AN: Thanks, Harmfan! I was beginning to wonder if anybody 'got' the joke…

DISCLAIMER: The following story is a work of fanfiction, and as such is for fan enjoyment only. All recognizable characters/settings are the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit is made.

A Day to Forget

By kerravon

2. Amnesia? What Amnesia? I Don't Remember Any Amnesia!

A few swift strokes brought Sheppard to where Rodney was desperately flailing, trying to keep his head above the current. John's heart skipped a beat as he saw his friend submerge, until he reappeared a few yards farther downstream. Swimming more quickly, he managed to wrap an arm under McKay's chin from behind. Getting a good grip, he yelled in the astrophysicist's ear, "Relax and try to float on your back; I'll get you out of here!"

A faint nod from the hacking scientist, and the struggling stopped. While not floating per se, he at least wasn't threatening to slip out of Sheppard's arms or drown him as he pulled towards the opposite shore. Once in shallow water, he helped Rodney get his feet under himself, then the pair staggered onto the rocky riverbank. There the two collapsed, Sheppard on his back, Rodney on his hands and knees. McKay continued coughing for another full minute, then followed it by retching a liter of swallowed muddy water.

Sheppard, winded, didn't have the energy to move, so he lay panting on his back staring at the blue sky overhead. 'That rescue team better get here fast; Rodney's not going far in this condition.' His eyes suddenly widened in alarm. 'The radio!' he recalled. His hand flew to where the device normally rested. 'Yep. Gone.' John rolled to his knees with a groan. 'Maybe McKay still has his.' He crawled over to where the scientist still crouched, vomiting.

A quick inspection showed that McKay had lost his radio in the torrent as well. Fine; they'd figure out how to reach Atlantis once they shook the natives. There was no way he was leaving Rodney behind. Putting an arm across the miserable man's shoulders as he heaved, the LTC asked, "You OK?"

Slowly the gagging was replaced by gasping, and McKay shot him a look of sheer disbelief. "Do I look OK?" he rasped, and was seized by another paroxysm of nausea. Sheppard continued to kneel next to him as he anxiously scanned the immediate surroundings for signs of pursuit and found none. Finally the scientist wiped his mouth and sat back on his heels, fixing Sheppard with a confused stare.

Sheppard knew how he felt; he'd had a few benders in his college days, not to mention a few late nights at the O-Club when he was younger. Of course, beer probably tasted better than river water…at least going down. He quirked a smile in sympathy as he asked, "Better? They're not on our tail yet, but we need to get moving."

Rodney's obvious confusion grew. "Who are 'they'?" he demanded. "And for that matter, who are you?"

Sheppard frowned at him and stood up, still keeping an eye on the far riverbank. "Not funny, Rodney," he commented distractedly. Glancing down at the still-kneeling scientist, he held a hand out to help the other man rise.

McKay ignored the outstretched arm as his baffled expression deepened. "Rodney?…Rodney…", he mused, "That must be my name". He fixed Sheppard with a razor-sharp glare; "That still doesn't answer the questions: who are you and from whom are we running?"

The Colonel's brows creased in unhappy surprise. "You're serious, aren't you?" he asked. "You really don't know who I am!"

McKay's face reflected his irritation as he growled, "If I knew, then I wouldn't have asked, would I?"

Sheppard crouched next to him in a flash, palpating his scalp and forehead for signs of injury. "Hmmm…no goose eggs I can find…Does this hurt?" He pressed several different areas experimentally.

Rodney swatted his hands away, then clambered to his feet under his own power. "No, I haven't hit my head!" He tilted his head thoughtfully and continued, "I don't think…" He probed his own scalp and, finding no sore spots, nodded in satisfaction. "Nope, nothing. I just…don't remember."

LTC Sheppard's entire attention was focussed on his injured colleague. "What do you recall? Atlantis? The Wraith?…Your own name?"

McKay rolled the questions around in his mind for a bit before answering. "Nope. I got nothing." He paused and amended, "I think I'm a scientist…and you just called me 'Rodney', so I deduce that's my name."

'Maybe something in the water he swallowed…' postulated the Colonel, standing himself. 'Drugs? Poison? I just wish Carson were here!'

Further conversation was interrupted by a shower of arrows from the opposite bank. "Shit!" cried Sheppard as one pierced his left sleeve from behind. "I forgot about the Yoldans! Come on Rodney, run!" So saying, he grabbed the astrophysicist's elbow with his good arm and propelled him up the slope in front of him.

McKay, eyes wide with fear, took one glance back at the angry natives across the river before turning and taking off at full speed. Reaching back and snapping off the protruding arrow shaft, Sheppard was on his heels in an instant.

They ran as fast as they could to put some distance between themselves and their pursuers, but had only managed about half a mile before McKay became winded. Their flight had been mostly uphill, and the terrain had become increasingly rocky, much to Sheppard's pleasure. The hunters were going to have a harder time tracking them once they got to this side of the river, as footprints would be rare.

"Hold….up…." McKay gasped, leaning heavily on a boulder. "Haveta…catch….breath…" He bicycled his right arm as he tried to get the words out.

John skidded to a halt, then came back to the scientist, anxiously scanning the direction that they had come from. "OK," he hazarded, "But only for a minute. I could use a break myself." Plopping to the ground, he quickly began to rip open his bloody jacket sleeve to expose the arrow. 'Time to get rid of this thing,' he reflected grimly. 'Since all the wishing in the world isn't going to make Beckett suddenly materialize.' McKay stared at him as if he were from Mars.

