A/N - 'Scuse delay. Not entirely happy with this chapter. Might just edit it on the run. I confess to being out of my comfort zone when it comes to medical stuff, even as pathetically minimal as this. Maybe it's about time I asked for a beta reader to step in? Any takers? Eh? *insert wan smile here* Yes? No? All righty then… *pouts*

oooOOOooo

Rodney decided to suck it up and catch up. After all, this was all about John Sheppard, not him. Then again, wasn't it always? Sheppard had borne the brunt of the locals' ire. Wasn't that always the way, too? Rodney sauntered up nonchalantly, cunningly avoiding potholes and exposed roots. It wasn't exactly a Sheppard strut, but it was close enough. It was more akin to Rodney's patent 'what's on the menu' bunny hop, complete with an attention-grabbing clap of his hands. Which he instantly regretted. Attention-grabbing had its place, but not here and not now. Sheppard could upstage him any day of the week after being on the receiving end of such horrific abuse.

He spotted Carson, already at the door, squinting stage left towards the setting sun. Rodney turned sharply in the direction Carson was looking, to see Major Lorne and his team sprinting towards them. Grunt One and Grunt Two had set Sheppard's stretcher down on a bench, and were on the look-out for bad guys, who were now few and far between. Teyla knelt down beside Sheppard, and began to stroke his forehead. She gently teased matted hair away from the sticky, blood-caked gash. Rodney remembered Maldar hitting Sheppard twice with his own P90, and winced. That should have been enough for anyone to be out for the count. Except for maybe Ronon.

Where was Ronon, anyway? Shouldn't he have been back by now from whatever fool's errand he'd been sent on? He didn't necessarily always like Ronon being there, but somehow he honestly didn't like him not being there, either. Hm. Food for thought.

Teyla, meanwhile, was wittering away at Sheppard in dulcet tones. She was keeping him abreast of the situation, though she most likely wasn't expecting an answer, judging by the way she was looking about her, ever on the alert. Perhaps she, too, was looking out for Ronon. Garrek sat on his haunches beside her, every inch the loose-limbed, double-jointed child, his hands clasped below his chin. He was rocking, watching her intently, occasionally mimicking her ministrations before drawing his hands back to the safety of his chest. He looked like he was cuddling an invisible stuffed toy.

Grow up, kiddo, thought Rodney, but - not too soon, eh?

Sheppard himself looked peaceful, as he always seemed to whenever he was unconscious. Funny how awake or asleep, all was well in Sheppard's world, especially when he clearly felt he'd made the right decision, blast him. Rodney envied him his self-assuredness.

He found himself squatting next to Sheppard, and gently patted the relatively unblemished skin on the back of his left arm, though he wasn't altogether sure which one of them needed the comfort of it. Teyla smiled at Rodney, a sweet yet knowing smile.

Yes, I'm claiming him, too, Rodney thought. Get over it.

Rodney looked around furtively for Ronon. Still no sign. Where was that Neanderthal?

"How goes it, then, Major?" asked Carson. "We're not out of the woods yet, I take it? Any injuries? We're about to turn this home into a field hospital with your help, if you wouldn't mind."

"Colonel Sheppard?" Lorne glanced at the almost unidentifiable body on the stretcher. The hair, as ever, was a dead giveaway. Okay, maybe a hopefully not-so-dead giveaway...

"Who else?" Carson rolled his eyes.

"Yeah. Figures. No, no injuries. They pretty much gave up without too much of a fight. P90s against crossbows? No contest. They've all been rounded up. No hold-outs."

"That's terrific news. I can concentrate on my one and only patient."

"Is he gonna be okay, doc? He's barely recognizable. Apart from... " Lorne gestured towards his own tousled mop.

"It's mostly superficial, thank God. Dirt, blood, bruises, lacerations - nothing out of the ordinary. For Colonel Sheppard, that is. Nothing some good old fashioned TLC and a stint in the infirmary won't sort out. No, Rodney, I haven't forgotten you."

"Did I say anything?"

"You didn't have to. Major, could you assist us in gaining access to this facility? I've been banging on the door to no avail. I believe they might need a little persuasion to open up."

"You betcha," and Lorne readied himself to pound on the door with the butt of his P90 when it creaked open. Lorne wasted no time on pleasantries.

"Step aside, please, sir, ma'am," he hissed as he and his team barged past a visibly peeved Maldar and Shanda. Lorne looked around, then nodded to Carson, indicating that the building was secure. The two grunts marched in bearing Sheppard, who hadn't stirred a jot.

Maldar stiffened. "Why do you bring a dead body to my home? You, boy. You have a hand in this? Wouldn't put it past you. Always bringing home sick animals fit for nothing but dog food and hog swill."

