Here it is. Chapter 10 and 11 go together like chapters 4 and 5...

Part 10

"Hold him still." McKay could hear Biro. Her clipped flat voice stood out like a sore thumb in amongst all the different accents on Atlantis. He wondered what she was doing searching for a ZPM on some medieval planet. McKay felt incredibly hot and once again tried to shed the coat he was wearing and kick free of his sleeping bag.

At least Carson wasn't hacking near him anymore.

Thank God for small favors.

Then he heard the bone rattling coughs off in the distance. He wanted nothing more than to tell Carson to shut up. But it seemed to take too much of his strength.

How was anyone to get any sleep with Beckett continuously trying to haul up a lung?

McKay shifted again. His muscles ached, his joints hurt and his skin felt prickly. He was hot, terribly hot, he needed to get up, walk around, maybe get some coffee. Coffee always made him feel better. It was time to start moving, try walking this edgy uncomfortable feeling off. Go the lab.

He'd give Carson a good nudge on the way by to get him to quiet down.

His skin crawled and his muscled cramped. His clothes scratched against his skin and his side hurt terribly.

Definitely time to get up. Everything ached. He needed caffeine. Coffee was always the best source. Hell, it was a cure-all. He'd seen Carson drink it by the pot. The Scot might like a spot of tea, but he could pack away the coffee in a pinch; Sheppard too.

McKay tried to sit up, push away his blankets and crawl free of his bedding.

Rodney felt something grab at him.

Images of the creature flashed to his mind. He recalled how it tried to drag the others into the forest. Ronon, the Colonel, Teyla; all of them had been attacked.

Rodney panicked and began to fight back.

He hollered for Colonel Sheppard. But Sheppard had been dragged away within the jaws of the beast.

He shouted for Teyla, but she had drowned in a river.

Ronon had been torn asunder in the small meadow.

Rodney fought the paws that tried to pin him. He kicked out and screamed against the creature that tried smothering him in the mud like it had done Beckett. He screamed for Carson, knowing that the doctor had drowned in a field.

He bucked and kicked and fought for all he was worth. His muscles ached and bruised under the claws that gripped his arms. His ears roared with his bounding pulse, punishing his head with each beat. Rodney kicked out, fighting the covers that entangled his legs and trapped his feet. He flailed about screaming his rage with a weak hoarse voice. He struggled against the beast that tried to snap his bones and quaff his marrow.

A warmth seeped up his arm and through his shoulders. The heat spread through his muscles, leadening his arms and legs. His strength faded. He rolled his head away from the Howler as it tried to trap him. He mumbled for Sheppard. He whispered for the colonel. The colonel was pretty good at pulling off military miracles. Darkness enveloped McKay and he slid deeper into a dreamless sleep.

A fever raged.

Biro and Weir watched from opposite sides of the bed as McKay settled heavily into the mattress under the muting effects of medication.

The surgery a half day earlier had been successful. Beckett with Biro in assistance had managed to put McKay back together. Both doctors were relatively relieved that the creature's claws had not truly punctured McKay's abdominal cavity. Blood loss, exhaustion and shock had taken their toll on the astrophysicist. A fever raged as foreign bacteria from the Howler's claws and teeth battled heatedly with the body's defenses.

Near the end of the surgery, when the delicate intricate work was completed and layers only needed closed, Beckett had simply asked Biro to finish. With her undemanding nod, Carson stepped back against the wall and slid down to the floor. He sat tiredly leaning forward with his forehead resting on his crossed forearms. He fought for breath between bouts of forceful coughing.

Three hours ago fevers soared and ran rampant through those who suffered at the hands of the Howler.

Ronon's arm had been immobilized. Beckett and Biro agreed as they stood staring at the images of the re-aligned bones, that if the limb remained properly set within a cast that perhaps implants could be avoided. They would try. Carson's hands had shook, his arms felt leaden and he agreed that he did not have the strength nor endurance to man-handle bones in surgery. Ronon deserved better. They'd try the simplest technique first and proceed from there.

