Disclaimer:- I do not own Stargate Atlantis or any of it's characters...do you really think I'd be here if I did?

Many thank yous to my wonderful beta Alipeeps.


A/N This story is a one-shot, just an idea that has been sneaking around in my head. Don't ask me to explain it or expand on it - it just is what it is.

Walking Alone

by Pilgrim Soul

Carson could feel the eyes of the control room on his back as the event horizon burst out into the room and settled into the familiar rippling puddle. Crouching down, he checked his bag once more, making sure he was prepared for the worst. He didn't know what kind of injury he would be faced with on the other side; or what kind of patient - a lot could happen to a man in five months.

He took in a deep breath and let it out in short, sharp breaths, trying to settle the sick feeling rising in his stomach. He glanced back up at the balcony where Elizabeth stood; the expression on her face said 'you don't have to do this' but they both knew that wasn't an option. He forced a smile, trying to look braver than he felt, and, turning away from her, stepped into the wormhole.

Doctor Carson Beckett, scientist, could deal with the idea of wormhole travel but the part of him that was still wee Carson Beckett from Paisley had other ideas and he didn't think he'd ever really get used to the idea. As he stepped out the other side he drew in an involuntary gasp. A hooded figure stood at the DHD. As soon as Carson was through, the wormhole closed down behind him and the figure began dialing.

"You'd better get out of the way." Carson took his advice and jumped off the side of the ramp. The man held a Wraith stunner in one hand while he dialed with the other. As Carson circled round, the barrel of the weapon tracked his movements even though the figure didn't seem to look up. "Throw me your bag and take off your vest and jacket." A little stab of panic rose in Carson's stomach and his voice stuttered.

"W-what?" The dialing sequence finished, another wormhole whooshed out into the misty morning.

"You heard me." Now he was closer, he could hear the man's ragged breathing and see the tremor in the hand holding the weapon. Complying, he unhooked his backpack and gently tossed it over before taking off the aforementioned items of clothing, feeling the moisture in the cool air against the bare skin on his arms. "Throw 'em away." Carson's head snapped up at the command, his mouth open ready to protest. "I'm not an idiot, Doc." The figure awkwardly lifted the heavy medic's bag, resting it on the DHD. Carson couldn't help but notice how heavily the man had to lean against the dialing device. Opening the bag, the hooded figure began examining the contents, discarding certain items into the long grass. "You really thought I'd let you drug me so you could take me back?" Carson pushed down the feelings of guilt at being read so easily as he chucked aside the jacket and with it the pre-prepared dose of sedative concealed inside. "Now through the gate." The man gestured with the gun toward the shimmering pool of the event horizon.

"Where are we going?"

"Somewhere safe." Bending down, the man opened up the DHD and began ripping out components, removing the crystals and placing them in his pockets. Carson thought better of asking the hundred questions he had swimming in his mind and walked up the ramp; for the second time in a matter of minutes found himself on a strange planet and this time Atlantis didn't know where he was. The air was warmer here, the sky pale and clear. A small village stood in front of the gate and as they moved closer to the huts Carson realised that the village was dead. The streets stood empty and no smoke rose from the chimneys, all was silent. Doors stood open and the slowly rotting remnants of clothes hung from wooden frames where they had been left to dry.

"The Wraith?" The figure was close behind him now and he could hear the rasping breath in his ear.

"They took every man, woman and child. It's happening more and more. They're looking for new feeding grounds, eventually they'll find them." The barrel of the gun nudged against Carson's shoulder, directing him toward a low building. The doctor ducked under the lintel into a single room. The embers in the grate still smouldered, barely visible wisps of smoke rising from the ash, and against the far wall a wooden framed bed held a straw mattress and blankets. He turned back to the man who had entered behind him.

"You've been living here?"

"Sometimes, it's a safe place to hold up." Dark eyes studied Carson. "Well, it was. Time to do your thing Doc." Pulling the hooded over-shirt off, the man choked back a cry of pain. Underneath, his loose fitting shirt was soaked in blood. Carson stepped forward and grabbed the man's arm to steady him. John Sheppard's face was pale and gaunt, his hair was longer than last time Carson had seen him and flopped forward over his face. He was cold to the touch and Carson could feel the racing pulse below the almost translucent skin on his wrist.

"Jesus Christ, Colonel, what the hell have you been doing to yerself?"

"Colonel Sheppard no longer exists. It's just Sheppard now." Carson inwardly berated himself for his slip. He settled the former Colonel down onto the bed, not failing to notice Sheppard's unerring grip on the weapon. The second shirt was removed to reveal blood saturated bandages wrapped around his shoulder and under his arm… As Sheppard settled back onto the mattress, Carson pulled on surgical gloves and began to undo the dressing.

