Chapter Five

I wish none of this had ever happened…

So do all who live to see such times, but that is not for them to decide. All you have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to you.

The Lord of the Rings, The Fellowship of the Ring

Sheppard woke slowly, his mind grudgingly shaking away the last cobwebs of sleep. He groaned, despite himself, because if he thought he felt bad yesterday, it wasn't close to how bad he felt this morning. Sleeping on rock wasn't a prescription for skeletal health - in fact, he couldn't remember when he'd last hurt this much in so many different places.

It was morning; he could tell by the fingers of weak light creeping into the mouth of the shallow cave they'd taken refuge in yesterday. The memories from the night before were brutal. He'd been sick; McKay had been angry, and he'd lashed out thinking he was back in Atlantis and had been confronted over Chaya.

They'd pushed past that, but he knew McKay didn't believe they'd make it out of this alive. For all that he'd come to think of Rodney as a good friend, the man had a doom and gloom nature that cast a pall over Sheppard's normal optimist side.

He pulled himself upright, resting his back against the rocky wall. It was damp and cold through his shirt, and he shivered, wishing for sunlight. So far the weather had been unaccommodating; rainy, wet and dismal. It wasn't helping McKay's frame of mind, and it was beginning to take it's due from Sheppard as well.

"You up?" McKay's tired voice asked from the shadowy area across from Sheppard.

Sheppard grinned, funny how people took comfort in stating the obvious when everything else was feathers in the wind. "You could call it that," said Sheppard.

Neither said anything for a few minutes; both resting, and coming to grips with another grueling day ahead. Finally, McKay broke the silence. "We should probably get going; cover more ground that way."

Sheppard took it for what it was, a peace offering. It was as close to McKay saying 'I'm sorry' as he'd ever get. He knew that Sheppard's plan was the only way they stood a chance in hell of getting off this rock alive. If Atlantis did mount a rescue, they'd be as dead in the water as their own Jumper had been.

Sheppard climbed to his feet, holding on to the cave wall long enough to fight back the familiar wave of dizziness. "Be right back," he said, heading outside. Nature was calling him first.

When he was finished, he helped McKay deal with his own issues. Soon, he had the travois packed, and McKay settled. He went to withdraw another syringe of morphine, but McKay shook his head.

"Not yet," said McKay. "Tired of sleeping all day, and all night."

Sheppard looked at him, and noticed the sunken appearance of his face. It wasn't good to keep someone drugged without medical support from an IV, and he didn't want McKay to get addicted either. He slipped it back in the vest pocket saying, "Okay, but Tylenol then."

McKay took the pills with a short nod of thanks, and downed it with a sip of water. The canteen sloshed with the movement; both men very aware of how little remained.

Sheppard took the canteen from McKay, and took a small drink. Not enough for his body, but he knew that McKay's injury was causing a slight increase in temperature and metabolism, as his body worked to repair the damage. He'd dehydrate faster than Sheppard.

He handed the canteen back to McKay, and surveyed the flat land before them. There were clouds skudded across the sky, deep reds, and Sheppard mentally repeated the rhyme he'd heard as a kid: red skies in the morning, sailor take warning. Fairy tales, still – the land was open, dotted only infrequently by low leafy trees. The grass grew tall and thick, and it'd be hard work pulling the travois.

"You're going to get us lost, aren't you?" asked McKay, looking across at the meadow ahead as well.

"How can I get us lost?" retorted Sheppard. He started walking, the momentum of the initial drag jerking McKay against the straps. He muttered to himself, "I don't even know where we are."

Truthfully, he had an idea. They'd flown towards the mountain, and he planned on backtracking as the crow flies. He didn't think they'd crossed over to the other side before crashing, which meant they were on the gate side of the mountain. It was a matter of walking back the path they'd flown. Easier said then done, but that was the plan.

He fell into a rhythm of counting steps, and was relieved that McKay was lost in his own thoughts and leaving him to his. That little blow-up in the cave last night wasn't sitting well with him. He was mad at McKay, but he didn't want to get into it with him here. Chaya had driven a wedge between them, and he knew eventually they'd probably manage to kick it back out, but right now survival was the issue, not repairing a friendship.

"Major," called McKay. "Break -"

Sheppard stopped pulling, and looked over his shoulder. McKay was sweating, and struggling to keep still. He eased the travois harness off his shoulder and lowered McKay till he was resting flat on the ground.

