FAILURE TO COMMUNICATE
CHAPTER TWO: LOWERED EXPECTATIONS
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Rodney lowered his eyes when Sheppard refused to look at him, the colonel once more searching the forest for danger. Yeah...whatever. McKay knew they were out of danger, or else the colonel wouldn't have let them stop for this long. Sheppard was just avoiding looking at him—it was what the man did when he was uncomfortable about something. Eventually, the scientist sighed, closed his eyes again and once more rested his head on the cool ground.
"I see," he mumbled. And he did. Sheppard had made a choice—he'd chosen the others over him. It was the obvious decision—McKay knew that. But still, a very real part of Rodney was panicking right now, even as he tried to crush the sensation, to swallow it down and not let the other man see, to not let himself see. He wanted Sheppard to do what he could to rescue the others, but that fact didn't stop the terror from washing over him in drowning waves, swallowing him up and dragging him down. All that the incredibly frightened part of him knew was one thing:
Sheppard was going to leave him.
Sheppard sighed, sounding distant, as if he'd walked farther away. "Travis, Weir and Teyla, if they're still alive, might be able to talk to them, but I saw Ronon go down, and, knowing him, it had to have been something impressive to stop him in his tracks like that."
"Probably," McKay muttered, not lifting his head. He didn't need to be reminded that, if he had just been paying more attention when they first ran, he wouldn't have tripped on that basket and run right into the metalled edge of a cart, cutting his stomach. It had forced Sheppard to help him, and Ronon to hang back to protect them, resulting in the large man being overwhelmed by the rebels attacking the Citadel in Garillion. Sheppard had made a move to go back and help him, but then McKay had gotten hit in the leg by a bullet...
"They're still in danger, McKay."
"Yes," Rodney hissed, still not looking up. "I get that. Do what you have to." He felt increasingly sick, his stomach lurching in response to the barrage of the ocean waves. Terror and pain were not a nice combination.
Sheppard was going to leave him.
He was going to die alone.
For some reason, Sheppard either didn't hear him, or was ignoring him, for he continued to argue.
"Come on, McKay. You know I'm right. I don't know what they'll do with them—I can't leave them there. As soon as I think I can leave you..." Sheppard trailed off, looking again around at the woods. He'd heard something, but it could have just been the wind rattling the trees.
"I said I get it," McKay hissed, his trademark anger bubbling to the surface, finally banishing some of the sickness. As it always did, it gave him extra energy, allowing him to finally open his eyes and look up. "What are you, deaf? You're going to get the others. Great. So go. Leave. I'll be fine. I'll just lie here and d—"
"Shhh!" Sheppard hushed, his senses clearly on full alert as he did a slow 360, scanning the woods. McKay shut his mouth immediately, knowing that tone well. It was a real command. His blue eyes tracked the colonel as the other man scouted, and his right hand rested on the 9MM still holstered on his thigh.
Sheppard stopped, peering more acutely in one particular direction. After a moment, he pulled out the binoculars from his vest and took a more careful look.
"There's a campfire over there," he told McKay. The scientist turned his head to peer in that direction. Sheppard was right, there was something flickering inside the trees.
"Come on." The colonel reached down and pulled McKay up, ignoring the man's protesting whimper.
"But," McKay gasped as the word spun for a moment before he got his feet under him again, "it could be anyone. Soldiers, guerillas, bad guys..."
"Stop," Sheppard hissed, as he half dragged, half pushed McKay in the direction of the firelight. "Not now."
"But—"
"Damn it!" Sheppard's grip tightened almost viciously around his waist. "I said shut up," the colonel growled in his ear. "As you so happily like to make fun of me for, we're lost. And you need water. We need help. So, for once in your damn life, be quiet."
McKay lowered his head a little, eyes glossing over, and not from pain. He did what he could to keep up with Sheppard...and he shut up.
What did it matter, anyway?
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About ten feet from the camp, for it was definitely a camp, Sheppard leaned McKay against a tree, motioning for him to stay still. The scientist just stared at him, a strangely listless look on his face. Sheppard held up a hand, mouthing the words: "Don't move." McKay just gave him a dark look, and mouthed back, "No shit."
Sheppard matched the dark look with one of his own, then straightened up. Steeling himself, he walked towards the camp and cupped his hands around his mouth. "Hello the camp!" he called.
A slight rustle answered him, but no voice. Sheppard took a few more steps forward, able to see more of the camp now. He could discern a long covered wagon of sorts, the coverlet brightly painted, and what looked like writing on the side. It almost looked like an old-fashioned pioneer's wagon, except for the four massive rubber tires. They looked more like they belonged on a tractor trailer than this wooden contraption. Random objects hung from the edges, including pots and pans, a scrub brush, what looked like a couple coils of rope, and other utensils. Brightly colored flags hung from edges not covered by the main covering, further hiding the rickety nature of the massive caravan. It was being pulled by a docile looking animal that reminded him of a huge Clydesdale with a ram's head, the massive horns curling around and down a neck as thick as a rhino's. It looked damned powerful.
"Hello?" he called again, moving forward some more, hands resting on his P90. The ram-headed rhino-horse turned to look at him, then returned its attention to the leaves it was munching on. "Anyone there?"
"Um, Colonel?" McKay called from behind him.
Sheppard waved a hand behind him to shush the man, and walked right up to the edge of the camp, holding the P90 ready. A fire was happily crackling away in a stone ringed pit, over which someone had hung a pot. Something very garlicky smelling bubbled inside. Looking up, he read the words on the wagon's side, frowning a little at the painting of a happy smiling man holding up a bottle of something green.
"Colonel? You should come back here." McKay's tone was more insistent this time.
"There's no one here," Sheppard said, sighing and turning. "And didn't I tell you to be quiet?" He stopped, eyebrows furrowing, "McKay?".
McKay had somehow gotten to his feet on his own and was now standing only a few feet behind him, leaning heavily on his good leg, watching him with a disgruntled expression. One arm was wrapped across his stomach, the other hovering over the empty holster strapped to his thigh, the hand trembling something fierce. Hell, all of McKay was trembling, the firelight showing Sheppard for the first time just how pale the scientist was.
Wait a minute...Empty holster?
Sheppard frowned, moving towards him. "What are you doing? You shouldn't be walking. What the hell were you..."
And then he saw the rifle pressed against the back of McKay's head.
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TBC...soft steps...