Chapter 2:

Beta: J.A.B.

A/N1: Thank the beta! Y'all should have seen the editing marks I got on this chapter. It's taken most of the evening to fix the mess I made! Thanks, J.A.B.!

A/N2: Any resemblance to actual medical procedure is purely by accident.

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"Son of a bitch!" Sheppard's stunned words came over the headsets just seconds after the echoes of a gunshot rang out over the smooth boulders and tranquil waters of P3M-390.

The rest of John's veteran team looked up to the watch post where the Colonel had been keeping guard—to see his lean figure gone.

"Sheppard!" called Ronon Dex in his stilted voice. Although he was the most recent member of Sheppard's team, he already had proven himself loyal and good in any fight.

His hair swung back and forth, as he crouched and pulled his alien handgun. Without looking, Ronon switched the energy weapon from 'stun' to 'kill.' Anyone who would be foolish enough to shoot the ranking military officer of Atlantis in front of his team and his people deserved to die . . . horribly.

Tapping his earpiece, Dr. Rodney McKay also tried to contact the missing man. "Colonel? Sheppard? What happened? Was that a gunshot?" From his hastily sprawled position behind a hefty boulder, the astrophysicist tried to see both his friend and the skyline, trying to see from which direction the shot had come. All Rodney could see was the rest of the Atlantis personnel that had accompanied them to the blue-green and grey-brown world.

The new scientists seemed to be petrified stiff and the new soldiers seemed to be pissed off. They all milled around momentarily until one of the new lieutenants, Hernandez, shouted out some high-pitched commands for the soldiers to provide cover for the civilians.

That galvanized Lieutenant Tuck into sending out three of his team to search the rocks for whatever weapon toting, scum-sucking aliens they could find.

The final member of his team, the medic, Keith "Doc" Shay, had to be held back by his vest as he tried to scramble out to search of the Colonel. "No, Doc. Not yet."

"But—"

"Not now, Doc," said Tuck, cutting off Shay's words. "We don't know who's out there or how many."

Doc Shay could only hold on to his field equipment and wait with a frown on his face.

Sergeant Meeks, the team leader of the final group, had heeded Hernandez's commands and stuck close to the scientists. His civilian, Dr. Grant, popped up his head to stare over at Rodney's position. Meeks swiped an impatient hand at Grant and snarled, "Get down!"

The head disappeared hastily.

Rodney took the last bite of his PowerBar and chewed fretfully, his other hand practically glued to his headset. "Teyla, can you see him . . . them . . . whatever is out there? I thought this planet was supposed to be uninhabited!" said Rodney in a muffled voice, still chewing as he pushed the wrapper into his pocket and pulled his sidearm from his holster.

McKay gripped the gun hard and shook his head. He still didn't see a target or know what the hell was going on, so what the hell was his target?

He really wanted to shoot at something.

Out of sight, the last member of Sheppard's team, Teyla, from her position beside the stargate, turned her head slowly as she scanned the rocks for enemies. "Apparently there is someone here, but I see nothing." She pulled her P-90 up higher and gradually raised her head up over the top of her cover.

The soldier that was on guard with her was crouched down, his dark eyes glaring at the rocks that were between him and the action. He raised his M249 SAW and seemed intent on finding a target to vent his sudden tension.

All was calm except for the placid lapping of the water against the brown rocks, and the low mutterings of the other three teams that came with Sheppard's team through the stargate.

Then there was the sound of fabric scrapping on a hard surface, and a grunt in their ears. The radio . . .

"Sheppard!" called Ronon again.

"Yeah . . . yeah," replied a breathless voice. "I'm okay. I'm at the bottom of the watch post. I fell off . . . the damn rocks."

"We heard what sounded like a gunshot just before you fell. Are you injured?" asked Teyla in her strangely composed and soothing voice that she used on the children of her village after Wraith nightmares. She turned her face to the watch post rocks with an intent stare. "I—we will come to you."

"No!" There was gasping. "Get under cover and stay put. Take a head count . . . and make sure the new people stay together and down."

