FAILURE TO COMMUNICATE

CHAPTER FIVE: TWISTED AND TRAPPED

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With some difficulty, McKay was awakened and, after a quick explanation, allowed Sheppard to help him up and stow him in the back of the wagon. Connam had magically managed to clear enough space to lay McKay down on the floor, and had softened it with a bunch of pillows. Unfortunately, the trader had then placed a rather scratchy painter's canvas over all the pillows except the one under his head, saying something about wanting to avoid blood on the fabric, but at least he was nice enough to try. Sheppard then climbed up inside, pulled McKay up, and let him lie down, making sure to elevate his legs again.

He glanced at him once. "You okay, Rodney?"

"Yeah," the scientist said sleepily. "Tired. Are we safe now?"

Sheppard stared at him a moment, not knowing how to answer that. Finally, in avoidance, he called up front for Connam to head out.

The wagon creaked and rocked as Connam snapped the whip, calling at "Dodge" to get moving. The motion caused McKay to hiss slightly, but he soon quieted, even though every rock and bump had to hurt.

The wagon jerked and rolled through the woods, climbing and falling almost spastically, until they came to what must have been a road of sorts, and the ride grew more settled. Connam was taking them to a larger road, which Sheppard could apparently follow in the dark without getting lost. The trader promised, using the speedwheel, that it would get Sheppard back to Garillion in about three hours—thought it would take about an hour to get to it.

Sheppard hated waiting, even though he was certain Connam had the right idea. The trader had assured him there would be plenty of time for him to get back and rescue the others before the sun came up.

The only real question in Sheppard's mind was if he'd have enough time to then return afterwards and rescue Rodney.

He shut his eyes, furious at himself for dwelling on what he couldn't change. The decision was made. It was done. Suck it up, Sheppard.

Shaking his head, he opened his eyes and drew out his P90, to check and clean it. With a glance, he reached out and turned up the lantern dangling near his head, increasing the flame.

"Colonel?"

Sheppard raised an eyebrow, and glanced at McKay, surprised to see him still awake.

The scientist's eyes were barely slits as he watched Sheppard fiddling with his P90. "Colonel," he asked, "where are we going?"

"To a road somewhere north of here," the colonel replied, returning his focus to his weapons. He knew he wouldn't have time to check them later except cursorily, so he was making the most of it. "It runs along the edge of the mountains, apparently."

"A road?"

"Yeah. Connam's going to drop me off there, then take you to his shack to hole up. The road's apparently a back way to Garillion, and the speedwheel should have no problems on it. It'll save a lot of time."

McKay turned his head, helped by the swaying of the wagon, and looked over at the so-called speedwheel. It did look a lot like a motorcycle, an old one. It actually looked a lot like the one Steve McQueen stole in The Great Escape….McKay smiled, suddenly imagining Sheppard flying down dirt roads like the actor in that movie, jumping logs, skidding around corners, tearing up the earth….

"Fun," he muttered, blinking lazily at the contraption.

Sheppard stopped moving, startled by the word. He looked up, and he saw McKay's dreamy expression as the scientist took in the speedwheel; the simple, joyful smile on McKay's face was something he hadn't seen since…hell, when was the last time McKay had smiled?

And for a second, Sheppard remembered McKay laughing uproariously at something he'd said, the memory like a burst of sunlight in his head. When was that? Just a few months ago—sometime after the Storm had hit and before…before they'd found old Weir. He could hear and see it vividly, the two of them grinning like idiots over something, sparring remarks, as they used to do. Oh…that's right. They'd been making fun of Ford when the young man had run away from a young girl hitting on him on PX3-768. The young lieutenant had been his usual innocent self, trying to be kind and polite, trying not to offend the poor girl, right up until she'd propositioned him in the middle of the trade negotiations by laying her hand where young lady's hands should not be placed. Ford yelped and backed off like a snake had bit him, then bolted back to the jumper with some hasty excuse. McKay had tried to stifle his amusement, then Sheppard made some comment about Ford, and McKay had burst out laughing. Luckily, the people on that planet had a good sense of humor. And Teyla was there. Teyla could smooth out anything.

