Thanks again for all the great reviews! Sorry it took me a little time to get this chapter done, it was a little complicated to work out. ;)
The large man looked around the clearing, his teeth grinding in frustration as three more of his men came back... with no prisoner. His cold gaze found one of the men, who briefly averted his eyes.
"I am sorry, sir. There appears to be a great many false trails. Whoever freed this John Sheppard is a skilled woodsman."
He turned away, a twig snapping under the weight of his heavy step. "He is wounded. They cannot get far." He slowly turned and fixed his second with a cold, angered look. "Find them, or you will take his place." He resisted a malicious smile as his second in command noticeably paled.
"Yes, sir." The man turned and waved at two others before the three of them disappeared into the woods.
Crossing the small clearing, he knelt next to one of the many tracks leading into the woods. Yes, he mused, this unknown one is skilled... but, he had been raised in the great forests of their recent home world... forests now lay to waste by the Wraith. His anger flared. This was his element and well he knew it. He would find this John Sheppard and know all he was hiding. His grip tightened on the unfamiliar gun he'd taken from Sheppard. It was light, compact and when he fired it, he knew it was more powerful and deadly than he'd ever seen. The T'eshii possessed no such weapons, nor had he ever seen the likes of them before. From the first moment he had laid eyes on his prisoner, he'd known there was something different about him... something he was hiding... and if this gun was any indication, something that would benefit the T'eshii in ways he could only imagine.
A glint of red caught his eye and he slowly pushed aside a branch. Blood, faint and drying discolored a leaf right along the path. He brushed his finger over it, and stared at the smear of blood on his hand before slowly smiling. He stood and looked back at the four remaining men. "Come with me." He turned and confidently followed the track into the trees.
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The growing twilight slowed Ronon's pace as it became increasingly difficult for him to see the ground under his feet. He gritted his teeth, stoically remaining silent as he shouldered the nearly all of Sheppard's weight. The colonel was doing his best, making a valiant effort to carry himself, but his injuries and the slow, steady bleeding from his leg were sapping his strength and stamina. Sheppard's words echoed in his head.
Not sure how far I can go... big guy...
Ronon wasn't sure either and truthfully he was amazed Sheppard had lasted this long. A good three inches shorter and thirty pounds lighter Sheppard surprised Ronon with his toughness. A moment of dark humor swept through Ronon. Half of it is stubbornness... Ronon had never met someone with more blunt tenacity than Sheppard and in a way he admired it. It'd gotten them out of tough spots before. His thoughts refocused as Sheppard stumbled hard, and Ronon's grip was the only thing that saved the colonel from falling. He stopped and looked down at the hunched over man. "Sheppard?"
"Still... here..."
Ronon frowned at his weak voice. "Gotta find a spot for you to rest."
"Can't..." Sheppard gasped. "Have to stay... ahead of 'em."
Ronon stared for a moment at Sheppard's pale, sweaty face. He met the colonel's glassy and pain filled expression and held it for a moment. He can't do this. Ronon nodded curtly more to himself than anyone. He turned his back to Sheppard while still keeping hold of his arm and pulling it over his shoulder.
"What are you... doing?"
Ronon reached over his shoulder. "Give me your other hand."
"Ronon," Sheppard's protest was weak, "I won't do this... to you. You can't... protect yourself if... you're exhausted from carrying... me."
Irritation flared in Ronon and he turned his head, fixing Sheppard with a strong look. "You can't walk anymore. This is the only way." His gaze narrowed as Sheppard shook his head slightly.
"You can... leave me here," he responded quietly.
Surprise, laced with unexpected shock coursed through Ronon. "No," he immediately responded, but from the look on Sheppard's face, the colonel wasn't going to let it go that easily.
"I'm not... going to let them catch... both of us. You can stay ahead... of them... and get help... when it arrives." Sheppard managed.
Ronon held fast to the colonel's arm as he tried to pull away. "Not gonna happen."
"Ronon..."
