The torch was there, waiting for him. He snatched it up, checked to make certain the flame would burn for a long while, and pressed on, Sheppard's name echoing amongst the rocks.
The shadows danced and jumped around him, making him pause, wondering what figures still hid in the darkness. He swung his torch from side to side, examining the walls for pitfalls, piles of rock, anything but the unnatural smoothness that showed that hundreds if not thousands or years before, water had flowed through here freely and cleared out a lot of debris. "Sheppard?" The word sounded, then was swallowed by the cavern. "You hear me?" He pressed on, cursing himself for ever trying to adjust the navigation system on the jumper, or at the very least, for not checking the flight roster before doing so. He was going to be so careful from now on. His pessimistic mind hit over drive, and he pictured himself standing before the people of Atlantis, his hands clasped before him, his eyes drawn to the casket that was about to be submitted to the pull of the sea . . . All I wanted was to fly. All he wanted was to fly. We had that in common.
"Dammit!" Rodney braced his hand against the warm wall and gave his head a shake. "Focus, you ass. Sheppard? Can you hear me?" He cursed and walked on, more quickly this time as desperation drove him forward. "Make a habit of saving each other's lives," he muttered. "You know, I thought it was your turn now. I should be trapped somewhere with you looking for me, I think I'd rather that happen, because being on this end sucks! It's just too damn stressful! You're much better at this search and rescue thing than I am. I'm good at panicking." He hissed, his hand slicing open on a sharp rock. "Dammit! See? Between this and that damned uber-Lassie . . . I swear I'm gonna get some kind of unspeakable bacterial infection because I was stupid enough not to go after you, because I was trying to save my own pathetic ass! Of course the people of Atlantis would disagree, I mean I generally manage to save the city in a pinch while you . . . help. . . or go out to get yourself blown up, I mean really, can't you find more creative ways of helping out? This whole going out to get yourself blown up is getting kinda old, you know? Smart man like you should be able to come up with alternate solutions, like surviving a cave-in, I mean, surely you can manage that, right? It isn't my fault you got stuck here. Okay, it is my fault, but you're a resourceful man, you're MENSA, for Christ sake! So figure it out!"
He closed his eyes tightly as the cavern spun around him. "Okay, panic attack, no problem here, just breathe, just breathe, deep in," he inhaled, "all out," he exhaled, "deep in . . . hello, what?" His eyes snapped open, but nothing happened. "Great, now I'm hearing things. That's just fan-fucking-tacular." He pushed away from the support of the rock wall. "First thing that happens when we get back is, you're giving me another flying lesson, without the damn adjustments. I guess it's possible that maybe, just maybe, I jumped the gun on this, because I suppose in retrospect I'm really the only one who has trouble flying the damn thing. I mean, even Everett can fly it and he couldn't piss in a bucket if it were tied to his ankles." Rodney found a familiar path, and took it.
"Didn't tell you. Our friends showed up. Had me face down on the rock and everything, I'll be bruised for months. Seems they want to see this 'rush of water', as they call it, the geyser. Well, with any luck they'll get washed out. Oh, and get this . . . Brouk was there." He stopped and gestured to the walls conversationally. "Yeah! That's what I thought. Turns out he's not much better than the others, but I guess I can't blame him. Not like I haven't acted without considering the consequences myself when a life was on the line, or my own ego . . . you know what, let's not go there. Anyway, they're out there looking for the holy grail, and here I am, talking to rocks." Rodney stopped and looked around desperately. "Don't suppose you managed to scrape a note on your way down. 'Descending here, watch that last step, it's a doozy'." He had to catch his breath. The surroundings were familiar in that he had passed that way once before in his entire life. He recognized a rock formation that looked like a fried egg. "John," he said softly, "god, please, just . . . give me something to go on here." His head hung. And spied a piece of fabric, caught on the sharp edge of a stone.
Rodney snatched it up, studied it, and looked around frantically. "Hey, Sheppard? Can you hear me? Are you here?" He was examining his own clothes as he yelled, his pants and shirt, having discarded his robe earlier. No tears, not that would release a chunk of material that size. But the new mound of debris right behind it could easily be the culprit. He looked overhead and saw where the rocks had shifted and fallen. Now that he noticed it, he could see where it had happened quite often, which made him wonder, where was the older debris? And that was when he realized they needed to get the hell out of there.
"Sheppard?" Rodney propped his torch and bent over the rocks, and started shifting. They were heavy, and he was almost hoping he wouldn't find his friend there. Images of a smashed head, brains sticky on his hands . . . he continued to move the rocks, grunting, cursing, sweating more than he had in years, and that included the time he was attacked by a Wraith. Rock after rock was painfully shifted. And he heard a miracle.
Rodney fell to his knees. "John? Are you there? John!"
The voice was so faint, he thought he was imagining it. "Rodney?"
Oh thank god. "I'm here! I'm getting you out, just . . . hold on!" He shoved the rocks away aggressively, his breathing coming in heavy snatches.
"Careful," he barely heard, "it may fall."
"Are you pinned?" Lift, shove. Forget breathing.
"No. More like walled in."
