Part 4

Footsteps drew precariously closer to their position, and judging by the combined voices there had to be at least three individuals. A twig snapped to their right. Beckett's eyes shot to Dex and found him sitting casually with one knee up, the other leg out straight, while he whittled on a piece of branch with the small knife. For all intent, he looked bored, and catching the physician's eye, he raised one brow before letting his eyes drift lazily shut. Taking his cue, Carson tried to calm his thundering heart and do the same.

"Looks to have come though here," a deep male voice said before a soldier stepped into the small clearing. The surprise on his face at finding the two men brought him to an immediate halt and he quickly pointed a weapon at Dex. "Don't move."

"Not goin' anywhere," the Satedean replied, stretching his back like a wary tiger.

Three more figures emerged from the trees and eyed up the situation. The soldier on point kept his gun level, demanding, "Who are you? What are you doing here?"

Ronon slowly raised a hand so that he could scratch his beard. "On our way back from the market." Nodding to Beckett, he looked suddenly disgusted. "My servant ate something and felt sick. Got tired of listening to his whining and decided to stop."

Another of the group hesitantly stepped closer to the physician for a better look. Catching a whiff of sickness and unwashed body odor, he shook his head in disgust. "Gah!"

"Told you, he got sick."

The largest of the squad moved closer and drew his weapon, aiming it at Carson's head. "I'll take care of your problem right now."

Ronon watched a second as if deciding something and then shrugged, "You going to take his place?"

That caused the other three to laugh nervously, not quite sure what the stranger meant.

The one with the drawn gun didn't appreciate the humor and turned to the man seated on the ground. "Where are you from?" he growled.

"Why do you want to know?" The Satedean countered, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"Strangers have been seen in the area. There was a raid on the garrison yesterday." Not getting any response, he leaned in closer, "You see anyone?"

"Told you already, went to market and are on our way back." Waving a hand towards Beckett, he let irritation settle over his bored features, "Haven't had time to stop and chat with strangers."

"Until now," the leader added. His scowl deepened and he stepped towards the silent figure lying on the ground half hidden beneath the long coat.

Ronon felt the hair rising on the back of his neck and knew things were about to get ugly. "Didn't go looking for you," he replied dryly, his eyes never leaving the other man's face while he slowly shifted to get better access to the blaster tucked beneath his thigh.

The apparent squad leader swiftly shifted to aim his weapon at the runner's head while taking another step towards Beckett. Using his foot, he flipped the coat back to reveal the battered physician whose frightened gaze was now staring up at him. "Where'd you find him?" he demanded, accented with a swift boot kick to the Scot's chest.

The man never got his answer or the chance to go for a second strike; instead he toppled over dead to the ground with a large knife protruding out of his chest. A second soldier fell with a blaster hole to his stomach. The third was able to get off a shot that raked Ronon's shoulder before he was effectively swept off his feet by the runner's strong legs. With no chance to break away, his head locked in between a muscular arm and elbow, his neck was snapped less than a second later.

That left the runt of the group, his weapon hanging by loose fingertips at his side, his eyes wide open in stunned disbelief at how fast the situation had changed…before he turned and bolted back through the trees.

Dex was on his feet instantly, shoving off the body that had sprawled across his legs before he barreled through the dried out orchard in pursuit. The little man was quick, but he was faster and one well aimed shot from his blaster took the remaining soldier down. He didn't take the time to confirm the kill; he needed to get back to Beckett.

oOo

Fixed pupils in dark brown eyes stared sightlessly at Carson and no matter how many times the physician tried to look at something else, his gaze was slowly drawn back to the dead man mere inches from where he lay. A small blue fly buzzed overhead and landed on one of the unseeing orbs causing Beckett to blink involuntarily and try once more to turn his head away. The effort proved futile as he remained motionless where the large man named Dex had left him. Feeling chilled even in the sunshine, he waited fearfully for someone to return and find him.

The warm jacket had been pulled off before the angry kick to his chest from the soldier which left him seeing blurry spots that eventually faded, and now for the first time in days he was able to get a good look at himself. Even in his confusion of what exactly had happened to him, he was able to realize that he was a mess. Filthy but unable to help himself, he was covered in an array of bandages over most of what he could see. It was difficult but he finally succeeded to lower his chin in the slightest to be able to see his hands and discovered them curled tight against his chest.

