Author's note: Whoohoo, Rodney's finally rescued and they're heading for home. Now, at this point I could have them back in Atlantis in no time, and then go and write some much needed comfort scenes. But where would the fun be in that? So, I decided to mix the comfort and healing in with some more Angst. Let's face it, neither John nor Rodney are nowhere near okay. Thanks for the reviews! They tell me what you think and even though this story is finished, they help me tweak the storyline and add a scene here and there. For all you Rodney fans (and I'm one of them) it felt so good writing a chapter with him back at John's side.

So, I hope you enjoyed the uphill ride, because we're going down again…

Chapter 10

Finding it hard to grasp his current situation, Rodney felt like he moved through a black and white world where only the occasional question or order shot in his direction offered contrast. Sunlight had long since faded, filling him with relief. As long as he stayed in the shadows and didn't move from his place in the corner of the wagon, it was like he was back in his mind where nobody could reach him.

He felt safe in the dark.

As dawn approached, the wagon lumbered through the undergrowth of a massive forest. Their transport ceased its shaking when they finally stopped for the night. Rodney hardly felt the difference, trembling so hard that his teeth clattered. He hadn't slept much, just dozed off here and there. Not awake… I'm not awake… They can't hurt me if I'm not awake…

"Get away from me…"

The voice smudged the edges of his world into gray, drawing him out of his safe haven. Confused, he glanced at the shadow that was John, a curtain lifting from his mind the longer he studied him. It struck McKay how weary the man looked. He tensed but couldn't bring himself to do more, still too infused with the memory of pain.

"Just let me attend to your wound." Finalla's female shape hid the opening. "Then I will check for pursuers and find us something to eat."

"I said no," the whispered response came.

Sheppard's weak voice pushed through the nausea of confusing memories. No, Stay safe, stay hidden! Worry clenched his stomach, wouldn't go away. He cringed, expecting crippling pain and icy tendrils that would make him tremble until his mind broke into a zillion different pieces.

Gritting his teeth against smothering fear, he waited.

There was no pain. Warily, he opened his mind.

One thought at a time...

He saw himself working on the Azunite device, well aware of the restrictions placed on his mind. The crystal was so powerful that its effects could reach far and wide. He wondered if the Ancients had used it, wondered what had happened to them. If only he could run more tests… more…

No! No, no, no, no. Pinching his eyes closed, he pressed the palms of his hands on his eyelids, desperately trying to cut off his train of thought. He latched onto memories etched into his mind from when he was free, when he could fight, when he could still dream, and he remembered the moment when it was all taken away. The scorching winds, the flashing of the whip when John tried to protect him...

He looked up, sucking in a breath.

How long ago had the hunt taken place? How long had he been under the influence of the bracelet? His eyes darted to Sheppard.

Worry turned into dread. Lowering his guard in the middle of enemy territory, sleeping all through the night, all through their retreat… That wasn't Sheppard. Before his traitorous thoughts could stop him, he'd drawn himself up. Pushing through self conceived terrors and pain he crawled over and settled himself next to his friend.

"McKay, be careful," Finalla warned. "He does not want anyone to touch him. You know how dangerous he can be."

Ignoring her, he lifted a hand and froze, fighting the manic urge to scramble back into his dark corner. John's lack of reaction… and he'd been wounded… how long… how long ago? Warmth grazed his finger tips, thawing his mind, and he looked down to see he had gripped Sheppard's sleeve. A feverish heat burned right through the fabric, instantly turning his fears around, turning them outward. He pulled John his way. "Oh God," he spoke quietly.

"Hey, Rodney," Sheppard spoke softly, a smirk tugging at his lips. "It's not … as bad as it looks."

McKay looked at the mess that was Sheppard's left arm. "Are you kidding me?" he snapped, John's attempt at lightheartedness opening the floodgates of long suppressed anger. He delved in his vest pocket to lift out the small flash light and aimed it at his friend. Oh… so not good… so not good. He took in the sheen of sweat, the pale features, the rasped breathing. And there, hidden beneath two pools of hazel and green was the pain that had latched onto him back in Kethel's study. "What the hell did you people do to him?!"

Finalla squinted at the light suddenly pointing in her direction. "We treated his wound."

