Notes: Thank you, so much. It's amazing how good you guys are to this fic!
Chapter 4: The King has sent his fighter, to the pond of water.
"Rodney!" Teyla struggled to fit her slight body through the gaps between the toned villagers. A large hand landed on her shoulder. She looked up the arm it was attached to and eventually encountered Ronon's eyes.
"We have to contact Atlantis."
Teyla drew in a deep, calming breath. Her instinctive reaction was to take action, to protect and assist, but Ronon had prioritised sensibly. His hand guided her away from the throng of villagers, towards a removed area where Kenoti stood with a few of his people.
He smiled when he saw them approach. "Teyla! Ronon! We are most pleased with this trade!" He indicated the centre ground with a nod of his head. "They had a difficult beginning, but the results should prove worthy! We need only to wait for this one to wake until the fight can be completed. It would be much simpler to allow the victorious party to sacrifice the fallen one, but less rewarding."
Teyla smiled stiffly. "We will be returning to our world."
Kenoti's smile faded slightly. "Will you not be staying until the end? It is dark and the Ring of the Ancestors stands a long way from our village."
"We thank you for your hospitality, but must be returning. Our people will worry about our lengthy absence."
"Of course. Please, allow me to offer you a guide."
Ronon took his gaze away from McKay's body, lying on the ground amidst the feet of dancing villagers. None paid the scientist the least amount of attention; he was as much part of the ground as the sand. They danced with controlled precision though it appeared to be reckless abandon. Sweat on their bronze skin was highlighted by the flickers of light making them appear to be glowing. Surreal apparitions in the moonless night.
Ronon held himself tensely, wishing they did not have to play the games of diplomacy in order to save their team-mates. He consoled himself with the thought that they would come back and wreak havoc on these people. The people who threw dirt in McKay's face, disrespected the scientist and left his head against the slab of rock that had made him oblivious.
He stepped forward, coming to stand directly beside Teyla as she said, "That won't be necessary. We will need light, but we can find our way."
Kenoti raised his hands in protest. "Please, I insist. You have brought much to my people. It had been too long since we had the chance to praise the darkest nights. We are grateful." He smiled, it seemed genuine. "I will accompany you myself. There are customs to be observed, when a warrior is temporarily incapacitated, but none more important that the correct treatment of trading partners."
Teyla had learned, early in life, to be respectful of other's beliefs. Since the Earthlings arrival, and her departure from her people, she had struggled to uphold her morals, to be true to herself and her parent's teachings.
Never more so than today.
She was glad Ronon could intimidate, no matter who he faced. He stood too close, glared too fiercely, spoke too low and obtained what he demanded. Kenoti provided them with a torch, thanked them again for the joy they had brought to his people and sent them on their way.
Teyla and Ronon walked in contemplative silence, the light allowing them limited visibility. Neither were worried of losing their way, being accomplished in the art of spatial orientation. It had always been a source of amusement to the Pegasus galaxy natives that both McKay and Sheppard needed instruments to find their way on the ground. As a team they completed each other well, all of them strangers to a new world, a new home, to Atlantis and its wonders.
Once they were out of sight of the village and its inhabitants, the careless walk became a slow jog and quickly grew into a run. They pushed their bodies toward the gate, faster, until their breaths came in short gulps, sweat poured down their backs. The torch was discarded in favour of the slight luminosity of the ring that stood a few hundred metres away, drawing them in. They ran with the thought of a gentle burr accompanying strong and capable hands. They ran to the jumpers, the soldiers, to help and freedom.
Their people had been taken. They would take them back.
--OOOOO--
Kenoti stepped into the hut. No longer were his features hard. He seemed content.
"You have been tended to, I see."
Rising from his seat on the ground, John disregarded the man's attempt at civility. "Where's Doctor McKay?"
"Recovering from the fight. He will be ready to fight again soon"
"I want to see him."
Kenoti smiled and moved from the entrance to the hut, allowing two guards to step forward. They flanked John on either side and walked him out.
"Take him to the centre ground, they shall shortly resume the fight," Kenoti said, following.
They neared the centre ground, where celebrations were underway. There was dancing, but no music. Laughter, but no words. It was a controlled chaos; a strange waltz that seemed to be known by all but retained no precise form or order.
John felt the hands that held him tighten their grasp. They were wise to do so. "McKay," he shouted, fighting to free himself.
Rodney lay on the ground; he had neither moved nor been moved. He was being covered in sand as it was kicked by careless feet, still unconscious from hitting his head. Hard. Too hard.
Sheppard had been washed and fed whilst McKay had been left to…do what? To recover? To suffer? To…
"Rodney!" John fought harder and was surprised when he managed to get free. He ran to Rodney, pushing villagers aside viciously. Sheppard knelt by Rodney's side and began brushing the sand away from his face. "Rodney. Rodney! Wake up. Come on, come on!"
He tapped his cheek lightly as he spoke his name. "Rodney. Rise and shine, it's time now. Come on, buddy, open those eyes."
He slapped the same cheek and pinched a flank.
"Wake up! I'm not kidding!" He bent lower and spoke directly in McKay's ear. "Do as you're told, Rodney McKay, for once in your goddamn life!"
John felt the weight of the world ease off his chest when one eyelid lazily lifted. "Hey there."
"Nnnnugh…"
"Not bad. Try again, more vowels, less consonants."
"…ohnn?"
"Yes, very good. Me John, you Rodney."
The eyelid dropped back.
"None of that." John reached out, lifted the lazy lid and peered into one cloudy blue eye. "You need to stay awake. Can you move?"
The battered and slightly swollen face scrunched in a frown. Kenoti chose that moment to gesture to his guards. They pushed John away, grabbed Rodney's legs and dragged his body away.
