By rights we shouldn't even be here. But we are. It's like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger, they were. And sometimes you didn't want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? But in the end, it's only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something, even if you were too small to understand why. But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back, only they didn't. They kept going. Because they were holding on to something.
The Lord of the Rings, The Two Towers
Rodney cleared his throat, feeling uncomfortable as he stated, "Um...I need to go...ya know."
John resisted the urge to nod his head. He knew that would just send off little explosions of pain in his head. Instead he moved to Rodney, hoisted an arm over his shoulder, then half carried him over to a big rock.
"Call me when you're done," John told him, and headed back to their supplies. He pulled out a power bar and made himself take a bite. But that was all he took. Just chewing it made his stomach roil with nausea and when he swallowed it, John was amazed it actually stayed down. But he knew another bite wouldn't so he wrapped the bar and stuck it one of his vest pockets.
"Ready!" Rodney called out.
"Coming!" John replied. But he had to pause a moment to let a wave of dizziness pass. Then he plodded back over to Rodney and helped him get settled on the travois. "Eat," John said, dumping a power bar on him.
Rodney opened it and took a bite. "What about you?"
John didn't look at Rodney as he replied. "Already ate." It wasn't' really a lie, since he did take a bite. He then set about slipping on his backpack before strapping Rodney in.
By then McKay was finished with his power bar and John handed him one of the canteens. "Ready?" he asked, when Rodney handed it back.
"No...not really." Rodney shifted on the travois and hissed, hands moving to grip his thigh hard.
"Shot time," John said, as he pulled out the syringe. They had six left. It was telling to him that McKay pulled up his own sleeve. John knew he was in agony and he wished there was more he could do. But for now he gave Rodney the injection then watched him slip into unconsciousness. John pocketed the empty syringe then took a swig from the canteen before strapping it on his belt. Then he moved to pick up the harness straps, slipped them on, and began walking.
It was harder today in every way. Harder to keep his footing on the wet slope. Harder to pull McKay's weight. Harder to stay focused, and a lot harder to ignore the pain in his head. But John was determined. He was going to get McKay down the mountain before they holed up for the night.
When he had done his scouting yesterday he had noticed an outcropping of rock at the bottom, which looked like it shaded a shallow cave. So if it rained they would at least be drier. Even with the day heating up, John felt cold and clammy in his still damp clothes.
John knew it was bad when he resorted to humming commercial jingles just to get his mind off the ache in his head. And to keep himself trudging on. One foot in front of the other, until he slipped and went down hard on his ass, skidding down a few feet before he was able to stop himself and he felt the travois slam into him and his first concern was McKay. John slid off the harness and turned to examine the other man. Amazingly, other than moaning a bit, Rodney didn't stir.
Relief and nausea washed over John, and he took what happened as a sign he needed to rest. He settled Rodney so that the travois wouldn't slide, then he stumbled off behind a rock to relieve himself. He used a wipe to clean his hands of a layer of dirt, only to find himself bending over and emptying what little he had in his stomach. By the time the dry heaves ended, John's head ached so badly it felt like it my fall off any moment. He almost wished it would.
Time was ticking away from them, but John had no choice but to sit and let a new wave of dizziness pass. And he realized he must have blacked out for a moment because when he opened his eyes he was laying on his side and everything was blurry until he blinked it into focus. His head still ached but the nausea had passed for the moment, so John stood up on shaky legs and made his way back to McKay. A quick pulse check and John was satisfied that Rodney was okay. Or as okay as he could be, given the circumstances. He picked up the harness, slid it over his shoulders, and started walking once more. He was going to make it down the mountain.
oOo
Rodney felt something hit him on the cheek. He winced and tried to ignore it, but there it was again so he raised a hand to bat it away. "Stop it," he whined
"Wake up, Rodney. Suppertime." John tried to infuse his voice with a bit of cheerfulness, but had the feeling he failed. But at least McKay's eyes were opening.
