PARADISE
By NotTasha

PART 13: MOLLUSKS

Morning had somehow turned into evening and the sun inched toward the horizon.

Sheppard stood stiffly and moved about their camp. Ford was on guard, watching the woods. There had been no sign of the animals since they'd dispatched the trio that had attacked McKay, but the remaining creatures weren't gone. They heard them from time to time, yipping and cackling deep in the wood, remind them that danger still lurked. McKay would sleep uneasily when the voices were plainly heard.

Beginning his pacing again, Sheppard passed Teyla who was cracking open snail shells and dropping the contents into what appeared to be a frying pan. She gave him a hopeful smile as he paused, and then returned her attention to the still squirming mollusks when Sheppard didn't return the expression. She stabbed one ruthlessly with a knife, then moved to the next shell.

Sheppard wondered if they should try to catch some of the birds. He glanced at the Life Sign Detector in his hand, and followed a blip. Maybe it was something he could catch and cook. There was no telling what the dot signified – what had McKay said earlier about 'blue-butt nincompoops'?

He tracked down the creature and spotted a bright bird in the trees. It took wing before he could take a step closer, gazing down on him with what might have been an imperious sneer – if a beak could actually look sneerish.

Everything here is mocking us, Sheppard thought, turning as Teyla loudly impaled another squirming, nude snail in her pan. Even the snails think they've got something on us. A day ago, they'd thought this was a paradise – but the longer they stayed, the closer it seemed to hell.

Ford watched for the dogs, and occasionally looking in the direction of McKay. The troubled look hadn't left the young man. When Sheppard caught his eye, Ford's expression turned to something more professional and he turned toward the woods again.

As he continued his slow circle, Sheppard paused beside McKay, noticing that the physicist was blinking, looking at the sky, looking coherent for the first time since they'd brought him back.

"Hey," the major said softly. "How're you feeling?"

Still too pale, Rodney made a face. "Like crap," he replied softly. He made a move as if he wanted to sit up, but stopped immediately with a gasp.

"Don't do that," Sheppard chided, squatting down beside the doctor.

"I want to sit," McKay stated, his voice quiet.

"Well, you're not going to." Sheppard pressed one hand against the Rodney's good shoulder, hoping to keep him in place. "You've had a busy day."

"Can you at least move what's under my feet?" McKay asked as he tried to kick away the firewood they'd propped under him.

"It's doing you good."

"No it's not. I'm not in shock."

"You weren't looking too far from it earlier."

"Well, I'm not now."

"We'll see," Sheppard commented, enjoying the irritating conversation, glad that he could finally talk to McKay. Yeah, he still looked awful: pale and drawn out like an old rag. "You don't look so good."

"Oh, hello, it's me…just bitten by a devil dog!" McKay raised his hand a few inches, as if someone was calling attendance. "I'm not supposed to be looking good." He tried to move his good leg, to roll the log out from under him, but he had no strength and the movement was pointless. He moaned and let out an exasperated sigh.

Sheppard dutifully moved the log out from under his feet. He was fairly certain that McKay was now out of danger of shock, but they'd keep a close eye on him nonetheless. "Better?" he asked.

"Better?" The response was sarcastic. "There are degrees of 'better'. I've been bitten by Cerberus and his kin." McKay reached his good arm around so that he could gingerly touch his injured shoulder, groaning as he moved. "It's hard to feel to chipper about that!"

"That'd put a damper on things. You hungry?"

McKay considered for a moment. He swallowed before he asked, "What's on the menu?"

"Ah, some sort of fruit. One of them tastes a like a pineapple mated with ginger. The other one reminds me of Sour-patch Kids."

"Sounds… risky."

"Teyla's fixing up some snails." Sheppard said her name stiffly, and then wondered if McKay would notice his unease, but the physicist had closed his eyes again.

"Oh, maybe not." McKay sighed. He was quiet for a moment, breathing slowly, looking goddamn sick. Then, reluctantly, he stated, "I should have some power bars in my pack."

"Squirreling them away? You were planning on keeping that a secret?" Sheppard asked, reaching for McKay's pack and unzipping it.

"It's a matter of survival," McKay responded, "My survival…" He watched as Sheppard searched about, then withdrew one of the bars. "You're welcome to… have one," Rodney continued. "I suppose it would only be fair to share them 'round."

"No, no… we'll leave those to you," Sheppard declared, relieved that McKay had packed with his usual overstock of goodies. Thank God, at least one thing had gone right! Count on McKay to have extra food. "You can have them. I'm rather fond of those gingery pineapple things… and snails…" Sheppard tried to look convincing. "Mmmm… snails."

