Chapter 7
The early morning sun sifted through the empty trees, making the frost on the leaf littered ground sparkle like diamonds. Trudging wearily out of the forest into the hidden meadow containing the cloaked Jumper, the team from Atlantis spirits picked up considerably at the sight of two sets of footprints headed straight towards the small crafts location.
"Honey, we're home," Sheppard called out, his breath misting in front of his face. Spying movement, he trained his P90 towards two figures dressed in guard uniforms, emerging from the dense growth opposite the ship. Haggard wasn't even strong enough of a word to describe his missing friend; McKay looked downright miserable. Clicking the safety back on his weapon, he nodded, "I see you brought a friend home for breakfast. Don't you remember, I told you to call and check first to make sure it was okay? What if your mom and I had plans?"
"Oh, uh, sorry," McKay quipped, with fake indignation. The missing man's arched brow and stifled half-smile was all it took to undo the others. Dropping their packs, they gathered around Rodney, filling the air with non-stop questions, while reaching out to touch his face or arms to make sure he was really there.
Rodney's abnormally short one and two word answers kicked the Scotsman into doctor mode. With a firm grip around the scientist's waist, Carson gently steered the wavering man towards the open rear hatch of the Jumper. He could feel the fine tremors of exhaustion rippling underneath his hand as muscles on the verge of collapse twitched. Bearing more of the tired man's weight,he asked softly, "How are you doin', lad? Still have the headache?"
"Came back with a vengeance," Rodney hissed under his breath. Swallowing the saliva that wouldn't stop, his pale blue eyes squinted to meet Carson's gaze, "I'd really like to lie down." Sheppard's silent appearance and assistance on his other side was met with a sigh of appreciation. "Grose helped me …," he whispered before swallowing again, his eyes no longer open. "Got me here."
"I know," the major said reassuringly. "Dr. Weir's talking with him now." Meeting Beckett's concerned gaze over the scientist's lowered head, he raised a questioning brow.
The physician nodded towards an empty bench inside the Jumper. "Give me a bit and then I'll let you know," he said quietly, reaching for his bag.
With nothing left to do but get in the way, Sheppard patted Rodney on the knee before joining Weir and the others in their discussion with the stranger.
Carson pushed up Rodney's damp sleeve, wrapping the BP cuff around his friend's cold arm, and pumped, watching the numbers first rise, then fall, and settle. 'A little low,' he thought to himself. Next, the thermometer he had to hold in place so as not to slip out; beeped, registering an elevated temperature. "When did you eat last?" he casually asked while checking Rodney's tender shoulder, eliciting a small groan from the man when he raised the arm away from his side.
The slow rise and fall of Rodney's chest paused briefly before he mumbled, "Half a bar for breakfast."
Nodding, the doctor removed a dry uniform and blanket from the overhead compartment. Rodney barely even registered Carson helping him change until the doctor gently pushed him to lie down, draping him with the blanket. "How about yesterday, lad, what did you eat?"
"Breakfast," he mumbled, sleep heavily pressing into his consciousness. "Power bar…" Soft breathing emanated from the still figure.
Carson sat back on his heels, studying his friend for a moment before removing a small instrument from his bag, using it to prick Rodney's finger. Wiping the resulting drop of blood on a test strip, he inserted it in to the handheld monitor to check his glucose level. With a quiet sigh, he setup an IV, adjusting the output. Rodney never even stirred.
"How is he?" Dr. Weir inquired softly, coming to stand beside the physician.
The Scotsman hadn't heard her enter and looked up in surprise. "He'll be alright once he rests and we get his levels straightened out."
She reached out and straightened the blanket that had slipped off Rodney's chest, "Did he say anything about what happened?"
"No. It's goin' to be a good 6-8 hours before he even begins to wake back up." Glancing towards the front of the Jumper, Carson then looked to Weir. "Who is the fella that helped him? He looks like the inmate from the security center."
"He is. Sheppard and Stackhouse are giving him the third degree, trying to figure out if his story is true."
"What story is that?"
Dr. Weir crossed her arms and scowled, "Mr. Grose claims he came through the Stargate."
SG: A
Major Sheppard sat in one of the front passenger seats facing the seated stranger, "So Gross…"
"Grose," the explorer corrected.
"Grose," the major said, letting the name settle with a smile. "Why do you need our help? Why didn't your crew try to return and come and get you?"
Sitting up straight, Grose rolled his neck and shoulders. "I no longer am in possession of my communication device. Even if I made it to the gate, I have no way of contacting my home world."
"Yeah, I can see how that would suck. What makes you think we can help you contact them?"
The stranger glanced about the interior of the ship. "You appear to have the technology that I need."
Sheppard nodded, his hazel eyes never leaving Grose's face. "What were you doing here on Pennatroca?"
"Geological survey. An advance team discovered a thermal anomaly underneath the city."
"You're telling me, you came here from another planet to check out an underground anomaly?"
Grose nodded and then frowned, "Major, why are you asking me all these questions?"
"Oh, I don't know. I'm a curious kind of guy." Seeing Beckett move in the rear of the Jumper, he now had a clear view of Rodney sleeping. It was time to head back to Atlantis. Returning his attention to Grose, he decided to lay his cards on the table, "You seemed to get our friend out of jail pretty easily, you say your team left you behind, and now you want our help. Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful for your help, but I don't believe your anomaly story."
