Thanks to Josie for her second set of eyes on this stuff! And thanks to everyone's reads, reviews and encouragement :)

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"Bet you wished you stayed in bed!"
Dr. Leonard McCoy: Star Trek

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"Colonel!"

Somewhere, in the recesses of his mind, John heard the call. Teyla. But, numbing blackness enveloped him... held him silent...

"Ronon! Colonel!"

Ronon? Something pulled urgently at him, something important... a duty. John pushed away the darkness and forced his way out through the haze of unconsciousness. A deep voice called from right next to him.

"Here!"

Ronon. John could've sworn he'd said the man's name aloud, but no response came from him. The warm comfort of unconsciousness called to John, but he resisted.

"Are you all right?"

Teyla again. John pushed against the cobwebs the muddled his mind, latching onto her voice like an anchor. She sounded tense... concerned. He didn't like his team worried...

"I'm okay, but Sheppard's unconscious," Ronon responded.

John's grasp on consciousness was tedious but somehow he found his voice, managing a small groan. He pulled in a deep breath, the rich oxygen clearing his head, but he instantly regretted the action as pain spiked through his chest. "Argh..." he groaned.

"Sheppard?" Ronon's voice was deep and quiet.

John forced his eyes open and took in the sight of the big Satedan's face hovering over his. "Ronon?" He croaked. Broken bits of what happened came back to him. John's eyes slid shut. "Should've let go of me..."

"No." Ronon disagreed. "Teyla!"

John blinked hard and watched as Ronon stood and walked a few steps away, his arm pressed firmly against his side and a slight limp both revealing he hadn't come through the fall completely unscathed. Ronon looked up at the large opening better than twenty feet above them. "Sheppard's coming around."

"Rodney and I are headed to the gate to get help," Teyla's voice drifted down from above. "We will be back as soon as we can."

"We'll be here." Ronon turned back and faced John.

Consciousness took firmer hold on John, chasing away the oblivion and he started to become aware of his surroundings. Experimentally, he shifted his weight…

Nothing could've prepared him for the wave of pure agony that shot up from his left leg and tore through his body. He writhed and the torture redoubled as pain from his left arm joined the chorus. A strangled cry escaped his throat and he was vaguely aware of pounding the fist of his good hand in the mud as the pain consumed him. Spots danced in his vision and it was all John could do to fight off unconsciousness. "Damn!" he finally gasped.

"Leg's broken. Arm too." Ronon muttered quietly.

"No kidding," Sheppard gasped, sweat trickling down his forehead. "Femur?" He stared at Ronon's confused expression for a moment. "Thigh?" He amended.

"Yes." Ronon confirmed.

"Great..." John gasped, fighting to control the pain. "I never do things... half ways..." He blinked and pushed away the pain. Slowly, John became aware of a cold wetness soaking through his clothes and chilling his body. He moved his good hand slightly, and was rewarded with a small splash. "Leave it to me to land in a puddle..." He watched Ronon kneel close by, noting the wince and how Ronon's hand tightened on his side. John's gaze narrowed. "You okay?"

Ronon's expression was tinged with a dark amusement. "Better than you."

Lying in a puddle is not my idea of fun... "Right," John lifted his head and using his good arm, he tried to sit up, only to meet Ronon's hand as the ex-runner pushed him back down.

"Don't move." Ronon's gruff reply sounded more an order than anything.

"Ronon," John swallowed hard and forced his body to relax and be still. "I'm lying in a pool of water," he tried to sound neutral, but inwardly winced at the slight irritation in his voice. "I don't suppose there's any dry ground you can help me move to?" He inhaled carefully, repressing a chilled shudder. John watched Ronon look around for a minute before staring him in the eye and shaking his head.

"No. No high ground. Probably shouldn't move that leg either." Ronon vaguely waved at John's left leg.

John sighed. "True." He looked around. "Abandoned well or something?"

"Yes." Ronon agreed.

John swallowed and closed his eyes. "This just gets better and better. Guess we're waiting for Teyla, Rodney and that help, huh?"

"Yes." Ronon repeated quietly.

John's sighed as deep as he could against his painful ribs. Just once, he wished the big Satedan would string together more than five words in one sentence. A chill raced through him again as the cold water and pain ate away at his strength. Pain shot up from his leg and John grunted softly in response. Ronon's quiet voice grabbed his attention.

"Sheppard?"

"Yeah?" John managed through clenched teeth.

"They'll be back soon."

If he hadn't been in so much pain, John would've smiled at Ronon's attempt at reassurance. "I know." John hoped his half spoken, half groaned response was understandable. He glanced at Ronon, watching as the Satedan nodded slightly in response. John closed his eyes against the cold that seeped into him and clenched his jaw, determined not to let his teeth chatter. Broken bones, cold water, cracked ribs, probably a concussion…Shock. While not a medic or a doctor, John was career military, and with that he'd received a fair amount of medical training. But, as the reality of his situation and injuries set in, a part of John really wished he was more ignorant of his condition. Hurry up, guys.

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Teyla allowed herself a small smile as she emerged from the trees and caught sight of the Stargate. She looked back at McKay. "Hurry! We are almost there!"

"I'm going as fast as I can!" He panted back.

"Dr. McKay," Teyla returned her gaze forward, "we have not run that far."

"Whatever!" McKay snapped, "some of us prefer to use our brains and not race through woods like Amazonian women!"

Teyla was unsure who or what Amazonian women were, but she had a fair idea that he did not mean it as a compliment. She shrugged it off in favor of concern as she stopped in front of the DHD and dialed the first two symbols, only to be stopped by McKay's quiet voice.

"Uhh, Teyla you may want to wait a minute."

Teyla turned. "Dr. McKay…" her voice trailed off as twenty or more natives emerged from the surrounding woods, crude long bows and crossbows aimed directly at both of them.

"Oh no…" McKay lamented as he raised his hands.

Teyla held her P-90 close, cursing herself for not sensing the trap before it had been sprung. "Please," she reasoned quietly with one of the natives, a tall dark haired man stopped close to her. "Our friends are injured. Let us contact our people so we can help them."

"You will not." The dark haired native responded immediately. "Surrender your weapons."

Teyla looked around momentarily indecisive. If Colonel Sheppard and Ronon had been there they would have a chance, but with only Dr. McKay and herself… Teyla inhaled deeply before reaching up and unclasping her P-90 from her vest. She slowly bent over and laid it on the ground in front of her.

"Teyla?" McKay questioned quietly.

"Surrender your gun," Teyla answered, her voice equally quiet. She slowly drew her side arm and laid it next to the P-90 as McKay set his in front of him. "What of our friends?" She asked hesitantly.

"They matter not to me," the man replied gruffly. "They will die where they are, and it is a just punishment. Come." He turned and walked away.

Confused, Teyla glanced at McKay, only to see her uncertainty mirrored on his face. Feeling the poke of a crossbow arrow in her back, Teyla slowly followed the leader, McKay right next to her, as they left the Stargate… and help, behind them.