AN: Hi everybody. Looks like you're still with me here. I'm glad for that but I'd like to hear what you think about the story, too. Am I asking for too much? I just need something or someone to raise my self-esteem a bit, you know... :-) With the exam time it's good to put my mind of school for some time.

And a big chocolate bunny to the person who finds the part which is a paraphrase from an episode in season 2!

First Shift Over

M1X-808, clearing around the Stargate. Markham and Stackhouse guarded the Gate and scanned the forest for others who had warned them that they were returning without Rodney due to injuries. Fortunately, the rain had almost vanished and it was only drizzling.

Stackhouse was standing close to the DHD to dial it as soon as they appeared while Markham was circling in the clearing like a dog searching for its master.

"What could have happened?" Markham asked Stackhouse with another pass.

"Don't ask me, I know as much as you do. But I hope it isn't too severe."

Stackhouse looked at the path, which the others had taken when they had left the Gate area. He didn't see anything but his trained ears caught rustling of undergrowth from that direction. He motioned Markham to have a look and he nodded wordlessly.

He went to the path and heard soft curses and oaths of tired voices. He nodded back at Stackhouse who dialled Atlantis' address immediately but waited with his IDC till the team came to them.

"Oh my God!" the pair breathed out when John's team came into their view and they noticed how battered they were.

John could barely walk but he kept refusing any kind of support because he couldn't admit his weakness in front of people he led. He was the military head of Atlantis and he had had to do many, either pleasant or nasty, things with cool head and his own unhappiness, problems and hurts broke free only when he was in the gym punching the bag or when he locked himself in his quarters and screamed at the injustice in the world with songs from their database playing so loud that no-one could hear him. He was an ordinary person and in many ways just as complex as Rodney. Maybe it was the life on the top and the immense responsibility it had brought.

Aiden closed his eyes in pain every time he put more weight on his left foot. It wasn't broken, he just trod badly in the mess after the fall. And still, he managed to support Teyla who was swaying like a birch in wind. Her dark complexion didn't show how nauseous she felt and that she had vomited along the way. John knew it was a sign of a heavy concussion but they couldn't help her in the middle of the forest.

Maria supported Teyla from the other side while Allan and Carlos closed the group with unsure glances towards John's team and then even the pair at the Stargate.

"Sir," Stackhouse saluted at John who only nodded.

"Atlantis?" John asked tiredly.

"Getting to it." Markham pulled out his GDO and punched in his code while Stackhouse activated his radio.

– – – – – – – – – –

Atlantis, control room. Elizabeth came running there from her office as soon as the Stargate started engaging.

"Who's that?" she demanded hurriedly, hoping it was the rescue team with Rodney.

Peter looked at the computer set on the identification of Iris Deactivation Codes and shook his head. "We don't have any identification, Doc."

Elizabeth's eyes widened in fear. "Who's off-world apart from the rescue mission?"

Peter checked his computer and frowned. "I have two teams, both of them with the Stargate planted on the planet." He looked up at her. "We have to wait."

Elizabeth watched the Gate anxiously wondering what was going on. "Could it be a trap?" she wondered aloud.

"I don't…" Peter started when the computer blinked green as in 'IDC validated'.

"It's Sgt. Markham," he informed Elizabeth.

She breathed out, wishing everything would go back to normal. Unfortunately, her worries beat her when Stackhouse called: "Atlantis, this is Sgt. Stackhouse. We need a medical team at standby with three gurneys."

Elizabeth nodded at Betty and she called the Infirmary straight away. "They'll arrive in a second, Sergeant. The shield is down."

Peter deactivated the iris and a while later first Allan and Carlos, then John, Aiden, Teyla and Maria, and finally Markham and Stackhouse stepped through.

Elizabeth rushed down to the Gateroom, terrified for the team. The enquiry for a medical assistance scared the hell out of her. When she reached the bottom and looked at the arrivals, she opened her mouth and couldn't say a word. She was gaping flabbergasted at the state her foremost team returned. They looked as if they should drop dead any time soon and they were so scratched and scraped that the only thought that came into her mind was that they fell down a rocky slope.