"Bad?" asked Sheppard, indicating the knee.

McKay nodded. Sheppard thought he looked like hell. He went to withdraw the morphine, but McKay stilled his hand with a look. "No, I mean it. Not right now."

"You're going to pass out," said Sheppard.

"Then let me," gritted McKay.

Sheppard stood over McKay, tired, and dispirited. McKay didn't want the morphine, but it was clear he was in agony. He peered across the empty meadow, his eyes scanning for anything that could help. There was a hard breeze blowing across, whipping the grass into undulating green snakes. With his face to the wind, it blew his hair about, and dried the sweat, cooling him down.

There! He saw what looked like a creek bank ahead. The grass swelled up and then dropped off. If the water was cold –

"Hang on, McKay," said Sheppard, pulling the straps over his shoulder.

McKay nodded mutely, too lost in his pain to ask what Sheppard had in mind. What had looked like a short distance, soon meandered into an hour, and by the time Sheppard pulled the travois with McKay alongside the bank, McKay was barely alert of his surroundings.

Sheppard quickly stripped his t-shirt off, and soaked it in the water, relieved to find it was cool, run-off from the mountain they'd descended from. He knelt by McKay and tugged away the material, revealing the thick damaged knee bound up with the brown elastic bandage. He unwound it, apologizing for the pain, and wrapped the cold makeshift compress around the injured joint.

It wasn't instantaneous relief, but soon the icy water worked through the hot inflamed tissue, and numbed the area. McKay's breathing evened out, and he began to take notice of where they were. He looked at the creek, and then down at his knee.

"That's amazing," he said. "I hardly feel a thing!"

Sheppard nodded, and gently tugged off the t-shirt wrap, dipping it again into the water, recooling the material that had been heated by McKay's knee. He rewrapped it, and dropped thankfully beside McKay, laying flat against the soft ground.

He'd pushed himself hard to get here, hoping to ease McKay's pain, but now his own was rearing its ugly head, and he realized they'd both forgotten to eat something this morning.

"Hungry?" he asked McKay, not moving for the food.

McKay shook his head, before saying, "Not really, but we should eat, shouldn't we? It's bad to skip meals in a situation like this -"

"Yes, it's bad," agreed Sheppard, still not moving for the food.

"Later then," said McKay, realizing that Sheppard wasn't up for it, and neither was he, so why force it?

Sheppard barely nodded, so tired that he was slowly drifting into a drowse. "Later," he slurred thickly.

McKay thought about keeping the Major awake, but he knew the toll of dragging him was great, and with him suffering a concussion on top of the physical exertion; it was a small miracle Sheppard was on his feet, let alone caring for McKay and trying to get them back home. He sighed, and managed to pull himself into a sitting position. Sheppard had loosened the straps when they'd stopped at the creek.

He'd just watch for a little while, let Sheppard have his nap –

oOo

"McKay!"

Sheppard shook him, frustrated. He'd woken only to find the sun beginning to drift lazily down behind the horizon. McKay was snoring next to him, but the t-shirt had long since dried, and he knew when McKay did wake up, his knee would be an immediate painful reminder of their situation.

He wasn't disappointed. McKay's eyes opened, and then slammed shut with a loud groan. "Damn," swore Rodney, reaching down to grab the throbbing area.

Sheppard scowled; he wanted to be pissed, but instead he felt worry. "You fell asleep," he said. He struggled to his feet, and dipped the elastic bandage into the creek. It wouldn't last, but it'd help. Once it was good and cold, and Sheppard's hands along with it, he rewrapped McKay's knee, tugging the pants material back in place the best he could.

"Sorry," offered McKay, his voice glum.

"We'll both be if it starts raining before we can find shelter," said Sheppard. He cupped a hand over his eyes, scanning for anything ahead that they could camp the night under with some form of protection.

McKay snorted. "If rain was our only worry -"

"You're right about that," observed Sheppard. When McKay looked towards him, he gestured at the creek. "Looks like we've got to cross this."

"How wide?" asked McKay, thinking maybe they could use the travois as a bridge.

"Wide enough," said Sheppard. Too wide for what McKay was thinking. He looked away from the gently running water, and down at McKay. "I'll take our stuff across, then we'll get you over."

