TITLE: What is Needed Most part 15

AUTHOR: sablecain

DISCLAIMER: See part one

A/N: Please remember my earlier medical warning- I have no real medical knowledge I just do my best to stay in the realms of reason. ALSO-have patience, my posting has actually caught up to my writing thanks to real life and other distractions, etc. I'm hoping to be consistent with posting a part a day but no guarantees! Thanks for hanging in there with this one and again—your reviews have been a constant encouragement. Thank you!

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Part 15

Rodney pressed the blue crystal, then the red. The tones were pure, beautiful and sustained. He smiled and pressed the yellow crystal. Nothing happened. The panel's crystals went dim. He pushed them again, trying all the colors, but the machine no longer worked.

"You screwed it up!"

He looked up sharply. "Jeanie?" His sister's hurtful sneer faded and morphed until Kolya stood before him again, the ancient device vanished. Kolya aimed his gun at Rodney.

"No." Rodney raised his hands as the Genii commander cocked the weapon and raised it higher. Rodney couldn't move. Kolya pressed the barrel against his forehead. Cold metal cut into his skin.

"He won't come for you," Kolya whispered softly, almost apologetically as he slowly, purposefully began to pull the trigger.

"No!" Rodney fought. It wouldn't end this way. It couldn't. Sheppard would come. Struggling, Rodney suddenly felt like he was in jell-o, thick, black, rubbery, cold jell-o. It covered him, clogging his nose, filling his ears, blocking his eyes. It held him in place, smothering him and he knew he had to fight it. If he didn't fight to break free… Kolya would win. He had to get out; he had to fight. Sheppard would come and he had to be ready. He would not let John down, not this time.

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John shifted on the exam table and tried to concentrate on not moving his throbbing fingers.

"Be still," Carson demanded as he tended to the hand and wrist, wrapping it securely in warm black fiberglass material that would eventually harden into a protective cast. "Yer lucky, you know," he started ranting again. "You could have crushed yer hand instead a just cracking a few bones."

"Is the cast really necessary?" John asked for third time since Carson had started the whole process.

"Bloody right it's necessary. You move these bones the wrong way and we're scheduling you for surgery and, if it comes to that,—I'll make damn sure you're awake through the whole blessed thing."

"You will not," Sheppard mumbled, shaking his head at Beckett's threats, knowing full well that Carson would never inflict pain on purpose, not on his friends anyway. His eyes caught movement across the room and he turned to get a better view of the bed where Rodney was.

The tall, dark skinned doctor sitting beside McKay's bed was gently attending to Rodney's hands. Sheppard watched, fascinated by the gentleness as the doctor gracefully washed dirt and blood from Rodney's limp and pliant fingers. John's thoughts drifted to Carson again and he wondered if such tenderness was just born in some people or was it something that always needed to be learned.

"There you go." Carson drew his attention back to his own hand. "I'll get you something for the pain and then you can head to your quarters if you'd like." Beckett's statement sounded more like a question than a suggestion. John could see his mind working. Was Sheppard planning on staying or leaving? Carson was making it clear he wasn't going to ask him directly again.

"I'm staying here," John said simply, his eyes met Carson's briefly and the Scot nodded, his relief obvious.

"Right then. I'll be right back."

Sheppard turned back to Rodney. The other doctor was gone, but John's eyes settled again on McKay's hands. They were so still, too still. McKay's hands should be moving. They were always in motion, whether gesturing wildly as Rodney jumped from one subject to another or moving with determined purpose as he worked on ancient technology. The only times John had ever noticed Rodney's hands being still were when the scientist dozed off and even then his fingers tended to twitch occasionally. John let his gaze travel up to Rodney's battered face. The cut on his temple had been cleaned and taped. The bruising on his face had spread and turned dark purple and yellowish around the edges. Another wave of guilt swept over Sheppard. He could feel his anger growing again and he pushed it away. He had to stay in control, he thought, glancing down at his encased hand. He took a deep breath, a calming breath before looking up at Rodney again.

McKay moved.

"Carson!" John shouted, hopping off the table and ignoring the vice-like pain that exploded in his hand.

Rodney's hand twitched, gripped the sheets and then flailed. An alarm began to go off, beeping insistently.

"McKay?" John hurried across the room, catching Rodney's hand before it smacked the IV monitor beside the bed.

Rodney's breathing sped up and he began to shake his head back and forth against the pillow. Hisbody tensed, his slack face contorted into a pain-filled grimace. He was struggling…fighting.

"Rodney." John tried to keep his voice calm. "You're okay." He looked frantically for Carson. "Beckett!"

Rodney's other hand lashed out and caught him in the chin.

"McKay," Sheppard growled, shaking off the surprising blow. "Come on, Rodney, listen to me. You're safe. We're back on Atlantis. Stop fighting me or you're gonna hurt yourself." John talked, rambling the same thing over and over, praying that Rodney would hear him.

Carson arrived holding a syringe and quickly checked the lines before injecting a sedative into Rodney's IV. Rodney flailed one last time, connecting solidly with John's cast.

"Damn it!" Sheppard eyes watered as the pain shot through his hand. "Rodney."

McKay's eyes opened wide, darting wildly.

"McKay." John leaned cautiously closer, speaking softer this time. "Look at me, Rodney. You're okay. You're safe now."

Somehow, through the panic, Rodney managed to focus on John. As his body reacted to the drugs and he stopped struggling, McKay's attention stayed on Sheppard. "John?" he whispered hoarsely.

Sheppard smiled and squeezed Rodney's hand lightly, relieved and heartbroken to see the recognition and question in Rodney's eyes. "Yeah, I'm here," he reassured as McKay's eyes slowly closed again. McKay's words back in the cave resounded through his head again. "You came." He could still hear the surprised, shocked tone.

"I'm staying right here," John said determinedly. "Right here."

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Rodney heard John's voice as he struggled, felt the hand on his and managed, somehow to open his eyes. He had to see that it was real, that John was real and then…There he was, Sheppard, leaning over him, his hair a wild mess. His chin sporting a red mark where it looked like someone had whacked him, his eyes sincere and comforting. He was here.

Kolya was wrong. John had come. Even if he had screwed everything up, John had still come for him. He let himself relax, another force pulling him back into the dark,but this time he wasn't afraid. The blackness wasn't smothering. It didn't trap him. He wasn't alone anymore. He could rest.

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Elizabeth crossed her arms and watched quietly as Carson covered Sheppard's legs with a light blanket.

John lay in the bed next to Rodney's, dressed in maroon scrubs. His injured hand was propped on a pile of pillows and he snored softly.

"How'd you get him to go to sleep?" Weir asked in a whisper.

Carson glanced at her and waggled his eyebrows mischievously. "His pain medication packs a wallop." His smile faded as he fiddled with the edge of the blanket. "That and he's bloody exhausted.

Elizabeth nodded. "The entire team is." She looked over at McKay, who also slept soundly. "I ordered Teyla and Aiden to get rest,too. Neither of them wanted to stray far from here until we had more positive news about Rodney." She sighed softly, her face still grave with concern. "He will be okay won't he?"

"Aye, it'll take time and some creative ways to keep him resting, but yes. I believe he'll recover fully from the physical wounds."

"Physical?" She looked at Carson.

"He went through a lot, lass. They both did." Beckett looked from one patient to another. "You weren't there in that cave with us. We don't know how long he suffered there alone thinking no one was coming for him and you didn't see John's reaction to finding him in such bad shape."

Elizabeth bit her lip, her gaze resting on Sheppard's black cast. "What exactly happened?" she questioned.

"He had a fight with his guilt and anger," Carson frowned.

"And?"

"His anger won."