"No!" Ronon cut off Sheppard's weak warning. "I'm not going anywhere without you. Now, give me your other arm or I'll pick you up anyway." Ronon's expression turned scathing as he lowered his voice to quiet but menacing tone. "But that'll probably hurt a lot more." He held Sheppard's gaze for a long moment before the colonel nodded weakly and extended his arm. Ronon turned, squatted and pulled both of Sheppard's arms over his shoulders. He stood, easily picking the colonel up off the ground. Ronon shifted his balance, compensating for the extra weight. Sheppard's head was near his and he could feel and hear the labored breathing and grunts of pain the colonel tried to swallow.
"Thought I was... in command," Sheppard managed through rough gasps.
"Bending the rules," Ronon responded as he started off through the trees.
"Who told you... you could do... that?"
"Teyla." Ronon smiled slightly.
"She... would," Sheppard quipped weakly.
Except for soft grunts, Sheppard fell quiet and Ronon suspected it took everything the colonel had just to breathe through his pain, much less do any talking. The muscles in Ronon's legs and shoulders burned, but stoically, Ronon tuned them out. Pain is something to be conquered... the words of his Taskmaster echoed in his head. Turning within himself, Ronon fortified his strength. He'd do this for Sheppard. Not just because somewhere along the way, the colonel had earned his respect and loyalty; something Ronon never gave lightly, but because he knew without a doubt, that Sheppard would do the same for him...
"Sheppard!" Ronon managed through gritted teeth as he clutched his obviously broken lower leg, "get out of here!"
"No can do, big guy." Sheppard knelt next to Ronon, his P-90 focused across the large meadow. "Rodney and Teyla are already through to Atlantis. I'm not leaving this planet without you."
"It won't take the natives long to find us," Ronon protested. "It's my own fault. Should've seen that hole..."
"Well, if we wouldn't have desecrated their holy ground we wouldn't be in this mess in the first place." Sheppard groused. "Remind me to beat a hasty retreat the next time we come onto some ugly damn statue." He extended his hand. "Come on. I'll help you."
"Sheppard..."
"No arguments! We both can sit on our asses and wait for the natives to find us, or you can let me help you so we both get outta here." He shook his outstretched hand once, emphatically.
Ronon looked at him for a minute before reaching up and grabbing his wrist.
Sheppard nodded curtly and pulled him up on his good leg. He shouldered Ronon's arm. "Nice and easy. Don't put any weight on it."
"Just go!" Ronon managed through gritted teeth.
"Okay! Don't be so damn cranky!" Sheppard headed for the gate...
Ronon shook off the memory. They'd made it just ahead of the natives, but without Sheppard's help, Ronon knew he would've never gotten away. He chastised himself quietly. He wasn't doing this only because he owed a debt to Sheppard. Ronon smiled slightly. He did it because Sheppard was his friend... and in seven years of running from the Wraith, Ronon had forgotten what it was like to have one. Now that he did, he was going to do his best to protect him.
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Pain was the only thing he knew. Great waves of agony washed over him, burying him... consuming him, its suffocating effect trying to drown him. John forced himself to take in a hard, labored breath... then another and another. Breathing became his only task as the primal, base part of his mind took control, shoving his instincts to the forefront.
Survive...
It was the only thought his cognitive mind could process; the only one that mattered. Each step Ronon took was agony on his ribs, torture to his leg. Sweat trickled down his face and he keenly felt the heat of fever. It ate away at his strength; a slow but steady erosion he couldn't fight off and knew he'd eventually succumb to.
NO!
John grunted, this time in anger. He forced himself to think, to be aware... to not give up.
"River."
Even through his misery, John could hear that exhaustion in Ronon's voice and he wondered how much longer the big Satedan could go on carrying him. The faint splashes of water felt cool on his legs and tempered the fever some as Ronon slogged through the ankle deep water.