Trying to move one of his fingers in hopes of a response left him puzzled when the gnarled digits remained stiff and useless. When another small blue fly settled on his left wrist he watched it work its way towards a pinkish white burn that had broken open. The puff of air he used to make it fly away left him breathless as his actions were rewarded with more pain in his chest. The world around him grayed immediately.

Eyes clamped tight, he pulled more air in between his clenched teeth in hopes of remaining silent. He didn't want anyone to hear him, fearing there might be others in the surrounding areas searching for them. The sound of running in the distance followed by the discharge of a phase weapon forced his eyes back open.

He stared past the dead man and searched his limited field of vision in hopes of seeing that it was Dex who returned. Moments later he wasn't disappointed to see the burly figure reappear and move quickly to his side.

"You okay?" Ronon asked. Seeing the physician drop his gaze to the face lying on the ground so close to his own and then back up, he reached down and grabbed the soldier's arms, tugging him behind a nearby tree and then getting rid of the others. Finished, he dropped to his knees and gave the silent man a brief exam, checking for new damage. "Breathing all right?"

Carson blinked several times, trying to convey that he wasn't injured further and apparently succeeded when Dex nodded.

"Good." He gathered the few loose supplies lying on the ground and shoved them back in the pack. "We need to move before more come looking for that squad."

Before Carson could blink again, the other man moved away only to return with the wooden handcart. It was something a vendor would walk in front of and use to take produce to market. It was also large enough to hold a single person. Setting the handles on the ground, Dex looked around for something that he could use to make the ride more comfortable but with most of the vegetation dead in their immediate area, he came up empty. Instead he took the pack and propped it at the far end.

"Not much, but…" he let the words hang in the air as he stooped down and stared at the physician. "This will probably hurt."

Carson blinked slowly; he was willing to try anything if it meant leaving. Large hands reached underneath his shoulders and knees and with great care, he found himself being carried like a child and then placed on the wooden boards with his head resting on the pack. Glancing up at Dex he scowled in concern noticing that there was wetness in the large man's eyes.

The Satedean catching the look shook his head in disgust and wiped the back of his sleeve over his face. "Doc, hope you don't mind me saying, but I've come across three day dead wraith rotting in the sun that have smelled better than you." The dry humor in the expressive brown eyes actually brought the hint of a smile to the physician's face. "First things first, we find this lake I heard about and you are going for a swim…cart and all." Draping the long coat over the still form, he then settled between the handles, got a firm grip, and started moving.

Part 5

Small yellow flowers highlighted the rock strewn shoreline along the wide open expanse of sparkling water. It was the first time since they'd come to the godforsaken planet for reason long since forgotten that something didn't look dead. The surrounding trees were filled with lush green foliage and the near silent lapping water against smooth stones and ancient stumps gave the area a surreal quality. If one paused and closed their eyes, the ocean against the piers of Atlantis could easily come to mind. But the occasional smell of smoke that wafted through the air made the noticeable difference.

The trek to the waterfront left both men weary. Beckett's bruised ribs that had been mysteriously numb most of the day had been woken with the cruel kick and now ached non-stop, causing every breath to catch with each jostle and bump. Ronon's shoulder throbbed from the blaster wound and the weight of the cart handles pulled on sore muscles in his arms and down his back that reminded him of the fight a little more than twenty-four hours earlier.

Reaching their destination, he eased the wooden handles to the ground. Beckett might be silent but the runner didn't miss the tightly controlled expression on the doctor's face. "Let me find a spot to make camp and then I'll get you out," he said reassuringly with a knuckle rap to the side of the cart. The single blue eye that cracked open to look up at him slowly slid shut.

Ronon made short work of clearing a an area free of rocks and then tearing up armloads of long grass to create a bed of sorts. He'd have to wait on setting out a few supplies as the pack was still being used as a support. Finished, he walked to he waters edge and cupped the cool liquid to his mouth, swished a generous amount and then spat it back out. To him it tasted like water and on the second mouthful he swallowed, waited a moment, and not feeling any adverse reaction took another. His dark eyes scanning the water and shoreline, searching for predators or unwanted company, he stood up satisfied that this would be as good a time as any to get the doc cleaned up and into the clothes he swiped earlier. The last thing they needed was to run into another patrol who became suspicious of the tattered clothing.