"What happened?" she finally got from herself looking at them.

John took the word. "We activated a defence mechanism in the corridor while we were looking for Rodney. It fell on us. Others dug us out."

Elizabeth closed her eyes. "Have you…?"

She didn't have to finish her question so that John knew what she wanted to know. He lowered his head and shook it.

Elizabeth inhaled sharply but couldn't ask more because Carson's team came rushing to them. "What have ye done this time that ye need stretchers?" he demanded the team while his assistants prepared for about-to-die cases.

John smiled crookedly. "I did nothing, I swear! We can make it to the Infirmary ourselves, as usual."

Carson scanned the trio and turned his head in disbelief with a small oh-not-again smile. "Have ye fell down a hill and ended up in thorny bushes?"

Teyla swayed some more and almost fell off Aiden's shoulder. He had to catch her by her injured shoulder and she silently cried out in pain.

Elizabeth looked at Carson helplessly, who snapped his fingers and got the stretchers at hand. "Lieutenant, put her here," he said patting the nearest one, "and then sit yerself on that one. Major, I'm 'fraid this one is yers." He then indicated the final one.

Maria helped Aiden get Teyla on the stretcher and Carson asked: "What happened to her shoulder?"

"Dislocated," John announced, reluctantly sitting on the stretcher but being happy to finally have something solid to sit on. He kept a mask of annoyance although he was feeling so weak in his knees he thought he wouldn't make it to the Infirmary at all by himself.

Carson pushed him into lying position and the trio was quickly whisked away. Elizabeth followed them with her eyes until they disappeared behind the corner and then she looked at others. "Have you found anything?"

Jorgenson shook his head. "I'm sorry, ma'am. We searched thoroughly but it was raining heavily. And the Dart hasn't shown up since we stepped through the Stargate. Then Sgt. Vysockaja called that she'd felt a tremor and she couldn't contact the Major's team and she went down and told us about the fallen rock. So we stopped searching, went to her and dug the team out. They were stuck in between two collapsed parts of the corridor. Then we returned as fast as we could."

Elizabeth sighed. "Thank you, Captain. Go dry and change and report to my office in ten minutes."

"Yes, Dr. Weir," Allan said.

She turned her back at them and went upstairs. The six wet unsuccessful rescuers left the Gateroom quickly because they found the damp uniforms annoying.

Elizabeth reached the control room, clicked her comm resolutely and called: "Capt. Grimfin, can you hear me?"

Grimfin was currently working out in the gym. He set the weights aside and reached for his communicator. "What can I do for you, Doc?"

"Prepare your team and teams 3 and 6. You're going on the planet you were supposed to leave for earlier. The Dart hasn't shown up for a couple of hours and I need you to clear a passageway through a collapsed corridor because Dr. McKay is believed to be at the bottom. Then you could check the area behind the Stargate and the forest towards the ruins. Can you make it?"

Grimfin nodded even though she couldn't see him. "I can, madam. I'll have everything ready in fifteen to twenty minutes."

"Very well. Dr. Grodin will dial the planet for you once you come to the Gateroom. Weir out."

Elizabeth sighed and looked at Peter questioningly. "Will you…?"

Peter nodded. "Of course."

"Thank you," she breathed out. Then she went to sit in her office to calm herself down before she would learn more about the mission. They had been off-world for five hours and they hadn't heard a word from Rodney!

She quickly looked up the planet's details and found its rotation speed. "Oh, no," she whispered when she counted that sun shone 14 hours a day on average in the climatic belt of the Gate at that season. "They have only about two hours of daylight left. Rodney must be terrified to death that it takes us so long to save him."

She couldn't imagine him being scooped up by the Dart despite her feelings. It was too horrible a thought.

– – – – – – – – – –

Nevertheless, she was so right about Rodney being really scared. And even more so when he woke up and all he could see was darkness. His heart began racing, his claustrophobia pictured him different scenarios of where he had been closed by his worst enemies, Kolya being one of them, his pulse raised from 70 to 170 in four seconds. Sorry about this small exaggeration to give you the idea of how shocked, horrified and lost he felt.

