Sheppard's wanderings eventually took him back to the mass grave. The mound was a good seventy feet long, with bodies crammed in on top of each other. Images of them piling up reminded him of the shows he'd seen about the mass graves under Hitler's reign, bodies on top of bodies left behind to decay and mix. It had disgusted him then, and he felt no better now.

But there was one view that gave him peace of mind. It was a figure, slumped over, sitting at the edge of the mound. Rodney.

He wanted to hurry to him. Instead, he walked slowly, with measured steps, not wanting to startle his friend or inflict his presence where it wasn't wanted. And he said nothing as he stood a little ways behind him, knowing that Rodney was fully aware of his arrival. He waited.

When Rodney spoke, it was in a voice as unsure as anything he had ever heard, and a tone that hung all wrong on the brilliant astrophysicist, like a disheveled coat. "Couldn't help them. All they wanted some damn water, and it was the water that killed them." There was a moment of silence. "I, uh," he flung a handful of sand from him, "I had to get away. I'm sorry I left you with it, but . . . I couldn't do it." There was regret, and a little embarrassment to add salt to his wound.

Sheppard shuffled closer, his hands sunk deep into the long pockets in his pants. "S'okay. I figured as much. Where'd you go?"

Rodney gave a shaky intake of breath. "To the jumper, believe it or not. Or I was."

"I kinda thought you would." Sheppard took the opportunity to sit beside him.

"That predictable, huh?" Rodney snorted and shook his head. "Can't believe this. I've traveled two galaxies, fought against the Wraith, survived a jumper crash, or four; now look at me."

"Now that's enough," Sheppard said angrily. "Last thing I'm gonna do is sit here and listen to is you berate yourself for having an emotional breakdown. Christ, welcome to the human race."

Rodney blinked as the words sunk in, and slowly turned to Sheppard. "What – what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means, get over yourself! So you couldn't handle it! Big deal!" Sheppard was startled by his own tone, and by the violent emotion that suddenly burned in his chest. "If there's one thing I can't stand, it's seeing someone get all worked up because they've discovered they have a heart!"

"I'm not . . . that's not it!"

"Then what is it?"

"I don't know!" He looked angry and confused. "Why are you yelling at me?"

"Why are you being so fucking obstinate?" Sheppard rose to his knees, facing Rodney. "You want me to feel sorry for you? Huh? Is that why you ran off? Poor ole Rodney couldn't handle seeing the dead crowding around him, because it wasn't analytical enough, so his brain shut down!"

"You – fucking bastard!" His last judicial thoughts, when he was certain he was going to die in the trench, came back and bit him hard on the ass.

"Well? Answer me! You couldn't handle the emotional baggage, so instead you wimp out! Is that what you think?"

"Yes!"

"THEN I HAVE NO FUCKING SYMPATHY FOR YOU!"

Rodney lunged, and found himself twisted flat onto his back, with an enraged colonel hovering him, holding his wrists, forcing the man's full attention on his words.

"You listen, and you listen good," Sheppard said, his voice low as he leaned over Rodney, "I never, ever want you to run again. You got that? If you can't handle it, dammit, you tell me. Then you can walk away, I'll even show you the quickest way out. But never run again. Got it?"

"And just where were you, huh?" Rodney spat.

"I WAS IN THE FUCKING DITCH BESIDE YOU."

That sunk. Rodney's face fell, and his struggles eventually slackened. Everything seemed to leave him.

Sheppard released his wrists and sat back. He watched Rodney close his eyes tightly, pressing the heels of his hands to them while controlling his breathing, calming himself. "So . . ." he said slowly, "you okay now?"

Rodney lay motionless. "Not really, no."

Sheppard nodded. "Good." And he resumed his seat beside his friend, not moving.

----------------------------------------------------

The people came for them, in Rodney's half secured tent, the next morning.

Sheppard wasn't surprised. Rodney was, and objected strongly as his hand were forced behind his back and tied, just as they were when he and the colonel first arrived at Satureen. They were marched to Brouk's tent with some ceremony, caused by the crowd of onlookers that insisted on following them, surrounding them, muttering in their converted language so that some words were caught, but not all. They chuckled gently in anticipation as the men were shoved inside, and huddled around the flap as best as they could.