Returning to the wagon he stopped to take his last breath of fresh air before leaning over and carefully placing his hand on Beckett's shoulder. "Doc, you awake?"

One eye popped open in surprise, filled with fear and anxiety that washed over the silent man's face before recognition slowly set in. His throat bobbed in an attempt to swallow as he stared back at Dex. He didn't remember falling asleep and seeing the man with the strange hair so close caused an involuntary shudder.

"Ready for that swim?" Ronon waited briefly before he slid his arms beneath Beckett's shoulders and knees again, lifting him with ease and carrying him to the water. "It's…cold," he warned, stepping slowly into the shallow depths. He could feel the radiating heat of fever and hoped the lake temperature might help with that as well.

Waist deep he waited again, watching Beckett for any sign of discomfort as the man's bare feet were now floating. When none came he went a bit deeper until the lake splashed over both of their chests. Grime and dirt now floated freely across the top of the water as he eased the dirty head of dark hair back, letting nature rinse off what it could. Feeling no reaction to the initial coldness, he grunted in mock disgust. "You ever breath a word of this to anyone back on Atlantis and I'll toss you off a pier."

Carson opened his eyes to see if the threat was real. Finding a raised brow and grin aimed at him instead, he let them close and enjoyed the odd tingling sensation of floating. The aches and pains of earlier eased, the headache that had settled behind his eyes diminished to being bearable, and oddly enough he felt safe for the first time that he could remember.

And that was part of his problem, he didn't remember much. Dex had spoken of his life as a physician on Atlantis, but none of that was familiar. None of the names mentioned meant anything to him. Whenever he tried to think back, all he could recall was darkness, the smell of death, and being alone. But then again, that wasn't quite right. For somewhere tucked away he could hear another telling him to hang on, but he could never catch the fleeting sound or put a face to the voice. Looking back at the gentle giant that held him he discovered the dark brown eyes watching him closely.

"You doing okay?"

Instead of trying to answer, he concentrated on the face, searching for a memory of his rescuer. Again the other voice ghosted across the back of his mind and he closed his eyes in an attempt to catch it without success.

Dex watched Beckett closely, wondering what was going on inside that muddled brain. He could tell the man was thinking and decided to leave him be. With much of the grime rinsed off it was time to get dry and think of what to eat. Two plums weren't enough to keep any man healthy and they needed to get ready for their trek in the dark back to the gate. Depositing the now dripping, but less offensive man on the bed of grass, he reached for his overstuffed pack and dumped the contents on the ground.

His small knife made quick work of the remaining uniform and then he used one of the soft shirts that he'd lifted from the village to wipe off any remaining dirt and water. With care he tended as many wounds as possible before he had the smaller man dressed in clean clothes and resembling any of the individuals he'd seen at the market. By the time he finished, the blue eyes were intently watching him again while he took off his own shirt so that he could patch up his shoulder before tugging on dry clothing.

"Can't believe I'm actually gonna say this, but you not talking isn't right," he muttered under his breath. "Usually you and McKay are going on about one thing or another and you two rarely shut up. I have no idea how Sheppard puts up with both of you."

Hearing Sheppard's name, Carson frowned as the voice telling him to hang on once more skimmed across his memory.

Dex didn't miss the look and leaned closer. "Remember something?"

Catching the memory was impossible and he sighed in disappointment before meeting the gaze staring intently at him. The man must have understood because he gave him a reassuring pat to the arm before turning back to whatever it was he'd been doing.

oOo

By the time they'd finished eating the bread that Dex had purchased and an MRE, Carson was exhausted. A single tap to the cheek made him jerk and he found the man named Dex with his hand held out close to his mouth.

"You need to take these," he said revealing two small white pills. "The trip to the gate isn't going to be easy so you need to get these in you now."

Obediently swallowing the medication, he washed them down with cool water from the canteen.

"Figure it will be getting dark in an hour," Dex said while draping his long coat once more over Beckett. "I say we rest and then head out. Sound good to you?" Watching the doctor quickly nod off, he grunted and leaned against a nearby rock. "Thought so," he said.

With his blaster gripped firm he let himself drift into a light sleep for the first time since finding Beckett. Hopefully, in a few hours they'd be home.

