"'Lovely idea, this'," said Rodney, sarcastically imitating a Scottish brogue as he dug through Sheppard's gym bag. He dropped back to his regular voice. "You just had to jinx us, didn't you?"

Beckett opened his eyes, apparently confused to see worried blue ones staring back at him. "What?" he asked fuzzily.

"I said you jinxed us," Rodney repeated in a slightly calmer tone now that Carson had finally regained consciousness. Pulling the last towel out of the Colonel's gym bag, he pressed it against the gashes on Beckett's chest, grimacing in sympathy when the doctor hissed in pain. "And by the way," he continued, "You can stop all this bleeding crap any time now!"

"Right," replied the Scot in agreement. His eyes drifted closed.

"No!" McKay panicked. He watched as Beckett opened his eyes again, obviously surprised and confused by the outburst. "Stay awake and tell me what to do," he pleaded.

"'bout what?"

"Oh, I don't know, how about the fact that you won't stop bleeding all over my favorite jacket!" he exclaimed, panic creeping back into his tone.

"Keep pressure on the wound," he answered automatically.

"We've been doing that! It's not helping."

Beckett lifted his head slightly and saw that the towel Rodney was holding against his chest was already beginning to stain a bright red. Dropping his head back down and closing his eyes, he frowned as he tried to force his fuzzy mind to cooperate.

"Carson?"

"I'm thinking, Rodney," he replied weakly, assuring the scientist he was still with him. "Might have been some sort of anticoagulant in its bite." He opened his eyes and looked around at the gathering darkness. "Where's Colonel Sheppard?" he asked suddenly.

"Scouting around for a four-star hotel." Rodney watched worriedly as the doctor's eyes slid closed again. "Carson?"

Beckett blinked heavily, apparently trying to rein in his scattered thoughts. "Do you know what aloe looks like?"

Struggling to switch gears, Rodney narrowed his eyes in concentration. "Some sort of cactus, right?"

"Close enough. Teyla's people found a similar plant growing on the mainland that might help. See if you can find some."

"Right," agreed McKay starting to rise, but Beckett's hand on his wrist stopped him.

"Don't go too far though?"

"Don't worry," the scientist assured him. "I'll remain within 'girly screaming distance' at all times." The comment earned him a small smile from the Scot who released his wrist before closing his eyes again tiredly.

Luckily, Rodney didn't have to go too far to find what he was looking for. Ripping off several of the fat emerald spires from the plant, he brought them back to the physican. "Carson?"

Beckett opened his eyes. "Still here," he confirmed.

"Is this it?" he asked hopefully, holding out an armful of succulent spiny green leaves.

Beckett squinted, willing his eyes to focus in the dim light. "Yes."

"What do I do with them?"

"Break the leaves open, the sap should be gooey."

"Gooey? Is that a technical term?" Rodney asked, trying for levity. Ripping open the thick-set leaves, he pressed them between his fingers so that the sap oozed out. "Now what?"

"Spread it on the scratches."

"Right." McKay gently pulled off the blood-soaked towel. Squeezing the leaves over Beckett's chest, he spread the gel in a thick coating over the deep gashes. He followed them over the Scot's shoulder to the deep puncture wounds that announced where the beast's claws had first dug in. He paused when he realized Carson was panting and biting his lip. "What's wrong?"

"It just…stings a bit," Beckett gasped.

"Should I stop?" Rodney asked uncertainly.

"No. The sap has antiseptic properties. That's why it burns. Keep doing what you're doing," he encouraged.

Rodney continued to spread the sap until he had completely covered the wound. The burning sensation must have abated because Beckett no longer seemed to be suffering as much discomfort. Shifting slightly to ease the strain on his injured leg, he loosed a small curse as the muscle cramped.

Beckett, who had been drowsing, noticed the torn pants for the first time "Did it get you too, then? How bad?"

"Not nearly as bad as you; and I only got clawed, not bitten."

"I should have a look at it," he mumbled, his eyes sliding shut.

"Riiight," said Rodney, settling down beside the dozing physician and gingerly stretching out his legs. "You do that."

A crash somewhere nearby snapped Beckett instantly awake. Rodney placed a hand on his shoulder and held a finger to his lips before quietly picking up the pistol lying beside them in the leaves. Beckett remained still and silent, but Rodney could almost feel the adrenalin coursing through his weakened body through his fngertips. They stayed frozen for several minutes.

"I think it was just a falling limb," Rodney finally said quietly. He took the opportunity to recheck the sap-covered slashes on Carson's chest. "That stuff works pretty well."

Beckett lifted a trembling hand to lightly touch one of the deep wounds. The gel from the leaves had hardened to form a sort of scab, sealing the gashes and helping to slow the bleeding. "Maybe you should put some on your leg."

