The Long Trip Home - Chapter 3

Sheppard felt better when the jumper was up and flying, leaving the desolate planet behind. He frowned. Two more good men dead. If he had just kept them together. They weren't used to field work - inexperienced scientists. He should have known to keep together. If he had, maybe they ...

"Major?" Teyla slid into the seat next to his.

"Is Rodney settled?" he asked.

"Yes." she nodded. "He is resting on the seats in the back."

"Good." Sheppard sighed. "Does he seem...okay to you?"

Teyla hesitated. "How do you mean?"

"Does he seem..." Sheppard's words drifted off, uncertain of how to phrase what he was asking. "...upset...you know...distant?"

Teyla glanced back at McKay, struggling to get comfortable on the row of seats in the back section of the jumper. "He does seem different. Quiet."

John shrugged and smiled weakly while sliding a sideways glance at Teyla. "Quiet. Yeah, I'd say that was very different for McKay."

"Indeed," agreed Teyla. "Major, should we not try to contact Atlantis now that we are away from the planet. Dr. Weir will be worried."

"That was actually next on my list of things to do. Elizabeth's probably stroking right now. That woman does know how to worry,. Although that little quality probably saved McKay and me from a rather unpleasant death at the hands of...oh crap! I forgot to name him!"

"What is...stroking?"

"It means, you know, freaking out...going crazy...worrying a lot."

"Oh," she replied. She would never understand why these people from earth had so many odd ways of saying things. It was almost like learning a new language.

"Jumper One to Atlantis," said Sheppard.

Elizabeth Weir almost ran to the control room from her office. Grodin nodded to her. "It's Jumper One...Major Sheppard."

She let out a deep breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. The look of relief took Grodin off guard. "Jumper One, this is Atlantis. Good to hear your voice. Are you okay?"

Grodin smiled a little as he glanced back down at the controls. He wasn't sure if she was referring to John Sheppard or the team as a whole. She probably wasn't sure herself. Half the staff had bets in the pool on how long it would be before the two let their defenses down and got together. The chemistry seemed obvious to everyone but Sheppard and Weir. Personally, he thought they knew - deep down - but ignored it. Protocol. Some might not understand the top ranking military officer and the head of the expedition getting together. Conflict of interest or some such nonsense. Personally, he thought they made a cute couple.

"McKay and I are basically fine...a little tired and a little worse for wear. Ford arrived with the calvary just in time to save our collective butts, by the way. Nice move. Good instincts. You should be in the military."

It was so good to hear his voice. She closed her eyes a second as her heart beat wildly in her chest. She took a deep calming breath to try to steady herself. Her legs were feeling sort of rubbery, but she tried to sound light. "Not likely, Major. What about Abrams and Gaul?"

Sheppard didn't answer immediately. "They didn't make it," he finally replied sadly. Teyla noted again how tired and pale he looked. Pain passed across his features momentarily before he grit his teeth and regained his composure.

"Are you all right, Major?"

Weir heard the question and frowned. "John, are you injured?"

"You did that on purpose." Sheppard slid his eyes sideways at Teyla without turning his head. It was partly for dramatic effect and partly because the soreness in his muscles had crept up his shoulders and into his neck. He silently wondered if this was what whiplash felt like. His head also throbbed incessantly. He vaguely remembered the back of his head slamming into the ground the second time the wraith sent him for his flying lesson. He absent-mindedly rubbed his hand across the back of his head. Small goose egg. Crap! One more thing for Beckett to obsess over. If he ever did make it home, Beckett would lock him up in the infirmary and throw away the key.

"Major?" He realized he had let his mind wander. That wouldn't look good.

"I'm okay, Elizabeth," he said tiredly. "Same oh, same oh. Bumps...bruises...Maybe a few cracked ribs."

"Gunshot to the arm," yelled McKay from the back.

"I thought you were sleeping," Sheppard said crossly.

"Who's shot in the arm?" asked Weir.

"Major Kirk, who do you think?" replied the voice from the back of the jumper.

"McKay, if you don't clam up, I'm pulling over at the next heavenly body and you're walking," yelled Sheppard angrily. Did that man never shut up?

"Major, should you be piloting the jumper?" inquired Weir. He didn't miss the worry lining her question. If he hadn't been driving the jumper, he'd have gone to the back and punched McKay. Why did he have to make everything so complicated?

"Crap," Sheppard mumbled under his breath as he rubbed his forehead with his fingers, trying to massage out the pain he felt building.

"Excuse me?" asked Weir in an offended voice.

"Look," Sheppard began. "Here it is in a nutshell. McKay and I are exhausted. We haven't had any sleep in...I forgot how long, but a long time. There was a wraith on the planet. He killed Abrams and Gaul. Rodney got to sit and watch Gaul die while I went a couple of rounds with..." Oh yeah, no name. "...the wraith. He got hold of a gun and shot me in the arm. It's a through and through...no bone involvement. Nice and clean."

Teyla humphed when he said clean and Sheppard shot her a warning look.

Sheppard continued. "I may have cracked a couple of ribs in the wrestling match that followed, but Teyla's got me wrapped up like a Christmas turkey. I'm sore, but I'm good. McKay's going to sleep the first shift while I drive , then we'll switch. No one else here can pilot the jumper. It's the best plan we could come up with." He waited to see how much of a fuss she would put up.

Weir paused, thinking of the options. There weren't any. "Okay, it sounds like you've thought this out. Be safe. We'll be waiting." She tried not to let the worry project in her voice. John was coming home battered, yet again. If he was saying cracked ribs, it was probably more like broken ribs. He had a bad habit of understating his injuries. Waiting fifteen hours for medical treatment seemed like an awfully long time. She thought maybe she would give Carson a heads up on the situation.

"See you in fifteen hours, Atlantis. Jumper One out."