Epilogue:

Three weary teammates and Elizabeth Weir sat in Weir's office for the formal post-mission debriefing. Elizabeth had insisted upon a full report almost immediately upon their return, her obvious concern for Sheppard driving her to demand an account of their actions and experiences.

Rodney got the distinct impression that the urgency had little to do with protocol or a desire to evaluate their performance, and everything to do with the man that lay in the infirmary, under the tender care of Dr. Beckett's well trained staff. McKay understood her motives, he was worried too, Sheppard was far from out of danger. Nonetheless, Rodney had requested at least a half hour to shower and change clothes. Finally taking a good look at his hands and clothes, soaked in Sheppard's blood and mud from the dirt floor of the hut, she had swallowed hard and of course agreed.

Even now as he sat listening restlessly to Teyla's account of guiding the Medical team through the native combat zone, meeting Ronon, eventually meeting the native messengers that Rodney sent after them, Rodney didn't feel entirely clean, wet though he still was from his long soak in the showers. He wasn't sure he'd ever wash out the feeling of sticky blood and clothing stiff from dried mud.

Ronon backed the story up to when they had been confronted by the people McKay thought of as the Stang and Sheppard had ordered them to the gate, going off on his own to lead the aggressive natives away. It had worked until they'd heard the Colonel call in a "man down" and things had gone haywire from there. Ronon and Rodney had returned to find Sheppard, Teyla had continued to the gate to bring in the med-evac team. Somehow, Sheppard had made his way to the abandoned hut which is where Ronon and Rodney found him, already soaked in his own blood and clearly unable to travel with or without help. Ronon had left shortly thereafter to guide Teyla to the place and then it was Rodney's turn to recount his part of the story.

He found it difficult to tell. His mind was still off in the infirmary with Sheppard, hoping that he'd made the right call in asking the native soldier to cut out the poison dart. Aldin was his name they'd learned on the trek back to the gate.

Elizabeth was watching McKay closely and aside from a twitch of anger every time he mentioned the Stang, she remained sympathetically absorbed in his account. When he finally finished reliving the grueling hour, the doubt clear in his shaky voice and brusque delivery, she leaned towards him and said in a soft, confident tone, "You did good, Rodney. You all did. You got him home."

When McKay just shook off the reassurance she added, "You can go to the infirmary now. I'm sure you all want to check in on John."

With undignified haste, they all, Elizabeth included, found their way to Beckett's domain, pausing inside the doors once they were there as if fearful of intruding on a private or personal moment. Beckett however, spotted them at once and strode over cheerfully.

"I've been expectin' yeh. The Colonel's doing well considering the amount of blood he lost. We're pumping it back in him as fast as is advisable, but so far he's tolerating the transfusions and fluids. We're managing the shock as best we can. The toxins from the poison dart still in his system are a bit worrisome, but the lab thinks it's similar to an Earth-type tropane alkaloid and we've administered Physostigmine and good old morphine to counteract the effects we're aware of."

The blank looks and furtive glances deeper into the infirmary were not unnoticed by Beckett who smiled again, well used to being tuned out by worried visitors, and gestured towards a secluded nook busy with nurses in attendance. Shuffling quietly with the caution all cultures seemed to assume in hospital, the group gathered around Sheppard's bed. Elizabeth stepped confidently to his side at once and took the hand that lay on top of the thick blankets that otherwise covered him from toe to chin.

Rodney was surprised by how much Sheppard looked like he had on the hut's dirty floor. Pale, sweaty, his hands still tacky from his own dried blood, tubes of all sorts taped to his arms and chest snaking from hanging bags of various fluids and medicines. He had expected, hoped even, that he'd seem much better, that he'd be sitting up waiting for them to be harassed and demanding he be released at once.

Before the disappointment could overwhelm him though, Beckett tugged him gently aside and seemed urgent in his desire to speak. "Rodney, I've had the lab look at that dart you brought back, the one that lad pulled out of the Colonel's shoulder." Rodney nodded, eyes locked on Sheppard's still form. Beckett tugged a bit more to get his attention and went on, "It's a right nasty piece of work, all right. The poison is actually encapsulated within the dart's tip and begins to dissolve once exposed to the tissue it's embedded in. That means the symptoms are cumulative and once the interior of the capsule is exposed, a lethal dose is suddenly administered."

Rodney pulled his gaze away from Sheppard to suddenly stare at Beckett, "You did the right thing getting it out," Beckett said firmly. "Another few minutes and the dart that struck the Colonel would have dissolved into a lethal dose." The doctor squeezed Rodney's arm reassuringly and stepped back to the bed to check instruments once again, then stepped away to allow the visitors some time alone with their commander and friend. Rodney felt himself relax, then even grin. He'd made the right call. However it turned out now was up to Sheppard and knowing the resilience of the man, Rodney was nothing but optimistic.

Several hours later, Sheppard's team sat in quiet comfortable vigil around his bed, the lights dimmed in nighttime restfulness. A nurse would come by every so often to check vitals, whisper a reassuring, "He's doing fine…" and wander away again.

Just as Rodney was about to fall completely asleep in his chair and was considering going to bed as much as he hated to leave, John jerked and his eyes fluttered open. Passing happy glances and warm smiles, the three rose to gather closer. John lay for a long while, eyes open but unseeing, as he worked his way to consciousness. Finally, the Colonel groaned and raised his free hand to his face to scrub out sandy eyes and press against an aching temple. Looking stupidly at the ceiling he croaked to himself, "Where'd I park my helicopter?"

Chuckling, Teyla answered soothingly, "You're in the infirmary on Atlantis, John. You were injured, but you will be fine." Sheppard flopped his head towards her voice with a bemused smile, and Rodney added with a snort, "Oh, they've got you on the good stuff Colonel."

"Good stuff," he agreed still smiling.

McKay lingered for a while longer after Teyla and Ronon left. The nurses and eventually Dr. Beckett came by to check out their patient's progress with more thorough medical torture techniques. Before the endless pokes and prods were complete, Sheppard's goofy smile had faded into a painful frown, bordering on the jaw-clenched grimace Rodney had seen too much that day. Possibly no one else noticed, but McKay had seen enough of it to last him a lifetime and he grabbed at Beckett who was just passing by, "Can't you do something for the pain?"

Beckett raised his eyebrows and stopped long enough to study Sheppard's tense brow closely. Stepping quickly to the man's side he said, "Are you in pain son?"

Sheppard seemed to have to think about it for a minute before answering, "Um, yeah. Hurts a bit." Rodney and Beckett sighed with identical expressions of exasperation and Beckett queried further, "Where does it hurt?"

"Shoulder. Head. Pretty much everywhere…"

"Alright. We'll risk some more morphine tonight, at least we know that hasn't interacted with the poison adversely." He bustled off to the pharmacy leaving Rodney to tut tut over his stubborn friend.

"You've really got to stop depending on me to bail you out of the macho overcompensation thing. Next time, you ask for the good stuff yourself or I'll just sit here and watch you suffer."

"No you won't," Sheppard retorted.

"Probably not. But it is a risk you're willing to take?"

"Probably not." Sheppard smiled. "Besides, you've got everything under control. I can risk a trip to drug-induced lala land…"

"Damn right I've got it under control. So under control in fact, I'm going to bed. Behave yourself Sheppard."

"Good Night. And Thanks…" John closed his eyes, but Rodney didn't actually leave until he saw Beckett administer the drug and that Sheppard had drifted into restful sleep.