"What happened?"

"Came across a small Genii force yesterday…day before maybe. I don't really bother with days, move around too much to keep track. Just eat when I'm hungry, sleep when I'm tired." Sheppard took in a deep shuddering breath as Carson peeled away the remaining dressing revealing the angry wound beneath.

"You've been shot!"

"Well gee, Doc, I hadn't noticed." Colonel Sheppard may no longer exist but his sarcasm is still going strong, Carson thought to himself. Examining the skin around the wound, he could see the telltale signs of an infection. The skin around the wound was hot to the touch and had taken on a blotchy appearance.

"John, we need to get you home lad."

"No! You patch me up and send me on my way. That was the deal."

"There's already signs of infection; you need to be in the infirmary."

"Are you gonna fix me or do I have to find someone else to do it?" Carson scoffed at the idea.

"Like who? Besides, the state of you it'd be a bloody miracle if you're capable of making it back as far as the gate."

"You'd be surprised what I'm capable of." John Sheppard was a man who spoke through his eyes; Carson had always known when the man was lying because he'd not be able to maintain eye contact. Right now his eyes were focused unwaveringly on Carson. There were no lies. The Colonel, Carson wasn't sure he'd ever stop thinking of him as the Colonel, had come close to death on several occasions during their acquaintance. Once, after a particularly close call, the Scot had questioned just how the pilot had managed to survive and he'd told him it was because he wouldn't give the bastards the satisfaction. If he were going to die, he'd go out fighting. Carson was in no doubt that he'd be surprised at what the seemingly fragile man in front of him would be capable of. Carson sighed heavily in defeat. "The bullet's still in there somewhere."

"Aye. I'll dig that out for you and excise some of the damaged tissue. I brought a good supply of antibiotics with me, like you asked." He reached for the medicine bag. "Assuming you didn't throw them away."

"No, I threw the anaesthetic away." Carson's jaw dropped in disbelief; he rifled through the bag to check and, just as Sheppard had said, only the antibiotics and painkillers were left.

"What the hell is wrong with you? I can't operate on you with out anaesthetic."

"You'll have to. I told you before Doc, no drugs."

"I can't."

"You did it for Ronon." Carson shook his head gently.

"And he passed out."

"I won't." Again, there was that certainty in his eyes. "There's a belt over there. Tie this arm down, the one with the stunners stays free." He waved the weapon in the air as if to demonstrate. Carson did as he was told. Sheppard certainly hadn't lost the ability to issue orders, when he spoke he expected to be obeyed. Taking the belt, he strapped the Colonel's left arm down to the wooden frame of the bed.

He began by clearing the dried blood away; the wound had been kept remarkably clean and, judging by the dressing, Carson suspected that someone had treated the wound, albeit crudely. It was comforting thought that the injured man had found at least one friend in the galaxy.

Carson swapped his gloves for a clean pair and took a flat, wrapped bandage from the medic bag.

"Here, you can bite down on this." The man on the bed nodded in agreement.

"Thanks." Carson placed the bandage between his patient's teeth

"Sure you're ready for this?" Another nod as the Colonel took in a deep breath. "Okay." As Carson cut into the flesh, he felt the Colonel's whole body tense. His muscles rigid with the effort not to move, barely a sound escaped him just a low muffled grunt from deep in his throat as he fixed his eyes on a single spot in the ceiling. Carson tried to work quickly. The bullet was lodged in the muscle near the shoulder joint; using forceps, he pulled the tiny misshapen piece of metal out of the wound and dropped it to the floor. Thankfully, its removal hadn't caused too much bleeding; he swabbed the wound and examined the damage. "You're going to have to keep this shoulder immobile as much as possible to avoid further damage to the muscle."

Glancing up, he noticed the pilot's eyes, shining with tears at the pain, were still firmly fixed on the ceiling. As he began to excise the damaged tissue he talked; this was the closest he was going to have to a captive audience.

"We've been worried sick about you. You know that? Not knowing if you were dead or alive." The only reaction from the man on the bed was a quickening of his breath. "Major Lorne found what was left of three Wraith on MR6-732, was that you? Taking on the Wraith single handed now are we?" Grabbing more bandages, he pushed them on to the wound to stem the bleeding. "The Genii too by the looks of it." A small grunt escaped Sheppard and as Carson looked up he could see that the man's eyes were now held tightly shut. "The worst is over now." He reached across and removed the bandage from the Colonels' mouth, the outer packaging bitten through. "Are you gonna be sick?"