After Sheppard got McKay off the travois, he loaded their bags, and hefted it over his head, and stepped into the frigid water. The shock was painful, but halfway across, the numbness kicked in, and he stumbled on the other side, falling hard. The supplies rolled forward, luckily away from the water's edge.

"What's wrong?" shouted McKay, seeing Sheppard fall.

"Nothing," Sheppard called back, managing to pull his lower body out. He'd need to get some feeling back before he returned for McKay. "Just numb."

He laid on the other side of the bank for a good ten minutes, before shivering, he got back to his feet, and waded across for McKay. He stooped down, letting Rodney grab on to his shoulder, and slowly straightened, the weight of McKay, his concussion, and the cold causing him to stagger.

"Maybe we should wait," said McKay. "I don't need you passing out when we're halfway across."

"I'm not passing out," grouched Sheppard.

Together, they fumbled into the water. McKay sucked air in through clenched teeth. "Oh, that's cold," he said.

"Don't worry, in a few minutes you won't feel a thing," reassured Sheppard.

"And that's a good thing?"

"Compared to right now, yes," he retorted.

It took longer, trying to wade two bodies across, compared to one, but soon they were lying on the grass besides their gear, dripping into the soil and shivering like crazy.

"We n…need t…to war…m u…p," chattered McKay.

Sheppard was past shivering, and that scared McKay. He rolled up as far as he could and dug in the gear, finding matches. "Sheppard, you need to start a fire," he ordered.

"There's no fire," said Sheppard, confused. He struggled to stay awake, but he was so cold.

"I know that," McKay said patiently. "We need one, and I can't get wood; Major, I need you to get up, and gather some wood," he looked worriedly at Sheppard. "You can do that, can't you?"

Sheppard nodded groggily. He could get wood. There were more trees on this side of the creek, and they grew thicker with each step. He got up, staggered, and stumbled towards the trees. It was a darkening sky, and he grabbed anything that looked like wood, before carrying it over to McKay and letting it fall from his clumsy hands.

"Wood?"

McKay nodded soberly, "Wood."

It was a reach, but McKay started building up a pile of smaller sticks. Once he had it to his satisfaction, he started adding larger, and larger, till he figured it was enough. He glanced over and noticed Sheppard was staring over his head, dazed.

"Help me light it," McKay said, trying to draw Sheppard out of his fugue.

Sheppard tried to help, and by then McKay had stopped shivering as well. They managed to coax a thin flame into fruition, which steadily built, and the roaring fire lit the darkness.

Nobody talked; they sat in front of the fire, letting the heat seep into their bones. Soon, they had warmed up enough to realize they needed to strip out of their wet clothes and get under the blanket.

Sheppard helped McKay, before working on his own. Once he was down to his underwear, he laid both of their pants and shirts out flat to dry, and scrunched close to McKay under the thermal blanket.

Occasionally, he'd go off and retrieve more wood. Long into the night, he let the fire dwindle. The air had a small chill, but not enough that it was uncomfortable now that they'd recovered from their earlier bout with threatening hypothermia.

"Look," whispered McKay.

Sheppard startled; he'd thought McKay had drifted to sleep earlier. He rolled his head, and looked at the heavens, where McKay was pointing. What he saw took his breath away. It was as if an artist had taken a thick paintbrush, and dipped into a rainbow palette, and stroked in a fine curvy line across the stars. The colors moved like light across a crystal prism, and the sky wore its coat of many colors like a proud son of the universe.

"That's -" Sheppard struggled for the right words "- wow."

"Aurora borealis," said McKay, "Though technically, that's not the right name, since it was named to mean 'the dawn of the north', and I don't suppose we're -"

"McKay," interrupted Sheppard.

"What?"

"Shut-up."

McKay sighed, "Shutting up." For now, it was right- the quiet, the peace, and the beauty.

They drifted asleep, both too tired and injured to consider keeping watch. Neither had eaten, both had barely drank the entire day. Their bodies were battered, and worn, and the morning was going to bring new struggles, but for tonight – tonight they were caressed in a moment that they'd forever remember, assuming they managed to live through this, lulled to sleep by an amazing vista of night lights, and the soft dying crackles of the dwindling fire.

oOo

Sheppard woke first. He was thirsty, and hungry. His stomach cramped painfully. He rolled, and instantly regretted it. The world spun shakily, and so did his stomach.