Teyla appeared at beside them, cradling a cup in her hands. "Are you thirsty, Doctor McKay?" she asked, kneeling down beside the injured man and extending the cup. "You should drink something."

McKay reached for the cup – stopping his movement as his hand trembled. He stared at the appendage, as if he figured concentration could halt the tremor. Teyla waited, patiently until the doctor finally completed his movement and grasped hold of the cup. "Thanks," he murmured, not looking at either of them in his embarrassment.

He lifted his head from the blanket that someone had bunched up under his head, and held the cup to his lips. If he noticed that Sheppard placed a hand under his straining head, he made no note of it. After a sniff at the cup, Rodney withdrew it with a disgusted, "I'm not drinking this."

"It's all we have," Sheppard stated. "Drink it, or you're not getting the candy." And he waggled the power bar enticingly before dropping it in a breast pocket.

"It's not candy," Rodney responded, trying to sound curt, but his voice was too soft to pack any punch. "It's concentrated nutrition." He took a sip of the water, made a face and sipped again. "Awful," he muttered. Suddenly the trembling became too pronounced and couldn't hold the cup. He tried to drop it, but somehow Teyla ended up with it. John let him lower his head.

Damn, Sheppard thought, watching the tremor passed through the astrophysicist. He's not doing good.

"Why don't you check on the snails, Teyla," Sheppard suggested, as the Athosian lingered. "I think some are trying to escape." He wasn't kidding; one of the hard-to-kill invertebrates had just plopped like a turd onto the ground beside the skillet.

Teyla smiled tightly and laid one hand on top of Rodney's for a moment before she stood and made her way back to her skillet to corral the escapes.

Sheppard watched her go. When he returned his gaze to McKay, he was looking at him curiously. To still any questions, Sheppard stated, "Let me see how you're doing." He pulled back the light blanket. The bandage at his shoulder was spotting a little, but otherwise okay. The long scratches on McKay's chest and his arm were getting red and puffy. Sheppard cursed to himself, realizing that the meager supply of antibiotic ointment had gone to treat the bites. The scratches had simply been cleaned with water and apparently that wasn't going to be enough.

Of course the things' paws would be filthy… why hadn't he thought of that? Why hadn't he taken better care of those scratches? Damn it! John glanced to the pot of water near the fire and wondered if it would do any good to wash them out again? He had to do something. "Hang on a minute," Sheppard stated, and stood to retrieve the pot.

McKay watched him warily, as Sheppard laid hands on the water pot. "Not again," he sighed.

"Just want to get these scratches cleaned up a bit more. Not going to move the bandages." No, he didn't want to mess with that just yet. They didn't have the materials to replace the dressings – they'd used up every last bit of gauze just to get the bites properly covered.

The remaining murk had settled to the bottom of the pot, making the water look almost clean. God, this was primitive, Sheppard thought. Next thing you know, I'll be doctoring with whiskey, herbal teas and a buck knife.

McKay looked annoyed and mortified as Sheppard used a bit of cloth that he'd torn from the inside of his jacket to soak up some of the water.

"I can do it," McKay mumbled. "Just hand it here." He tried to raise his hand, but it was obvious he had no strength to even take the cloth from Sheppard.

"Keep still. I don't like this any more than you do," Sheppard responded, as he grasped McKay's wrist to get at the scratches on his arm. He tried to wash down the cuts as quickly and efficiently as possible, but the work took longer that he'd hoped. The red scratches felt hot to him, they were starting to secrete a nasty looking fluid. Shepard grumbled, wondering why didn't they have a tube or two of Neosporin in the pouch.

"This sucks," McKay hissed as Sheppard cleaned.

"Yeah, it does," John agreed.

Closing his eyes, McKay pressed his head into blanket as Sheppard continued scrubbing at the inflamed cuts. "Ow! Come on… can you just… okay, I'm not the stoic type, you know? Ow! This hurts like hell. It really really hurts. Ow! Stop it!"

"I can't." Sheppard replied, hating this – making McKay suffer through this when he was already in pain. "I'm trying to help you! Stop moving!"

McKay sighed, realizing he'd been trying to pull away. "Sorry…wasn't intending..."

"I know," Sheppard continued sympathetically. "This can't be fun."

"It's not just that," and McKay paused to gasp as Sheppard scoured at one of the scrapes. "Ow…"

Sheppard gritted his teeth, knowing he had to get through this, even though it hurt his sick friend. "Just hang on a bit longer," he said, trying to sound positive.

