Strength

Rodney roused, the smell of smoke gripping and dragging him into the world of the conscious too quickly. The second sense to be afflicted by stimulus was touch; from the heat, unbearable heat. Sweat poured out of him, soaking his clothes sticking to his skin. Hearing came next, in the form of Teyla's gentle voice. Then sight joined in, as he opened his eyes.

"Rodney. Look at me."

"Teyla?" Her calm face loomed above him, a strand of hair tickling his nose.

She smiled and removed the hand that had been on his cheek, attempting to wake him. Why was she laying on him? She wasn't heavy but it was so hot; he couldn't stand it, stand her body heat mixing with his, her sweat dripping on him. Shaking his head, he realigned his thoughts. What had happened?

They'd…gone to mass and seen a woman. Right, Shepardette, the crazy Celebrant. She was the one who had ordered them to be tied in a great fit of fury. She'd made quite a scene, shouting about sorcery, power and dangerous evil forces. She'd screamed like a banshee and had them sedated. They'd woken up here and…there had been fire and Sheppard…

"Sheppard?" He turned his head to the right, where Sheppard's body lay. His eyes were closed as if he were sleeping. A bit strange for him to be asleep at a time like this. Rodney shouldered him before a hand took hold of his chin, turning his head back. Teyla spoke in a calming voice, almost a whisper.

"Rodney. He is dead." She held a finger to his lips, preventing him from speaking. "You must move. Ronon will take your place beside him."

She slid off him, rolled over Ronon and lay on her back beside the man. Ronon was pulled against Rodney.

He spoke, his breath flowing over Rodney's face. "Move."

"No." Rodney couldn't comply. He held unto Sheppard's hand like a drowning man on a buoy. There was no way he was letting go. Even when Teyla argued it was for the best, even when Ronon threatened to forcibly remove him, he held on.

"I'll just go on the other side." Ronon thought this was the most practical approach. If they were to escape, save themselves from the fire, he needed to help carry the body. McKay was strong but not enough for this.

Carefully distributing his weight, Ronon made his way across McKay then Sheppard's body and landed on his back. He had not failed to notice how Rodney clung to Sheppard's hand and it disturbed him greatly. Not because men shouldn't do those things; no, he understood that friendship between two men could be a strong bond and necessitate physical comfort. He needed it too sometimes and was glad Teyla could provide solace. If he sat too close or let a hand rest on her shoulder a moment too long, she never acknowledged it, quietly letting him take comfort from her soothing presence.

To see McKay hold on to Sheppard's limp hand disturbed him because the scientist was not the kind of man who could tolerate death in such proximity. He was not a soldier, had not developed the ability to step out of himself, to detach himself from traumatic events and walk on. McKay still winced at thoughts of the deceased. It pained him to be alive when so many were not. He could feign detachment, pretend he didn't feel, but he fooled no one.

Ronon had seen men, trained soldiers, overwhelmed by grief carry severed bodies over great distances. Those men never came back from the battles; they couldn't forget their fallen friend. To be attached to Sheppard like that would be a great strain on McKay. It would be a great strain on Ronon as well but he had dealt with so much that he felt he was prepared even if this was Sheppard. Not just a member of the team, but Sheppard. The glue that held them together, the fire around which they all convened. Ronon let out a humourless huff as he thought of the more than fitting analogy.

"We need a plan, we need to get him back to Carson. He'll know what to do! Carson'll know! He can do anything. He'll know what's happened to him!" Speaking, always speaking to chase away the fear, the panic, the doubts. Trying to kick-start his brain, Rodney hit his head against the wood beneath it. He felt no pain only encountering the force field. He needed to think of something to get them out of this. Sheppard needed medical attention. They would all need it. It was so hot, so damn burning hot. The temperature would keep on rising, their blood would boil, their skin would melt and eventually, his great proficient brain would only be a puddle in a soot-covered skull. He had to think of something!