"Oh, oh you did, huh? With what? Bantha crap? Some local plant life you pasted on his skin days ago!" He inhaled a deep breath, fighting down the rising panic. His mind felt slow. Pressure bandages, something to battle the infection... Do we even have all that stuff? "Give me your vest!"

"What?"

"The vest, Sheppard's TAC vest, I need it!" He yanked it from her hands. It had looked ridiculous on her anyway. Rummaging through the various pockets, he pulled out the field dressing, the antiseptic and the Tylenol. "Hold this," he ordered, handing her the flash light. "Keep it pointed at him." He took stock of the items in his own vest and then proceeded to dress the wound with shaking hands.

John watched him through narrowed eyes. It worried Rodney that he read so much hurt in them even though Finalla probably didn't see it. On top of that Sheppard seemed uncharacteristically subdued. Quiet yes, silence to the point of letting Rodney completely take over was wrong on oh so many levels. He turned to Finalla. "I need some water." He handed her some of the water skins strewn all over the wagon.

She took it, gave him back the flash light and then left for the stream that McKay could hear babbling over to his right. He finished his administrations and pressed the Tylenol in Sheppard's hand, it wasn't much, but it would have to do for now. "She uh… should be back with the water soon. I couldn't find our food rations, so we're at the mercy of whatever she finds for us." He narrowed his eyes. "When was the last time you've eaten?"

John dry swallowed the tablets and shook his head. "Can't keep anything down," he said, talking fast as if he was afraid to run out of steam. "Can't take deep breaths, arms and legs are tingling. This damn ore," he wheezed, "has some pretty crappy side effects."

Rodney's eyes grew wide, his mind felt clogged with cotton wool, releasing bits and pieces at a time, so he only now recalled the all important information that the ore's influence on those carrying the Ancient gene was devastating. When John said his extremities were 'tingling', Rodney knew they must hurt like hell. "But… we're nowhere near the mines," he exclaimed softly. "Plus you haven't been in there for more than a few hours."

"The stuff's embedded in the whips… Rodney," Sheppard drawled, some strength seemed to return to his voice.

"Yeah, I know. So?" He eyed the bandaged arm. "That was what? Days ago?"

"Well… yes," John's voice dropped a few degrees. "If you don't count the whip Vex used. Then there was the cell I didn't like much. It was cramped, smelled funny and I couldn't…" his voice trailed away.

A shroud lifted from memory and Rodney saw himself walking passed the holding cells, heard the voice and felt the fear that had made him ignore Sheppard completely.

"…See the sky," John finished quietly, taking shallow breaths.

"God, I'm so sorry." Rodney couldn't keep the self loathing from his voice. Daring to act on his feelings again was hard. "I couldn't fight it," he whispered.

"You couldn't help it."

"But I…"

"No, Rodney!" For the first time since their escape, John sounded adamant. "You saved… my life back there, forget the rest."

McKay frowned at the hurt causing Sheppard to falter mid-sentence. "Side effect?" he asked.

John screwed up his face. "I sort of have a hard time…" He winced, squinting as he fought an inner battle, pain that Rodney now recognized as hidden emotions. John shook his head. "I feel like crap."

Oh that didn't sound good. "So, tugging free all those pesky feelings," he swallowed, far from being comfortable with the subject himself. "What else?"

"Well… I didn't tell them…"

"Yes, yes, I'm sure you didn't want to worry the natives, you can tell me."

"Didn't you feel it? Back at the labs, the mines? Sort of a … draining sensation?"

Rodney looked away, everywhere but at John when the truth hit him. He had, in the mining tunnels where minute by minute raw ore faded the lives working down there. If processed ore was having the same effect on Sheppard, coupled with the wound, the infection and the fever? Hard facts lead to a conclusion that blasted his black and white world into all kinds of ugly colors. He stared at Sheppard, fought to still his trembling hands. "Yeah, feeling pretty tired?"

John nodded.

Not wanting to show his dismay, McKay acknowledged the nod, and then quickly moved away.

Darkness receded to early dawn and mist had risen, dampening the forest floor in wispy moistures strands. McKay paced back and forth the forest clearing. He had just enough sense to turn the flash light off when he'd jumped from the cart a minute ago, all other self-preserving pathways seemed obliterated out of existence.