Biro tended to Ronon's and Sheppard's shoulders while Teyla was run through a skull series. Sheppard and Ronon both followed afterward.

None of the SGA-1 team showed signs of truly waking.

Beckett, in dry scrubs and coat, finally sat on the edge an empty infirmary bed and quietly fought for breath between brutal bouts of coughing.

He kept an eye on the others and waited for test results back on his friends.

Biro kept her distance and quietly waited. Within a few minutes of sitting, Beckett slowly eased down onto his side and gingerly pulled heavy legs onto the bed. He lay semi curled on his side, wheezing uncomfortably, watching the occupant on the next bed over.

McKay was still wrapped in a medically induced sleep. IVs and oxygen tubing snaked from various stands and portable units to the patient.

Beckett didn't remember dozing off. He certainly didn't recall his nurses freeing him of his coat or fitting him with oxygen or removing his boots allowing his socks to unwrinkled and unfold from under the balls of his feet. They peeled his socks from his feet, carefully tearing them away from bloodied torn blisters. He never moved when they cleaned his heels and medicated them. He slept through his own series of chest imaging.

He didn't see the worry in his staffs' expressions as his low grade fever began to climb with each passing hour he lay still allowing the toxins to sit relatively unchallenged in his chest. He missed all of it, even the powerful bouts of coughing that left him red faced and wheezing. Carson drifted heavily in his own sea of misery.

Beckett missed McKay's fever induced struggles, and his frantic calls for the others.

Colonel Sheppard, Teyla and Ronon suffered similar fevers. The howler's attacks had seeded their wounds with a tenacious bacterium. Cold packs and cooling pads had been nestled around them in an attempt to bring fevers down.

Ronon had remained still through his fever. His shoulder and broken arm were tightly wrapped and restrained. The white bandages stood out sharply against his dark skin.

Teyla occasionally whimpered and then heaved violently, emptying her stomach. Her hair was pulled back and folded over the thick bandage that protected her head.

Sheppard muttered rolling his head left and right occasionally whispering orders to individuals no one else could see. His arm lay trapped, bandaged tightly against his sutured chest, keeping the joints immobilized. Stitches adorned his forehead and temple forcing his hair to spike more unruly than usual. Occasionally his trapped and swollen hand would flex and jump as his fever rose and muscles cramped.

Dr. Weir had come to the infirmary an hour after Beckett and Biro had finished surgery on McKay. She returned two hours later, after the first time Carson had wandered off undetected.

Elizabeth returned three hours later, entering the bustling infirmary as McKay fought with creatures only he could see and she stayed to help.

With McKay finally settled, the head of Atlantis leaned against the bed and stared at the sleeping scientist not truly seeing him but wondering how much more trouble this team could possibly find.

She smiled tightly at the Pathologist commiserating with the other woman. Weir shook her head slightly with amusement that was colored with concern.

Weir and Biro had their attention pulled from the sedated astrophysicist by sounds of nurse.

"Dr. Biro," Emily, the head nurse from Perth, Australia, called tiredly and with a hint of frustration, "Dr. Beckett has gone missing again."

Biro closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose and took a steadying breath. She then looked pointedly to Dr. Weir, not having to articulate her response.

Elizabeth grimaced and tapped her ear piece, "Major Lorne, Dr. Beckett…"

"Gone again?" Major Lorne's tinny voice sounded amused as he correctly guessed her request, "we'll find him and bring him back." There was a pause, "The others?"

Weir turned and faced the small section of the infirmary where the others lay. "Still here and somewhat quiet."

She could almost see Lorne nod his head.

Rodney was rarely still or quiet.

Day 2

The first thing McKay became aware of was the bed. The mattress was not as soft as the one in his quarters but it was much softer than the ground. The second thing he noticed was the lack of a crackling fire or the smell of smoke. The third was no coughing.

The coughing suddenly started. It was deep, wet and sounded painful.

