Chapter 7

Ronon looked despondently at the sky, as nightfall seemed to be coming far quicker than the day before. The appearance of angry black clouds gathering to cover the sinking sun had him worried, and when the dim light of the small yellow globe finally disappeared below the tree line, the wind pick-up to howl like an angry monster as it rushed through the trees. To Ronon it was an annoying but fitting end to a long and tedious day.

John had woken about two hours after they had removed the bullet, disorientated and feverish. Teyla had managed to give him a few sips of water and some antibiotics but as soon he had swallowed them, he had drifted back to his fevered dreams.

Everyone else had managed to get a few hours of rest in shifts. Two guarding for intruders while one slept. Only one incident had occurred during the late afternoon when one foolish bounty hunter had tried his luck. Ronon's gun had left him with a smoking hole in his chest. The body now lay among the leaves and dust being kicked up by the growing storm.

"I hope they all die of pneumonia when the rain sets in." Rodney whispered quietly, before taking a bite into his second powerbar of the day. He chewed on it as if it was a piece of prime steak. Well, he could dream couldn't he?

Ronon threw him a sidewards glance. "The weather is to our disadvantage too, McKay. The firewood will be wet and I'll be less likely to catch anything to eat."

Rodney finished chewing and sighed. "Yes, that's true but at least you won't have to go too far for water. Just stick a bowl out of the window and hey presto."

"I'm glad to see you haven't lost your sense of humour, McKay."

That sounded so much like Sheppard that Rodney instinctively turned towards the colonel. Of course, it hadn't been John. Voice was too gruff. Yep, Ronon was definitely sounding more like Sheppard. A small smile creased Rodney's face at the thought before he turned back to his window.

No sooner had Rodney taken his gaze off the bed than the man in question let out a pain-filled cry and, although Teyla had been trying to rest, she was first to react. Rushing over, she placed a hand on John's forehead. A worried tremor filled her voice as she informed her companions. "I believe he has developed a very high fever."

Ronon muttered, "Damn," before turning to McKay, "Keep guarding," he instructed. Getting up from his chair, he went over to feel Sheppard's brow for himself, confirming Teyla's findings. "We'd better check the wound," he told her.

Teyla nodded and glanced at John who appeared to have his eyes open. They were full of pain and bright with fever. "John, can you hear me?" she asked.

John tried to focus on the face but heat and murkiness clouded his vision. He wanted to tell the face that he felt terrible but the words refused to connect with his parched mouth. His throat felt sore and inflamed, which made it difficult to swallow.

For a moment, he couldn't remember where he was or, why he felt so bad. Then his fevered mind slowly began to join the dots - his team and their desperate escape from men with guns, Rodney with a bullet in his shoulder, finding refuge in an old stone building, being in pain because of a bullet in his side, Ronon…Ronon attempting to remove it. Had he succeed? If not, was he dying? The thought sent shivers rattling through his body and he was sure that his heart had missed a beat. Yes, he must be dying, his fevered mind insisted.

"Now don't you go and die on me, lad," a voice resounded loudly in his ear. Not sure where it came from, John squinted up at the face hovering above him but he knew that the sound hadn't come from there. The tone that had spoken a minute or so before had been higher in pitch, feminine, like Teyla's voice.

"They have the bullet out of you, lad, so you have to fight it." The voice continued and John's recollection returned. Carson? His mind questioned but that didn't seem right either, wasn't he dead? "Well, lad, that's a matter of opinion. It's certainly not your time to join me and quite frankly, I don't want you here disturbing my peace. At least not yet, so you have to fight it, you hear me?"

John tried to fight but it was so damn hard when he felt so dreadful. He drifted for a moment but ultimately, he couldn't stop the darkness from closing in on his awareness. Thankfully, it was not the blackness of death, but the continuation of his fever-induced dreams that produced a multitude of images in his distressed and overheated mind. Images of Atlantis, of losing Carson and Elizabeth, of fighting the Wraith, and Michael and his demon creatures, his estranged father and brother, Nancy, Afghanistan, friends long dead, friends still alive, his team….