"My shoulder… it's throbbing. It just won't stop. It feels like I've been ripped apart. I feel so hot and so… strange. You sure there aren't any painkillers in that pouch? Even a little bit?"

"Just the Tylenol and you've finished those off already." Was he doing any good? Sheppard wondered. The cuts just looked redder after his abuse. Was he doing any good at all? Was he putting McKay through this for nothing?

"Great… just great…" McKay gasped sharply again. "Oh...please. I'm not cut out for this."

"Done!" Sheppard exclaimed, throwing the hated, reddened cloth into the pot. "Okay? That's it!"

"Thank God," McKay muttered, trying to draw his hand over his abused chest, but Sheppard countered him, keeping him from touching the newly cleaned skin.

"Don't," Sheppard said gently. "Try not to touch it, okay? I don't want to have to go through that again."

Sheppard regarded the pot of water that he'd just contaminated with the rag. Well, he'd someone should go for another pot before night fell. They still had drinking water they'd retrieved earlier, but would need more for cleaning up. There was probably another hour of sunlight.

"Do you think…" McKay started and then paused.

"Do I think? Sure, sometimes."

McKay creased his brow, not taking the bait. His voice lowered so that Teyla and Ford couldn't hear. "Do you think… that the creature… might have had rabies?"

The question brought Sheppard up short. He didn't know what to say.

"Because," McKay continued, his voice tight, "It sure acted rabid."

"Rabies is a disease from earth. It won't be here."

"We're from earth… and yet we're here. The Ancients seeded humans across two galaxies. It's not… impossible to think that… a disease or two traveled in along with them."

"It's not rabid, McKay," Sheppard insisted. "Why do you always worry about crap like that?"

"I worry. It's what I do." McKay paused, swallowing as his expression deepened. "Doctors will make you take a whole series…" he swallowed again, blinking lethargically. "… of shots if you've been bitten by a dog… when they don't know if it's… had it's inoculations. Do you think… Beckett will have me do that when we get back?"

"McKay, don't worry about it."

"I hear the shots are… right in the stomach."

"Don't worry about it!"

"I wonder what hydrophobia is like," McKay stated, staring up at Sheppard. "Will I suddenly cringe from… drinking glasses? That water… over there... is almost worthy… of hydrophobia."

"We'll get the body," Sheppard declared. "We'll bring it back so that Beckett can give it an autopsy, okay?"

"Necropsy," McKay corrected softly, looking so damn tired. "When it's an animal… it's a necropsy."

"Okay – necropsy. Look, I don't think they give the shots in the stomach anymore. It's not as bad as it used to be," Sheppard said, hoping his statement was true. "But that won't matter. We'll get the body. Beckett can necropsy it when we get back. There'll be no question then. There'll be no shots. It's not rabid."

"When we get back," McKay echoed.

"Yeah," Sheppard confirmed.

"We will get back," McKay continued, his voice getting lower.

"Yeah… of course," Sheppard stated, trying to sound encouraging.

"We will," McKay insisted, even as his voice faded. "It's almost finished… the DHD. I figured it out."

Sheppard grinned. "Best news I've heard all day." But he watched as McKay seemed to lose whatever spark had found him. He was drifting, exhausted by pain and the day's events.

Rodney blinked, trying to open his eyes. "Just have to… put it back… together. It'll be… a snap."

It was rather pitiful watching McKay fight so hard to stay awake. He was so sick -- anyone could see it. Sheppard suggested, "See if you can get some sleep, okay? You'll feel better in the morning. You can finish it then."

"I don't know… don't think I could…sleep." But Rodney's eyelids were losing their fight to stay open. The exhaustion was evident on his face.

"Just relax for a minute. Close your eyes."

"You aren't… going anywhere are you?"

"We're stuck on this beach. Where would we go?"

McKay managed to open his eyes again, to give John one long glance, as if he was thinking of something that he wouldn't voice.

"Close your eyes, McKay. Try to sleep. That's an order. I'll stay with you for a bit, okay?"

And Sheppard sat beside McKay until the man was finally able to drift off. Rodney startled once or twice before sleep completely claimed him, as somewhere in the night the devil-dogs gibbered. When he was certain that McKay was asleep, Sheppard gave him a gentle pat, and then slowly stood. As he slapped the sand off his clothing, he realized that he still had McKay's power bar in his pocket.

Damn it, Sheppard thought, then removed it and slid the peanut-butter bar under McKay's hand before he stood and continued his pacing.

--
TBC
A/N: Sorry, that'll be it for now. Things aren't looking too good, are they?