"Pappy? Let 'em fix the man up good." Garrek tugged on his father's shirt sleeve. Maldar glared at his son, his fist clenched. Shanda merely fiddled with the waistband of her apron, and looked away. Garrek, to his credit, maintained eye contact with his father.

"Now, madam, if you wouldn't mind providing clean sheets and blankets, and be quick about it."

Carson gave her no opportunity to say no. He turned to the grunts, and signaled for them to wait near the table. Rodney marveled at how easily Carson could issue an order, yet make it seem like a polite request. Carson's voice invariably took on a more somber, long-suffering tone when it came to dealing with Sheppard or any other patient of his for that matter, making the mild-mannered doctor a force to be reckoned with.

Moments later, Shanda returned with some old comforter, which she laid out on the table, patting it regretfully.

Oh, so Great-Gram'maw's heirloom quilt is about to become blood-soaked? Too frigging bad.

Rodney snorted in derision. Neither Shanda nor Maldar looked any of them in the eye, though they both managed to skulk around. The grunts gently lifted their charge onto the comforter. They settled Sheppard on his stomach and turned his face towards Beckett. Sheppard sank into the comforter, looking more like a sleepy, pouty child flat out after a long car ride than the injured soldier he actually was. Injured? Rodney winced. No, tortured. Almost to death. Rodney's own pent-up fury finally caused him to turn on Maldar.

"Not so tough now, eh? Need goons? A weapon to feel brave? A little kid to beat on? Eh? I can just picture you in your rockin' chair on the porch, rifle at the ready, chewing on piece of straw and screaming, 'Git off mah property!' You sadistic hick!" Rodney startled at Sheppard's ensuing moan, and felt guilty for agitating him. Still, he turned to Shanda. "And you are a complacent, cold-hearted bitch," he hissed.

"Simmer down, Rodney. You're not helping yourself or Colonel Sheppard. Put yourself to good use, there's a good lad, and pass me my medical kit. I have to get him cleaned up, and set up an IV."

"What use is that? Your friend is dead."

"And you're a bloody idiot. What use is that? Move aside." Carson was a sweet soul, rarely judgmental, but when it came to harming another living thing, he took no prisoners.

"And he won't ask you twice, either!" Rodney was on a roll.

"This is my home! It's bad luck to bring a dead body into a decent, law-abiding home!"

"You beat a man senseless, and dump his body on a rubbish heap? That's acceptable to you and yours because it doesn't violate your sensibilities and superstitions?" Carson grew wide-eyed and red-faced.

"He's dead! They don't come any deader!"

"Dead is when rigor mortis sets in, not shallow breathing, you bloody idiot," Carson ground out.

"He lost a lot of blood! He looks - empty!"

"And whose fault is that, I wonder? I'm about to address his blood loss. Now, quit wasting my time and stand the feck aside."

"You offworlders, you put blood back in? Fools! We tried that. Most die."

"There are several different blood groups, not all of them compatible. In any case, this is plasma and antibiotics. I'm certain Colonel Sheppard offered you our medical expertise? Am I right? Hm. Thought so. This may be your property, but get the bloody hell out of my sight. Major Lorne? Would you do the honors?"

"Gladly, doc." Lorne indicated the door with his P90 then aimed it at Maldar, who complied with a shrug.

Beckett turned to Shanda, and pulled the dimpled smile thing. "Is there a chance you could bring boiled water and some clean sheets and towels? There's a love."

Shanda crept out of the room and returned several minutes later, hauling a large, steaming kettle. Garrek brought up the rear with a stack of bowls and a bundle of clean towels he could barely see over. Twilight seeped in through the windows, and Rodney watched in fascination as Teyla lit several candles with her Athosian fire starter. Shanda whispered something to her, and returned with two lit oil lamps, which she placed either side of Sheppard's head, earning a grim smile from Teyla.

"Talk to him, Rodney."

"What do you want me to say?"

"I don't bloody care, just - keep him with us."

"You said he was going to be okay!"

"I just need to know where he's hurting, son, though I'm thinking just about everywhere."

"Okay. Okay. I can do that. Hey, John? Buddy? We - or rather, you - have had quite a time of it, eh? I… kept you clean and - I kept you company. Funny how I can't combine that into one sentence and just say I kept you clean and company. Spongebob and Squidward, eh? We make quite a team, you and I. We even have a bona fide Gary!" Rodney found himself forcing a laugh.

Sheppard mouthed something, and Teyla bent over to his face to catch the merest whisper.

"Doctor Beckett, I fear Colonel Sheppard is becoming delirious. I believe he just meowed." Teyla stroked his forehead once more, a look of concern and puzzlement on her face, and more than a hint of anger. "Rodney, why do you grin so?"