"What...what time is it?" Rodney asked, as he blinked hard and looked around.
John glanced at his watch, but it was cracked and had stopped working some time yesterday. "Don't know. But I bet you have to go the bathroom. And you need to eat. So let's go." In truth, John was glad that Rodney had slept so long. In a minute the pain would kick in and it was hard to watch someone suffering. It made him feel helpless, and John hated feeling that way.
Rodney tried to help Sheppard haul him to his feet. The pain in his knee was agony, and he wanted to go back to the sweet, pain free darkness. But he did have to go. As they hobbled over to a nearby rock, he noticed something. "We made it to the bottom."
"Yeah." That was all John had the energy to say. He felt like a wrung out dishrag. Everything ached, his head felt like someone was stabbing him with white-hot knives and the lack of food was making him light headed in a different way. Yet for all that it was the constant feeling of nausea that bothered him most. At least at the moment.
"You okay?" Rodney asked, as he levered himself away from Sheppard. The major looked like hell. Covered in a layer of dirt and grime, and his beard was filling in, but for all that he was still pale and he looked shaky and Rodney was starting to get worried. If Sheppard went out for the count, they were doomed.
John managed a half smile. "I'm good. Call me," he said, then he slipped away. It was time to set up camp. He had been right about the shallow cave. It was big enough to hold them and their supplies without cramping them too badly. John felt a bit more optimistic. It wasn't much, but it was something that was in their favor, so he would take it as a good sign.
Rodney took care of business, cleaning his hands with the wipe Sheppard had left him, then he called out, "Ready!"
A moment later the major was there, taking the bulk of Rodney's weight against his lean frame. As Rodney let his arm slip around Sheppard's waist for support he realized the man felt thinner. It had only been two days so that was not a good sign. But Rodney kept his mouth shut, letting Sheppard guide him into their shelter. It wasn't much but it made Rodney feel a little bit safer. Luckily they seemed to be alone here. No bad guys and no vicious animals, but better safe than sorry.
"Eat," John said, tossing Rodney a power bar.
"You too," Rodney countered.
John held up his opened power bar and made a show of taking a bite. Big mistake. His stomach clenched and a moment later he was scrabbling for the entrance and puking.
Rodney listened to the sound of retching and winced. He stared at his power bar then set it aside. A moment later Sheppard came back in and Rodney stared at him. "You have a concussion." It wasn't a question but rather a simple statement of fact.
"I'm fine," John replied, because he knew what McKay was implying. He felt dizzy and his vision was a bit blurry, but he still noticed the power bar on the ground. "Eat!" John hissed, regretting being so loud when the pain in his head spiked.
"This is so not good," Rodney fretted, but he reached for the power bar, peeled it, and took a bite.
John rubbed his eyes, which felt hot and gritty, then he whispered, "Go to sleep."
Rodney finished his food then reached for the canteen that Sheppard had, thoughtfully, left beside him. He took a long swallow then asked, "Can I have some Tylenol?"
"Sorry." John had forgotten about it. He dug the bottle out of the pack and held it out. He watched Rodney take a couple then accepted the bottle back and stuffed it in the pack. "Go to sleep," John repeated.
"You can't sleep!" Rodney heard the panic in his own voice. Sleeping and concussions did not go together.
John wasn't in the mood to argue. "I'm tired, I'm sleeping. Shut up."
Rodney was quiet for all of ten seconds. "You can't do this," he stated.
"Sure I can...it's easy. Or would be if you would shut up." John let his eyes close, and tried to ignore the ache in his head.
"No...I'm not talking about sleeping. I'm talking about this stupid trek to the gate." Rodney shifted, bit back a moan, and shot a glare at Sheppard's back. "You can't get us back, major."
John felt a flare of anger. He sat up, moving carefully, and faced Rodney with fury flashing in his eyes. "I will get us back, Rodney. So fuck you!"
Rodney shook his head. "Face facts, Major. We're going to die."