It took him a while to remember where he was and what had happened. He realised he must have fallen asleep at some point, curled against the fir, and it was late at night on the planet and nobody came to save him. He added a silent 'yet' to the end of this thought because he wanted to believe that a rescue would come as soon as possible.

He tried to move but he was too numb with cold. Although the planet's temperature hardly changed in this climatic belt no matter the season, the blowing wind made water in his clothes evaporate and take his much-needed body heat away.

Parts of his body, which weren't numb, ached unmercifully. He shivered a bit and pressed his chin to his knees. He wondered how he managed to stay in one position all the time but he didn't have a clue how many hours had passed in reality.

He braced himself and pressed his uncooperative body to a sitting position against the fir. During the process, he managed to bump his head against the lowest branches and was showered with needles.

"Nice," he sighed and tried to sweep the needles that got stuck in his hair. He frowned when his left hand touched something sticky and the movement smeared it all over the crown of his head. He took his hand down, fumbled around with the right one and found his torch.

"Please, work," he whispered before pressing the button and, to his immense surprise, lighting up his surroundings. When he shone it at his left hand, he scowled in distaste. It was covered in yellowish sap, presumably from a fresh cut in the higher parts of the tree.

"Wonderful." Rodney flexed his jaw and wiped the hand vigorously on his pants, temporarily glueing it to his left thigh.

"I'm so lucky," he muttered sarcastically to the night before shivering. Then he turned off his torch and rubbed his forehead with his clean hand.

He knew it would be of no use to walk anywhere in the middle of the night with his torch on as it had only a limited amount of battery, which he may need more later. So he lay down on the soft carpet of fir-like needles and curled up again into the smallest ball possible to conserve as much heat as he could and not to hurt his right foot more.

He breathed out frustrated that his supplies were so scarce, that he was so dirty, that he was feeling so… He didn't know how to describe his feelings but they weren't pleasant at all. He blinked several times in an attempt to see something but no stars or moons penetrated the cloudy barricade in the sky.

"Fine, how long can it be?" he asked aloud and then replied to himself: "Sun shines for plus minus fourteen hours. We arrived one hour after sunrise, spent good five hours in the ruins; that leaves about eight hours. Seven for the rescue mission itself as Elizabeth would want more facts."

He closed his eyes and went on silently: "And it's night-time. So it's been well eight or nine hours since the rescue team should have been sent. And I'm still here under this tree."

He remembered having a watch but he didn't have it on his left hand anymore. He sighed brokenly and listened for any sounds. He realised the torrential rain had diminished to just a drop here and there from the tree canopy because he couldn't hear its steady hiss anymore. The fir was, fortunately, dense enough and the long needles led water away so no more moisture reached him.

Rodney didn't know why that slow and gloomy drip-drop reminded him of crying. As if somebody didn't want to show their sadness but still let out a tear from one and then the other eye, letting it drop from their lashes. Was it for the past that couldn't be changed? Was it for the difficult present? Was it for the uncertain future? Who knew.

"I should hurry to the Stargate," he muttered to himself and then wondered why. Jorgenson's team was safe and mainly dry and happy at Atlantis so he didn't have to hurry to inform Elizabeth about a rescue mission. He needed to be rescued himself.

"I should be the one at Atlantis saving the poor idiot stuck on this planet and not actually be the poor idiot stuck on this planet!" he exclaimed silently, rubbing his arms for some heat.

He didn't have the energy to speak aloud so he went on mentally, 'Oh, how nice it would be at Atlantis now. Out of this damp world. Warm and Dry. Well-fed. With my team. In a lab with Zelemka or what's the guy's name. Czech is such a difficult language.'

His mind pictured Atlantis like a Lost Paradise. He frowned when he realised that eight hours, the time he knew for sure that he was missing, represented a normal shift, a normal work-day of most of the crew, so maybe the first wave of researchers had gone home already.