The voice was so faint. He hated to think how many rocks had to be moved.
"Been clearing. . .from my end. . ."
"Well, stop! You need to save your air!"
"No, I'm good . . ."
"Dammit Colonel, I'm not going to break my back just to have you suffocate before I get there, now sit still and take very shallow breaths!" There wasn't an answer, which meant either Sheppard was taking his advice, or had passed out.
Both situations screamed out for Rodney to hurry.
He heaved, working from top to bottom, keeping a wary eye on shifting stones. With every strained movement he cursed Brouk, the planet, the lack of water, his own stupidity. He had to stop, dammit, because his muscles were screaming, and it was when he resumed that he felt the muscle tear.
He cried out, dropping the rock, nearly crushing his sandaled foot. "Son of a . . . Fuck!" He backed away, his right hand on his now useless left shoulder. He jerked it away, any movement hurt like fire. "Stupidstupidstupid!" He bit back tears of pain and frustration and desperation, using his good hand to peel away the rock wall, bracing the stones as they tumbled down, jumping aside of those that fell too fast. "God, Rodney, only you would . . ." he stopped as the rocks started to shift without his interference.
They slid downwards, cascading in a mineral flow that rolled across the floor and backed Rodney into a corner. A hand popped out, reaching. Rodney darted forward and took it, using his feet to pull away the remaining stones. Sheppard suddenly appeared, falling against Rodney and knocking them both away from the pitfall.
They tumbled to the ground, gasping for breath, wincing in pain. Rodney's wide eyes sought his friend's, and he smiled, gave a laugh of relief, and lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling.
Eventually Sheppard propped on one elbow, studying his friend, his face showing the strain and horrors that had been going through his own mind while trapped behind the rock wall. His breathing eased slightly, his eyes never left Rodney. "Thanks," he said.
Rodney heard it all in that one word. "You're welcome."
"You called me John," he responded after a moment, in a tone of mild astonishment.
"Did I? Oh. Well, it won't happen again." Rodney closed his eyes as the pain flared though his entire body. And both men lay there for quite a while.
------------------------------------------
It was decided between them that the best thing to do was to get the hell off the planet. Of course, conscience and curiosity took hold, and both men found themselves trekking deeper into the cavern, Sheppard limping from a severely bruised ankle, and Rodney with his overly-abused arm in a makeshift sling, courtesy of Sheppard's own shirt. It was the same arm that had been torn by the wolf, and therefore was rendered practically useless. "And I was babying it," Rodney muttered in disgust. He was trying to ignore the bruises on his friend's back, but it was hard, since the man insisted on walking just in front on him. "If you trip, I'll catch your fall better than one hand will," he had said. It made sense.
"So anyway," Rodney said, gritting his teeth against the constant jarring pain in his shoulder, "I guess Brouk has decided it's best to use the water as a lead- in to a new form of government or something. If he can find this water, he can use it to hold over the heads of the entire population of the planet."
"What about his Tal'Ran?"
Rodney's brow furrowed. "I think he is the Tal'Ran. Or a very big part of it."
"That would explain how he manages to get the best of the best," Sheppard commented, stopping.
Rodney stopped just behind him. "You okay?"
"Listen." His hand was held up, his eyes searching the area above him.
"What is it?" Rodney whispered. He stood against Sheppard in the close area, trying to see the same exact spot that Sheppard was staring at.
Sheppard slowly pointed, and nothing happened. Then there was a motion, he followed it with his finger as it fell, smacking on a rock below with a faint, wet ping.
"Oh my god," Rodney breathed. He carefully pushed around Sheppard, favoring his injury as he did so. "We're getting closer."
"Condensation." Sheppard nodded, and rubbed the wall beside him.
"Of course! I thought the air was getting cooler, but I kinda thought maybe I was going into shock."
Sheppard's lips quirked. He couldn't help it. "From a muscle pull?"
"Tear, Colonel, muscle tear, and for your information it hurts like hell."
Sheppard didn't comment. He did frown thoughtfully, and removed the wrap from Rodney's lower arm carefully, examining the bite wound. The blood had dried and formed a protective patch, but the edges were festering. He rewrapped it quickly. "Gotcha." Sheppard joined Rodney in surveying the ceiling. "So which way?"
Rodney cradled his arm. "At this point, it's a toss up. I think we need to go down these tunnels and just see where the moisture increases."
"Separately."
Rodney spun. "Oh, no."
"Just for a few hundred feet, Rodney, it would save time!"
"Which part of 'no' can you not comprehend? I'm not letting you out of my sight again. Bad enough I'm down here, I'm not about to be alone again."
"Relax! I'm only talking about going in a few hundred feet, then reporting back here. That's all."
"We go together." His tone was final.
"It'll take twice as long."
"I don't care!"
Sheppard narrowed his eyes, regarding the man standing next to him. The wounds on the back of his neck were very visible. His arm was held stiffly, and his other hand had been cut. His clothes were filthy, more so than Sheppard's, probably from the struggle he had so vividly described. His walk was pained and slightly hunched. Sheppard relented. "Fine. You pick first."
"Uh . . . this one." He pointed and led the way.