"Already did," Rodney told him. "It burned like hell, too." He pulled a bottle of water out of the bag. "Thirsty?" When he got an affirmative nod, he put the bottle down on the ground beside them and helped Beckett sit up against a tree trunk. Carson clung to him for dear life as the world spun and the edges of his vision blackened. "Easy," said Rodney, supporting him until he was able to sit up unaided. "Here." Uncapping the bottle, he helped Scot's shaky hands support it as he took several long sips. "Okay?"

"Aye," Beckett replied, leaning his head back against the tree trunk. "How's your leg?" He had yet to get a good look at the injury.

"Been better," said Rodney. He gingerly stretched out the appendage so the little light that remained shined on the remnants of his pant leg. The gashes underneath shown starkly against his pale skin.

Learning over to take a closer look, Beckett clutched out for support when he was hit with a wave a dizziness. Rodney braced him against the tree until the worst of it passed. "I'm okay now," he finally assured him.

Rodney looked unconvinced but released him. A sharp snap to their left had McKay wavering unsteadily on his feet, pistol aimed into the dark forest, before he even realized it. Sheppard came into view and froze, startled to see his own gun pointed at him. Rodney rolled his eyes at him in relief and lowered the weapon.

"How's he doing?" the colonel asked as he approached them. Kneeling down by Beckett, he tapping the dried sap gently with a fingernail and nodded in approval.

Irritated, Beckett pushed the hand away. "He's doing bloody great. I'm right here you know. You could just ask me," he snapped.

With a good-natured grin at the sharp comments, Sheppard clapped him on the shoulder. "You're certainly feistier, I'll say that for you."

Beckett opened his mouth to deliver a scathing reply but checked when he noticed mud caked all along one side of Sheppard's body. "What happened to you?"

"Tripped in the bad light. I'm a little bruised but fine," he assured the doctor. He reached into his pocket and handed Rodney what was left of the lifesigns detector with a grimace. "There was a casualty, however."

Rodney briefly examined the device before loosing several colorful words. "This is totally unfixable!"

"Come on, Rodney, you can fix anything."

"Oh, right, I'll just make these exceedingly delicate repairs with leaves and twigs," snapped the scientist. He paused suddenly, looking toward the gym bag.

Sheppard shook his head at the hopeful glance. "No first-aid kit, no elephant gun, and no super-scientist tool kits." He watched Rodney deflate a little. "We'll just have to make do without it. I didn't see any sign of the cats and I'm keeping my fingers crossed that they're not nocturnal since we were attacked in broad daylight. Hopefully, we'll have a quiet night." He held out his hand for the gun. "You two try and get some rest."

Rodney handed over the pistol. "What about you?"

"I'll wake you in a few hours so I can grab a cat nap."

Rodney did a double-take in disbelief but Beckett laughed. It quickly turned into a coughing fit. Sheppard uncapped the water bottle and helped the Scot take a few sips, watching worriedly until the doctor managed to catch his breath.

"That's your revenge for my Klingon joke, I take it," he wheezed, wiping his eyes, but he was grinning.

Sheppard smiled a little at him and patted him on the shoulder. "Get some sleep, Doc."

As if the mere suggestion was enough, Beckett's eyes slid closed. He soon dropped into a quiet slumber.

Rodney began picking apart the detector. "I'm not very sleepy," he said in response to Sheppard's inquiring look.

Shrugging, Sheppard made his way over to one side of their little camp, looking for the best place to settle in for the night. He suddenly began cursing and hopping on one foot. Steadying himself against a tree, he picked away some of the leaves on the bottom of his foot and brushed away a small sharp stone.

"Shoes don't seem like such a bad idea any more, do they?"

Shooting Rodney a sarcastic glare, he finished brushing the last of the debris off the bottom of his foot and settled himself on the ground with his back against the cover of a large tree. He leaned against the truck and rested the pistol in his lap--relaxed but alert.

Rodney put aside the unsalvageable detector with a sigh. It had been a lost cause from the beginning and he knew it. Following Sheppard's example, he made himself as comfortable as possible--crossing his arms, settling back into the thick dead leaves, and closing his eyes.

For several long minutes, everything was quiet and still as the darkness wrapped its velvet arms around them.

"How far do you think it is back to the beach?" he asked, worriedly.

"He'll make it, Rodney."

oOo

"Morning, Sunshine," said Sheppard, gently shaking Beckett awake after an uneventful night. He helped him sit up and watched as the doctor blinked at him blearily. "Here, have some water." Supporting the bottle, he let the Scot drink his fill. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," the doctor replied, though he could tell by the way Sheppard cocked his head at him that he didn't sound very convincing. The colonel handed him a power bar. "Breakfast of champions."