"No." The voice was shaky. "I'll wait until you've finished for that." Carson couldn't help a small smile.

"Okay. Normally I wouldn't suture this straight away but I guess you're not going to give me a choice, are you?"

"No." There was a hint of apology in those hazel eyes now. "And I'd appreciate you hurrying. I'm not going to still be here when they come."

"Who?"

A wry smile. "You know who. How long were they going to give you to knock me out before they came through the gate? 20 minutes max, I'd guess. They'll come through, it'll take them say another 20 to work out we're no longer on the planet and once they do they'll call in McKay to work out the last gate address."

"You disabled the DHD, brought half the crystals with you."

"Yeah, but this is McKay we're talking about; he'll have it sussed in less than an hour. So finish what you started and let me get on my way."

"You're in no fit state to go wandering off."

"I'll cope; I have somewhere safe to go."

"As safe as this?" Carson gestured round the squalid little hut.

"And what's the alternative, Carson? I come back with you? My last memories of Atlantis are being in a cell. I won't go back to that."

"Maybe there's a way…"

"To what? Sort this out? I go back with you and they'll send me back to Earth where, if I'm lucky, all they'll do is throw me out of the Air Force. And then what? I spend the rest of my life piloting charter flights, ferrying rich business men around or God damned tourists?" Sheppard blinked away the tears. "That may be surviving but it isn't living. So sew me up and send me on my way." Carson opened a suture pack, feeling resigned and miserable.

"It was Ronon, wasn't it? Who helped you escape?"

"He's the only one who understood." The pilot flinched more at the first prick of the needle than the whole time Carson had been working on the wound.

"Why didn't he leave with you?"

John looked away. "Because there had to be someone I trusted to look after the people I care about." he whispered. "I made him promise." Carson swallowed back, concentrating on his job. There was nothing he could say to the man because he was right. John Sheppard belonged in the Pegasus Galaxy, it was part of him and he was part of it. For a long moment neither spoke, the ragged breathing of the injured man the only sound inside the hut. Carson had worried unnecessarily. Five months hadn't changed the man; he was still there, he was just lost.

"Finished?" Carson undid the strap holding Sheppard's arm to the bed and the Colonel flexed his hand.

"Aye. I'll put a clean dressing on and then we'll see about strapping your arm so as to keep it still," the Scot sighed. "And you can put that stunner down. I'll no be trying to take you back, son." Sheppard laid down the weapon with a gentle nod.

"Thank you."

The doctor looked up, surprised. "Yer gonna trust me that easily?"

"Yeah. Besides, I may look like crap but I can still kick your ass."

"Aye." Carson conceded, "I don't doubt that for a second. Now are you going to let me give you something for the pain?"

"Nothing that's going to make me dopey, I've got a little bit of a walk ahead of me."

The medic rolled his eyes. "Jesus Christ man, you need to rest!"

"And I will, once I'm somewhere safe. There's someone there who'll take care of me for a few days."

"Is that so?" Carson raised his eyebrows and received a scowl in return.

"It's not like that. Now, if you don't mind, the sooner you finish up here, the quicker I can get some of that rest you keep talking about."

Carson dressed the wound and then strapped Sheppard's arm across his chest so his hand rested against the opposite shoulder before helping him on with his blood stained clothes. He was struck not only by how pale Sheppard looked but also how old he seemed, and couldn't help the overwhelming feeling of sadness in the pit of his stomach. It was like seeing Peter Pan grow up.

"Well then lad, I'm finished here." He sat back and looked at the Colonel. "Do you want me to help you to the gate?"

"No, I'm good." Picking up the stunner, Sheppard rose shakily to his feet. "Thanks for everything, Doc. You take care of yourself."

"Aye, you too."

Sheppard smiled lightly. "You'll be safe here till they come."

"Wha…" But before Carson could finish, he saw Sheppard raise the stunner. A flash of light and then nothing…

…he wasn't sure what it was that woke him. When he opened his eyes the world swam and took a moment to settle into focus. He'd been laid out on the bed, the blanket folded into a pillow. In the distance, he could hear noises; just quiet shuffling to begin with but growing louder. Then voices, quiet and urgent, the crackle of radio. Suddenly the door burst open and a group of marines flooded in with the light. Satisfied the room held no danger, one rushed to Carson's side. Another figure entered the room, tall and imposing.

"Where is he, Doctor?" Carson looked down so his eyes didn't betray the spark of relief he felt.

"Gone. John Sheppard's gone."