The fire was licking the top of the platform, at the edge closest to Teyla. Rodney pulled her to him, drawing her close. She was on top of him again but he kept pulling, taking her away from the flames all the while talking, searching for an idea, for a way to save them. The closer she got to him the further she would be from the flames. He wasn't losing someone else today! No way! No one else was going to pass away before he did! He already had so many deaths on his tally; he wouldn't let her lie there, closest to the flame. If they were to die, he would go first. Nothing could hurt more than the sight of another team-mate, lying in complete stillness by his side. Or in agonizing, writhing pain. Unlucky, that's what they were. If only they hadn't been on top of a stupid platform. They could have been in a room, a closed room. The smoke would've already taken care of them.

He was just a mass of tension and Teyla spoke to him soothingly. Soft voices and kind words had never worked with him, she should've known. It took strength to save Rodney from his ominous thoughts. Strength, Ronon had aplenty.

"McKay! Enough! Think!" Brevity was the key. A rough voice, a commanding tone and you could get Rodney McKay, genius extraordinaire, to do anything.

"Ok ok ok, maybe we can…um…um…we can…" His fingers were running over Teyla's skin in a frenetic motion, absently rhythmic on her back. She doubted he even noticed it.

She stayed immobile, her head resting on his chest, just above the heart. She could hear the quick drumming and feel its frenzied beat against her ear. He held her to him with one arm, his eyes darting every few seconds to his left. She could feel the flames approaching, the heat rising, on parallel course with her fear. They were surrounded by a blanket of scorching heat, closing them off from any other sensation. Her world was reduced to a strong voice urging them to think, an openly frightened scientist, and a dead friend.

"We'll just...jump! We'll jump! Yeah let's do that! Come on, move! We'll just jump down and make a run for it! That's what Sheppard would do! That's what he would do! Crazy maniac with his stupid plans! Stupid plan! It's a stupid plan! What am I saying we can't jump! What the hell kind of plan is that!" His hand tightened around Sheppard's as his voice rose. The Colonel wouldn't complain and wouldn't laugh at him now! Rodney let his sight wander to the left again, where the fire rose. There it was, eating away the wood from the platform, where Ronon had lain earlier. Right there, so close, so close he could touch it. All he'd have to do was reach for it.

"Oh God! We're going to die! There's nothing we can do! I can't think of anything we can do!" He wouldn't give in. He would go out like a man because no matter what anyone said, he was brave, he wasn't a liability, wasn't weak. He wouldn't give in to his panic, he'd stay impassable like Ronon….like Sheppard would've been, like Teyla always was.

"McKay…" Ronon couldn't say anymore. His mind drew a blank on the following words. What could he say! The flames were nearing him and he imagined they came from the opposite side as well. From the left, the right, above their heads and below their feet, fire encircled them. The smoke alone made their eyes water, their throats burn, and their breathing difficult. Their skin was tender to the touch and McKay's had reddened considerably.

They laid, once again listening to Rodney's vocal rumination waiting for the flames to take them.

Teyla felt the arm that encircled her clench as the flames drew nearer. She raised her head and looked at Ronon. She could see him perfectly, from her position atop McKay. His eyes were closed, his forehead creased in worry.

"Ronon."

He opened his eyes and his they swivelled toward her. The worry eased back, slightly. He didn't smile, but his face softened. He nodded and closed his eyes. She understood he meant to die alone. He'd been alone for so long and was a true warrior. He'd expected to die with only himself as witness and that is what he would do. No regrets could assail him if he died with only Sheppard's silent stillness as company.

She had Rodney or rather, he had her. She wasn't afraid to die. It had always been a part of her, a part of her people. They didn't shy away from death like Earth's people. The Athosians had no choice but to embrace it as an integral part of the living process. To them, and therefore to Teyla, death was simply a new beginning.

She was afraid of the moments that would precede death. The pain that would inevitably come to her, to Rodney and Ronon. She knew it was close when Rodney stopped speaking. She didn't move, didn't want to see what his wide, fearful, blue eyes saw.

Fire, so close. Bringing excruciating death. Rodney tightened his hold on both Sheppard's hand and Teyla's body. He couldn't look away from the bright flames that came to them. In a moment, a minute, a second he would feel it, it would sear his clothes, scorch his skin and he'd have to fight to hold the cry that would rise from deep inside. Turning on his side, he kept Teyla away, pressing her against John. Purposefully inhaling smoke to free himself from fear via the sweet relief of lost consciousness, Rodney offered his back to the fire and waited, eyes shut.