Part 6

Carson woke to a burning sensation radiating throughout his body that ran from his back, down his legs to his toes, and within his curled arms to his fingertips. What had been numb earlier, now stole his breath away. Wanting nothing more than to move, to shake off the feeling, he continued to lay unmoving on the bed of grass that the large man named Dex had made for him.

His breath picked up sharply, his heart pounding fiercely in his chest as glimpses of ghostly images flickered across his mind leaving him confused. People were shouting, others crying, dark figures in the shadows laughing at him then leaving him to lie on a filthy floor, and lifeless eyes watching him. In the midst of it all, there was the voice telling him to hang on. Squeezing his eyes tight, he searched through the clutter of horror, of mutilated bodies and blood to find a face that matched the continual promise of rescue, only to become more agitated when nothing became any clearer.

Wretched, miserable, and exhausted, a tear threatened to slide free from his closed lids; he didn't even have the strength to wipe it away. But, he did have he ability to blink rapidly, forcing the betraying sign of emotion back before it was seen.

With his eyes now open, he stared up into the evening sky, discovering a few early stars twinkling deceptively high above in the heavens. The cool night wind swayed nearby trees to rustle n the darkness, and the water on the shoreline slapped against stone. Focusing on the latter, he tried to control his breathing, to get his mind on something other than his discomfort, and to not wake the sleeping man beside him.

Shifting his gaze sideways from his slightly propped position, he was able to see large feet crossed at the ankles beside him but nothing more. Without realizing , he sighed loudly and the feet instantly moved.

"Doc?" The deep voice rumbled at his side, then the strange hair and bearded face appeared leaning over him. Dark eyes focused intently on his own and Carson opened his mouth to answer, but remained speechless.

Dex took it in stride, raising his arms above his head in a lengthy stretch before pulling himself to his feet. "Time for us to head out," he said quietly, disappearing from view, then to return almost immediately. His face was damp, his hair now tied back out of the way, he leaned over and used a wet piece of cloth to wipe off Carson's face.

In return, the physician briefly closed his eyes, enjoying the sensation against his skin before looking back up to meet the inquisitive gaze.

"Need anything? Food? Water?"

Honestly, Carson wasn't hungry, but his useless body demanded something to drink. Frowning slightly, then opening his mouth, he accepted the canteen placed against his lips as Dex seemed to understand and carefully poured water in his mouth. His thirst sated, he blinked several times to signal that he was finished.

Dex sat back on his haunches, screwing the canteen lid on tight while studying Carson. "Well be to the gate in a few hours, be back on Atlantis in time for breakfast." The blue eyes watching him blinked slowly, an unsure smile lifting, and he grinned back. "Don't worry, I'll save you something." With that, he was on his feet, disappearing into the darkness, only to reappear moments later with the cart.

Slipping his arm beneath Carson's neck and back, the other under his knees, he lifted the man with ease, then settled him on a bed of soft grass, with the pack beneath the doctor's head. He didn't miss the grimace and sharp intake of breath at the movement. "Sorry," he mumbled, draping his coat over the still man.

Carson tried to somehow communicate that it was okay. The burning pain settled once more, leaving him uncomfortable but still bearable. Opening his mouth, he then closed it before successfully quirking part of his brow.

For the first time since they'd been together, Dex laughed out loud.

Part 7

It had taken longer than Dex wanted to make it back to the edge of the open field that contained the gate. Avoiding the war torn roads and roaming patrols, he'd dragged the cart over long forgotten paths, through empty torn up pastures, and around the edge of a razed forest. Massive splintered trunks protruded high into the darkness, but the ground had been picked clean of any usable firewood that now burned in scattered fires across the clearing. Muted voices and smoke drifted towards their hiding spot as he contemplated how to make their escape.

He needed to move in closer for a better view. Knowing he'd have to leave Beckett, he sidled back from the edge of the clearing to the cart and leaned inside to find pain-filled eyes staring up into the night sky.

"Beckett," he whispered and the gaze instantly shifted towards his own. "Got to make a way to get us out of here. You stay put."

Fear briefly flickered over the doctor's face, memories of the last time he'd been left alone causing him to swallow uncertainly, before a hand settled on the top of his head.