Ronon quietly watched as John sank back into unconsciousness. He turned away to uncovered the wound and grunted with displeasure. It wasn't bleeding much but it looked incredibly angry and inflamed.

Teyla inspected it and caught Ronon's eye. They didn't need any words to convey their fears. "It is badly infected," she relayed, mainly for Rodney's benefit.

Then as if to add weight to her disheartening words, a loud crack of thunder suddenly boomed overhead and a few minutes later, the heavens opened. With the rain the wind picked up to a gale force, howling like the death throes of a huge dragon as it pounded the old house making it shake and clatter loudly.

The meagre fire crackled in the old hearth as the wind blew dust and dirt down the chimney. Ronon quickly moved to place a few more pieces of wood on the fire, hoping to keep it alive. If the weather had stayed fair, he would have doused it for the night but in this storm, it was highly unlikely that the bounty hunters would trouble them. Although, they would still need to remain alert just in case the hunters were crazy enough to try.

As if to disagree with him, Rodney suddenly piped up from his place near the window. "I don't have to stay here do I? I can't see a damn thing outside."

"I know it's difficult but try to focus your vision to the door. They could still attack us."

Rodney looked doubtful but did as he was told. He'd been very quiet since hearing about Sheppard's bad infection, fearing that when this night was over, he may have lost yet another colleague, another good friend. How many was it now? he pondered. He'd almost lost count - Gaul, Grodin, Ford, Carson, probably Elizabeth and now maybe John. Rodney recoiled at the thought. His vision grew misty for a moment but he kept his eyes firmly fixed on the window.

After checking the fire, Ronon returned to Sheppard's side. He was at a loss to know what to do for his friend. He knew that they had to keep him cool but how. The room wasn't very warm, so it wasn't adding to his fever. They didn't have any ice, and they didn't have any of the fancy medicines that Atlantis had other than the few antibiotic tablets, which didn't seem to be touching John's problem.

Then like the proverbial light, an idea suddenly stuck him. It may be a long shot but it was worth a try because he certainly didn't want to lose Sheppard to the arms of death. So without warning, Ronon quickly moved to the door. Throwing it open, he slipped outside and was gone.

Rodney spluttered. "Where the hell is he going?"

Teyla's was equally as surprised and shocked. "Rodney, I am as baffled as you are."

"He's gone crazy. That's it. I always knew that he'd crack one day." Rodney turned to Teyla with a sickly look. "We are so screwed. With Sheppard out of commission and Ronon gone, where does that leave us?"

Teyla wanted to tell him, 'I am not helpless', but she held her tongue. Things were going downhill fast enough but she had faith in Ronon. He must have had a good reason to leave so suddenly, of that she was certain. She only hoped that it was for John's sake. Of course, now she had Ronon to worry about, out there all alone in the terrible storm. Although, he was very strong and resilient, so if anyone could make it through then that someone was definitely Ronon.

When she answered Rodney, it was with a touch of optimism. "I am sure Ronon had a very good reason to leave and will be back soon. Just keep guarding the door and do not shoot him in error."

"Ha…as if I could tell the difference in this weather."

"You will." Teyla simply answered as she began to soothe John's brow and neck with a water soaked cloth.

-oOo-

For the next half an hour or so they remained quiet, listening to the relentless howl of the wind and the torrential rain, which splattered loudly against the windows and the old slate roof. Every few minutes it was drowned out by a tremendous clap of thunder that almost shook the dwelling off its foundation.

Over in the hearth, the fire fought of desperate bid to stay alight as gusts of wind sent powerful draughts down the chimney. The same current of air made the room feel exceedingly chilly.

Rodney shivered and wrapped the old blanket tighter around his shoulders to conserve heat. A drop of water hit his face and he looked towards the floor to see a growing number of puddles. "Oh isn't that just great, the roof isn't water tight."

Teyla had noticed it some time ago but her worry for John and Ronon had kept her from mentioning it, and telling Rodney wouldn't have made any different anyway. It wasn't as if he could have gone out and fixed it. "Are you staying reasonably dry where you are?" she asked him.

