"Tell me again why I'm here?" Dr. Carson Beckett was stomping along the path like a petulant child. His pack was sagging because he refused to tighten the straps any further, complaining that he wasn't built for on-foot-pack travel, and that his back was about to give out. It was a complaint worthy of Dr. Rodney McKay, and indeed the man smirked at him in pleasure.

"Oh, if only Colonel Sheppard could be here to hear this. He'd get off my ass."

"Rodney, there is a firm difference between a legitimate complaint and blowing hot air."

"Excuse me?" Rodney turned right as Carson stumbled and had to brace himself on a tree. The physicist sighed and retraced his steps. "Look, take it from someone who has studied inertia for a living. You don't want to fall. This. . ." he gave the pack a sharp tug, nearly bringing Carson down to his knees, "this causes unnecessary pull. See? You have to lean forward to counter, and that means tripping on these roots that rival the toes of Godzilla. Now. . ." he reached underneath the pack and yanked at the straps, then faced him and adjusted the front, "that will actually improve your rather meager hiking ability by equally distributing the forward inertial motion with the counterweight on your back." He gave Carson's shoulder a slap. "Got it?"

"Clear as pudding," Carson groaned, though he did walk more easily. Not that he'd admit that to Rodney. The man was as smug as he'd even seen him, guiding the more inexperienced doctor on a journey to a stricken village. "Remind me again why we're here?"

"Because you offered your services? Although I don't know why, from what I hear these people are about as useful as condoms in the Vatican."

"Rodney, how can you say something so crude?"

"Easily." He kept walking.

Carson shook his head. He had to remind himself that Rodney really wasn't as egotistical, well, okay he was, but he wasn't as heartless as he appeared. "What I meant before was, why are we here. Together. I know my duty, what's yours?"

"Glorified tour guide," Rodney huffed.

"Come on, there has to be more than that."

"No, that's about it." Rodney released a powerful and over-dramatic sigh. "Colonel Sheppard had to tend to a matter on PXR-333, whichever planet that is, and Teyla and Ronon are still on the mainland. The Colonel is supposed to join us in about. . ." he made a show of looking at his watch, "two hours, plus the hike to the village."

"So we have nothing to worry about from these people."

"These pipsqueaks? Pfft." Rodney waved away the comment. "Please. The mice tower over their intellect. Their physique leaves much to be desired, I mean, you thought Colonel Sheppard was thin? These people make toothpicks look like the pillars of the Coliseum."

"I don't think Colonel Sheppard is too thin."

"I see. I suppose then that you think I'm a bit overdone."

"We've already had this discussion, Rodney. I'll not be sucked back in to it."

"No, but I can't believe you said that in front of Kate!" His expression was one of total embarrassment. "I mean come on, be a little discreet, huh?"

"I apologize. But really, Rodney, look at the shirts we have to wear! They don't exactly hide any extra weight!"

"You said ten pounds! There is no way I've put on ten pounds!"

"I said half a stone, Rodney. That's seven."

"Seven pounds?"

"I might have exaggerated a little."

"You're damn right!" Rodney huffed. "Seven pounds. Three maybe, but seven?" He rounded again. "You need glasses, you know? That's it. You misread the chart." And his irritation propelled him over a Godzilla toe root, landing him painfully bent backwards over his pack.

Carson just shook his head with a sigh and extended his hand, pulling the disgruntled man to his feet. "Might ought to tighten those straps eh? Inertia and all that lot." He gave Rodney a smart pat on the shoulder and marched on, inordinately pleased with himself.

The jubilation at getting one up on his friend ebbed as he saw the situation he was walking into, literally. The people were small, but not midget status by any means. They looked half-starved, in some cases little more than walking skeletons. Their movements were slow, their bodies covered in filthy robes and blankets, threadbare and useless. It reminded Carson of his studies into the leper colonies of late fifteenth century Britain. He stopped, unwilling to walk any further, allowing the scene to take hold. "Bloody hell."

"That about sums it up," Rodney said at his shoulder.

"I didn't bring enough supplies for all this! I thought it was one man who was afflicted, not an entire village!"

"They just wanted help for one man, though it does look like the entire population is about to drop dead at any minute." He rolled his shoulder, relieving the tension from his own pack. "Don't see why they find it so all-fired important to save their leader if there's no one to lead."

"You really can sound heartless, Rodney."

"Well, look at them! I mean come on! Unless you're Doctor Livingstone with some sort of miracle cure, there's little to do here."

