That night, the winds came. Ronon rolled the native's body and severed leg outside and watched it drop off the side of the cliff into the receding waters. The wind was beginning to pick up, and Ronon could feel the danger as small stones began to whip through the air. He retreated back into the cave, listening to the horrendous howling. The cave's walls rattled and groaned, and he hoped that the stone would hold up against the ferocious winds.

Since removing the bolt and cauterizing the wounds, Sheppard had not woken, but one particularly savage gust of wind seemed to startle him, and Ronon found fever-glazed eyes on him. Sheppard's right hand clenched into a fist, and he tilted his head slightly, looking for his gun, Ronon realized.

"It's ok," Ronon said. "It's just some crazy winds."

"Winds?"

"Yeah. Native guy said that the winds would dry out the desert. I think we try to head back to the 'gate once it dies down. Get you some medical attention."

"Sounds … good."

Ronon shuffled closer with a canteen. "Here, you need to drink something. You've lost a lot of blood."

Sheppard drank deeply then shifted, grimacing. "Still can't … move my left arm."

"Can you move your leg?"

Ronon saw Sheppard's left leg twitch, then — with effort — he pulled his knee up, gasping.

"Yeah … So should be … good to go."

Ronon bit back a chuckle. "You know I'm probably going to have to carry you."

Sheppard shook his head. "No. Can walk."

"We'll see about that."

Sheppard lapsed into silence.

"You should go get help," he finally said, his voice stronger. "It'll be faster."

"You're right." Ronon looked into the fire. "Only problem is that the natives still want to kill us. I can't leave you alone. We're going together. As soon as the wind stops."

They both gazed silently into the fire, and Sheppard's lips were pressed together in a white line. Ronon knew that although the Colonel was seething that Ronon wouldn't listen to him, he also knew that the Satedan was right. If Ronon left him behind, his chances of survival were slim to none. And he also knew that Ronon wouldn't leave him, even if ordered.

The rest of the night the two men could not sleep. They listened to the raging winds outside. The rocky cave walls rattled, and occasional gusts of wind blew through the cavern, but overall, Ronon had chosen their hiding place well, and they rode out the night.

In the morning, the winds began to die down, and Sheppard tried sitting up by himself, shaky and pale. The fever still had not left him, but Ronon suspected that his temperature was not has high as he was no longer delirious. He wasn't sure if it was a good thing, as the weeping wounds in his shoulder were now running with red and black blood, and blood should not be black. The cauterizing had worked for the most part, but Ronon wasn't sure if he had the heart to re-cauterize the wounds with Sheppard conscious.

Sheppard said nothing when Ronon peeled away the soaked bandages, revealing the inflamed flesh underneath. Grimly, his fingers clutched at the sand of the floor as Ronon cleaned and rebound his shoulder.

Ronon knew that Sheppard was calculating the risks of their travel back to the Stargate across the desert. He also knew that Sheppard was very aware as to how badly he was injured. What Ronon did not know was what level of pain Sheppard was currently dealing with. The man had always had a high threshold for pain and was a master at keeping silent when he needed help. Sometimes, Ronon felt that the quieter Sheppard was, the more he was suffering. Now, Sheppard was silent, his breaths quiet but labored. His left hand still hung limp in the makeshift sling, but his right hand was grasping and kneading at the sandy floor of the cave.

"Ready?" Ronon extended a hand, and Sheppard gripped his wrist.

Easily swinging Sheppard to his feet, Ronon grabbed him quickly around the waist when he swayed. Still, Sheppard said nothing, setting his mouth in a grim line as sweat started to bead on his forehead.

Ronon knew it killed the Colonel to do so, but Sheppard snaked his right arm around Ronon's waist and gripped his coat tightly, taking a tentative step. They hobbled towards the cave entrance and emerged on a new landscape.

All around them, the air was fresh and cool, the wind still whipping around the rocks and hoodoos, but it was beginning to die down. The water had completely receded, just as the native had said, and brown, wet, flat sand stretched from their rocky cliff to the mountains in the distance.

They began the difficult descent down the cliff face. Ronon had to lift and drag Sheppard in several places, but soon enough, they made it to the bottom.

The sand was hard-packed and no longer dry, but thankfully it was not too muddy or Ronon wasn't sure how they were going to make it back to the 'gate. They pressed forward, flitting from hoodoo to hoodoo as they made their way through the rocky passages towards the open desert.

Shortly into their journey, Sheppard began gasping for breath but doggedly pressed on. Ronon knew he would not ask for a break. The Colonel knew the danger of the situation and was even more aware that his condition was putting Ronon at risk. Ronon's heart broke a little when he knew that he could push Sheppard to the breaking point and the man would never ask to stop.

Ronon finally stopped in the shade of a hoodoo and leaned Sheppard against the rock, wiping his brow. Despite the cooler wind, the sun was still intense. Sheppard slowly slid down the rock until he was sitting and leaned his head back, eyes closed. His chest was heaving, and Ronon watched him closely, trying to see how much more he could push the man before they really needed to stop for a break.

"Let's go," he finally said after a few moments.

Sheppard nodded silently, steeling himself as he used the rock face to push himself to his feet. It was obvious to Ronon that he couldn't walk on his own, although the fact that he could stand was a miracle.

Without asking, Ronon slipped an arm around Sheppard's waist again and they continued on, Sheppard laboring on his left leg and gritting his teeth as he sucked in air. Eventually, Ronon realized that the warm dampness he was feeling soaking through Sheppard's jacket was not sweat, and he slowed to a stop in alarm, carefully lowering the man to the ground and finding his own arm covered in dark red blood.

Cursing, he pulled the ripped sleeve of Sheppard's t-shirt down to find the bandages soaked in blood.

"Why didn't you say anything?" he demanded.

Sheppard blinked owlishly. "Didn't know," he gasped. "Seemed more … important to … breathe."

Ronon pressed one hand against the left side of Sheppard's chest and found that it was not moving as much as the right when Sheppard took shuddering breaths in.

"I don't think it … nicked the lung," Sheppard said softly when he realized what Ronon was doing. "Think it's … poison. Whatever's keeping my … arm and leg paralyzed."

"It's paralyzing your lung," Ronon realized.

Sheppard nodded, the effort to speak clearly taking a toll.

Grimly, Ronon set about the task of changing the bandages, realizing that they would run out of clean cloths before they reached the Stargate at the rate Sheppard was bleeding out. The cauterized wounds weren't gushing blood, but the movement of their walk from the morning had re-opened the wounds and they were freely bleeding now. There was no brush to make a fire to try and re-cauterize them, so Ronon knew they needed to keep moving.

Sheppard's tanned skin was pale and almost grey, and sweat had broken out all over his body. The effort from just breathing was taking everything he had, and Ronon wished they had a puddle jumper so they could fly back to Atlantis.

"You're gonna make it," he said forcefully. "It's too far to find help in the mountains and it's only one and a half days back to the 'gate. I'm going to get you there."

"I know, buddy," Sheppard said softly. "But … you need to know … when to … let me go. And … leave me."

Ronon ignored the man. If he listened to Sheppard then there was no hope that they would both make it back alive. He closed his eyes, remembering Teyla's meditation. He would will Sheppard to the 'gate and nothing was going to stop him.