He got to his knees, and worked his way to his feet, crashing through the ashes of the previous nights fire, before lurching far enough from their sleeping area. He heaved, bringing up nothing but bile, because there was nothing to bring up.

When he was finished, he reeled back to the blanket. McKay watched him, his face normally an open book, closed and locked with a finality that bothered Sheppard.

"You need to eat," he said.

"Why?" asked Sheppard wearily. "It'll just waste food."

"Because I'm depending on you to get me home, and if you don't eat, you won't make it," said McKay bluntly.

Sheppard winced. It was the one thing he could've said that would've made a difference, and McKay knew it. Sheppard reached for the pack with the food, and drew out two power bars, tossing one to McKay before ripping the package open on his.

"We're going to make it," asserted Sheppard, and he took a bite. He chewed it warily; afraid it'd come up faster than it went down. Surprisingly, it settled without complaint, and he tentatively took another bite.

"Sure we are," agreed McKay. He chewed his own food, and pointed at the canteen for a drink.

Sheppard tossed it over, and took another bite, but this time it didn't settle so well, and he wisely wrapped the package shut, and pushed the remains into his vest for later. He'd gotten a few bites down; that was better than none.

After McKay had taken a couple long drinks, he tossed it back to Sheppard, who downed a small amount. There was probably another days left, if they were careful. Not enough to see them back to the gate, he figured.

"You think the water is safe?" Sheppard asked, pointing at the creek.

"Probably not," said McKay, looking at the happily gurgling water. "This planets electromagnetism is different than ours; even than most of the planets in this galaxy."

"But if we're going to die anyway -"

"Then it's worth a shot," agreed McKay. "But I wouldn't until it got down to it."

"Then let's hope it doesn't get down to it," said Sheppard, standing reluctantly. He took an empty canteen from their supplies and filled it up. He made sure the cap was on tight, and tucked it back in a bag. It'd only be used if it came down to drinking or dying.

The day had dawned hours ago, and they'd slept through it. He straightened the canvas on the travois from where it'd hitched up when he'd fallen carrying it yesterday. "Got to go?" he asked McKay.

McKay shook his head. Neither did Sheppard, and that wasn't a good sign. They didn't have to go because there wasn't any waste to process out. Their bodies were going to start cannibalizing their own muscle and tissue to fuel them.

They quickly slid into their now dry clothes. "How's the knee?" he asked, as he helped ease McKay onto the travois, after helping him with the harder task of getting his pants on. He could see McKay was in pain, but the cold water seemed to have helped a little.

"It's been worse," he admitted honestly.

Sheppard was surprised by the change in McKay. Before, he could've bet on McKay's over dramatizing the injury, and whining from sunrise to sunset. Sheppard supposed it was a testament to how serious their situation was.

McKay, in turn, was studying Sheppard. "How's the head?"

Sheppard's head was hurting like a bastard. He grimaced, "It's worse, but I'll live."

McKay didn't say anything, and Sheppard wondered if maybe he shouldn't have been so honest. What's done is done, he might as well get moving. He didn't bother with the straps; there weren't any cliffs for McKay to fall off.

"Keep an eye out for any animals," Sheppard ordered, as he began tugging McKay towards the forest.

"You think there's going to be animals?"

"It's a forest. I'd be surprised, and a little worried if there weren't any." Sheppard was beginning to find the lack of fauna on this planet bothersome. If animals couldn't survive, it wasn't looking good for their own odds, and it made the water in the canteen all the more undesirable.

As they moved under the tree cover, the silence became deafening. There weren't the catcalls from birds, or the chattering of insects. There wasn't anything but the muffled sounds of the travois dragging against deadfall.

"McKay," asked Sheppard conversationally. "If there are plants on a world; wouldn't that indicate animals?"

"Unless some kind of catastrophe happened, yes," said McKay. He was lying on his back, and taking the opportunity to study the sky. The whole reason they'd come was because of the planets unique electromagnetic storms. Now that he was thinking about it; the color of the daytime sky wasn't what you'd think of as typical. In fact, it seemed too bright.

"Radiation?" asked Sheppard, unknowingly echoing McKay's thoughts.

"Maybe," McKay agreed. "It could explain why there's still plant life. They'd probably adapt and manage to live longer, and it'd depend on what kind of radiation."