The faintest smile crossed Sheppard's face before the pout returned. Sheppard frowned, and grimaced as Rodney and Teyla wiped him down with clean water, and Beckett swabbed the back of his hand to insert an IV, hooking the bag on a branch of an overhead wooden chandelier. Sheppard was looking less pale and wan, but that could just as easily have been a trick of the warm, subdued lighting, which could flatter even a corpse.

Shanda stood there twisting a towel in her arms. She even began chewing on a corner. Garrek was eyeing up his mother with an oddly wise look on his face. Rodney doubted that Shanda was reacting that way out of concern, more out of having her home invaded and her property damaged, and decided the kid had more sense than both his parents put together. He also saw another adult expression flit across his face. Compassion? Then the boy's bottom lip trembled, and he buried his head in his mother's apron, wiped his eyes and nose, then sidled over to where Sheppard lay motionless.

"You feel good now," he said simply, and started stroking Sheppard's hair.

"Thanks, Garrek. You are a good, kind little boy," Carson stated softly. "I wish there were more like you in the universe," he added, glancing at Shanda. "Now, perhaps you would be kind enough to fetch some clean clothes for him while I finish up here?"

"Might mean something, might mean nothing, but - I'd like to say I'm sorry for what my man did to your friend. He didn't deserve it. Not in the least. They never do."

Shanda didn't wait for absolution. She skulked off, and returned with a two pairs of drawstring pants and two loose matching shirts. Rodney snatched them with a glare, then realized that she had considered his dignity as well as Sheppard's. Rodney blushed. Not with the shame of being for the most part naked, but by his own attitude. Perhaps he had misjudged Shanda, which would be no surprise as he generally held no-one in high esteem. Except John Sheppard. And maybe Teyla. Oh, and Ronon at a pinch. And definitely Carson. He had respected Weir. And then again, there was Sam Carter. Couldn't forget her. Especially as there was the whole unrequited lust thing between them. He drew a line at Zelenka. Or did he? No, he really didn't. Not if he were being honest. Rodney gave a heartfelt sigh.

Rodney wiped himself down with damp towels before choosing the rather fetching denim blue set of clothing, leaving the olive green for Sheppard. The simple act of picking out clothing seemed quite civilized, the act of a carefree human being. It made him feel normal, and he vowed to give thanks for and cherish his creature comforts and everything else he usually took for granted. Like coffee. And toilet paper. Especially toilet paper. Good ol' TP.

He slipped on the pants and shirt, and found them to be surprisingly lightweight, cooling and comfortable against his skin, like silk. Hm. Perhaps this was the roaring trade Atlantis could do with these people. Lingerie. Maybe even sexy lingerie. He thought of Jen, and managed a fleeting smile.

Shanda caught his smile, and smiled coyly. Rodney did his best deer-in-the-headlights impression, and Shanda looked away, blinking the while. Rodney had the strangest feeling that Shanda had deliberately brought them clothing to match their eyes, and that he had fallen into the trap. Feeling somewhat alarmed, Rodney quickly turned his attention back to Sheppard. With Carson's nod of approval, he and Teyla carefully slipped the other pair of pants over Sheppard's feet and up and over his hips, carefully avoiding the fresh dressings. He tugged gently at Sheppard's boxers, and with that, what was left of those boxers finally disintegrated with a resounding snap of overstressed elastic.

oooOOOooo

Feeling refreshed and surprisingly human if not somewhat dapper despite still being barefoot, Rodney stepped outside to find Major Lorne. Lorne was holding Maldar at gunpoint in the shade of a sequoia wannabe, within spitting distance of the log cabin.

"Got any chocolate bars in your tac vest, Major?"

Lorne pursed his lips, and eyed him in disgust. "Here, knock yourself out." Lorne tossed over a power bar.

Rodney tutted loudly. "It's not for me, grunt, it's for a kid. A cute kid. I owe him," he replied, feeling somewhat disgruntled.

"Never thought I'd hear you say that, McKay." Lorne flashed a grin.

"Well, I succumbed, sad to say. But this is a one-of. Don't any of you get used to it."

"You. Spongebob. Can your doctor really fix Squidward?" Maldar looked contrite.

"What do you care?" Rodney huffed.

"Just asking."

"Of course he can. He said so, didn't he?"

"That's all I needed to hear. Open fire!"

oooOOOooo

A/N - finally got our boy in yummy olive green… *sigh* And just maybe you McKay whumpers/thunkers like your boy in denim blue? Ahah, thought so! Gotcha! Y'all are sooo transparent... ;-D

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