Ronon looked toward Teyla's cover with a wide toothy grin that communicated itself over the radio. "This one of those times that we can ignore his orders?"

Teyla also gave a small smile as she remembered their previous heated exchange in a far away forest on this very topic. "Yes," she said in a firm voice. "This is one of those times."

Ronon wasted no time slinking from his cover into the twisting path of rocks and boulders to find Sheppard.

That left Teyla and Rodney trying to get a roll call of the other Atlantis personnel to make sure no one else was hurt or missing while at the same time trying to keep everyone behind the protection of the rocks.

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When Ronon Dex finally stepped out from the shelter of the boulders and into Sheppard's personal space, Sheppard jerked around with a wheeze and raised his P-90 into firing position.

Ronon didn't speak or lower his own gun. He just waited for Sheppard to realize who he was and lower the P-90.

Sheppard did indeed recognize him, but the P-90 stayed up in a defensive position, his pain-intense hazel eyes searching Ronon's face.

"Ronon, I thought I said stay under cover."

Ronon was mildly surprised when Sheppard didn't lower his P-90. Shrugging his large shoulders, the former Runner went down into a crouch, his gun still at the ready but pointed away from his team leader. "This is cover."

Sheppard snorted, but still studied Ronon with a calculating look, a small line between his eyebrows.

"You want me to look at that?" asked Dex as he nodded to the blood soaking the black material of Sheppard's short sleeved t-shirt and vest.

Sheppard jerked out of his concentrated study of Ronon at the question. The Colonel looked down at the bloody mess and blinked slowly. "Huh," was all he had to say.

"Ronon, did you find him?" asked Teyla's concerned voice over their radios.

The big man put a hand to his radio as he kept his eyes on the bloody t-shirt of Sheppard. "Yes. I think he's in shock. He seems . . . slow."

"I'm not in shock and I'm not slow," muttered John in irritation as he tried to sit up straight against the rocks. His breathing became forced and sweat appeared on his forehead as he tried to keep from closing his eyes against the pain.

"You're bleeding," replied the matter of fact voice of Ronan as he watched all the color drain out of Sheppard's face, leaving him the color of the clouds in the alien sky.

"Why, yes. I am bleeding. Not in shock though. I've been in shock before and this ain't it."

"You will be if you keep bleeding like that."

John Sheppard looked over his newest team member again and then lowered his P-90. "Okay, okay." He tried to shift again and had to give in to the urge to close his eyes so the whirling in his head would stop.

He did not want to throw up right now.

Ronon holstered his gun and crawled closer. "Here," he said as he gripped the Colonel's upper arms and pulled him higher up against the rocks.

He stopped when Sheppard's right hand came up with a steely grip to clutch Ronon's left elbow painfully.

"Not . . . so fast. I think I . . . also broke a few ribs in the fall."

Ronon just grunted in response, as he made sure the Colonel was steady against the rocks and then started his field exam. After the vest and black shirt were pulled away, the injury looked horrible at first blush. Including the main injury and the surrounding damage, the wound appeared to be as big as Ronon's fist and still bleeding.

Not good.

"9 mil," whispered Sheppard hoarsely as Ronon dug through the Colonel's vest pockets to find bandages to stop the bleeding. "It was a 9 mil."

Ronon suddenly understood why Sheppard had allowed him to come closer after studying him for so long. Ronon wasn't carrying any Earth weapons on this outing, just his energy blaster, sword and his assortment of knives.

"Someone from the other teams shot you?" the big man asked in a casual voice while holding back his anger. It was the anger that had kept him alive the seven years he spent as a Wraith hunted Runner. Sometimes it was hard to control his anger around these new allies. As Teyla once told him, some of these new friends would not understand it—or some of his past actions.

Sheppard hesitated for a moment, allowing his wound to be tended before answering. "Yeah."

The rest of the time was spent in silence as Ronon finished the bandaging and Sheppard kept his stare pointed in the direction of the positions of the other teams.

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Teyla and Rodney stayed behind cover as they searched for the unseen enemy that shot down Sheppard.