John couldn't stifle the sharp cry of pain that escaped him as Ronon stumbled hard, staggering as he made his way up the incline and out of the river. "Ronon..." he managed quietly. He swallowed hard and pulled in a determined breath as the big man continued running, his path taking them back into the trees. "Ronon," he croaked louder. "Stop... rest..." He held tight as Ronon staggered to a stop. John blinked heavily, managing a silent curse at his injuries and what it was doing to Ronon. He could feel great, heaving breaths rapidly entering and exiting Ronon's body and John was sure he could feel the pounding of Ronon's heart. "Put me... down." Ronon's grip on his hands was shaking but still firm. "Now," John insisted.
Ronon crouched and ducked out from under John's arms before turning and helping him to lie down. He shed his long coat and laid it over John.
The ground under him was damp and hard and the dirt stung his raw back, but John still relished it, if only because he was motionless for the first time in what seemed like an eternity. He couldn't see Ronon's face through the dark, but could hear the loud, haggard breaths the Satedan drew in and out, and felt him collapse nearby. "Ronon?" John managed.
"What?"
Ronon's reply was more a gasp than anything. John grimaced. "You... okay?"
"Yeah."
"How far to… the gate?" John stared up at the stars, trying to focus his attention and stay conscious.
"Not far."
"We've never really… been far," John retorted quietly. He heard a soft chuckle.
"We're closer now than before." Ronon answered.
In spite of the abject misery that plagued him, John managed a weak chuckle. He heard Ronon scoot up next to him, before he felt a touch on his arm and the cool surface of the water canteen pushed up against his hand. John lifted his head slightly and shook it. "You first."
"I'm not bleeding," Ronon replied quietly.
"I'm not exhausted... from carrying your butt... miles through the... woods," John retorted. "Now... drink." He smiled slightly as the canteen left his hand and listened as Ronon took a long swallow. The familiar smooth surface once again pressed against his palm.
"Your turn."
John's fingers closed around the canteen and he lifted. He felt the strong support of one of Ronon's hands behind his head, while the other helped him steady the flask. Cooled by the nighttime air, the soft wetness caressed his parched lips. The first swallow was harsh against his scratchy throat, but the next was soft and gratifying. He felt the canteen leave his lips as Ronon tipped it away. His other hand remained behind John's head.
"Easy."
"Yeah." Strengthened by water, John's voice was clearer. "Save it." He felt Ronon carefully lower his head back to the ground. "We gotta be... ahead of… them," John muttered. "You should take... a rest."
"Yeah."
Soft, warm blackness whispered to him, but John turned away from it and zeroed in on the note of frustration in Ronon's voice. "You're not... invincible... you know." He smiled slightly at the soft chuckle that came from Ronon's direction.
"Get some sleep, Sheppard."
John had to admit, the comforting bliss of sleep sounded inviting. He pushed it back. "What about... you?"
"I'll be fine."
Ronon's voice sounded confident, but it was a confidence John didn't share. "Ronon..."
"Sheppard," Ronon interrupted, "I spent seven years as a Runner. I can go days without sleep if I have to."
The dark oblivion was stronger now, weakening his control. John felt his eyelids grow heavy. "...okay..." Finally pushed beyond his endurance, John couldn't resist unconsciousness. If Ronon had a reply, he never heard it as he succumbed to exhaustion.
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"Coming up on M44-296, sir."
Caldwell tore his eyes from the large view window and glanced at his pilot. "Geo-synchronous orbit, Webs and scan for life signs."
"Yes, sir."
Caldwell stared at the planet, a moment of hopelessness coming over him. Somewhere on an entire planet? He smothered it. They had sensors and chances are Sheppard and Ronon would be somewhere near the gate… if they were lucky. He looked over his shoulder as Teyla and McKay quickly walked onto the bridge.
"So, where are they?" Rodney immediately demanded as he stopped and looked over Web's shoulder.
"We just started scanning, Dr. McKay," Caldwell bit back his irritation, "nothing yet."
"Of course." Rodney swiftly walked to the back of the bridge and started tapping away on one of the computers tied to the sensor systems.
Caldwell ground his teeth and looked up at Teyla who flashed him a very faint, but understanding smile. His attention was drawn forward again as a diagnostic display came up, showing dozens, even hundreds of life forms spread out over a fairly large region. "Where's the gate in proximity to all these people?" He nodded slightly as a red dot appeared near a small concentration of life signs.