"Carson, shut up," McKay muttered, raising an impossibly heavy hand to his head. When he felt the plastic tubing brush against his arm, he paused. When he felt the tug of a catheter in the back of his hand, he cracked his eyes open. The lids peeled slowly apart and refused to open completely.

The dark lighting of the infirmary was immediately familiar. The smells came second as olfactory senses came online and began reporting in. The scent of antiseptic was unmistakable.

McKay dropped a weighted hand to his blanketed midsection. A dull ache resided in his upper left abdomen. It felt distance like waves crashing on an unseen shores.

He kept his eyes on the IV, unable to find the energy or desire to move his gaze. He thought about the muted pain and finally pieced together that whatever dripped through the line was keeping him comfortably numb.

He wasn't sure he liked Pink Floyd but he understood what they meant now.

Harsh moist coughs drummed in the background.

The coughing was slowly tapering off, but the sounds of worried voices picked up.

McKay rolled his head against the pillow. He felt unusually sluggish. Rodney closed his eyes at the fatigue the simple move generated and listened to the commotion on the next bed over.

He blinked and narrowed his gaze trying to improve his sight as he strained to see. His hearing seemed more cooperative.

"Come on, Carson," Biro urged, holding an oxygen mask to the CMO's face. "Take a breath." The doctor turned her attention to the nurse on the opposite side of the bed. "We have to sit him up straighter." The two women struggled gamely to push Beckett more upright.

From seemingly out of nowhere, Ronon, with one arm immobilized across his midsection, and Major Lorne strode to opposite sides of the bed and easily pushed Beckett into a sitting position.

Carson rolled forward into his bent blanketed knees.

McKay could see his features were deep red almost bordering on blue.

"Damn it, Dr. Beckett, take a breath." Biro ordered.

Ronon slapped the doctor soundly on the back.

A second explosive set of coughs erupted, splattering the clear oxygen mask with thick, tenacious, greenish phlegm and flakes of blood.

Beckett's features turned an even darker hue.

"Don't do that," Biro hissed.

"Seemed to work," Ronon stated.

Beckett heaved in a panicked breath as one fist curled helplessly into his blanket near his hip. The IV followed his movement of his hand like a leash.

An intense bout of coughing started again.

McKay heard Beckett moan painfully and tilt to the side, trying to lie back down but only managing to fold up against Lorne. "Oh no you don't, Doc. Biro wants you sitting up." The major gently pushed Beckett upright.

Beckett stole a second and third desperate breath, fogging the splattered oxygen mask that was held tightly to his face. Fierce wet, coughs rattled forth but they were suddenly combined with something more forceful, more violent.

"Damn it, he's retching. Roll him over," Biro's voice became clipped, authoritative.

Rodney recognized it as panic. He watched as the oxygen mask was pulled away and Carson was shoved to the side. The white scrub top seemed to highlight the deep anguish blush to the skin of the back of his neck. Beckett's shoulders were held down over the side of the bed as he back arched painfully upward and both fists knotted and rolled into the bedding. Thick strings of blood tinged mucus and bile thickly flowed forth and dangled toward the floor to puddle.

"He was healthier on the planet walking," Ronon stated impatiently, repeating Linus's suggestions in his own way.

Biro kept a hand on Carson's forehead keeping him from banging his head against the side of the bed. There was a pregnant pause as the CMO continued to cough and then retch once again, arching his back unbearably tight as reflexes nearly threw him to his knees.

The violence and ungraceful strain of the action reminded Rodney of his cat vomiting up hairballs. There was nothing elegant or refined in such actions. It was one of the few times Rodney felt cats lacked any hint of poise. He missed his cat. He didn't miss the fur balls stuck to the rugs or his blanket.

"You might have something, Specialist Dex." Biro's thoughtful voice leached some of the tension from the room.

McKay watched for another moment before his eyes drifted closed and he sank back into his infirmary bed. He fell into a deep sleep.

The third time McKay woke, he was unnerved to see Sheppard leaning in so close staring at him.

"Come on, McKay, wake up so I can go keep an eye on Lorne and Beckett."

