SAMARITANS part two…Danger Island

He was lying on sand. Warm, damp sand, but sand.

"Ungh." He said, opening his eyes, and spitting out the stuff that had got into his mouth.

"Face down in sand. How the hell did that happen?" he thought. Carefully, in consideration of his aching head, Sheppard rolled over and sat up. He was on a beach which at any other time would have gladdened his heart with the thought of surfing, and lissom girls in miniscule bikinis, but right now left him cold as the memory of what happened came flooding back. Beckett. He had to find Beckett.

Shakily, Sheppard got to his feet, and scanned his surroundings. He had washed up on an apparently tropical beach which stretched away on either side for a good half mile or so. The sun was beating down, and that together with the glare from the water wasn't helping his headache any. The sand was white, and powder soft, fringed with what looked like palm trees. A regular tropical paradise, he thought wryly.

The Major's attention was caught by a dark shape, lying half in, half out of the water, about twenty yards from his own position. Feet trailing in the soft sand, he hurried over, suspecting it might be Carson, or Dalen. It was Beckett, face down in the sand as he had been, and ominously still. Sheppard dropped to his knees beside the still figure, and tentatively reached out to feel for the other man's pulse, letting out a soft sigh of relief when he found it. Rapid and thready, but still there.

"Beckett, Carson? Can you hear me?" he asked. No response, the man was well and truly out of it. Cautiously, Sheppard turned him over, and his heart sank. Beckett was a mess. The right side of his face was shading to an impressive shade of purple, and where the sea hadn't washed it away, there were traces of dried blood. Beckett's right arm looked badly bruised where the uniform had been torn, but as Sheppard carefully felt along its length, nothing appeared to be broken. The same couldn't be said about the doctor's leg; That was definitely and without prevarication, bust. The unnatural position it was in together with the torn and jagged gash through which the gleam of pinkish white bone showed was an obvious give away clue.

The major sat back, appalled. This was way out of his league. He'd had field first aid training, and he'd seen enough, flying medevac missions, but he'd never had to deal with anything like this alone before. This is why they had doctors for chrissake. But, in the absence of medical aid, or support from Atlantis, he'd just have to do the best he could. None of Beckett's injuries appeared to be bleeding profusely, so after a quick check to feel for other broken or damaged areas he decided the best thing to do first was get Beckett out of the water, and into some shade.

Sheppard cast about for a suitable place, and saw at the top of the beach a pile of rocks with trees growing over them, which should provide shade at least. Carefully scooping up the still unconscious doctor like a child, John carried him as gently as he could the short distance and set Carson down on the cooler soft sand beneath the trees. It wasn't ideal, and later he'd have to find a better shelter, but right now, this would have to do. It was at this point that the Major realised neither of them had their packs. All they had was what was in their vests. His mood darkened just a little more. John hastily emptied all the pockets in his own vest, then the ones in Beckett's he could reach without disturbing the Scot any more than neccessary. Then, face grim, he inventoried the few things they had that could be of any use.

John's own vest yielded up a couple of field dressings, still dry as their packaging hadn't come undone, a couple of power bars and a canteen of water which he hoped and prayed the sea water hadn't contaminated, a few Tylenol, a lighter, and a couple of spare clips of ammunition for his handgun which was still, miraculously in it's holster on his thigh.

Beckett's yielded another couple of dressings, two more power bars, his own canteen still full; some totally useless bits of medical equipment e.g. a stethoscope which Sheppard put to one side, and some more Tylenol. So that was it. Ah well, he'd made do with even less before now, and he'd manage again.("Yeah, but you were on your own that time, no injured team members to deal with then,") his conscience told him. Mentally telling himself to shut up, Sheppard prepared to do what he could for the worst of Beckett's injuries.

An hour later, and he was done, he hoped. John had managed to straighten and splint Carson's leg using some fairly straight sticks he'd found lying around under the trees, and his own shirt as bandaging. The arm he'd taken care of by the simple expedient of unzipping the doctor's vest, taking the injured arm out of the sleeve, and then zipping it up again, with the damaged arm held close to Beckett's body, He hoped that would do, because although it didn't appear broken, all that bruising meant it was at least going to be very painful so not moving it around much was probably a good idea. The head injury he'd left alone. It wasn't bleeding, and he felt he could do more damage prodding around, so he left it be.

Sheppard himself felt worn out, and he still had a lot to do if they were going to survive this. And he still needed to look around for Dalen. He hadn't seen any sign of the young man and could only hope the kid was ok. John was also worried that Beckett hadn't shown any sign of coming out of it yet. He'd been glad the doc was unconscious during the whole leg-setting thing, but now he wished Carson would start waking up. He knew that the longer someone stayed unconscious after a head injury the worse it might be.

