WINTER WONDERLAND
By NotTasha
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CHAPTER 10: WILE E COYOTE

They plunged onward. The hillside they descended became radically steeper as they trudged along. John kept his eyes forward, looking for that color in the cold. Behind him, Ford tried to reach Teyla again, getting nothing. He tried McKay as well for good measure – no result.

They followed the hillside. In the open space, the huge tapas shuffled about. The major kept his gaze on them, glad that there were some distance away.

It was hard work, forcing his way through the snow, but Sheppard wasn't slowing. His knee twinged, telling him that he should give up the lead to Ford, but he had no plan on slowing just yet. Beckett would tell him a thing or two when they got back.

The hillside flanking them grew ever steeper as they moved alongside. It was early in the winter, Sheppard remembered. There was hardly any snowpack, but even so, he didn't want to see any of this coming down on them. They said little, and when they spoke it was in hushed voices.

"He should be just about there," Ford announced from behind.

Sheppard was glad Ford knew that, because everything looked similar here in this damn white world. Where are you, McKay? Where the hell are you?

Then, as if in answer, he spotted it. Red… Red against the white, and he increased his speed, his knee giving him hell. Ford stayed right behind him. The snow squeaked as they plowed through it.

"McKay," he called softly, "McKay!" High-stepping through the drifts, he could see the red jacket clearer now, bright as day against the white. "Hang on, Rodney." There, yes, obviously a man lying in the snow.

The man had been driven in deeply. God, they would have never found him if not for that red. It took several long moments to cross the distance, and when he did, John fell on his knees, cringing as he bent the right one too far. "Rodney," he said softly, "Rodney!"

The physicist was on his side, half curled in the snow, partially covered in it. He'd impacted into the snow – reminding Sheppard a little too much of Wile E Coyote in a Roadrunner cartoon. He hadn't reached the ground though – there was snow still under him.

Only Rodney's right arm was easily seen – red against the snow. He'd lost his gloves. The blue fleece hat with the ridiculous tie-on strap had remained on – exactly as it should have. The goggles had fallen half-off, only covering his left eye – the other lens was down around his cheek.

"Rodney," Sheppard hissed, sweeping away the snow. "Come on, McKay." He pulled off one of his gloves, using his teeth, and grasped the man's wrist to feel for a pulse.

The scientist didn't move. In this still, cold world, McKay was just as still – just as cold – still and cold as death. Sheppard grimaced, unable to feel anything in the frigid wrist. Carefully, he rested Rodney's cold hand on his own leg, and moved to McKay's neck, stealing his hand under the scarf that had somehow remained tucked within his jacket's collar. With a sigh, he found some warmth, and a steady beat.

Watching, John could see the curl of vapor that came with each breath through Rodney's parted lips – slow shallow breaths. Thank you.

"Major?" Ford asked expectantly.

"He's alive," Sheppard responded. He removed his hand, careful to pull the scarf tight again, to seal in any remaining heat. He remembered how he'd laughed at the doctor's get up. Didn't seem so foolish now. The puffy red jacket seemed to have survived the fall marvelously, maybe even cushioned him. He worked at removing some of the snow from the man.

Softly he patted Rodney's exposed cheek. "McKay? McKay, wake up!" God he was cold.

There was no response to his urging. They had no emergency blankets, no food, no hand-warmers, nothing – and Rodney was lying with his face in the snow. Damn it. With a grimace, he unzipped his hood, and pulled it from his jacket collar. "Help me with his head," Sheppard told his 2IC. "Lift him really carefully, just enough so I can get this under it."

Ford nodded, leaning in closely and carefully working his hands under the doctor's head, his gloved fingers easily working through the snow. Patiently, slowly, Sheppard moved the hood until Rodney could keep his cold face out of the snow, and Ford gently settled him on top of the white material. John considered giving up his coat, too, but wondered if it would help.

He blew out a breath, realizing that he would need his wits about him – and allowing himself to freeze wouldn't help Rodney at all. He glanced to Aiden. Ford looked toward the ledge above them – about seven feet up. Sheppard squinted at it, figuring that Rodney must have sailed right over it, to plunge into the cushion of snow. Sheppard brushed again at Rodney's clothing, trying to get off the caked on snow.

Something creaked. Something groaned. The major and the lieutenant looked upward, watching the snow that dribbled down over the ledge. Neither spoke for a moment.

"Think it'll come down?" Ford finally whispered, his eyes fastened on what hung above them, like misbalanced plates at the edge of a table.

"McKay didn't bring it down with him," Sheppard responded. "I think it's planning to stay."

"Doesn't sound like it wants to stay," Ford uttered, listening to the creaking.

"I know I'll be a hell of a lot happier if we were out from under it."

"Do we move him?" Ford asked. "He may have… broken something."

Sheppard's hand still rested against Rodney's cheek. McKay felt so cold. Ice had formed in his hair and eyelashes. He brushed at the snow that fringed his hair. "We got to get him out of the snow."

Ford went on, "We should get a backboard, and something to keep his neck still."