Rodney stared at Sheppard, noting deep maroon and blue bruise that bled down his features, turned his sclera bright red and leached its way to his chin. A neat row stitches curved around from his forehead over to his temple. Sheppard's shoulder was tightly bandaged and restrained by a blue sling.

"Carson?" McKay whispered. His throat scratched, feeling as if he had swallowed sand.

"Here," Sheppard leaned forward placing a bendy straw at McKay's lips. There was a moments pause, "You got to draw it in, McKay." The colonel smiled sarcastically at Rodney's questioning look. "Get your mind out of the gutter and take a drink."

McKay managed only a feeble sip before the straw was pulled away. Oral tissues absorbed the water before it even reached the back of his throat, preventing him from the luxury of swallowing, not that he was terribly hungry or truly thirsty at the moment. Truthfully, at the moment, he didn't truly didn't know how he felt. Hungry or otherwise.

"Can't have more. Biro has her hands filled with Teyla being sick." Sheppard gazed over his shoulders at the Pathologist and her team that worked silently over the Athosian.

McKay tried to follow the colonel's look. "Teyla?"

"Bad knock to the head, making her sick---disoriented as Hell," Sheppard stated still staring at the bed in the far corner before turning back to Rodney.

McKay rubbed at his stomach and furrowed his brow trying to remember what happened.

"You and Beckett got us through the gate…"

"Saved your asses again," McKay interrupted with a weak version of his patent smug smirk.

"Yeah, thanks," Sheppard mumbled. "Anyhow, you got sliced pretty bad. Beckett had to do emergency surgery, keep everything inside you where it belonged. That creature thing carried some sort of bacteria on its claws. Got most of us pretty sick." The colonel quickly added, "you're going to be okay, McKay, just sore for awhile. Biro and her group have been doing a pretty good job of it."

"Carson?"

"Biro has Lorne and Philips walking him around outside trying to work that crap out of his lungs. Keeping him still was allowing it to settle and concentrate. Ronon's with them."

"You?" McKay muttered tiredly, fighting to keep his eyes open.

"Me? I'm fine, McKay. I've got to go make sure the Doc doesn't get too surly and start trying to get away again." Sheppard dismissed Rodney's concern and patted his shoulder. "Get some rest. Biro could use a break." With that, Sheppard cautiously stood up and gently stretched, being careful of his shoulder and rib.

McKay stared at him for a bit keeping the Colonel close by with just a tired stare. Eventually, Rodney's eyes fluttered closed and he settled into a heavy, healing slumber. Sheppard paused a few more moments before leaving the bedside.

Part 11

The fourth time McKay opened his eyes, he found Teyla staring at him quietly.

"Hello, Dr. McKay," she quietly leaned forward in her chair and placed an ice chip against his lips. Rodney didn't realize what was occurring until the ice melted on his tongue. This time enough liquid traveled to the back of his tongue to stimulate a swallow reflex.

"Teyla?"

"I am here and am fine." She smiled tiredly. McKay stared at her. Even with the bruising and stitches along the side of her head and the swelling, she was still breath-takingly beautiful. Thank-god she wasn't blonde.

"The others?" McKay tried to sit himself up but found just the thought of moving made his muscles ache. He settled for laying still.

"Colonel Sheppard and Ronon are on the balcony offering encouragements to Dr. Beckett, Major Lorne and Sergeant Philips."

McKay snorted, "Yeah right."

"Dr. Beckett is moving and breathing easier. His fever has abated some and he struggles less and less against Major Lorne and Sergeant Philips. I fear both the major and sergeant seem to be waning. However, they do keeping offering Colonel Sheppard and Ronon hand signals in response to the support offered each time they pass by."

"I bet," McKay muttered smiling. He rubbed at his stomach again and found the lethargy irritating as it once again pulled him toward sleep.

"You must rest Dr. McKay, your fever was quite high only yesterday and you lost much blood."

Rodney thought about nodding in agreement but sleep crept in too quickly and buried him.