"Seems they're looking for a show," Sheppard muttered. He kept his back straight, refusing to allow the circumstance to intimidate him. His shoulders were tight, but he'd suffer it in the name of pride.

Brouk was lounging in his chair. In one hand he held a whip, which was used to get the attention of the people in the trenches, not so much for abusiveness. The sharp crack sounding above would resonate like a shot through the trench, and saved the need to yell. His eyes gazed upon the bound men lazily. "We seem to have a dilemma," he said.

"You think?" Sheppard asked, sarcastically.

Brouk stood. "It seems the people blame you for the suddenness and unpredictability of the rains that nearly destroyed us." He gestured to Rodney. "They have heard you talk, and have seen you with the drawings." He gestured toward the sky with his whip. "They believe you conjured this."

Rodney blanched. "What? Oh sure, I just managed to find a diving rod and pointed it to the sky! How could I possibly . . ."

"'How' does not enter into it. They wish to see reparations."

"Reparations?" His chin was firm, and it was obvious that, although he asked, he didn't want an answer.

Brouk smiled and stood before him. "It has been decided that they two of you will traverse the cavern to the east of the village. You will find this geyser, as you call it. You will release the water."

Rodney almost smiled. "You're kidding."

Brouk shrugged. "Or you will die, and your blood will feed the land. Maybe it will acquire a new taste, other than water."

"Oh, that's just a bad idea all over." Sheppard was watching the way Brouk lovingly caressed the whip, the way he hovered just in front of Rodney. While he had never seen the man use violence, the action made him suddenly uneasy. "Sacrifices to gods never amount to much. But you know, if you had just let us return to our jumper in the first place . . ."

"And how do I know you would have held true to your word?"

"We have held true to our word!" Sheppard took a step forward. "We've been in the trenches! We helped saved your people when they were drowning, we helped to bury the dead! What the hell do you want from us?"

Again, Brouk smiled. "And how do I know you are not, in fact, responsible for what happened?"

It was a no-win situation. Sheppard straightened and looked at Rodney, and said nothing.

"Yes," Brouk continued, "I agree with the people. I believe it is best that you find this water that will restore our planet, so that this disaster will never happen again."

"And how do we know we won't be killed underground by your men, hm?" Rodney asked.

Brouk looked surprised. "My men? No. However the feelings amongst the people are strong. I can order them to guarantee your safety here, but once away from the colony . . ." he shrugged, and resumed his seat.

"So you do run things here." Sheppard said. "You are the Tal'Ran."

"The Tal'Ran is everywhere."

"So you've said," Rodney muttered. "Fine. We'll go, but we can't go like this." He turned and jutted his tied wrists.

Brouk smiled once again, and Sheppard realized he was growing increasingly uneasy with it. "Very well. You will set off at once. I have supplies set aside for you." He released their bonds, tossed two packs at them, and waited.

The people outside parted as Rodney and Sheppard exited, with Brouk behind them, and they followed them in a mass exodus to the edge of the colony. Toward the horizon lay numerous entrances to numerous caverns, none of which they had ventured into. Rodney checked his pack and found his hand-drawn maps, along with food supplies. Sheppard's held the piss drink. Brouk said nothing, but his eyes seemed friendly enough. It was possible that he did wish them well, and was holding out due to the anger of his people, who, it seemed, were eager for them to leave as they followed them as far as their leader would allow before being called back.

"Think they want to make sure we're going?" Rodney asked.

"Or they're plotting a course to our imminent destruction," Sheppard answered, and stopped Rodney by putting a firm hand on his shoulder. "Truthfully, now. Does this thing exist?"

"Without actually having seen it?"

"Rodney?"

The response was a firm nod. "Yes."

"And you can find it."

"Now see, that might be a problem." He glanced at the mob behind him. "But I think I'll wait until we're in the mouth of the cave to get our bearings, huh?"

"Onward into the belly of the beast." Sheppard walked on, not seeing the smirk on Rodney's face.