John drew back his hand. He clenched it, feeling the cold biting into him. His ears were getting numb too – and his nose. He blew on his fingers, then tugged on McKay's cap, carefully pulling it to cover more of his face. "Rodney," he repeated, "McKay!"

The icy lashes moved slightly.

Ford glanced back the way they'd come. "I could break up the snow-skid a bit. Find something we could put him on. It'll take a while to get back and forth though and I don't…"

Impatient, John rapped on Rodney's face with the back of his hand. "McKay, wake up! Now!" he barked.

Suddenly, McKay's eyes shot open, and one arm flailed. "No!" he cried, trying to shove back the intruder. "No… no…!"

"Rodney, Rodney!" Sheppard captured the arm easily.

"No… get back… get back…" McKay called, his voice quiet and his actions almost resigned. One arm feebly fought against Sheppard, the other, trapped beneath him, tried to lever himself upright. He stopped almost instantly with a sharp intake of breath. His eyes squeezed shut in pain.

"Stop! Stop moving! Knock it off!" Sheppard demanded, forcing him back down. "It's me! It's Sheppard! It's John!"

"Get them off me!" McKay cried.

Aiden was at Rodney's back, doing what he could to keep the doctor still. "Come on, Doc. It's me and the major. It's okay."

"They're gone! Rodney, they're gone!" Sheppard said distinctly. "Those damn dogs are gone!"

One vivid blue eye sought him out and blinked, looking terribly lost. "Oh," he said, and settled back into the hood with a miserable sigh. "Oh." The eye closed and for a moment, Sheppard and Ford stared at each other.

It became evident that Rodney had drifted off. Sheppard let out a slow breath, and tried again. "Come on, Rodney, wake up. Nobody's here but me and Ford."

"Doc?" Aiden tried, laying a hand on McKay's exposed shoulder. "Come on. Try again."

But McKay didn't move. Shaking his head, Sheppard told him, "I'm not screwing around! Wake up, I need you to stay awake!"

"You…need," McKay said softly, his one visible eye cracking open. "Why?" Rodney's gaze faltered until he was staring into the snow that surrounded him.

Rodney's gaze tracked upward again. He blinked tiredly. Softly, he said, "I… my eye… I can't see out of … one's all dark… I…can't…see …"

"That's 'cause your goggles are half-cocked. You got the lens over only one of your eyes," Sheppard explained trying to sound amused, hoping to God that's all it was.

With a half-hearted scowl, McKay tried to move his arm. It came stiffly, and was quickly captured by Sheppard.

"Don't move," Sheppard told him. Carefully, he tugged at the goggles, bringing them down until they were under Rodney's chin. The Canadian sighed with relief as the vision in his occluded eye came clear.

"Better?" Sheppard asked.

McKay didn't respond. He continued to blink at the snow in front of his nose. Dutifully, Sheppard worked to dig some of it out of the way. "This has got to be a bit better," Sheppard went on.

"I want… I want…to get up," McKay started. "I'm cold."

"I know," Sheppard replied. "But you're not going to be moving for a bit."

"I'm so cold."

Ford exchanged a worried look with his CO – damn, McKay wasn't sounding good – not sounding like himself at all!

"First things first, McKay," Sheppard tried. "I need you to move your feet. Can you try? I mean, without moving around too much?"

"Move them without moving?" McKay grumbled, looking at Sheppard as if he was insane.

"Try to move your toes," Ford supplied helpfully.

"I…" McKay startled at Ford's voice, trying to turn to see who was behind him.

"It's just me, doc," Ford assured. "It's Aiden."

McKay grumbled, "Of course, I know that."

"McKay," Sheppard went on. "Try to move your toes."

Looking into the snow that surrounded him, Rodney remained still. With a grimace, he snapped, "I have boots on. Tight snow boots. My toes are frozen. I couldn't move my toes if I tried. Can I get up now? Can we get someplace warm?"

The irritated demeanor made Sheppard feel a hell of a lot better, but Rodney's lack of movement wasn't encouraging.

"Okay, then. Since you can't handle that simple job, you're going to have to keep still for a bit, McKay," Sheppard told him. He took a surreptitious glance at the hanging snow over their head. "We'll get something to carry you out on and…"

"Yes, well, yes." McKay's arm fished around, and his hand finally grasped onto the sleeve of Sheppard's white jacket. "Can you… hurry it up?"

Ford cut in, "I'll go back to the skid and find something." He stood quickly, observing as the major leaned protectively over the man in the snow. "I'll hurry."

"Yes, do," McKay responded. He tried to turn his head, but stopped immediately with a wince.

"Don't move!" Sheppard chided, poking a finger against the doctor's head. "I mean it! Just wait a couple minutes and Ford will be back."

McKay huffed out a breath. "I don't feel so good." The one hand continued to clasp at Sheppard's sleeve, twisting into the white material. "Don't know if I can…"

"You'll manage," Sheppard assured, and then looked up at Ford. "Go!" he ordered, and Ford took off through the snow, loping through the trail that they'd blazed earlier. "Hurry," he whispered.

TBC