"Eight hours," Rodney snickered sadly. In his mental voice, he chided himself: 'It's enough for a day for a normal person. But you aren't normal. When was the last time you worked an eight-hour shift? Can you remember? Oh yeah, it was at school. You started at 8 am and finished at 5 pm. Eight hours, if you take away the lunch break of one hour which you have always filled with work, first theoretical works for future use, then to earn money for you and Jeannie.'

Rodney sighed and shivered. This inner talk wasn't helping at all but he needed to blame something for his condition. To blame everything but himself.

"No wonder you're tired," he continued aloud, "when you've overworked your body this much since college. Even Major Sheppard was angry with you for working on a day off. It only shows that good intentions do not pay off. Now, sloth isn't a deadly sin. It's admirable. Chasing unreachable goals, like trying to find a charged ZPM, who would want that when everything you ever wanted: approval, recognition, a fulfilling job in the field of science, meeting new cultures, travelling in a clack of your fingers, people who are close to you gradually getting past your façade to see you wholly, a woman you would sacrifice your life for… Who would want to lose all that when the contact with the Earth is re-established?"

Rodney sighed as he didn't want to lose any of these. He knew the woman had someone back home. He had realised they didn't match, however, she needed an impulse to see that. He knew she had left him, knew about the video message for Simon. She had even confessed to Rodney that she hadn't felt strong enough to face Simon when announcing her expedition to the Pegasus. And he understood. She had gone away with her tail between her legs and retreated from the problem with what little grace she was able to muster. How could she possibly tell somebody she'd spent years with that she needed a change and may never return. And in person?

"Stop it, stop!" Rodney cried out. "I get it, you freaking substitute of a voice from my subconsciousness. That's enough. I know I have feelings for her but who wouldn't? She's responsible, adorable. She gets on well with everyone. Even John!"

Rodney didn't want to admit to himself that he felt jealous towards Elizabeth and John. Sheppard wanted her and so he got her. Rodney himself was only a friend for the worst of times when John was injured, when he hurt Elizabeth by some of his actions. Damned Casanova. She didn't deserve a fly-boy who eyed all women they met off-world. And he didn't notice eyes or hands. He preferred every pair bigger than an orange, and that he could choose up to the size of a yellow melon, speciality of the planet of Mariena.

Rodney turned his head in disbelief and wondered how the team trip went and whether they had a nice time at the lake. If he hadn't committed himself to Jorgenson's team, he could have spent the sunny day on the mainland and maybe swimming in the lake. He shook himself violently but this time it wasn't in cold. His throat closed tightly when he relived his encounter with the river. He couldn't breathe for a minute before his muscles relaxed and he could draw in a deep breath.

"Right, no swimming for me…for quite a while," he decided on the place. "But I'd love to know if Teyla took a swimsuit or not."

His lips parted in a small smile. In some areas, she was more mature than the entire expedition, whereas those typical for the Earth left her bouche bée like a small child. Rodney thought for a while for the right equivalent of translation from his mother tongue to English and found only 'gaping mouth wide open'. He remembered the time when he had been reading a book in French and she entered his lab to ask if he would join them for dinner. He replied to her in French with his real accent, which he hid successfully every time he used English, and shocked her so much she thought there was somebody else in his body. He didn't realise it because when speaking with Elizabeth he could use French and even Russian and she understood what he meant.

Until then Rodney hadn't realised that he was sending small tears down his cheeks. Those memories of his were so valuable and he hadn't cherished them, hadn't told others how much he liked being a part of a team, belonging somewhere. He wiped his eyes.

"You can only fit in when there's a space to fill…" he whispered so quietly. Then he shuddered in cold and wormed into the needles so that he could partly use them as a blanket. Something was always better than nothing.

He sneezed, closed his eyes and hugged his knees. He hoped to fall asleep again but with the cold and dampness and his aching body he seriously doubted that he would find any rest that night.

Nonetheless, whoever watched over him then was so gracious that they soon allowed Rodney to fall asleep again and regain as much energy as he could for the following day.