The fifth time he opened his eyes, his mind quickly deduced where he was and why. His eyes fluttered opened to see Dex and Teyla staring at him.

"His eyes are open," Ronon stated.

Oh yes, Mr. Obvious is back, McKay thought.

"It does not mean he is awake," Teyla observed. "Remember, Colonel Sheppard did that yesterday."

"Hey, I was awake," Sheppard said indigently from the opposite side of the bed. McKay rolled his head toward the Colonel and found the action took less energy than the times before.

"No, you weren't," Ronon stated.

"Ask, Beckett," The colonel challenged, hoping the CMO would collaborate his story.

"Dr. Beckett, was not here at the time. He had wandered away again," Teyla answered.

"He did?" Sheppard asked. "Where does he go?"

"Don't know," Ronon said. "Next time I'll follow him."

"He is better. He will not be wandering away again anytime soon," Teyla noted. She stared at the bed across the way. The physician slept heavily on his side, a nasal canula taped in place. Dry sweat stiffened his dirty hair. He huddled under blankets, effectively hiding most of his frame but his toes and bandaged heels.

"Sheppard will make him go off world," Ronon spoke, "and he'll get into trouble, and then he'll wander off."

"Go talk elsewhere," McKay muttered. "Man down; Dying, here you know. Show some respect, I saved all your asses---again."

"Oh, so you're awake," Sheppard said sitting on the edge of McKay's bed. " 'Bout damn time. You had us worried; Biro was sharpening her circular saw and I thought I might have to say something nice at your funeral."

"Uh huh," McKay breathed, gently trying to find a comfortable position. He eyed the IV with disgust. Apparently they had cut back on his medication.

"They cut back on your pain meds," Sheppard offered helpfully.

McKay scowled at him as if to blame him for the lack of appropriate medication.

"How do you feel, Dr. McKay?" Teyla asked with appropriate concern in her voice. "You appear more lucid than you did earlier."

"You're making more sense," Ronon informed.

McKay's eyes narrowed.

"Listen, McKay, Biro gave us a clean bill of health. You're stuck here for another few days," Sheppard stated. "You'll have Beckett as a roomy until tomorrow."

Sheppard turned his attention to the CMO. He watched tiredly as Beckett reached a hand out from under his blankets and pushed unconsciously at the nasal canula, shifting it out from under his nose.

The colonel silently cursed and marveled at the Scot. After having Major Lorne and Sergeant Philips support Beckett's solid frame back and forth along the west pier for the last few hours, forcing him to cough and clear his lungs, the man still had the ability to resist even in his sleep. Lorne and Philips were more than happy to drop Beckett back into the infirmary bed. They had spent hours of pacing, cajoling and joking with the CMO, trying to keep him moving. They forced a portable oxygen mask over his face after each bout of painful, productive coughing, despite his muted attempts to wiggle his face free of it and them. Philips had remarked that Beckett was built as solid as a brick house.

Lorne figured he and Sheppard were even. At first the colonel had been dubious until he and Ronon sat on the balcony to watch and then add their support and suggestions to the stumbling, swaying trio below them.

The hours were entertaining. Sheppard must have dozed off, because when he opened his eyes, a blanket had been draped over him. Ronon sat beside him, his head resting on his chest with a blanket across his legs and a second one around his shoulders.

Beckett still cursed Lorne and Philips every couple of feet on the pier below. Sheppard leaned forward and had once again started offering suggestions and motivational quotes. The sign language directed back at him fed his vocal responses with more vigor.

It was a vicious cycle. After a few more hours, with the portable oxygen empty, the sun low over the horizon and Beckett able to curse them out without having to gasp for breath or be interrupted by a series of eye watering coughs, Biro gave them the okay to come back to the infirmary.

Carson had continued to drag his feet, allowing the Major to support the bulk of his weight.

Lorne suffered, almost adequately enough.

Sheppard watched as Beckett swiped at the misaligned canula, pushing at it blindly with a sleeping hand.

"Teyla?"