From McKay's position near the panicked scientists, he tried to see Teyla. "Do you see anything? Wraith? Genii? Someone else we've managed to tick off in . . . oh, say, the last few minutes?"

"I see no one but our own people." She paused, considering the sound of the attack. "It did not sound like a Wraith weapon. It is possible that it was Genii." Teyla was unsettled at the thought of the Genii tracking their off world movements again.

"G-Genii," stuttered McKay as he curled in tighter to his nice rock. No matter how long it had been since the Genii had tried to take over Atlantis and had then confronted them on Dagan, the scientist still had nightmares about the fanatical group.

And a bloody knife.

"I-I don't think the Genii are here. Why would they be here? This place has nothing going for it. No power, no weapons, no supplies," insisted Rodney. "Has to be someone else."

Teyla was certain Rodney was trying to convince himself more than he was trying to persuade her.

It was frustrating for Rodney and Teyla to look for a potential enemy and only see heaps and mounds of rocks of every size. The copious amount of cover was ideal for a killer to stalk his prey. They knew that Ronon had found John and was tending to him, but they still felt the danger in the air. Hopefully, the presence of Ronon would be enough to protect their friend until the threat was over.

They both jumped slightly when Ronon called them over their radios. "Sheppard says it was an Earth handgun."

"A what?" asked Rodney impatiently as he twisted around to look toward the stargate, trying to draw support from Teyla over the distance. "What are you blathering about?"

At the gate, Teyla's eyes narrowed in sudden understanding. "He was harmed with a weapon of his own people?" That was why the sound was familiar to her as the shot rang out.

She had a marked preference for the P-90, but did know how to shoot her 9 mil. The Colonel and his military contingent made sure of that when she first joined them in their cause.

This was a bitter betrayal. Something like this was loathsome to Teyla's sensibilities as a leader of her own people—a people whose very lives depended on the support of others.

On trust.

"Oh, no. No, no, no, no. It can't be," muttered Rodney crossly over the open radio. His face went from confusion to uncertainty to fury as he clutched his own handgun until his knuckles went white. "Is he sure?" he finally asked in a weak voice.

There was a moment of silence and then Ronon's voice replied, "He's sure."

Suddenly, every member of the new teams became the enemy.

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Ronon didn't offer to help Sheppard up from the ground. He could tell that the wound and the broken ribs were going to keep the man from moving around in his usual fluid manner.

"Call . . . the medic," hissed Sheppard as he tried to shift his P-90 into firing position. He felt as if he were naked while he was down and bleeding. Bleeding badly—and John knew he was in trouble. This wasn't something he could walk or sleep off.

Ronon thought about the man with Lieutenant Tuck's team. Since arriving at Atlantis and working with Dr. Beckett, the medic seemed to feel every injury he helped treat. It made Shay a good field medic but Ronon could remember Beckett warning the man to be careful about burning himself out.

"Doc?"

"That's . . . what they call him," answered Sheppard with a grunt.

Ronon considered the request, but he was reluctant since his instincts were still telling him there was a threat lurking in the shadows. It was his responsibility to keep Sheppard alive now that he had found him.

"Call . . . him. He doesn't like to carry," said Sheppard with his eyes hooded in pain. "Have him give his stuff to Tuck . . . search him if you want when . . . he gets here. It'll be okay."

Like Beckett, the medic was against causing harm to others, and both men were hesitant to use a gun—unless the situation was dire and the lives of their friends depended on it.

Ronon didn't like allowing anyone approach their location, but knew he couldn't keep Sheppard under cover for much longer. He had bound the gunshot wound, but it was still bleeding. It wouldn't be long before the man who had offered Ronon a place to stay and a job would be past any medical help.

The big man sighed and keyed his radio.

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Lieutenant Hernandez had been uneasy since he overheard the comment over his headset that one of their own weapons took down their CO.

He crept out of his spot to get closer to the watch post where Sheppard had fallen. Hernandez's dark eyes searched the rocks, both for enemies and friends. The only ones he could be sure of right at this moment were his own men who had came to Atlantis with him.

