M1X-808, on the forested hill. Rodney was still continuing along the deer trail winding around the hillside. The rain was still falling gently, lazily even, and Rodney knocked at rocks, whenever he came across some, that the rain hadn't become as heavy as during the previous days. During the rest of the time, he had to remind himself that the trail was really meandering upwards, that he would reach the Stargate because he was on the correct river bank. However, it would take him a hell of a time and he doubted he had that much time left in himself.

Thankfully, his misery had also had a bright side, because he had come across a yellowish berry-bush with footprints identical to those of the deer beneath it.

Rodney was elated and rushed there. He picked one small berry and sniffed it cautiously. No scent. Or his smell cells were stuffed up with a cold. So he decided to try eating it. He put it in his mouth and bit through its soft skin. Sweet juice spilt in his mouth and he delicately savoured its taste. No-one would wonder about it after spending three days on dry, almost tasteless, power bars. In the middle of the berry there was a hard seed, which he spat to his palm. It was black and round and if Rodney didn't know better, the whole berry-seed concept reminding him of a yew would make him feel uneasy. But only the yew's seed was poisonous, so it shouldn't do any harm to him.

He made up his mind and began picking the berries hungrily. They eased both his hunger and thirst, slowly filling his empty stomach. Unfortunately, he knew he shouldn't eat too much, or he would be sick. He remembered a documentary series which he had watched with his best friend, his cat Salieri. It had been something about human body enduring harsh conditions, and surprisingly that fact about cramps and aches stuck in his head.

Reluctantly, he stopped after five handfuls of berries and set off along the trail again. He eyed the bush, which was still full of ripe fruits, longingly, but he admitted that he couldn't afford any more problems. Since then his progress had been slowing down, and now even the evening was falling again.

"My third evening in the wilderness," he said with a hint of disbelief. Not that he wasn't glad but he was surprised that he was still alive and moving. Rodney sought a shelter, feeling hurt, tired and weak like a newborn. Like Alma, the first Athosian, in fact, the very first child born on Lantea.

Once he piloted Carson's Jumper with his medical team to the mainland with John being his co-pilot because Elizabeth had insisted that he needed more flight time. They made it there all right, only to be greeted by a shocked Athosian claiming that his wife had got into labour. Carson was very worried about the pre-time labour, it was one month before she was due, but it was quickly brought under control and Sariel gave birth to a tiny beautiful girl she named Alma.

Rodney smiled at the hope this memory filled him with. Everything would have a happy ending. "But I'm exhausted and there's no sense in going further tonight without light."

Rodney was in no shape to push himself to walk under the cover of the starless night. And he so needed to rest his sore legs! However, he didn't want to stay out in the open area.

A bit further up he found a small hole under the roots of an old tree. It was dry and Rodney was sure it would make for a nice one-night bedroom. He crawled in and for a moment he just sat, breathing in and out deeply, watching the gentle pattering outside. It felt so good to sit, to be still.

"I should have stopped hours ago," he mused aloud. "But there was no hiding place down the trail."

He yawned loudly. His eyelids kept falling down in exhaustion, but he forced them open again every time. He huddled in his damp jacket, arms crossed around his rumbling stomach. His bars were gone, with no immediate replacement and, to admit the truth, he was hungry.

He sighed and searched his pockets for the casing. He believed he couldn't damage it any more than it had already been, and pushed it out to the rain, close to his opening. He wasn't about to give up, he only did his best to collect all his remaining power for the last try.

He sighed and pulled his injured ankle closer to examine it. He hadn't found much time to pay to the injury with the leech and additional issues, so now it was the time. He didn't mean to, but he pressed the side of his ankle. A sharp pain shot through his foot like a jolt of electricity, and that he did know what it felt like to be electrocuted. With a gasp for breath, he let go and cried out in pain.

"Oh, okay…" he took a deep breath to ease the throbbing. "It's broken," he decided. "I won't touch it again until I have to walk." His eyes closed and he instinctively partly stretched his legs in the tiny area. "It's only my luck to walk miles on a broken foot."

He lay down as comfortably as he could, watching the ground and roots above his head. 'It's not at all like those ornamented ceilings at Atlantis, but there's also some sort of art to it,' he thought to himself while studying the patterns. He realised all too well that he would have to continue his journey in the morning, and that he would have to overcome his physical lacking.