Okay, now he needed to find them a better shelter. And scout around a bit, see where they were, and what was around that might help them survive. Sheppard looked down at the still unconscious doctor, now lying on his side, propped there by sand heaped up at his back and front to make sure he didn't roll over onto his back, and maybe choke. John stuffed the rest of their meagre supplies back into his own vest, and leaned down towards the still figure.

"Beckett, its John; if you can hear me, I'm just going to scout round, find a better place for you to sleep, and see if I can't find some water and stuff. I won't be gone long, if you wake up, just lie still and wait for me. I'll be back."

Sheppard stood, brushed off the sand that had accumulated, and looked down at the doctor again. Then figuring he would be more help finding them shelter, water and food, than standing around wringing his hands, he set off down the beach.

The Major decided to walk a little way around the coast, to see if he could get an idea of how big the island was and maybe find Dalen. Three quarters of an hour later, John was back where he'd started. The island was fairly small, the side they'd washed up on was sandy beach and forest, while the other side was soaring cliffs and crashing breakers. He hadn't found the Marasian, but he had found plenty of driftwood, with which to build a fire some of which he suspected might be from their boat. Better yet, Sheppard found a cave half way up one of the lower cliffs that might provide more in the way of shelter. Always providing they could both get up there. Unwilling to leave Beckett any longer, the Major returned before really checking it out. To his pleasant surprise, the doctor was awake.

"Hello, Doc," he said. "Glad to see you back with the living."

"Aye, you might be," groaned Carson, "I can't say that I feel the same pleasure."

Sheppard grinned. This was their doc alright. "How do you feel?" he asked.

"Like I've been run over by a bloody articulated," the doctor moaned. "What the bloody hell happened?"

"What do you remember?"

"If I could remember, I wouldn't be asking. Oh, ma head hurts."

"We were in a boat…."

"So. I didn't just dream up Nessie then?"

"No. That sea – monster, Nessie thing wrecked the boat, and you along with it."

"Ah knew it would end in tears. Didna say so at the beginning? What've I done to masel'? Everything hurts so much, ah canna tell."

"Well, apart from a cracked head, your arm looked pretty sore. I don't think it's broken though, but I put it like that to stop you moving it too much. And you broke your leg. I put a splint on it," he said with a hint of pride."

"So, nothin' much then," replied Beckett, heavily sarcastic. "What are we going to do now? Atlantis doesn't know what happened do they?"

"No. They won't know until we don't check in a couple of days from now. We can't expect any help from there until then."

"So we're on our own then?"

"Looks like it."

"Have you done anything like this before?" Sheppard couldn't miss the note of anxiety in the doctor's voice.

"Well, I can't say I do Robinson Crusoe on a regular basis, but this isn't the first time I've been stranded on my own away from help before."

"So I can take tha'as a yes then?" The doctor shivered.

Sheppard put a hand up to Beckett's forehead, and was dismayed to feel warmth emanating already. "Cold?" was all he said though.

"Aye, a bit," replied the doctor.

"Okay. I'll get a fire started, then I'm going to check out a cave I saw not far from here. It'll make a better shelter than this, especially at night."

Beckett was quiet while he watched the major build a fire. Truth be told, he felt rotten, and didn't have much energy for talking. Eventually a thought occurred to him.

"What about Dalen?" he asked. "Do ya think maybe he managed to get back to his own people? Maybe they'll bring help."

Sheppard didn't want to squash Beckett's hopes, but felt he had to be truthful. "I haven't seen any sign of him," he said, " We don't know how far away we were from his island. I think he probably drowned."

"Oh." Beckett lapsed into silence again, looking up as the major approached him.

"Thirsty?" Sheppard asked.

"A little. Do - do we have any painkillers?" he asked hopefully, not reassured when Sheppard looked crestfallen.

"We've got some Tylenol, that's all." He said. "We lost our packs when the boat broke up. I was hoping to swim out a bit, see if I can find them."

"Ah, well, canna be helped," replied Beckett, accent thickening as the pain grew. "Do ya think ah could have a couple of those?"

"Sure," replied Sheppard, breaking a couple out of their packaging and handing them to the doctor, following it with a canteen. He watched as Beckett took a long drink. "Better go easy on the water," he said eventually. "I don't know when I'll be able to find more."

"Oh, right." Beckett handed the canteen back.

"No, keep it for now," said the Major who by now had a decent fire going. He piled some of the wood beside Beckett, and said, "I'd like to go check out this cave. Will you be ok on your own for a bit? "

Carson nodded.

"Ok, keep the fire going if you can. Don't build it up too high, we just need a smallish one for now. I won't be too long."

The Scot nodded slightly, grimaced when he realised it was a bad idea, and closed his eyes against the glare of the sun. Despite it's warmth, and the warmth from the fire he still felt cold. When he opened his eyes again, the Major was gone.

TBC