Chapter 3

Several battery powered lanterns provided light, and Teyla was his extra set of hands - in such close quarters, he needed strength in a smaller frame. He'd directed the others to move the jumper closer, and they'd headed down the path, double-time.

Sheppard's breathing was sterterous, but as long as he could hear it, no matter how hard he was working at it, it was good. McKay was most easily accessible, and in the cramped area he did a quick assessment then simply taped a new, larger pad of gauze over what had served, so far, as a bandage - what clotting that had occurred could not be disturbed, not here. As a doctor, he was used to the scent and sight of blood, as a hunter Teyla was the same, but he saw her gulping slightly, and knew how she felt. The smell was heavy in the tiny den. He could almost taste the coppery scent.

He shot the unconscious physicist with a broad-spectrum antibiotic, and nodded at Teyla to help him - they shifted McKay about half a meter over before something resisted. He leaned over, directed the flashlight downwards, and saw their hands were clasped, fingers interlaced to keep the contact even in unconsciousness. Teyla reached to break the grasp but Carson stopped her.

"I have enough room." He pulled out more pressure dressings, packing the front wound on Sheppard's hip, and the much larger exit wound behind, then wrapping it all tightly. Done, he stood - the fabric of his pants against his knees stuck slightly in the sticky blood that had gathered, and his shoes took a bit of effort to pull free - he stepped back over and went back to one knee by McKay.

"We found you," he told them quietly. "We're taking you home." Now, after readying the stretchers, he pulled their hands gently apart as he and Teyla wrapped them warmly. "I want them in the jumper yesterday," he told the others, and soon after, they were in the air.

oOo

Sam shucked her jacket and bag, dropping them on the lab bench. She had made it through her first cup of the sludge the Stargate teams fondly referred to as coffee, and was wading through her emails when Teal'c appeared.

"'Morning," she greeted, but his face was grave. "What?"

In response, he slipped a CD into the reader.

"An unscheduled communiqué from Atlantis," he said quietly. "It is not good news."

Frowning, she hit the keys to start the playback. It was Elizabeth Weir, staring into the camera. She looked drawn, exhausted.

"Colonel Carter," she said, flatly. "We need your help. Yours - and your father's."

Sam glanced at Teal'c, then back at the monitor.

"Rodney McKay is dying. He and Colonel Sheppard were on a mission that was attacked by the Genii. John's injuries, though severe, are treatable, and Dr. Beckett feels he will make a full recovery. Rodney..." her composure slipped "was shot in the stomach. The damage was...extensive...and infection has set in."

She stopped speaking for a moment, and Sam found that Teal'c was standing behind her, one hand on her shoulder. It was an unexpected comfort, and she found she needed it.

"John managed to find a place for them to hide. It was almost six hours before we found them. I don't even want to imagine what they went through..." she paused again, evidently having heard the quaver in her voice. She drew a deep breath.

"Colonel, I don't know if you'd recognize him now. He's come into his own here, he's a real leader." She was speaking more quickly, her fatigue permitting her emotions far more freedom than normal.

"He's part of the SGA1 team, and he's thriving...he fits in, and learned to shoot, he's gotten us out of more situations...but you know that, of course." The quaver was more pronounced, and she wasn't trying to conceal it anymore.

"He and John are like brothers, it's the most unlikely friendship, he was..." the screen went blank an instant, the recording evidently stopped and rewound to tape over what Sam realized had been a part too emotional to remain in the message. When she re-appeared, she was more or less under control again.

"We have put him in a stasis chamber, the same one the other Weir was preserved in. It's failing. His only hope is a Tok'ra with a healing device."

She leaned forward. "Please, Colonel. Professionally, we need him, his intellect. Personally, we need him - he is a dear friend and right now Atlantis is a car running on three cylinders without him."

She sat back. "We'll await your reply."

Sam blinked. She stood. "Teal'c..."

"I have already put the word out through our contacts. We may hear within a few hours, if we are lucky."

oOo

O'Neil leaned back as the image of Weir faded.

"Tell me you've started the chargers," he said. "That stasis chamber's got to be too damn old to count on."

Sam nodded. "I gave the order right after I saw this, sir."

"Anything from Jacob?"

"One contact has indicated he is returning from a mission." Teal'c stated. "We have hopes that we will be contacted very soon."

O'Neil sighed and tapped his desk absently. "How long till we can punch through to Pegasus?"

"Fourteen hours, twelve minutes."

He nodded. "Carter, you and Daniel get ready. Teal'c..."

"I wish to go as well."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"The man I have knowledge of bears little similarity to the person it appears that Dr. Weir is concerned about. I would like to meet this man."

oOo

Strange days, indeed. Most peculiar, momma.

Kavanaugh whistled the old tune through his teeth, flat on his back. He fed a wire through a slot and felt it tugged on, and then the rest of it vanished into the hole. "Done," he heard Zelenka say, and wormed out. There wasn't even any dust on the floor, which made him think maybe McKay was right about that too - Atlantis had a basic program; the city was, essentially, alive, and it triggered automatic electrostatic charges to keep dust from settling some places - dust had been found in storerooms, halls, but where high tech equipment resided it was always clean. Even now.

McKay was right. What a surprise. Everyone thought the sun shone out his butt anyway, the McKay fan club encompassed almost all the team members, and the legendary friendship between him and Sheppard had only increased what Kavanagh knew was a growing cult of personality. And now Farrar had been on about the rescue, what he'd seen, and it had - he bet - grown with the telling.

He finished a connection and slid the panel closed, a bit harder than he'd intended, admitting - if only to himself - he rather hoped it had been exaggerated. He had no liking for the 'dynamic duo' but the description of where they'd been found, and how, left him with a bleak mental image he had a hard time shaking. When he paused in front of the pod, staring in at McKay's still face; a face that was gaunt, pale, lined with suffering; he decided that maybe Farrar hadn't embellished. And no matter what he thought, no one deserved what had happened to them.

A hand on his arm made him jerk away. It was Radek Zelenka, a contradiction for him - one of McKay's' team, he was also one of the few people on Atlantis he could tolerate.

"He would be thanking you, if he could."

He shifted a half step. "Would he? I wonder."

"We can only buy time. If there is a way, SGC will send a Tok'ra. Once he is well, he will thank you."

Like he cared. "It was a chance to work with the technology, Doctor," he snapped. "Don't try to read more into it."

"Ah." Zelenka looked at him searchingly for a moment, then turned away.

He sat on his impulse to go after the Czech. He really didn't care, he reminded himself. McKay had a post that was rightfully his. Keeping that firmly in mind, he turned back to the panel, just as it started to beep.

"Oh, no."