His mind was running on an energy debt. The light everlasting dripping of water into the projector, together with the constant hiss, was hypnotic for his mind, which then decided to wander away from his fears, misery, pains and problems.

First, he zoned out, losing contact with reality, cutting himself off his aching body. He couldn't feel that his right boot felt painfully tight around his injured foot. Thankfully, it saved him from the dilemma whether or not he should cut through the muddy laces, if the boot was really acting like a makeshift cast, or if its pressure was preventing blood from getting to his toes and so doing more bad than good to the fracture.

Not that these thoughts hadn't turned up on his mind, but he rather distanced himself. However, it was worse with his left calf. He couldn't release the pressure of the wood on the wrapper or the tight cord above, which was slowly becoming unbearable because it was strangling his blood vessels for too long. His mind stopped these facts from reaching and disturbing his conscious, aware part just for the sake of keeping his sanity.

And then, when he calmed down and was drifting on the edge between being awake and sleeping, his mind turned to things that could keep him alive for a while longer.

'What are people at Atlantis doing right now?' he thought to himself. 'Maybe it's the evening there and some are heading for an early dinner. I wonder what's on the menu tonight.'

His stomach growled silently and Rodney put a hand over it. "Fine, no teasing you," he whispered to it.

'What can the activities afterwards be? Is it a movie night today?' he thought before continuing aloud: "We've seen all those movies a dozen times already, but it's nice to gather up and chat, although I haven't been invited around much. It can be fun to listen to people talking when they think you either don't listen or don't understand their language but you do…"

Rodney sighed. His thoughts moved to John and his favourite 'Hail Mary' game, which he wanted to play too often for Rodney's liking.

"You can be a real pain in the ass, Major, when your ire is up, you know," Rodney told the roots above himself. "I bet you're annoyed with all this. Or you take it as it is and you've moved on. I have never been one of your men, have I? I'm wondering, have you already seduced another girl? I really don't know what the entire female population sees on you."

Rodney chuckled throatily. That was so typical of John. Should they both, or their team disappear suddenly, John would be missed by the entire expedition, while he wouldn't be missed at all. He thought so in his rational mind. Why couldn't he realise he was genuinely underestimating himself?

"What are you doing now, John? Training with Teyla, maybe? Or reading your 'War and Peace'? I wish you didn't treat the book so lightly. It's a magnificent work."

Rodney remembered reading the book in the original version, with all the small nuances of Russian. With the devotion to well-known writers. He had to reread it twice to better understand what the author meant to say, to realise how things were connected in the plot line. But then again, it was such a heavy book that it was worth reading it again and again.

Rodney smiled. "That wouldn't be a book for Teyla. It's based too much on Earth customs to be comprehensible for our Pegasan friend."

He sighed. "Oh, Teyla. You're probably visiting your people on the mainland, right? Hope you're doing okay with John and Aiden. They can and will support you when you're feeling lonely with all your friends staying on the mainland. These two can look after you. Maybe John has even been teaching you how to play football and you'll master it soon. I'm sorry I haven't got to show you hockey but I still had other issues around the City to solve."

Rodney lowered his gaze to his hands spread over his belly and thighs. He couldn't distinguish much in the dim light but he didn't care. Sometimes, he figured, it was better not to see the tiny details. The concept was enough.

He rubbed his forehead with his right hand while his restless thoughts strayed to Aiden. "Ford's a good kid, really," he mused. Then he shook his head. "No, that's not right, he's a good man, though he's one of the youngest people on the base." Pressing the bridge of his nose, he added: "He's got more guts than I'll ever have. He can get scared but he will always do what John tells him; he does everything to protect me on missions when John sticks to Teyla."

Rodney looked out to the open area and wondered: "Have you already named the planet I'm stranded on, Lieutenant? You like inventing names; have you thought of becoming a linguist before joining the Army?"

The night had fallen and Rodney closed his eyes as well. "I hope you're doing something together. I wish I were there with you, even though you get annoyed by some of my comments. I hope you're together, supporting one another like you do it every day. I hope that you're having a good time. Are you worried about me? I've been here for three days, you know. Are you searching for me, or have you given up hope?"

With the last words, his mind switched off and he fell asleep for a few minutes. It wasn't a deep sleep, he had just dozed off from the stressful day. Therefore, he snapped awake soon after he registered a distant howl. Subconsciously, of course, thanks to John's training.

