deciding that was probably the most strenuous thing he wanted to do all day.

"Well, it's no wonder lad, the way that shuttle plowed into the ground." John and Elizabeth looked around to see Carson standing beside Elizabeth. "Mind if I join you?"

"No, Carson, have a seat," said Elizabeth. "Looks like we're all having a late breakfast this morning."

Carson sat down and then looked across the table at John. "I've actually been expecting you in the infirmary. I figured you might need something to take the edge off after that spectacular crash landing yesterday. My empty stomach finally got the best of me, though."

John smiled. "Believe it or not, that was going to be my first stop after breakfast."

Carson nodded as he forked his pancakes. "Good. I need to give you another once over. It occurred to me after you left last night that the only check up I gave you was that quick one right after the crash. I should have done a more thorough exam after that ride you took."

John finished chewing his food as he shook his head. "You said I was okay, Doc, and I am. All I need is some muscle relaxers or some of your double strength ibuprofen."

Carson eyed John carefully. "How's the headache?"

"Not the worst of my aches and pains, that's for sure. And I still don't have a concussion."

"Borderline at best, colonel. I'm pretty sure you lost consciousness for a few moments."

John grinned slyly as he lifted a biscuit to his mouth. "Probably just delayed radio waves or something," he murmured.

Carson snorted. "Delayed, indeed. You, colonel, will accompany me back to the infirmary after we finish here, is that clear?"

"Fine, Doc, I'll go. You'll just have to walk slowly. Is Teyla still there?"

Carson shook his head. "No, I've already released her, but I told her to take it easy the rest of the day."

"Looks like most of John's team will be taking it easy for a day or two," commented Elizabeth. "You four can always find trouble."

"I resent that," said John defensively. "We don't always find trouble . . . okay, so we find trouble a lot . . . or rather trouble finds us . . . could we talk about something else?" John grimaced against the pain in his neck as he bowed his head while Carson and Elizabeth laughed.

oOo

"You seem a little tender there," said Carson, prodding the right side of John's ribcage.

John was frowning as he lay on the table with his shirt pulled up to his armpits. "I'm bruised Carson. I was thrown around a little during the landing, as we have discussed before. Why are we doing this again?"

Undaunted, Carson continued to probe John's side, eliciting a groan from the man. "Carson, stop. I'm sore for heaven's sake. Can't you take an X-ray or use the Ancient scanner or something that doesn't hurt?"

Carson straightened and looked down at Sheppard. "Well, I'm pretty sure there are no fractures, but it looks like you've bruised your ribs pretty well. I think I'll run a scan just to be sure." He paused grinning down at his highly annoyed patient. "This will give me a chance to fulfill Elizabeth's request that you have your head examined."

John stared blankly at Carson for several seconds before deadpanning, "Funny."

"Happy to be of service, colonel. You just stay put for a minute while we get ready. If your scan is clear, then I'll give you something for the pain and let you go."

"That's all I ask, Doc. Didn't think this would be so much trouble."

Carson gently patted his shoulder. "No trouble, colonel. It's a small price to pay to make sure you're all right. I'll be right back."

John pulled his shirt down and tried to relax, his muscles aching from the movement and his rib cage on fire from the doctor's probing. He closed his eyes and remembered the violent jolt when the shuttle hit the ground. He realized the next few seconds were a jumble of pain and disjointed glimpses of movement and flying dirt. He had no actual memory of the craft coming to a stop, meaning there was a good chance he was unconscious by then.

"John? Did Carson find anything?"

John opened his eyes to see Elizabeth standing beside the bed. "Possible bruised ribs. He wants to run a scan just to be safe and then I'm out of here."

"Out of here if the scan is clear," said Carson as he joined them, his tone and expression scolding the pilot.

John grinned lazily. "It will be. I'm fine Doc."

"Well, you'll excuse me if I wait for the test results before making my final decision." Carson nodded at Elizabeth. "Hello, Elizabeth. I'm going to borrow the colonel for a few minutes, but he'll be right back."

Carson extended his hand to help John sit up and the pilot accepted, not so hard headed he'd refuse help he knew he needed. He even allowed the doctor to give him a hand sliding off the table, grunting slightly when his feet hit the floor.

"Easy, colonel. We don't want to injure you further."

"Doc," John warned, "I told you, I'm not injured. Just sore."

"Right, colonel, just sore. I'm doing the scan anyway."

Elizabeth grinned at the friendly banter, watching as Carson led John to the scanner and helped the stiffening man up on the table. Crossing her arms, she leaned against the wall and remembered the last time she had watched the scanner at work. John's DNA was being altered at the time by Carson's retrovirus and she shuddered at the terrifying events in the days that followed. Relief flooded her to think this scan was just to determine if her military leader's ribs were broken or bruised. She much preferred this scenario to the last one.

oOo

John walked slowly to the dresser in his quarters as the door slid shut behind him. Opening the bottle of water sitting there, he downed one of the pills Carson had given him. His head and most of his torso seemed to be screaming at him to lie down and be still for a few hours and that was exactly what he intended to do. Carson's scan had confirmed that his ribs were only bruised from their impact with the control panel in the shuttle and that he did not have a brain contusion or skull fracture. The good doctor had given him some of his 800mg ibuprofen and orders to take it easy for a few days before setting him free.