"I'll be right back," the large man reassured. When the eyes met his again, he nodded while taking some of the supplies from the cart and stuffing them in several pockets, then checking his blaster. Finished, he paused for one final examination on his charge. Several times on the way back from the lake he'd stopped to check on Carson, finding the man almost totally out of it or eventually lapsed into unconsciousness. The tight facial lines of pain had grown steadily deeper over the day and now ragged breathing highlighted what slight chest movement the doctor had. Dex might not know a lot about medicine, but he knew that if he didn't get Carson back soon, that the doctor wasn't going to make it.

For his part, Carson tried his best to hide his discomfort from his rescuer. Blinking slowly, he allowed his eyes to slide shut, giving Dex the signal to leave. The hand on his head stayed briefly before disappearing, then he knew he was alone.

oOo

Dex took out the first guard on the opposite side of the field with a quick snap to the unsuspecting man's neck. Dropping the body to the ground, he dragged it back beneath the shelter of a nearby tree before searching through uniform pockets, helping himself to a small flask and a handful of cartridges, then he faded back into the night.

Catching a second guard unaware who was relieving himself away from camp, he too fell quickly at the runner's deft hand. The dead soldier's weapon and uniform jacket were hastily removed, his body left where it fell for the night scavengers to find, before Dex tugged the coat over his own broad shoulders.

Working his way to the far end of the field, away from Beckett, his dark eyes scanned the broken tree line, using only the light from the campfires to help him find what he needed. Sitting in wait like a spider for a fly, his eyes never left a single officer that patrolled the edge of the field. When the man came within meters of Dex's position, he tossed a stone at the individual, pegging him squarely in the back.

The man spun abruptly about, his weapon raised as he hesitantly stepped away from the protective light of the campfire into the darkness. The swift, rock-hard punch to his jaw that came out of nowhere left him sagging silently to the ground.

Dex made quick work of tying the man standing up to a nearby tree. He then used his teeth to remove casing from several cartridges and dump the contents on the ground by the officer's feet. With his blaster in the other, he reached out and tapped the flask in his other against the cheek of the man slowly regaining consciousness.

When his captive's surprised eyes met his own, the man getting ready to yell, Dex merely smiled and shook his head 'no' while placing his gun against the man's chest. He used his other hand to dump the contents of the flask over his prisoner and the rest on the ammunition at his feet. He then flicked a matchstick with his thumb, igniting the small flame.

The man's eyes grew wide in fear, his gaze locked on the small fire as it was dropped to the ground. Seconds later, the tiny blaze attacked the alcohol and shot up the tree as the officer began to scream for help.

Men came running from various positions to see what was happening. Stopping only when the ground crackled and snapped at the gunpowder scattered about them burned, none noticed the lone figure vanish back into the darkness.

He in turn ran flat out, stripping off the coat as he raced through the trees. Finding Beckett where he'd left him, he didn't have time to be careful and quickly ripped off the long coat blanket, draping the uniform jacket over the doctor instead. He then grabbed the pack over his shoulder, picked up the semi-conscious, terrified physician, and raced for the gate.

Men were running up and down the field around them. One stopped when he saw the injured figure in an officer's coat. "Sir?" he shouted over all the noise erupting around them, the other man's screams still loud from the far end of the field.

"Saboteur," the runner growled. "They need your help." He didn't say more as he continued on towards the gate. By the time he'd made it to the DHD, only three men remained and he dropped two with the gun he held beneath Beckett. Punching in the address, he watched the lights flash around the ring before the telltale 'whoosh' burst brilliantly in the darkness.

The third man garnered his courage and made to intercept the pair before they could cross the threshold. With his gun in hand, he pointed it at Carson's head while threatening to pull back the trigger. "Step away," he demanded with a sneer.

With his hands full, Dex did the only thing he could think of. His booted foot shot out and connected with the soldier's groin, causing the man to instantly fall to his knees in pain, gasping raggedly for air.

Their path now clear, he leaped into the shimmering vortex, leaving the sounds of gunfire and screams behind them, moments later to emerge on the gateroom floor. Surrounded by P-90s leveled in his direction, Dex dropped to his knees when his legs gave out, refusing to hold him up.

Footsteps and voices surrounded him, someone lifted Carson from his arms, and then the room went dark.

Tbc…