As soon as he overcame the confusion by the lack of light, he chided himself. "You mustn't fall asleep deeply or this will be your last night."

He took a deep breath. "Now, who haven't I thought about yet?"

He took a moment to cross-out names from the short list of people he cared about. The last remaining name was Elizabeth Weir.

Rodney whispered: "She's probably in her office, working on the latest issue. My case, perhaps. She does her best and has a hell of a responsibility. I hope no-one is giving her a hard time about all this. It wasn't her fault that the natives had set a defence mechanism in the form of a Dart."

This reminded him of the casing laying outside in the rain, and he stretched out for it. It was full of cold water but he drank it anyway to get some liquids in his system. Then he placed it back outside and lay down.

He scratched his left shin and paused before he could reach the calf. His thoughts lingered on Elizabeth. When he met the old Elizabeth and learnt about what had happened the first time, he died a little inside. Mainly because he, his first-timeline version, hadn't been there for her when she needed a back-up at the Ancients' Council.

He didn't get to know the first-timeline Elizabeth much, well, they had spent only a couple of hours together, however, he believed she was similar to his own Elizabeth.

"Oh, Elizabeth. You're always trying to fulfil all requirements of your job and to be infallible, but you're flawed, as any human is. But to me, you are perfect. In fact, that's what I love about you: your quirks. Like how you twist your hair in apprehension when you think no-one's looking, or how your belongings on your desk have to be in some exact, incomprehensible order only you know."

Rodney sighed. All his life he had never stopped long enough to get to know anyone the way he had known her. He just hadn't been interested. Though she hadn't shared much of her past, he had already felt as if he had known her for years. Her actions alone showed her true nature and, in many cases, that was more important, more telling than any conversation could be.

Suddenly, Rodney frowned. Had he honestly thought that he had had a chance with her? Simon aside, he could never have ended up with a woman like her. She was too perfect for him, so completely and utterly above him. And despite what everyone thought, he wasn't just a careless scientist with snappy replies to everything. Many times, he preferred to be alone. Sure, he had dated a number of women, but she was different somehow. Maybe it was her refusal to put up with any of his crap, or maybe it was the way she made him feel as though he could do anything. Either way, it terrified him. He was afraid that one way or another, he would end up hurting her in the end.

"When I remember how I ignored you the first few hours in Antarctica, I would rather hide myself in my den and never leave it again. I can't believe I behaved the way I had. But I didn't know you then. Sure, the book you borrowed me there when we came across one another in the makeshift library was fantastic. I've never been fond of sci-fi literature but, with our profession, it isn't unusual. We're dealing with 'sci-fi' events every day, aren't we? And I would never admit to you how long I was actually taking heart to return it in person."

Rodney sighed. Those memories were magnificent, marvellous, magical. And so wonderful that they were lulling him to sleep again. But there was one other thing Rodney needed to make sure of. It was something he hadn't resolved to for years.

"How was it?" Rodney wondered silently all of the sudden. "Now I lay me…Lord…my soul…no, that's in the other half." He bit his lower lip and tried again. "Soul is second, so…so body is first. But where's keep and where take?"

Rodney rubbed his temples. His mind was failing him. "Now I lay me down…pray the Lord…body …take…if I…I wake…soul to…to take."

Rodney covered his eyes. "Dammit! How the hell was it?!" Tears stung his eyes. "I can't even recite four verses. And that I learnt them by heart years ago!"

He sighed brokenly. Then he took a deep breath to calm himself down again and started once more. "It's in there somewhere, Rodney," he encouraged himself and gently knocked on his forehead with a fist. "You just have to find it."

And then the verses came to his tongue as if he had read them only seconds before. "Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my body to keep. And if I die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take."

His eyes over-filled with tears and some escaped down his cheeks. This prayer was the only thing his father had taught him when his mother was away. And, retrospectively, he guessed that all the evil in the family life had been his mother's doing. His father had been a good guy, he had just…knocked up the wrong woman when she was eighteen and he nineteen.

Rodney rubbed his eyes and looked out of his hole. He kept his eyes open although he knew he needed to catch a few hours of sleep. Then, involuntary, gradually, he couldn't keep his eyes open anymore, and he succumbed to the gift of a small rest.