A smile touched Sheppard's face, then faded again. The memories of Ford were too fresh still, only heightening the sensation of everything that Sheppard had lost. And what he could still lose.

Just then, the wagon hit a particularly large bump, and he grunted, nearly losing his seat on the box he was sitting on. Settling himself again, he looked to check on McKay on the floor, and found the scientist had rolled his head back to look at him, the smile gone from his face as well. Instead, there was worry there, the eyes wider and more alert, as if the bump had jarred something else. Sheppard arched an eyebrow.

"What?"

"Steve McQueen," McKay said, his eyes betraying a sharp nervousness, "was caught."

Sheppard frowned, not making the connection. "What?"

"Barbed wire. They were all bearing down on him. He spun around on that bike, seeking a way out, but they just kept coming. Germans coming from all sides. Helicopter, troops, jeeps, tanks…." The scientist's hands had lifted to demonstrate someone being boxed in, his breath quickening as he remembered the movie, blurring it with reality and the image of Sheppard being hunted down by faceless soldiers, until he suddenly stilled…and his hands fell limply to his chest. "He tried to jump the barbed wire, and he got caught. All twisted up and trapped. And he was the lucky one. So many were lost. Fifty men killed. Fifty!" McKay frowned, his eyes narrowing in pain and anguish, "What was the point?"

Sheppard didn't answer McKay, the movie reference not lost on him. Not wanting to meet the other man's pained eyes any longer, the colonel turned back to checking his guns.

The wagon pitched and rolled, and they seemed to be climbing a little, drawn by the power of Dodge, who was obviously a lot stronger than she looked. Up front, Connam called out a soft "Hyah," followed by a whip crack.

"Don't," McKay suddenly whispered.

Sheppard paused in the middle of whatever he'd been doing with the P90, and sighed. "Don't what?"

"Leave me. Please."

The colonel's shoulders slumped, the machine gun he'd been holding up falling to his knees. He stared down at it, the anger and guilt he had been bottling up percolating again despite all his work to quell it. Damn the man for doing this to him!

"McKay…."

"We can come back for them. Connam can take us to the gate. We'll get through. We'll come back with the Daedalus and jumpers. We­—"

"McKay, listen to me," Sheppard snapped, unable to hide the fury any longer. "Besides the fact that Connam won't take us to the gate, because we can't pay him enough for him to want to take that risk, we don't have time! The sun comes up in less than six hours, and then they're going to hang Teyla, Weir, Travis and Ronon—if they're not already dead. Connam thinks they'll wait until mid-morning, but I can't take that risk. What if they decide to hang them at dawn? I need to get them out of there now, do you understand?"

"But," McKay was almost pleading now, "what if you're caught?"

"I won't be."

"But, we could…," the scientists swallowed, "…we could take the speedwheel to the gate. It'd get us there fast enough, maybe, don't you think?"

"And if it's guarded?"

"You can take out the guards."

"All of them? Even if that were possible, how do I stop you from falling off the back of the motorcycle on the way there, when you can barely sit up straight as it is?"

McKay blinked, "I…but…."

"And how do I know that even if I can get us to the gate and through it without losing too much time, that I'll be able to turn around and get back here fast enough before the sun rises?" He shook his head, "I go to Garillion now, I can get them out while it's still dark. Maybe avoid anyone else getting hurt. I do what you want, and everything gets harder, timing gets tighter, more people could die, both ours and theirs." He pressed his lips together tightly, and shook his head, going straight to the point. "I can't take you home, McKay. Not right now. Not yet. I'm sorry."

McKay just stared at him.

"I'm doing this, McKay," Sheppard finished. "I'm not arguing with you about it anymore. I'm going back to get them out of there, and then getting the hell off this planet."

The scientist never broke eye contact. The blue irises never swayed, never moved, unyielding in their complete and total baring of the colonel's words. Most of the time, McKay's mind was moving so fast, his eyes were constantly shifting on his face, as if trying to read the thoughts blurring past his brain. But not now.