Rodney had appeared before he got very far from the infirmary and he'd spent the next three hours in his lab, mostly answering inane questions and listening to Rodney babble on about some Ancient device that he periodically had John activate. By the time the colonel escaped, a military question had evolved in the weapons room and he'd been called in to settle it. That led to more questions about what seemed to be missing ammunition that turned out to be misplaced rather than missing. Six hours after leaving Carson's grasp, John was finally back in his quarters and ready for that rest the doctor had called for. And boy was he ready for that rest.

After easing himself down on the bed and squirming into a position that didn't put pressure on some overly battered part of his anatomy, John let out a deep breath, willing himself to relax. Forcing his aches into the back of his mind, he was vaguely aware of the pain level starting to slide down a notch just as he drifted off to sleep.

A loud clattering sound jarred him awake what seemed like minutes later. Defensive reflexes kicked in and he rolled off the far side of the bed, hitting the floor with a grunt as he struggled to see what was happening. He blinked several times before he realized the reason he couldn't see anything was because the room was dark.

"Colonel, where did you go? Are you crawling around on the floor over there?"

John recognized Rodney's voice and slumped against the side of the bed. He'd managed to wake all his strained muscles and bruises with shocking clarity and he was almost immobilized by it for a few minutes.

"Sheppard?" The worry in the physicist's voice had edged up a bit and he came around the bed to look down on the crumpled pilot. "Are you okay?"

"Fine . . . just startled me."

"Oh, I didn't . . . I'm sorry, I didn't realize. It was getting late and Lorne said he was pretty sure you ended up skipping lunch taking care of some military stuff and Elizabeth said you were pretty banged up and you acted kind of bummed up earlier, so I brought you some supper."

John used the bed to pull himself up and eventually make it to a standing position. He thought the lights up just far enough they could see and turned to face Rodney. "Isn't there some kind of law against talking that fast? Anyway, it's okay, I'm fine. What time is it anyway?" he asked as he walked awkwardly over to the chair to sit down.

"Oh, uh, it's nearly eight," he answered, glancing at his watch. Taking a seat across the table from John, he pointed to the tray. "I just brought a sandwich and some Jell-o since it was so late."

"That's fine, thanks," responded John, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He began unwrapping his sandwich, increasingly aware of eyes boring into him. He finally dropped the food back on the tray and looked up at Rodney. "What?"

"Nothing," Rodney said through tight lips.

John shook his head once and then stopped when it felt like his eyeballs were rolling around like billiard balls, making the room spin. "Don't tell me nothing when there's obviously something. What's wrong?"

Rodney glared at him for a moment before looking down at the table. "You should be dead."

John almost choked on the bite he'd just taken. He coughed and sputtered a few times before grabbing his water and trying to wash the offending bite down. Almost slamming the bottle down on the table, he narrowed his eyes at his friend. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me, you should be dead, toasted ashes drifting on the wind along with the remains of that moon. There's no way the shuttle should have survived that blast. There's no way you should be sitting there eating a sandwich. By all rights, you should be dead."

John sat staring at Rodney for several seconds. "Sorry to disappoint you, McKay." He bit off another hunk of sandwich and dropped it on the plate.

"That's not it," said Rodney hesitantly. "We thought you were dead. For a minute, I really thought you'd done it this time."

John stopped chewing and then swallowed suddenly as he looked down at his plate, fingering the edge of the bread. "I'm not dead, Rodney. I'm fine."

"When are you going to stop doing that? I don't make friends easily and I'm beginning to remember why. Sometimes I think this is entirely too much work. How many times are you going to make us think you're dead, because if you're going for the record, I think you broke it our first year here."

John's brow furrowed in a frown as he looked up at Rodney and reestablished eye contact. "I do what has to be done, McKay and sometimes that's dangerous. I'm just doing my job, trying to keep all of you alive. I'm sorry if that tries your patience. Maybe I just shouldn't have friends. Feel free to disassociate yourself from me at any time, you wouldn't be the first."

The anger dropped from Rodney's expression as he sighed and rubbed his face. "That's not what I meant. It's just . . . you have people who care about you here and we're getting old before our time worrying. Lorne's getting gray hairs from all the times you've almost died and left him in charge."

The corner of John's mouth turned up slightly against his will. "He is not."

Rodney's expression lightened and he nodded enthusiastically. "Oh, yes he is. He found the first one yesterday and he said he's pretty sure it turned when that moon blew up and we thought you had blown up with it."

John looked back at Rodney, his expression questioning.

Rodney responded by shrugging his shoulders and holding his hands out. "Hey, ask him if you don't believe me."