"Where did this come from?" he asked, peeling the wrapper with shaky hands before taking a bite.

Sheppard gave a head tilt in Rodney's direction. The scientist was already halfway through his own bar. "Do you have to ask? They're the Rodney McKay version of the American Express card." When Beckett looked at him confused, he clarified, "He never leaves home without them."

Rodney glared in response but said nothing, crumpling the empty wrapper and shoving it deep into his pocket before attempting, unsuccessfully, to stand.

"Hang on," said Sheppard, coming over and giving him a hand up. He gave him the stick, acquired the previous night for defensive purposes, to use as a staff. "Walk around a little. It'll help with the stiffness."

While Rodney followed his suggestion, Sheppard returned his attention to Beckett, waiting patiently until the Scot finished the powerbar before offering him some more water which was thirstily accepted. "Finished?" Beckett gave him an affirmative nod so Sheppard waved McKay over to join them. "Good, 'cause it's time to go." Sliding his hand behind the doctor's back, he lifted him to his feet with Rodney's help.

Beckett clutched at them weakly, knees shaking with the effort.

"We gotcha, Doc," Sheppard assured him, holding him steady until the worst of the dizziness had passed. "Ready?" he asked once the doctor seemed back in control.

Carson didn't dare shake his head. Swallowing hard instead, he answered quietly, "Yes."

"Great, because I can't carry you and listen to McKay gripe. It's more than one man should have to endure," Sheppard joked.

Beckett managed a weak grin in reply since he knew the comment had been made strictly for his benefit.

"We're not going back to the river?" Rodney asked when Sheppard started leading them away from the water.

"No, we need to head back toward the jumper."

"What about the cats?"

"I'm hoping we lost them."

"I can't believe they haven't sent search parties," said Rodney as they made their way through the forest, Beckett supported carefully between them.

"They're looking for us. I heard a jumper overhead earlier but the canopy was too dense to get a visual."

"Make we should build a signal fire instead of trying to make it back to the jumper," the scientist suggested.

Sheppard shook his head. "Assuming the smoke doesn't dissipate through the trees, there's no place to land a jumper. Besides, the cat would probably be able to smell it and we'd be sitting ducks. Better to stay on the move and try to make it back to the beach if we can. That's where the searches set up base camp."

"How do you know?"

"Because that's what I would have done."

"What about the pistol?" asked Rodney. "Can we shoot it and let them know where we are?"

"It's not a flare gun. Right now, it would just echo through the whole forest. Maybe when we get closer to the beach."

Rodney was silent for several moments. "You know," he finally said. "We really should put some satellites in orbit so we have a G.P.S. system."

"It's on the to-do list," Sheppard replied. When Rodney seemed surprised, he added, "Elizabeth thought it would be helpful for the Athosians. We had trouble finding a couple of the hunters before the hurricane and it'll make it easier for them to map out the mainland as they explore it."

"Oh."

The ground became more uneven and the thick leaves hid roots and holes left from rotted stumps. Conversation died out altogether as the men concentrated on their footing. They eventually found themselves at the bottom of a steep incline.

"This is the hard part, so we're going to take a little break before we climb," Sheppard said, easing Beckett down. He pulled out the last bottle of water and handed it to Rodney while he examined the hill for the best approach.

Rodney uncapped the bottle and helped Beckett take several long swigs before drinking some himself.

"Doc, you still with us?" Sheppard asked, giving the doctor's shoulder an encouraging squeeze.

"Aye." Beckett held up his arms inviting Sheppard to pull him up, and allowing him and Rodney to support him until the dizziness, now his constant companion, abated a little.

"Just try and stay focused, okay?"

"'kay," he agreed.

It was a long and difficult climb, compounded by the fact that Rodney couldn't offer much help with Beckett. He was struggling himself with his stiffened leg. They finally crested the hill and practically stumbled right into the very thing they had spent a day and night trying to avoid. The large cat was sitting on top of a large boulder, perfectly camouflaged and entirely within its element. Ears flattened against its skull and dried blood on its face, Sheppard had no doubt it was every bit as pissed as it looked. Without a word, Sheppard and Rodney slowly eased Beckett down to his knees between them so they'd have their hands free, their eyes never leaving the cat's.

"She's beautiful," Beckett said softly in surprise, mesmerized by the cat's markings and luxurious coat.

"Any ideas?" Sheppard asked out of the corner of his mouth, pulling out his pistol. He seriously doubted his remaining ammunition was going to be enough to bring the beast down.

"Sure," hissed Rodney sarcastically, shifting his grip on his staff to that of a hockey stick. "You got about twenty pounds of catnip?"

As the cat hunkered down further, Rodney paled. Sheppard could see its muscles tightening in preparation for an attack.

It loosed a scream and sprang.