"Who…are you?" the scientist finally panted.

Sheppard glanced up from his arm. "Oh, sorry. I didn't have time to introduce myself back there. I'm Colonel John Sheppard."

Just then he managed to tear the fabric enough to get a good look at his injury. The projectile had entered though the back of the upper arm, coursing through the subcutaneous tissue and part of the biceps muscle before partially penetrating his arm in the front. Glancing up again, he noticed McKay watching him with morbid fascination.

"What happened to your arm?"

Sheppard stared as if Rodney had lost his mind. "I got shot with an arrow."

McKay grimaced. "I can see that. How did it happen?"

John's stomach fell to his boots. 'Oh shit,' was his first instinctive response, but he managed not to say it aloud. "You were there, Rodney. By the riverbank? Not twenty minutes ago?"

"Nope, 'fraid I don't recall." McKay turned contemplative. "Rodney, huh? So that must be my name…" he mused aloud.

Sheppard looked back down at his arm as he replied, trying to quell his worry over his friend and his irritation at having to repeat himself. "Yeah. You're Rodney McKay, astrophysicist and general pain-in-the-ass." Whipping out his Leatherman, he tried unsuccessfully to grasp the point of the protruding arrow and pull it on through. He finally gave up and turned to a somewhat-recovered McKay.

"Hey, Rodney, I need you to help me get this thing out."

The scientist nodded and knelt next to the injured man. "Looks ugly. How'd it happen?"

Sheppard closed his eyes and counted to ten. "I was shot with an arrow after saving your ass from drowning. Now I need your help."

What do I do?" McKay asked.

'Finally, progress.' "See the remnant of the arrow shaft? I need you to push on that until the arrowhead is completely through my arm. Then I'll pull it out from the front."

McKay studied the wound critically. "Why not just pull it out from this side?"

"Arrows usually have barbs on their tips to prevent that. It's already partially out this way, anyhow; I just need you to finish the job." He pulled a field dressing out of the pouch on his LBE and handed it to McKay. "When we're done we'll wrap it with this," he explained.

The scientist gulped and pulled his sleeve over his hand, not wanting to touch the bloody object. Steeling his nerve and closing his eyes, he said, "OK. Here goes!" and pushed with all his might.

John bit his lip in an attempt not to cry out as the arrowhead ripped through the remaining skin, but couldn't suppress a groan. "Sorry, sorry, sorry!" lilted McKay nervously, wincing at the sound but keeping his eyes tightly shut.

The pilot released the breath he'd been holding and grimaced reassuringly. "Nah, it's good. You can open your eyes now." He grasped the protruding arrow and pulled; it slipped easily out of his arm leaving a relatively clean wound in its wake. John pocketed the arrow as Rodney began to wrap his injury.

"What, you're keeping that as a souvenir?" McKay was aghast as he finished neatly tying the bandage outside Sheppard's jacket.

'Brilliant, maybe, but that boy needs some first aid classes,' thought Sheppard as he inspected Rodney's handiwork. 'And I thought he was making a sympathy play with the dressing after Koyla stabbed him; seems he just doesn't know any better.'

To answer the man's question, however…"Two things - first, it could be poisoned, so I want to get it to Beckett. Second, I don't want to leave any evidence around that we've been this way." He flexed his arm and hand experimentally and was relieved to find that, while it hurt like hell, it still worked. "That'll do until Beckett can take care of it."

"Who's 'Beckett'?" McKay questioned, reminding John that his comrade was in less than perfect shape himself.

He patted the scientist on the shoulder as he stood up. "Don't worry, you're going to have plenty of time to get to know him once we get home. For now, let's see what I can do about throwing those natives off our track."

Jogging back down a couple of hundred yards, he found a scraggly tree with low-lying branches. Snapping one of them off, he hurriedly brushed away any of their footprints that he could find amid the stones, relieved to find that he hadn't been dripping blood the whole journey and leaving a blood-trail. When he got back to McKay, the scientist was eyeing him in disbelief.

"Well, it always works in the Westerns!" John exclaimed defensively, favoring his left arm.

"Who are you?" asked the befuddled scientist.

Sheppard looked at him in sheer disbelief. "LTC John Sheppard. We've been over this, McKay."

McKay shook his head stubbornly. "No, we haven't. So my name's McKay, I take it."

"Doctor Rodney McKay," Sheppard repeated wearily. It was turninginto a long day. "Come on, let's get moving." He gestured up the slope for McKay to precede him. At this point he didn't trust the man not to wander off and pick daffodils.

The scientist didn't move. "What happened to your arm?" he asked, pointing to the bandage.

The pilot just shook his head. "An arrow, and there will be more where that came from if we don't get a move on!" He grabbed Rodney's arm and propelled the protesting amnesiac forward.

McKay, after glancing around nervously, began a trotting up the hill. Sheppard followed a few yards behind, backwards, brushing away all traces of their passage.

TBC...

AN: Before anyone objects, yes, there are forms of amnesia where the patient's short term memory is completely shot, so they not only can't remember what you just told them, but they don't even remember asking the question! If you don't believe me, just try talking to someone who's just had 5mg of Versed (commonly given for colonoscopies)...

Hope you like!