They were a good group of guys.

He knew if it weren't for them and his sergeant, he would have been dead a long time ago on Earth.

"Mac!" he called into his radio. "Anything?"

His sergeant shook his head from his position beside the scientists. "Not a thing. I got Meeks and his team over here with us."

"Good, good." Hernandez crawled over a rock and let it protect his exposed back for a moment. "I'm going to try to make it over to the Colonel."

"Lieutenant, I don't think that's a good idea. I heard what was said. They're not going to be in the mood to be entertaining visitors at the moment," replied Mac with an edge to his voice. He didn't want his Lieutenant shot down by a trigger-happy alien or their wounded Colonel.

Their discussion was interrupted when Ronon's voice called for the field medic and gave the man curt instructions to leave behind his gun and military issue knife.

Hernandez turned his head to see Lieutenant Tuck's medic almost immediately come from behind cover and scramble toward Sheppard and Ronon.

The lieutenant had to give it to the medic. It took a lot of guts to jump up when you had a possible enemy in your camp that was willing to use deadly force.

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Doc skidded around the rocks to crash head on against a large roadblock of flesh. He almost bounced like a rubber ball until a large hand grabbed his arm.

He was very thoroughly searched for weapons by the former Runner before he got a reluctant nod from the big, scary man.

"He's over here," said Ronon a deep rumbling voice as he motioned toward the Colonel on the ground.

Doc nodded slightly and tried to slow his rapid heartbeat as Ronon permitted him to approach Sheppard. The medic went down on his knees as he saw the bloody bandage and the grimace of pain on the wounded man's face.

Now, Doc was in his element and felt more secure. He quickly put the glowering Ronon Dex out of his mind and went to work.

"Hi, Doc . . . got a GSW with a couple of . . . broken ribs for your first time out," whispered the Colonel as he felt the soft touch of the medic's hand on his shoulder.

"Hello, Colonel," returned the medic with a small smile. "I heard you're bleeding all over the place over here and I just had to drop in."

The medic shifted and then snapped on his medical gloves.

Sheppard closed his eyes as Doc's hands pushed aside the vest and went to the hem of his bloody t-shirt. Tingles of hot pain flushed over him and he took a deep breath to keep the darkness away.

John didn't want to faint—pass out—while someone was out there gunning for him.

"Well, at least it's not spurting," soothed Doc with false cheer.

John made a weak sound of agreement and tried to keep breathing, taking shallow breaths.

After a brief look at the field dressing soaked with dark blood, Doc pulled out extra bandages from his kit. "I'm going to have you lay down, Colonel. I can't stop the bleeding with you sitting up like this."

John glanced up to look directly into the soft blue eyes of the field medic. He remembered picking this man out at the SGC. It had been one of the few times John had left his conference room and sought out help to make a decision. Sheppard had gone straight to Beckett to ask what the doctor thought about the medic's record, training and adamant dislike of guns.

"Whatever you think, Doc," Sheppard whispered, his tongue trying its best to stick to the top of his dry mouth.

The medic helped him slide down the rock and lay flat on the sandy ground. He turned to ask for something to put under the Colonel's legs when Ronon shoved his long leather coat in his direction.

Nodding, Doc rolled the coat up and used it.

"Now, this might hurt a bit, Colonel."

Sheppard looked up into the soft blue eyes again and nodded. "Okay," he said quietly. He knew what was coming and tried to brace for it.

Doc opened a sterile bandage and placed it on top of the soaked ones that were in contact with the wound. Then he pressed down with both hands, trying to use direct pressure to slow the blood flow.

John hissed. Between the new pain in the wound and the sharp pain from his ribs, he was having a difficult time getting air into his lungs. His vision started to go red and then black. "Can't . . . breathe."

Doc slapped on more bandages and kept pressing, and as the Colonel's eyes drifted shut and his head lolled to the side, he managed to murmur, "Doc . . . I'm not . . . feeling the love—"

TBC