"We need to get off this planet."

McKay closed his eyes. Things just had a way of getting worse lately. "I'd go along with that."

Sheppard had a sudden realization that it was likely they were going to die on this world. He gave a small chuckle; it was incongruous with how he'd always thought he'd go. Old age, he'd contemplated that one – shot, that had been a likely possibility, but dying of radiation poisoning on an alien world in another galaxy – not even a figment of his imagination could've cropped that one into his mind.

"What's funny?" asked McKay, wanting to share the joke, because humor was something sorely lacking in this situation.

Sheppard pondered how to explain it without sounding morbid. "Did you ever stop to think how you'd die?"

"Not really," answered McKay. "People grow old; their cells stop regenerating efficiently, the body dies." He shifted on the canvas, trying to ease the building pressure in his knee. The cold therapy was wearing off now that they were closed under the leafy canopy, and the temperature had begun to rise. "I suppose there are the 'other than natural' causes; car accidents, muggings, your parachute failing to open -"

Sheppard stopped, and turned to look at McKay. "What?" he exclaimed. "A parachute? What are the odds of that? You're more likely to win the lottery than die from a faulty parachute!"

"And how would you know?" snapped McKay. "Besides, winning the lottery is a lot less painful, and no one dies from a winning ticket."

Sheppard shrugged, and said, "Unless someone kills you for it."

"Good point."

Sheppard returned to trudging forward, when McKay asked him, "What about you? You never said how you thought you'd die."

"I've thought of a lot of different ways, but never this," replied Sheppard. He grunted as the travois caught on a rock. He pulled forward harder, and found himself flying forward, and hitting hard.

McKay had rolled off, and found himself face first in the mulched earth. "Are you okay?" he mumbled, spitting out decayed leaves.

Sheppard had just one short moment where he thought of snapping back that he wasn't okay. He was thirsty, his head pounded, his shoulders and back had begun to hurt in ways he'd never imagined, and he thought he was going to throw up. The stupid travois had been pulling rough across the forest, and he'd be damned if any of this was going to stop him.

"I'm fine," he said shortly. He got back to his feet, and righted the rig. "Your ride awaits," he said, attempting a mock bow, and almost falling flat on his face in the process.

"Maybe we should take a short break," McKay said. He wasn't feeling so hot himself, and he was beginning to wonder if maybe a shot of morphine wouldn't hit the spot.

He'd been holding off as long as he could; trying to keep Sheppard company, but as hard as the travois had been for Sheppard to pull; it had jarred McKay's knee unbearably hard, every single root and rock.

Sheppard was watching him critically. He finally slipped into the harness. "Just a little more," he offered for explanation. "Rest won't do us any good if we die here."

So, Sheppard stumbled on. And when he came to a halt, McKay had almost fallen into a doze. He could hardly think straight anymore from the pain, and he was beginning to feel like begging for an end to this wouldn't be unmanly.

"We there?" asked McKay, not sure if he meant the gate, or time for a break, or what. He needed water, and food, and if he needed it that bad, he knew Sheppard needed it more.

"No," answered Sheppard, his voice flat.

The reason for the flatness was staring at Sheppard like a slap in the face. Or, better yet, like another nail in their coffin. Stretched out before them was a canyon – a very deep canyon. He stared, and wondered at all the rotten luck, because there was no going across it. They'd have to go around, which meant either heading up, or down, and following it till they could get across.

"McKay, do you have a quarter?" he asked casually.

McKay narrowed his eyes, craning his head to look at Sheppard. He patted his pockets, and felt for change. They didn't need money on Atlantis, but they had poker games and used small change. He felt something, so he stuck his hand, and withdrew the silver coin. "Will a nickel do?"

"Yeah, it'll do. Heads or tails," said Sheppard, reaching around and taking the nickel from McKay. Heads, they'd follow the canyon north. Tails, they'd go south.

"Tails," said McKay, not sure he wanted to know what this was about.

Sheppard flipped the coin, and catching it as it came back down, slapped it against the top of his left hand. "Tails it is," he said. "We go south."

As Sheppard veered in the direction, McKay got his first look at the gaping chasm, cut violently into the ground, as if a God wielding a large butcher knife had carved into the flesh of the world. He closed his eyes. They were definitely going to die here.