The blissful disconnected feeling with his body was gone, long overdue sensory input falling all over itself to catch up with him. He couldn't stop trembling, his chest burned, and nausea enflamed his lungs. Right beneath his skin, it felt like every tiny bit of muscle was on fire, infusing him with the trauma of when Sheppard had jumpstarted his world back into life.

John… he would be cold right now. So why didn't he get back in the wagon? Find a blanket, something, anything? Tall shapes rose out of the ground, eerie big trunks standing guard, giving him a false sense of security. He tripped over their roots and halted. God, why couldn't he stop shaking?

He tried to breathe through the anxiety, but that only resulted in a feeling of utter panic painfully cramping his stomach. His mind went in circles, refusing to switch from problem to solution mode and he had to suppress the urge to sit down and curl up. Let the world, colorful or not, solve its own problems.

But he wanted to help, damn it…

Then aside from his physical discomfort, why did it hurt so much? Even the experiences he'd faced in his past, Atlantis, the Wraith, the nearly-dying-on-a-regular-basis thing had never incapacitated him like this. A loud snort startled the hell out of him and he looked up searching the forest. Fog cloaked the shape of a large animal. It snorted again. His muscles unwind when he recognized the sound. One of our own Banthas, come on, get a grip, McKay!

He tried to focus on something other than his own demons, which brought him back to Sheppard. Even an idiot could tell that the man hadn't told him the whole story. Looking up at hearing another sound, he watched Finalla return with several skins of water and a sack probably filled with who knew what kind of local greenery she had found. Oh that's just great. More herbs. Sheppard's going to be thrilled. His feet moved before he had consciously set off in her direction. With every step, his anger grew until bitter resolve wiped out the fear he'd felt moments ago.

The scientist wasn't exactly silent in his approach and Finalla heard him coming long before she saw him. She didn't want to admit it, but his brute behavior back in the wagon had intimidated her. One moment he'd been as docile as a Pully beast, the next his tongue had lashed out at her. She hoped this wasn't his normal state of mind.

"Rodney," she started carefully, unsure how to approach him. "How is John doing?"

He had turned on the tube light and stood huffing before her. Blue eyes glowered at her. What startled her most was the fierce intelligence burning behind them. She had noticed it before, but never without the bracelet, never this clearly.

"He's holding back on me," McKay told her bluntly. "Normally, not so much of a problem. Now? Well, let's just say the phrase 'changes don't happen overnight' jumps to mind, so spill it. What happened?"

She flinched at his scrutiny. "He… asked for our help… but Vex… you have to understand that-"

"You turned on him and handed him over to a power hungry lunatic instead, yes, I know that," he snapped. "What I need to know is um… how?"

She blinked at him, taken aback that he had figured that much out.

"I don't want to down play your um… skills, but Sheppard is black ops… specially… specially trained. No offense, here, but there's no way a Gabrielle type girl and her boyfriend can get the drop on him. Seriously, the man has spider senses."

She had no idea what a spider was, but suddenly felt very small. There was an innate concern laced between Rodney's words that might have caused him to break the hold of the purging ring in the first place. She doubted this was the only reason though. But as long as the answer to why he had been able to step between Sheppard and Vex still eluded her, she would not underestimate his strength again. "We… tried not to hurt him."

"Oh really?" he bit. "Raw leather straps wounds? Laser whip? Ring a bell? I take it you also gave him the 'you-might-as-well-give-up-now' pep talk?"

She reeled with the force of his accusations. Not many dared speak to her like this. Because Vex usually steps in now, her mind supplied. She felt an unsuspected pang of loss and gave herself a mental slap. Life in the Settlement was tough. She had known this ever since she was a child. And Vex's decision to stay behind should not have come as such a surprise to her.

"The Settlement is all I have ever known and although it has its weaknesses, becoming an outcast is no option for me," he had said back in Kethel's study. He had cared enough though, to send her away. "I will tell them you escaped while I was unconscious. I will be fine, Finalla."

She pursed her lips in anger, contemplating what to tell McKay. Everything she had done was for the good of her people. The scientist had no right to judge her on her actions, not when McKay knew what it was like to feel the pressure of the Settlement and he still felt it. She was sure of that. "I do not think John would have given in so easily," she started, studying his features, "had you not told him to give up his quest back at the auction, Rodney."