The explorer remained silent.
Rising to his feet, Sheppard unfolded his arms, placing one hand on the back of Grose's seat, "I need to have a word with Dr. Weir. Teyla will stay and keep you company until I return."
SG: A
Weir was waiting for him on the other side of the doorway. "So?"
"So… I wouldn't want to play poker with this guy. He has a thing for bluffs." Sitting on the bench across from Rodney, Sheppard looked over to Beckett, "How is he?"
The doctor smiled tiredly from his seat next to Rodney, "Exhausted. He'll be fine once we get him home and let him rest."
"Yeah, I think we all could go for a nap; it's been a long 24 hours." Turning to face Weir, he patted the empty seat beside himself, "Sit down before you fall down, doc." Watching her settle, he then checked to see if Grose was listening. The explorer appeared to be having a relaxed conversation with Teyla. 'Good for her,' he thought, knowing the woman was cunning and would glean more information from their unsuspecting guest.
"I say we notify Ford and have a security detail on standby. Grose can come with us but has restricted access until we can get him home…if we can get him home."
Weir nodded, "I agree. We've been gone from Atlantis long enough. Now that we have McKay, we don't need to stay any longer."
Sheppard tapped his radio, notifying the sergeant out walking the perimeter. "Stackhouse, anything on your end?"
"Negative, sir. Nice and quiet."
"Good. Come back, we're heading home."
"Understood."
"So," Sheppard pulled himself to his feet and stifled a yawn, "do you want to tell our guest, or shall I, that he gets to come with us?"
Dr. Weir tipped her head back and smiled, allowing her eyes to close. "You're the driver. Take us home, James," she said, stretching her legs out over the major's vacated seat.
SG: A
The two-hour trip home had been uneventful and it came as no surprise that Ford had both a medical and security team waiting on the arrival of the Jumper. The travelers disbanded, each agreeing to regroup in another two hours to debrief. It didn't have to be said; the meeting would take place in the infirmary.
Sheppard made certain that their guest was properly accommodated, security detail included, before he trudged back to his quarters for an invigorating shower and then a quick trip to the mess hall. He was anxious to check in on McKay, so he only grabbed a sandwich, and then went in search of Beckett.
"Hey, Doc," he called out, a mouth full of bread muffling his greeting.
Beckett looked up from his desk and shook his head. "Major, you're early."
"I thought I'd come in and check on our convict." Popping another bite of sandwich in his mouth, he made his way through the dimly lit ward, stopping by its only patient. Seeing that McKay was still asleep, he looked for the nearest place to sit, finally collapsing into an uncomfortable plastic chair. Shifting several times and discovering that there was truly no way to get comfortable, he looked up, hearing Beckett chuckle from beside him. "What?"
"You know why it's so bloody uncomfortable?"
"I can only guess. So unsuspecting visitors become patients after their backs and legs become so painfully twisted that they admit themselves just to get the comfort of a hard mattress."
"Keep it up, lad, and I'll let you test your theory personally."
"You don't scare me." Seeing a mischievous sparkle in Carson's eyes, Sheppard stepped to the opposite side of Rodney's bed. "Okay, maybe you do a little."
Putting his hands on the bed behind him, Beckett hoisted himself up on the mattress so that his feet could swing freely above the floor. "It's over an hour before the meeting, Major. You really should rest."
"I'm not tired." Wandering amongst the beds, he found a slightly padded chair and placed it on the other side of McKay, away from Beckett. Sitting, he stretched his legs out.
"Ah, is that so?" Beckett shifted sideways, putting his feet up and leaned back. Fluffing the pillow behind his head, he closed his eyes. "If you're plannin' on stayin' up, wake me when everyone else gets here. I could go for a bit of shuteye, myself." Soon, only the sound of gentle breathing filled the room.
Shifting in his seat, Sheppard crossed his arms and watched the two men, feeling his eyelids slowly droop. Snapping his head up for the third time when it hit his chest, he quietly stood and made his way to sit on the empty bed beside him. A quick glance to make sure the others were truly asleep; he leaned back and let his eyes close. 'Okay, the mattress isn't that hard,' he thought to himself. Within moments, soft snores could be heard.
Carson lay perfectly still on his bed, a small smile spreading across his face. He knew the major better than the man gave him credit. Opening one eye to check on his charges, he sighed, happy to see both men now resting peacefully. Closing his own eyes once more, he drifted off to sleep.
An hour later, Dr. Weir entered the infirmary, followed by Teyla and Stackhouse. Spying the three sleeping individuals, she shooed the others back out into the hallway. "I think this can wait awhile longer." Making plans to meet later, she watched the departing figures before silently slipping back into the darkened room. Picking up blankets stored on the end of the beds, she spread one over Beckett and another over Sheppard before placing her hand lightly on Rodney's hair. How these three would ever survive without the other, was beyond her.
"Pleasant dreams," she said softly, letting the door close quietly behind her.
TBC
A/N Say it with me now…Awwww… they are just so cute when they're sleeping. I'm far from ending this story; I'm just giving our guys a little break before things really get going again!