The Athosian noted the direction of the colonel's gaze and sighed. She stepped beside Carson's bed, "No, Dr. Beckett, you must leave that be," she chastised quietly and replaced the nasal canula. She tucked the blankets tighter around his shadowed chin, hopefully trapping his hands momentarily. She gently carded her hand over his dirty hair for moment once again silently thanking him for saving their lives.

"Let's go, leave these two to their peace." Sheppard delicately pushed away from the chair he straddled, careful of his left arm and cognizant of his rib. He stood with the aid of Ronon's unbroken arm.

"We'll see you later, McKay," Sheppard stated.

"If, Beckett decides to leave again, let me know, Little Man," Ronon ordered, "I will follow him."

"You saved our lives, Dr. McKay," Teyla whispered softly with a smile on her face. She placed her hands on both his shoulders and touched her forehead gently to his. She paused for a moment before pulling away.

"Get some rest, McKay," the Colonel recommended. "Heard they're having spaghetti tonight with garlic bread."

"You can't have any," Ronon stated before Rodney could utter his request.

McKay carefully harrumphed and settled heavily back against his pillow under his blankets. He truly wasn't hungry but the idea of missing out on a meal bothered him.

The three left, casting the darkened infirmary into an unusual silence.

Shadows stretched across the floor keeping the corners dark. With the lights set at their night settings, the silence seemed heavier.

Rodney stared over to the next bed and watched as Beckett reached a hand out from under his blanket and once again tug the nasal canula out from under his nose and down near his chin.

McKay sighed carefully and closed his eyes. He thought about calling Biro or someone to come fix Carson's oxygen, but figured he had fulfilled his helpful quota for the next couple of weeks.

He'd let someone else save day; play the hero. He was tired.

McKay gingerly stretched his legs under the blankets and stifled a yawn.

Saving everyone around him, again, was arduous. It wore on him.

With a satisfied conscience, he settled into back into the mattress, marveling, once again, at his own bottomless well of remarkable feats. Hell, he even amazed himself at times. Which in itself struck him as extraordinary, but true.

A satisfied smile warmed his features as he drifted off to sleep.

Biro watched from the cloaking shadows that encompassed the nurses' station and sighed. She tsked silently at her boss and considered suturing the oxygen canula in place.

She gazed down at the print out in her hand. All the clothing and blood spatter flakes that Beckett had submitted to his lab for DNA testing came back as their own. No blood from the creature that had attacked them had been found.

Biro wasn't sure if her boss would welcome going back to the planet to try and get a few samples of blood from the villagers or just let it all be. She couldn't guess what he would decide. When it came to his research, he was pinpoint focused and made decisions while his mind was still narrowly honed.

Dr. Zelenka had a pool running already as to whether their CMO would voluntarily step through the gate to return to M3X-808 for blood samples. At the moment, the Atlantis population was split in half. Biro had refrained from placing a bet so far, not because of a moral or ethical internal squabble but simply because when it came to her boss and his field of research he had a tendency to become unpredictable. She needed more time to read the situation. She feared, however, that he would return to the planet as long as the quarter moon was no where near rising. Research was after all research. Uncovering secrets and discovering new sequences, enzymes and functions were no different to a dedicated genetic researcher than uncovering the Holy Grail.

The Pathologist scrutinized McKay's movements and was relieved to see him move with more ease. Biro never thought she would ever be pleased to see the self satisfied, self congratulating smile on his face so soon. The energy spikes on M3X-808 still remained unexplained. The betting pool under Dr. Zelenka's quick pencil leaned in favor of McKay returning to the planet with more gadgets, tools and a much larger contingency of marines. The real wagering came in the haggling over the number and amount of fire power McKay would demand should accompany him.

Biro pushed off the wall and disappeared deep into the long shadows of the infirmary. She headed back to her lab. Tissues and lesions were her El Dorado.

Tomorrow things would be easier for her patients, more difficult for her.

And tomorrow, Atlantis would breathe another sigh of relief as her head scientist and his team, once again, tap danced their way around imminent doom.

The end.