"Fairly but I'm getting darn cold."

Teyla had no answer to that because she was getting cold too, so she simply told Rodney. "It is chilly in here but there is nothing we can do about if at the present. The roof has started to leak in one place over the bed, so I have put a bowl to catch it. When Ronon returns, we must move the bed to a drier spot."

"If we can find one in this sieve of a place but if you want to move it, we could do it now?"

"At the moment it is not necessary. You could put a strain on your shoulder."

Rodney didn't take his eyes off the window. "Oh, and holding Sheppard down didn't do untold damage?"

Teyla sighed. She knew Rodney didn't mean it like that; he was just very worried about John. "That is why we will wait until Ronon returns. And you must stay vigilant, even in such terrible weather they may still try to enter."

"Not if they don't want to be blown off their feet by the hurricane outside."

Rodney's opinion of the weather left Teyla wondering how Ronon was fairing. She didn't say anything to Rodney but her anxiety for him suddenly increased tenfold at the mention of such a killer storm. Remaining deep in her own thoughts, Teyla half listened to the noises outside and the colonel's soft moaning. Abruptly, she was pulled back to the present and nearly jumped out of her skin when Sheppard suddenly shouted. "Fuck you!"

Rodney winced and made a gesture of covering his ears while Teyla looked at John with concern. She knew the word very well as some of the Marines used it when they thought she wasn't listening but to hear John say it, came as a bit of a shock as she had never told him use the bad swear word before.

She felt his forehead as he continued to mutter in the delusion of his dreams. His temperature seemed to be even higher than the last time she had felt and she feared that he was becoming delirious.

His words grew louder and more intense. "You heard me! I'm leaving! Fuck you! You never…loved me!" In the next instant, the theme changed. "Get out of my head…finish it! Please finish it…please…Have to save… 'lantis…Carson?" With the last word, his delirium returned to soft moaning but it was more than likely just a rest period between his terrifying nightmares.

Teyla rinsed out her cloth and leaving it wet, she ran it over John's face and neck. His body shook with chilling tremors even though sweat poured from his skin to soak into his clothing. His shirt felt damp but Teyla didn't know if it was wise to strip him. After a short contemplation, she decided to leave it until Ronon returned. So apart from wiping his exposed skin with cool water, there was little more she could do for him. Teyla began to fear that they might lose him if a miracle didn't happen soon.

Rodney had made no comment about John's fevered ranting as he harboured his own fears for his friend. He simply kept his eyes fixed on the window. Only when John went silent did he steel a quick glance towards the bed. Teyla was busy mopping his face, so Rodney reasoned that John must still be alive. Feeling relieved, he turned back to the window.

Abruptly, something moved outside, catching Rodney's attention. Although the torrential rain was making visibly virtually zero, he thought he saw a looming shape hovering near his window. Shocked and anxious, he fumbled for his gun and went to shift the board that Sheppard had placed earlier, but before he could remove it, he lost sight of the shape. Rodney froze, hardly daring to breathe.

Then a few moments later, a muffled knock shook the door. It sounded hollow as it competed with the howling wind. Rodney reasoned that it could have been Ronon's signal but he wasn't taking any chances. Although somewhere in the recesses of his brain, common sense told him that the hunters wouldn't have bothered knocking before entering. Nevertheless, that knowledge didn't help to calm his nerves and his heart began to thump loudly as he swung his P90 around, aiming at the door.

Within seconds, the door opened and quickly shut again, and Ronon stood there looking like a drowned rat as his dreadlocks dripped more puddles onto the floor.

"Ronon!" Teyla cried with joy.

She may have been relieved but Rodney's relief turned to anger. "What the hell made you leave like that? I mean what were you thinking of going out in such a killer storm. You'll probably catch pneumonia and where will that leave us?"

Ronon dropped what looked like a shrivelled up piece of moss near his feet and began to ring out his dreadlocks, adding yet more water to the floor. "I needed to get that," he said, pointing to the miserable looking plant thing.

TBC