"Looks like six or seven are in relatively close proximity to the gate, with about twenty more not far off." Rodney observed.
Caldwell's gaze narrowed. "The rest are all spread out over a pretty large area," he commented absently.
"For all we know they could be natives and have nothing to do with this. It IS a big continent!" Rodney snapped.
Caldwell turned and gave him a cold stare. "The largest, single concentration of life signs is miles from the gate." He pointed at a densely populated area, well outside the ten-mile grid surrounding the gate. "But, there are groups of five and six life signs scattered all around the gate in almost a search pattern."
"You believe that they are looking for Ronon or the Colonel?" Teyla asked quietly.
"Possibly," Caldwell's brief smile was small. "Sheppard and or Ronon could be leading them on quite a chase, if they've managed to evade capture."
"That's all very fascinating," Rodney walked up and fixed Caldwell with a cold stare, "but how does standing here supposing on what's going on down there help in any way?"
"Because, Dr. McKay," Caldwell raised his voice slightly. "It dictates tactics to us on how to deploy ground support." He turned away from McKay before the doctor could protest and nodded at a Marine standing in the doorway. "Martinson. I want six teams of four, heavily armed, to beam down in these locations." He pointed to various spots on the display. "Make sure one man on each team has the gene and a life signs detector. I want every team to try and avoid confrontation; our objective is to find our people and get them out, but, from what we know, this is a hostile situation." He lowered his hand and looked back at the Marine. "Do what you have to do."
"Yes, sir," Martinson nodded once.
"I wish to go as well, Colonel." Teyla stepped into Caldwell's line of sight.
"I'm going too," Rodney added.
Caldwell smiled and nodded at Teyla. "Figured you two would." He looked up. "Martinson, assign two Marines under Teyla's command." He smiled slightly as Teyla nodded once, her expression warm before she followed Martinson from the bridge, Rodney right behind her.
-------------------------------------------
The familiar tingling of the transporter faded as Rodney immediately pulled out his life signs detector and scanned. "Great," he groused quietly, "every way I turn; life signs."
"How many?" Teyla asked as she walked up next to him.
Rodney started pointing in various directions. "Two that way, five that way and three that way."
Teyla tapped her radio earpiece. "Colonel Sheppard, this is Teyla. Please respond." She sighed quietly and tried again. "Ronon, this is Teyla. Please respond." Teyla looked at Rodney. "Let us start with the two."
"Good plan," Rodney muttered. "Start with the easy one and work up to being screwed." Watching the life signs detector intently he followed Teyla into the trees.
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At first he resisted. Something jostled him, nudged his shoulder... demanded he come back from the comfort of oblivion. He was nudged again, and this time he listened.
"Sheppard!"
The voice that hissed his name was urgent, and John forced his eyes open. "Ronon?" He blinked hard, pulling together his thoughts and fighting off confusion.
"Someone's coming."
Ronon's simple words sent a strong wave of adrenaline through John that was only fueled by the feel of the hard, smooth butt end of the gun Ronon pushed into his hand. In the grown pre-dawn light, John watched Ronon stand and start away from him. "Where are you... going?"
Ronon stopped and looked at him plainly. "To take care of them."
"Ronon you don't know how many..." John's voice trailed off as a distant snap in the bushes caught both his and Ronon's attentions.
"No time to argue." Ronon stood and quickly disappeared into the trees.
"Damn it," John muttered. His grip tightened on the gun as he forced himself to sit up and against a nearby tree. Frustration angered him. He was helpless, barely able to protect himself much less help Ronon. The minutes dragged by, only adding to his aggravation. A sudden, single gunshot pierced the stillness and his heart leapt, adrenaline surging through him. "Shit!" He hissed. The adrenaline fueled a blunt determination within him and cleared his thoughts. Suddenly, the pain in his leg and his chest, his fever, none of it mattered. Ronon was in trouble he knew it. The gunshot only proved it. Ronon was a member of his team and in trouble. Blunt tenacity, the same bulldog willpower that had gotten him out of tight spots before, powered him and he felt a surge of strength from it.