Sheppard returned to his guns.

"And me?" McKay asked finally, softly. "What about me?"

"What about you?" Sheppard retorted, a little too quickly.

"How will I get off this planet?"

Sheppard frowned, "What are you talking about? I'll come back for you."

"In time?"

"In time for what?"

McKay just stared at him. He didn't need to say it.

The colonel shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "You'll be fine."

McKay's face screwed up, showing what he thought of that.

Sheppard shook his head at him. "You just need to rest. You'll be safe with Connam until I can come back for you."

The scientist paused, then repeated, "I'll be fine."

"Yes."

"I don't believe you."

Sheppard grimaced.

"I'm not an idiot, Colonel," McKay whispered. "I know my leg is—"

"McKay!" Sheppard snapped, finally looking up again, his eyes boring into the other man's. "Stop it! You'll be fine. It's not as bad as you think. You're hurt badly, yes, but it's not life threatening. Not yet. Especially now that you're not moving anymore. And I'll come back for you!"

Up in front, Connam tilted his head, unable to avoid hearing the whole conversation. With a grimace of his own, he snapped the whip near Dodge's ear again, encouraging more speed.

Sheppard lowered his eyes again when McKay finally shut his, the scientist turning his head away to bury it more in the pillow beneath it.

The colonel grimaced, trying to find the steel from earlier, trying to find the control he needed. "I need to rescue the others, McKay. Don't you get it? We're going to get off this planet, all of us. Because I'm responsible for everyone, not just you! And I have to do what's best for the team. The team comes first—not me, not you, the team. I thought you understood that."

"It's understood," McKay replied coldly, the words partially muffled by the pillow.

"But not accepted," Sheppard guessed, his tone just as cold. He was starting to get angry again—angry for having to make this choice, angrier still for McKay not making it easier for him. Didn't the man understand this was the best way to insure they got as many people out of this alive as possible?

"You know," the colonel said, his rage at the unfairness of it all underlying his voice, "there was a time that I thought you were more than you seemed, McKay. More than the selfish, self-centered bastard that everyone said you were. I thought you were more than that—that you cared about what happened to the rest of us. But I was wrong, wasn't I? You really do only care about yourself."

The scientist shivered a little, reminded suddenly of Ford yelling almost the same words at him, and he opened his eyes a little.

"Like I said," McKay answered quietly, still seeing Ford's twisted face in his mind's eye, the brutal truth the lieutenant had spoken heavy in the air, "So many are lost. What's the point?"

Sheppard's brow furrowed. "What?"

McKay closed his eyes again. He was done talking. The wagon hit another bump, rocked and swayed. "I'm tired," he whispered.

Sheppard frowned, then shrugged. He didn't have the strength for this either. "Then go to sleep."

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CHAPTER SIX: JUST GO...

Some time later, Connam pulled the wagon to a halt. He turned in his seat and lifted the canvas to peer into the lantern lit interior. Sheppard stared back, arching an eyebrow. McKay appeared to be asleep again.

"We're here," the trader explained. Sheppard nodded, and started moving. With a shake of McKay's shoulder, he woke up the dozing scientist and told him it was time. McKay didn't answer, pushing himself up as best he could on the pillows, his eyes blinking slowly, as if he were dizzy. Connam, meanwhile, had jumped down and was coming around the back, to help move McKay out of the way so they could extract the speedwheel.

It took some doing, even after they'd managed to "clear" enough space to move the motorcycle out of the back of the flatbed and onto the ground, and Connam jumped inside to grab a plastic container that looked an awful lot like a red gasoline can.

Sheppard stepped back, watching as Connam filled the motorcycle's fuel container, interested despite himself as the familiar smell of petrol floated back to him. McKay was half propped up on some pillows in the back of the wagon, lying there, watching with a flat expression. Normally, all this would probably fascinate the scientist, the similarities of scientific evolution, but it was as if McKay had given up on even that part of his personality.