"That doesn't mean we can't try." He left Earth for the Pegasus galaxy because he wanted a new challenge. This was a new challenge.

Should've kept his bloody mouth shut.

They parted company with the protective shelter of the forest and entered the semi-clearing. The shacks and hovels were as devastated as the people that inhabited them. The natives walked past, peering at the two men from beneath their coverings. Nobody seemed overly curious, and no one spoke. It was disconcerting, walking amongst probably thirty people who mingled outside, yet no one seemed to notice each other. "It's like walking among the living dead," Rodney muttered, and his tone revealed his discomfort.

"Were they this bad the last time you were here?" Carson whispered.

"I can't really say, that would be the Colonel's call. I was on the other side of the forest we just hiked through, working on a device they used for some sort of sound healing." He frowned. "Apparently the machine's busted again. Old, archaic looking thing, I meant to throw together a better version for them, but we had that whole business with the Wraith and all. This is the first time I've been back."

"What sort of sound healing?"

Rodney halted, rubbing the back of his neck self-consciously as one inhabitant did stop to study him closely before moving on. "Okay. The best I can figure, this is a machine that produced a sort of healing vibration for the sick. A constant tone, much like the way saying "Om" is supposed to affect your well being by attuning your own individual vibrations to those of the universe."

"And I suppose you feel there is no scientific basis for this."

Rodney's hand fell. "You surprise me, Carson! Surely you've heard of the holistic movement, they're using energy healing these days, for Christ sake!" He snorted. "My sister went to a Reiki session, said she felt better than she had in years. Of course that was after a day with a splitting headache, which the healer called, 'detox', but I say after suffering a headache like that anything would feel good."

Which sounded like a no. "That said. . ."

"That said. . .they use this device to help settle them and allow deeper healing. This is how I understand it anyway, I guess I better go check it out while you conjure your voodoo."

"My medical practice is no more voodoo-istic that your sound device, Rodney."

"I'm sorry, did you say, 'sound device' or 'sound advice'?" He smiled.

Carson ignored him and pointed to a large hut. "In there, I take it?"

"Well, it's the least decimated, so I'd say yes." There was a large man eyeing Rodney from the entrance, large meaning he actually came to Rodney's chest, but the stare he was given showed that the height would only compliment his ability to chop Rodney off at the knees. All the more reason to let the medical doctor in first, as he was less likely to chop him off at the knees, and if Rodney turned out to be the unlucky victim, there would be someone to put Humpty Dumpty back together again.

The interior smelled like rancid milk. Rodney's eyes started tearing immediately, and he waved his hand before him uselessly. Carson was kneeling beside a man the size of a child, yet looked about one hundred and fifty, give or take a few hours. Rodney coughed and eased his way over to the side of the hut, his eyes cutting up and down the shelf of native oddities. Well, they were damned odd, no question about that. The skull of a large bird stared back, as well as what really looked like shrunken heads, but what did they know of shrunken heads in the Pegasus galaxy?

Carson was talking softly to the man tending the ill leader, and this man rose to greet Rodney. "You've been here before, you helped us greatly."

"Yes," Rodney muttered, not-so-discreetly wiping his hand on his vest after their contact, "doesn't seem to be working though. What'd you do to it?"

The man shrugged and spread his hands, palms upwards. "We have done nothing! It stopped. We grow weak without it."

Rodney eyed the man in disbelief. "What do you mean?"

"Several have died since it stopped. We were not protected."

"Okay, see, this is information I didn't have before. Protected from what?"

"You were not told?"

"Oh, for the love of. . .if I was told, I wouldn't be asking you, now would I? The device produced a steady sonic tone that assists in securing the health of the people, and that's all I know. There was no mention of any protection."

"It does help, by protection. It keeps out the Wearden."

Rodney gave his head a shake. "I'm sorry. . .the what?"

"The Wearden inhabits the barren lands beyond. Where the trees end, his reign begins. We dare not go to the barren lands, and the Wearden dares not enter as long as we are protected."

"This Wearden have large ears or something? Can't stand the noise?"

"I don't know, I have never seen it."

Rodney rolled his eyes. "Then how do you know it exists, hm?"

"Because since there is no protection three of our people have died."

"Which could be a result of the protection itself not working, look, just show me where it is and let me look at it, okay?" Rodney glanced up at Carson, who was listening to his patient's heartbeat, and waved him away. "Right." He gestured to the flap, all to happy to get out of that nauseating hell hole. "After you?"