McKay's eyes grew wide, and then they fluttered in every direction but hers. Finalla could not read him, but recognized the pain in his expression back from when he was purged.

"Damn it," he hissed, attention snapping back to her. "You had him tied up for the entire journey since then?"

"Most of it," Finalla nodded, feeling some of her anger drain away. "I'm sorry, Rodney," she said. "Handing John over to Kethel was wrong. I see that now."

"Yeah," he snapped. "For all the good it does. Let's just hope it's not too late, huh." He yanked a water skin out of her hands, turned and stomped off before she could form a reply.

McKay froze, hands resting on the wood of the wagon just below the opening, He had forgotten about the auction. The scene where he'd told Sheppard to quit. Because I didn't want him to get hurt, I'm sure he knew that!

Back then, maybe. But how about when the ore wreaked havoc with John's emotional control, when people kept telling him his quest was a kind but foolish one and those same people started waving a whip around to emphasize their point. Stop blaming others, McKay! His thoughts turned bitter. How about when I told him it isn't so bad working for the Settlement, when I told Kethel about his weaknesses, and then didn't lift a finger during the whole so called 'evaluation'. Stupid, stupid! Because for all Sheppard's bravado, and his entire kick-ass hard iron mask thing, Rodney knew damn well what it took to get the colonel off his game.

Shoving his reluctance aside, he pulled himself into the wagon. John shifted as he lowered himself on his knees. "Sorry it took so long," he said, taking off his jacket. Awkwardly, he draped it over his friend's upper body.

"You okay?" John asked hoarsely.

"Fine… I just needed to um… here." He put down the flash light and loosened the knot on the water skin to press the opening to Sheppard's lips.

John swiped the thing from his hands. "I'm not that far gone, McKay" he drawled and took a swig of the water.

Glad to see Sheppard in stubborn-colonel mode, Rodney stretched his legs to sit down next to him. Feeling the heat radiating of his friend's body, he glanced sideways. "Look, John…" Insecurity crept into his voice as he suddenly longed for that peace and quiet keeping all the pain nicely locked away. "Maybe I should- I mean… I owe you, big time and I… I don't remember much of what it is Kethel had me working on down in the mines, but I do know that the chances of outrunning it are not good." He blinked, giving in to a familiar tug. "If I go back, I might be able to stop-"

"We are not having this conversation, McKay," John interrupted quietly.

Rodney winced, feeling as if he'd just been slapped in the face. One minute he felt guilty as hell over what he had already said and done, and the other he all but told Sheppard that yes, his efforts to save him were appreciated but it was time to return to Kethel now, so goodbye? What the hell was wrong with him? He groaned, which John, judging by his hardening expression, completely misinterpreted.

"We're going back to the gate," Sheppard bit out the words, his glare turning as cold as ice. "You're going to help me lower the shield these people have in place and then I'm going to drag your ass back to Atlantis! Kicking and screaming if necessary… I'm taking you home. You got that?"

Shuddering with the force of Sheppard's words, Rodney felt himself slip into a conditioned response. "Yes, John."

Shock froze Sheppard's features, the preprogrammed reply hitting him way below the belt.

For a second, Rodney couldn't care less. I was safe there! Dark thoughts clouded his mind. My work was important and you had no right to interfere!

John fell heavily back against the sideboard, eyes falling shut. "Will you please, stop… doing that?" He sounded exhausted, shaken even.

What? Stop doing what?

Sheppard opened his eyes. Fear lacing his normally stoic features shattered the ball of safety Rodney's mind had crawled into. "Damn it!" He squeezed his eyes closed, lowered his head and whimpered. "I didn't… God, Sheppard… I would never…" He looked up, finding to his dismay that John's expression hadn't changed. "Forget I said that, huh?" Forget whatever it was you picked up from me just now!

"Sure," Sheppard drawled. "Just… don't do that again."

Rodney nodded wearily, feeling betrayed by his mind's occasional flights into the darkness. He drew a trembling breath, knowing he had to work through this, had to keep control because damn it, if he didn't, he would drag John down with him.

Tbc