"Stop! No, I'll take him." John hurried to his feet and followed closely. Rodney struggled mildly and the guards continued to ignore John's demand of release. Rodney's back left a trail in the sand. His eyes were wide and frightened, fixed on John who was attempting to grab him by the shoulders and lift him off the ground.
The guards yanked Rodney out of his grip and the man fell back to the ground with a moan. They dragged McKay to a pond and threw him in. He attempted to stay afloat but confusion and disorientation drove him under. John stood frozen, watching Rodney disappear beneath. Deprived of air, covered with mud, submerge by water, threatened with fire; Rodney had become the fifth element. Quintessence was not a concept Sheppard would have associated with McKay in anything other than particle physics, but if he didn't react soon, his friend would indeed become the substance composing heavenly bodies.
"What are you doing!" Sheppard shouted, heading towards the edge of the pond, toeing off his unlaced boots.
"The water will revitalise and purify him."
"He'll drown!" Sheppard yelled angrily as he splashed through the water.
Kenoti watched the waves created by Rodney's plunge and John's subsequent wading. "He needs to be conscious and clean to resume the fight."
"He wouldn't be unconscious and dirty if you hadn't left him lying in the sand, and if I can't find him he won't be conscious for long!"
The night was opaquely dark this far from the fire. There was nothing but the senses of touch and hearing to ground Sheppard as he battled with demons he knew intimately. Uncertainty, worry. He plunged in after Rodney, frantically searching the thick, muddy ink spill that was the pond. John swam, submerged, arms outstretched, for long seconds before the need to breathe forced him to rise above and rely on sound. He heard the faraway noises of a celebration, the song of a nocturnal bird, the chirps of bugs, the cries of beast, the cracking of the trees; the bubbling of a breath released under water. Sheppard moved carefully, following the sound, grateful for the shallowness of the area in which he was moving. He startled when he felt the current shift and something brush against his leg. He reached for the disturbance in the water; his hands encountered supple flesh over hard muscle and he pulled it to him. His arms encircled Rodney's torso and he lifted him out of the water, holding him tightly against his chest.
A gurgling cough was followed by warm water spilling over Sheppard's shoulder and down his back. The chest he held expanded. Breathing. "Rodney? You okay?" He shook him slightly in the hopes of gaining a response. "You okay?" Rodney's bottom lip pressed against John's shoulder where his chin rested, chilling the skin with delightfully alive gasps. Arms wrapped around John, hurting him. He tightened his hold. "I've got you, Rodney." He walked backward through the water, his feet sinking into the muddy ground. "Let's get you to dry land, hmm?" He reached the edge of the pond, away from Kenoti and the guards who were looking upon them with patiently amused gazes, and laid Rodney on his back. John climbed out and pulled his cargo away from the water.
"You okay?"
Rodney's breathing was fast, panicked. Sheppard spoke softly, "Everything's alright, I got you. You're okay." Sheppard rested a hand on Rodney's wet hair, feeling for a bump at the back of his head with his fingers, and letting McKay know he was near. In his state, Rodney would not listen, not hear the words until touch reached and settled him as it had John moments before. It would ease both their anxiety and fear to be in physical contact for more time than the casual pat of the shoulder could provide.
John felt movement and caught a wandering hand that aimed for the injured head between his own. "Headache, uh? Not uncommon when you take a fall like that. You were impressive; the judges gave you a perfect score." He pushed the hand down and laid it to rest gently on Rodney's cold stomach. The air was cool against John's skin and on Rodney's chilled body. A light wind played naughtily with Rodney's loincloth, lifting it slightly before letting it fall in an unpleasant flapping sound of leather against wet skin. "You need to talk to me, Rodney. How're you feeling?"
"…crap…"
"Is it just your head?"
"…everything, "said Rodney, in a tired voice, his eyes shutting.
"Hey, stay with me. You can't sleep. Not yet." John feared Rodney would never wake again if he allowed him a moment's peace. You never knew what could develop with head injuries. Whilst Sheppard knew that conscious speech was a very good sign, he could not shake the worry.
"You're going to be fine. Teyla and Ronon will be back soon."
"Saw them…during the…fight."
"Yeah, but they're gone. I didn't see them anywhere. They've probably reached Atlantis by now."
"I don't want to…"
The non-sequitur threw John. "You don't want to what?"
Rodney whimpered as he shifted and Sheppard moved his free hand back to the wet and probably aching head. He brushed away droplets of water threatening to fall from Rodney's brows into his eyes.
"Fight…"
There was a sudden stillness to the night. John was unable to split the distress and relief Rodney's comment unearthed and struggled to provide an adequate answer. "I…" he started, unable to find the words to complete his sentence. He was angry and proud, desperate and hopeful, team leader and friend; none and all concurrently.
Rodney spoke in a whisper, pleading, vulnerable and intense. "Don't make me do it…I can't. You, end it…" His breathing sped up, lifting his chest in short, gasping bursts.
Sheppard wanted to hate Rodney for his weakness, but knew the man was confused. Rodney did not realise what he was saying and it was, now more than ever, John's duty to protect him by any means necessary. "It'll be okay, Rodney. We'll be fine. I'll take care of it." Sheppard did not know what he meant, how he would do it, but he would say anything to ease McKay's fears. "It's okay," he whispered, as he heard footsteps approach, "we'll be fine."
"Take him," Kenoti said, judging that Doctor McKay had sufficiently recovered from his plunge.
The guards took hold of Rodney and forced him to stand. They frogmarched him back toward the fire and John was compelled to follow, Kenoti on his heels.
"He won't be able to fight."
"He will. Water can wake the most addled of minds."
"He can't even stand!"
"Then the fight will be made easier for you."
John walked, eyes fixed on the uncoordinated man that was forced to use energy he did not possess to stay upright and conscious. "Funny, I've heard that one already."