"Shut up!" John was on his knees, shifting forward so he and Rodney were face to face. "We're not dead yet! You hear me? So shut the fuck up!"
And all that yelling was a big mistake. John clutched his head and wondered if maybe it was about to fall off. He heard Rodney shouting at him but the words were a garbled mass of white noise and then everything went black.
"Major!" Rodney watched as Sheppard crumpled over and went still. He reached out and was able to press his fingers to Sheppard's throat, but his hand was shaking so bad it took Rodney a few minutes to find a pulse. Relief washed over him, followed closely by panic. He had to wake Sheppard up. So Rodney patted the major's cheek. Lightly at first, then harder, then he started calling his name.
John heard someone shouting his name and it took a moment to realize it was Rodney. A very scared, and pissed off sounding, Rodney. John forced his eyes open, blinking hard to bring everything into focus. He pressed a hand to his forehead, willing the ache to stop. Then John remembered why Rodney was pissed at him.
"Whether or not I slept with Chaya is none of your damn business, McKay!" John blurted out as he pushed himself upright.
Rodney blinked at Sheppard, wondering what the hell he was talking about. Then it hit him. Concussions caused disorientation and short term memory loss. All the same, mention of Chaya made Rodney's hackles rise and he bit back a sharp retort in favor of replying, "That's old news, major."
"What?" John suddenly realized that he didn't know where he was, and panic flared as he scrabbled to his feet, only to list sideways so that he had to put out a hand on the wall to support himself. A cold, damp, rocky wall.
"Where...Rodney..." But even as he asked, it slipped back into place where he was and why. John slid down to the ground, raised his knees and buried his face in them. He had been thinking about Chaya. He thought about her a lot, and about how she had caused a wedge in his friendship with Rodney. John hated that, but now was not the time to deal with it.
"You okay?" Rodney asked, as he tried to shift closer.
John took a shuddery breath then raised his head and managed a shaky grin. "I'm okay. Sorry I zoned out on you."
Rodney nodded. "Just...try not to do it again."
"I'll do my best." John rubbed his eyes then asked, "Do you need anything?" He wanted to get Rodney settled in for the night. They both needed to rest as much as they could.
"I have to pee," Rodney stated.
John frowned at that. "You just went."
Rodney glared at him. "Well I have to go again." He was relieved when Sheppard got up and came over to help him up. He wanted the major up and moving. He needed to stay awake for a little while at least.
Sleeping with a concussion was a bad thing, but Rodney knew Sheppard would have to rest at some point. He couldn't stay awake for days on end. Plus Rodney knew that the major was determined to haul him across the plains to the gate. Wherever the hell it might be. So, to that end, Rodney limped outside the cave and emptied his bladder again. Then he let Sheppard help him back inside and they settled in for the night.
"Need anything else?" John asked, as he curled up under his jacket. He was so damn tired, and his entire body ached. His head hurt so badly that he felt nauseous again, and a part of John felt like crying. But he wouldn't allow himself that bit of weakness. He couldn't afford it. Not now. When they made it back to Atlantis he would hole up in his room and cry himself a river.
"No...I'm good," Rodney replied. He shifted about, trying to get comfortable, willing the Tylenol to kick in. He knew Sheppard had to be hurting as much as he was, but Rodney knew it wouldn't be good for him to take anything for it. But the one thing Rodney could do to try and help, because for the most part he was feeling pretty useless right now and that didn't sit well at all, was keep Sheppard awake. And he could do that by talking.
So Rodney did just that. He kept up a rambling monologue, tossing in enough questions so that Sheppard was forced to reply. But after a time Rodney noticed that the major wasn't responding and that his curled up form had gone still. "Major?" Hand shaking, Rodney checked for a pulse. It was a bit rapid but solid and he sighed with relief.
Rodney leaned his head back and closed his eyes. But a moment later he popped them open then propped himself upright. Sheppard was taking them home, so the least Rodney could do was keep watch over him. But in spite of his best intentions, Rodney drifted off to sleep.