Carson stopped to throw up twice on the way back to the jumper. Ronan and Sheppard stood guard, alert for any trouble. McKay, who could only be counted on for so much support, gingerly patted his back and whined, "Eww, Carson. Gross."

They made it to the jumper and took off without incident, and it was there that Carson's memory of events let him down. Once on board, he found a seat and curled into himself, too immersed in his own anguish to notice anything else.

Carson was jolted out of his memories by a groan. He turned to find Sheppard moving feebly. "Be still, Colonel," he ordered, moving to his side. Laying the P90 within easy reach, he framed Sheppard's face with his hands and tried to capture his restless gaze. "Look at me, lad," he coaxed.

Sheppard's eyes seemed incapable of focusing. Carson held a finger in front of his face. "Can you follow my finger?"

"Doc," Sheppard croaked. "What happened? Did we crash?"

"Yes, Colonel, we crashed. Follow my finger."

"Everyone okay?" Sheppard's eyes tracked his finger for a few seconds before sliding away.

"Everyone will be fine, no serious injuries. I need you to concentrate, Colonel. Watch my finger."

"Doc?"

"Yes?"

"What happened? Did we crash?"

Carson frowned and opened his mouth to reply, but Sheppard had already slid back into unconsciousness. "Definitely concussed," the doctor muttered to himself before moving, P90 in tow, to check on his other patient.

Rodney's vitals were good despite a slightly elevated heart rate. Carson attributed it to pain and took it as a sign the Canadian would wake soon. Sure enough, within a few moments Rodney awoke with a start and a yelp of pain. "Ow! Owowowowow, God that hurts!"

"Be still, Rodney. You're injured."

"Carson? What happened? Why is it dark? Oh my God, I'm blind!"

"Rodney! Rodney, listen –"

"I can't be blind! I can't do my job if I'm blind! They'll send me home on the Daedelus and I'll end up begging on the streets while Zelenka blows up Atlantis!"

"RODNEY! Shut yer gob and listen to me!" McKay's ranting gave way to harsh pants. Carson took hold of his hand and squeezed hard. "You're not blind. You've got some burns on your face and around your eyes. There's no sign of permanent damage, nothing that won't heal. Do you understand? You're going to be fine."

McKay drew a shaky breath. "Not blind?"

"Definitely not blind," Carson assured him. "You've fractured your collarbone, so I've immobilized your arm. I just want to do a quick neuro check and I'll give you something for the pain."

"I take it we crashed?" McKay was sounding calmer now, though his voice was slightly ragged with stress.

"Aye. Ronan thinks we were shot down."

"Everyone else okay?"

"Sheppard's in and out with a concussion. Ronan's got a clean break to his left radius."

"You?"

"Fine," Carson answered, trying not to think about the steady pain in his side. "Just bumps and bruises."

"Oh, that so figures! Whatever gods look out for voodoo rattle-shakers definitely have it in for brilliant scientists. That's the only explanation for the fact that I'm so frequently in the infirmary, and you're never there as a patient!"

"Oh, you don't think it's because you're on a first contact team, and I rarely leave Atlantis? Speaking of which, did I mention that I'm never, ever leaving –" A twig snapped outside the jumper's forced door and Carson froze, reaching for the P90. He raised it to his shoulder and flicked the safety off with one sweaty thumb, just as a shadow passed before the door.