John snorted and grinned. "Gray hairs, huh? That's a new one." He grimaced as he straightened in his chair. "Look, I just do what I have to do to protect my people and that's never going to change. If that means almost dying . . . if it someday means dying for real, then that's the way it has to be. It's who I am Rodney, take it or leave it."

Rodney frowned at the pilot for a moment before giving a quick nod. "I know. I guess I've known that for a long time. Doesn't make it any less scary and it doesn't make me like it. But . . . I guess I can live with it. I guess I have to."

They sat looking at each other in quiet acceptance for several moments before the silence became awkward. John finally reached for his Jell-o. "Thanks Rodney."

"That's okay, I was going to the mess hall for some coffee anyway."

John smiled down at his bowl. "That's not what I meant," he said softly.

oOo

Day two wasn't turning out too much better than day one had. John woke to find himself just as sore and stiff as the day before. A long, hot shower had helped, along with one of the good doctor's pills, but John still found himself moving slowly and carefully through the halls. Deciding that sitting and lying around just served to make the stiffness worse, he had elected to walk around and take care of some minor things that he'd been putting off.

By late morning, he admitted to himself that this had been the way to go. Although still achy, he wasn't nearly as stiff, his muscles loosening with the gentle activity. Hearing noises from the gym, he stepped into the room to find several marines involved in training exercises. He was both surprised and not surprised to see Ronon in the middle of the activities. When the three soldiers currently on the mat were quite literally flat on their backs, he made his way closer to the former runner.

"Ronon, I thought you were supposed to be giving that shoulder time to heal."

"I'm fine," the big man rumbled, a feral grin on his face as he searched for his next set of victims.

John smirked and crossed his arms. "So if I call Beckett and ask him if you are supposed to be doing this, he'll tell me you're cleared, right?"

Ronon's grin quickly morphed into a scowl. "You're ruining my fun, Sheppard."

"Hey, just trying to keep my favorite body guard in tact. If you get yourself knocked out of commission for a while, who's gonna keep me out of trouble?"

Ronon sighed long and hard and then walked over to pick up a towel lying on the bench across one side of the room. "Fine, I'll quit. You're just afraid, Sheppard."

John grinned as he followed. "You're right. I'm afraid of what Beckett will do to the both of us if he finds out you were fighting and I just stood by and let you."

Ronon wiped the sweat from his face and shoulders, wincing only slightly when he raised his injured arm. "For a doctor, he can be pretty scary when he wants to be," Ronon admitted.

John could hear the marines resuming their sparring behind him. "Like any of us could ever hurt Ronon," someone muttered. John smiled as he was filled with pride for his friend. He knew the soldier was probably right, that Ronon would most likely be fine. He just wasn't prepared to take that chance.

"Had lunch yet?" asked John.

Ronon hung the towel around his neck and then turned back to John. "Not yet."

John nodded. "Okay, why don't we – "

One of the sparring marines was sent flying backwards straight into John as he stood at the edge of the mat. Propelled forward into Ronon, the two men were sent tumbling to the floor in a tangle of arms and legs. The violent impact with the floor knocked the breath from John, and he spent several seconds just trying to suck in some oxygen.

"Colonel, Ronon, are you guys all right?"

The near panicked voice of one of his marines plowed through the fog currently hanging around John's brain. Bringing the room back into focus, he saw Sgt. Monroe looking worriedly down at him and Ronon.

"Fine," said Ronon as he pulled himself up into a sitting position, pushing into John's right side as he did so.

John grunted as dots danced across his vision once again and a sharp pain pierced his ribcage. Crap that hurt.

"Sheppard, you okay?" asked Ronon.

John finally managed to catch his breath and roll his head over to look at the Satedan. "Fine," he croaked in a not so convincing manner. Seeing the concern in everyone's face, he decided the best course of action was to show them he was okay so he could make his way to his quarters and collapse on his own bed. Getting his hands on the floor, he pushed himself up so that he was sitting beside Ronon. The pain took his breath away again and he tried to hide it behind a smirk.

"I think attacking . . . a superior officer . . . is on the list of things . . . not to do in the military," he quipped somewhat breathlessly.

"I am so sorry, sir. It was my fault. I got a little carried away and hit Munos too hard, sir. It was an accident, I assure you."

John looked up at the pleading and terrified face of a young lieutenant he was unfamiliar with. "Just kidding Lt., no harm done. I'm glad to see you so enthusiastic about your training." John had to smile at the overwhelming relief that spread across the young soldier's face. Aware that Ronon was climbing to his feet, he used the wall for support so he could do the same. Once on his feet, he noticed the whole room standing there staring at him.

"Well, what are you looking at? Are you guys training or what?" he asked sharply.

"Yes, sir," several of them said loudly and in unison.

John looked up at Ronon. "Let's get out of here before we get pummeled again."

Ronon grinned as they walked out the door. "Speak for yourself, Sheppard. I was having fun."

John sighed. "Figures."

TBC