Rolling onto his good knee, John grabbed the tree, forcing himself upwards. Despite his surge of adrenaline fueled strength, he couldn't help but hiss at the waves of pain from his leg, but he pushed through it. Standing on his good leg, John rested his forehead against the cool tree trunk for a moment, before grabbing a nearby branch and staggering a few steps. For the first time since escaping, the woods worked in his favor as he managed to hobble from branch to branch, using his upper body strength to compensate for his bad leg.
Muffled voices reached his ears and he paused, listening.
"… you must be the one who helped John Sheppard escape…"
That voice… Heavy Footsteps. John's eyes closed, memories of a pulley, a whip… a voice, momentarily flowing over him. Ronon. He opened his eyes and as quiet as he could, John staggered a few more steps, ignoring the steady stream of sweat that ran down his face. He peered through the trees, noting four motionless and prone guards laying in a circle around Ronon who gripped his arm and glared up at a heavy set T'eshii pointing a P-90 at his head.
P-90…my P-90… John stared for a moment at the T'eshii. He'd never seen him before, only heard the voice, felt the blows from his large hands… John's gaze narrowed as anger reinforced his flagging strength.
"John Sheppard cannot be far," Heavy Footsteps commented absently. "His wounds must be grave by now."
John glanced at Ronon who remained quiet, his gaze seething. Pulling in a deep breath, John lifted his gun with one hand, and balanced on a branch with the other as he stepped from the trees and into the small clearing. "Not as… grave as you… think." He held the gun as steady as he could and his expression as hating as possible.
A mild look of surprise crossed Heavy Footsteps' face, but as he glanced at John, he never lowered his weapon. "You're stamina surprises me, John Sheppard." His voice was calm and almost conversational. "You do know that gunshot will bring the full force of the T'eshii down upon you, do you not?"
John shifted all his weight to his protesting good leg and let go of the tree. He reinforced his grip on the gun with his now free hand and glared over the top of the gun at his enemy. "I can still kill you first."
"And risk me shooting your friend as I die? I do not think so." Heavy Footsteps gave him a menacing smile.
John felt his strength lagging and knew he didn't have much more time on his feet. His mind raced.
"Shoot him, Sheppard." Ronon hissed quietly.
The words were all John needed as Heavy Footsteps' attention was drawn back to Ronon. John's gaze narrowed as he focused on the center of Heavy Footsteps' head and squeezed the trigger, praying his grip was steady enough.
The compact handgun was more powerful than John gave it credit for as the kick nearly knocked him over. Heavy Footsteps was propelled off his feet and to the ground before he ever had a chance to fire. John closed his eyes briefly at the carnage his shot caused, before looking back to Ronon who slowly stood and wiped a hand across his face.
"Thanks." Ronon's smile was brief. "We have to get out of here, now."
John felt the strength draining from his body. He waved weakly at Ronon's bleeding arm. "You… okay?" he managed, barely above a whisper.
"Yeah, only grazed me. I'm fine." Ronon's gaze narrowed. "Sheppard?"
Ronon looked distant to John, as if he was staring at him through a long, dim tunnel. "Good…" he muttered, "'cause I'm… not." His leg buckled and the last coherent thought John had was how bad it was going to hurt to fall on his bad leg, but he never felt the ground meet him.
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Rodney staggered to a stop as a second gunshot echoed through the trees. "Okay, that was a lot closer," he panted.
"Yes," Teyla nodded. She looked questioningly at him.
Rodney stared at his life signs detector. "We're closest… wait a minute. There's two instead of three now." He looked up, feeling cold dread grip his gut. "You don't think…"
"We do not know, Rodney." Teyla reassured. "The others?"
Rodney swallowed. "Right. There's four more coming from that way," He pointed off into the distance. "They're further out than us, but not much."
Teyla nodded and started through the trees again.