They were standing on a fairly even dirt road, about twenty feet across, cleared of trees and shrubs. Deep wagon ruts marked both sides, suggesting heavy items were lugged back and forth along it. Probably granite and lumber, from the looks of the landscape, for building materials. Still, it afforded Sheppard his first real look at the landscape again, and he tried to place himself on his mental map of the long valley, so that he could remember this place again. A three-quarter moon helped, bringing more than enough light to discern the shapes and sizes of things.

"It acts up a bit," Connam said, bringing his attention back to the speedwheel. The trader pulled up on the fuel and capped the tank, having used more than half the gas inside the storage can. "Machinery hasn't been looked at by someone who knows what they're doing for a while. If you push it too much, it might conk out on you, so be careful."

"Not a lot of mechanics around these days, huh?" Sheppard asked, moving over to touch the worn leather handles and to get a better look at the engine. He knelt down next to it, peering at the foot pedal controls and the lines.

"No, not really," Connam agreed. "They've a few tractors and the like on this planet, mostly the richer farmers, but the only decent mechanic here charges more than I can afford." He shook his head, "I once had a contact on Belkan that I could rely on to fix most of the tech I found broken or damaged, but…Well, he's gone now."

"Ah," Sheppard nodded, standing up again. He checked the various gauges and, in a fairly short period of time, thought he figured out the way it worked. It really was a similar design to the old Triumph motorcycle in the Great Escape.

"You head that way," Connam said, pointing off to the right. "Keep the mountains on your left. When you see a massive boulder on your right, the next driveway on your right leads you to the Welles ranch. They'll rent you the meeners you need. Meanwhile, I'll head that way with the doctor," he thumbed behind him. Sheppard turned his head in that direction, and Connam stepped closer. "You see that cleft between those two mountains there? The granite's reflecting the moon…see?"

Sheppard squinted, then opened his eyes. He saw it. "Over there?" he pointed into Connam's line of sight.

"Yes, exactly. There's a scree slope and a waterfall that comes down there. The waterfall becomes a healthy stream and on it, about halfway between that cleft and this road, is the shack I acquired. It was a line shack once, for timber cutting, but they cleared the area too much so they moved on to the other side of the valley. No one goes there. He'll be safe."

"Going that way will also take you closer to the gate, right?"

"Yes."

"All right then," Sheppard said. With a nod to Connam, he headed back to the wagon to collect the things he was going to take with him. McKay didn't look at him, until he pressed McKay's radio into his hand. The scientist stared at it, then reached up with his other hand to touch his chest, as if noticing for the first time he wasn't wearing his vest.

"I traded it," Sheppard explained, "But in your pack are a few things that I didn't. Your scanner's in there, along with some odds and ends, your laptop, batteries, that kind of thing." He tapped the radio in McKay's hand, "Don't use this unless it's an emergency. It may not work anyway, considering the distances, but we might get lucky. Once I've got the others, and, with any luck, liberated their weapons and their radios from wherever they're hidden in the Citadel, I'll call you on it. Okay?"

McKay just stared at the black rectangular box in his hand, as if not really seeing it.

"McKay?" Sheppard prompted, "Do you understand?"

The eyes lifted, and McKay looked at him. "I'm not deaf," he muttered.

Sheppard frowned. "Don't be like that, McKay. I said I'm coming back. Now tell me you understand."

McKay stared at him, his eyes very dark, almost black. They betrayed everything McKay was thinking—they were both accusatory and desperate, filled with fear and filled with anger, and, ultimately, very, very tired.

"Just go," McKay said finally.

Sheppard squinted his eyes, the only sign that the response had hurt, and then nodded.

"See ya, then."

"See ya," McKay replied.

Sheppard turned, headed to the motorbike and nodding thanks to Connam, straddled it and sat down. In moments, he had it running, the engine backfiring a little, the noise seeming incredibly loud after the stillness of the night.

"Good luck," Connam said, raising a hand in farewell.

Sheppard just gave him a tight smile and a nod, then turned on the headlight. For a moment, he just sat there, listening to the engine gurgle and spit, then settle. Once sure it wouldn't die completely, tipped the bike up and took off down the road, not once looking back.

McKay watched him until he disappeared.

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TBC...