Hold On

…Chapter Two…

A/N…Not as long a chapter as I was wanting to put out, but here is something to cheer up BMick seeing as she asked so nicely!

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Carson had been making his way back to the Infirmary and congratulating himself that he had evaded capture, when he heard the gunshots and his heart sunk to his toes. "No, No!" he cried out and then slammed a hand over his mouth at his mistake. He backed against the wall and tried to slow his breathing enough to hear if footsteps were headed his way. He gulped when he heard heavy boots running and then he heard glass shattering and the unmistakable shrieks of Sheppard's name being called out. Their desperate voices turned the blood in his veins to ice and he quite literally froze on the spot.

Shaking, he put his hands on his knees and wanted to cry when realisation of what had happened hit him like a bullet had pierced his own skin. Panting and suddenly sweating, Carson realised he was beside a balcony and slipped inside the door, hoping it did not squeak, needing air and a possible place to hide. It suited his purpose and after it had gone quiet again and gathering great courage, Carson raised himself on his toes to look down to the water below and almost shouted out loud again when, shocked, he unbelievably caught sight of a very bloody and battered John Sheppard entwined in the nets still left hanging from the earlier attempt of rescuing some mystical marine creature. He hung loosely and appeared unconscious, if not dead.

Carson noticed his head flung back at an awkward angle and grimaced. It then flopped forward again with a weak attempt at righting himself and Carson's heart tightened all over again.

Obviously weak and injured, Sheppard had managed to snag the net on the way down and Carson realised he would now, somehow, have to get out there to help him back inside. But how? And just how badly hurt was he?

Not usually bothered too much by heights...but not in situations like this! ... Carson moved further forward onto the balcony and stepped outside into the growing storm. Rain hit him hard in the face and it was like a physical slap that woke him up to the situation he was in. There was no way he could do this, and yet he had to. Sheppard had climbed a tower before, so could he…but with an ailing, wounded and half dead Colonel...could he?

Damn right, he would!

The first obstacle was over, and he was now on a wide enough ledge, not more than twenty feet from Sheppard who was now cheek to stone and facing the other way. Carson noticed he had got a small foothold but was struggling to hold onto the net that slipped and swayed in the wind and rain that was now pelting down.

Hold on! He thought to himself.

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Ronon was still weak from the earlier knock out gas, and he could not get the momentum going in order to be able to reach the area where Sheppard had been flung back through the window with the force of the bullets pelting him. But even with a couple of Klen's men trying to restrain him, he still managed to fall to his knees near the area he had vanished, and the sight of the blood that had left his friend's body was probably evidence enough to confirm his death before he would even hit the building or the ocean below.

Ronon roared and struggled in their grip, only to fall silent when he was whacked on the side of his head by the butt of one of the intruders' weapons, causing more cries from his team mates. He was dragged back by his cuffed wrists and flung at Teyla's feet. Her hands shook as she reached out for him, her eyes wide and glistening with unshed tears. Rodney gently lifted his head up and placed it on her thigh and she proceeded to dab at the blood coating his face from a piece of cloth she had been handed by somebody.

Rodney had had enough and totally ignoring Woolsey's plea and pull on his arm to sit back down, he dragged his wobbly limbs up to confront Klen. "What do you want?" He roared at him, Sheppard's vanishing out the window replaying in his mind.

Klen and Gillam paced with their backs to Rodney infuriating him further. "I'm speaking to you!"

Klen turned to face him and smirked.

"You are lucky I only killed one of your soldiers today and wounded the other. I say again, you will not be harmed if you remain calm and quiet. You can see I am a man of my word and I have had to show that I maintain a simple rule – my rule! Now shut up and sit down!"

Rodney stuck out his chin but with Teyla now pleading for him to sit, he wobbled on the spot and dropped to his knees beside Ronon, taking in his pale face and open wound on the side of his head.

"How is he?" He asked Teyla whilst throwing evils at Klen.

"He is unconscious but he seems ok, although I believe he will need stiches for that wound and I hope he doesn't have a concussion."

Rodney watched her stroke the big man's head and found her eyes. "Oh god, Teyla!"

Teyla knew he was thinking of Sheppard but at that moment she couldn't speak her thoughts out loud that he was most probably dead, refusing to think she wouldn't see the charismatic man any longer. She dipped her head and continued to wipe the blood from Ronon's face. She then felt a slightly shaky cold hand on hers and sighed. She looked up and witnessed the pain in Rodney's eyes so gripped his hand fiercely. "We will get through this and find him. Just play this out and perhaps they will leave here as soon as they get what they want, whatever that is?"

Rodney sat back down on his backside and Woolsey joined him. "Major Lorne is off world, he will know something is up when we do not reply to his check in."

This brightened the mood somewhat, but no-body spoke for a while. Just gathering themselves together and trying to make sense of what had just happened and in Rodney's case; just how the hell had Klen and his men got in, and what did they want?

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Carson slowly stretched his leg down again for what seemed like the hundredth time, seeking a space, and briefly wondered if this was harder than climbing up the way, a fact that he would have to find out soon. As it was, he knew that the net had been thrown out over a balcony not too far away and secured well to the inside wall, so if he could just make his way there in one piece without looking down too much, all the better it would be for both him and Sheppard.

Sheppard was bleeding badly from numerous wounds, he knew that, he could see the colour red slip onto the stone below and where he remained attached to the net, his grip tenuous to say the least. So many thoughts ran through Carson's mind. Had he hit the building on the way down? If so he could have varying wounds from that. Had any of the bullets caused internal damage? Had he a concussion?

As soon as Carson found a good grip for both feet and hands, he breathed in and forced himself to calm down. He was of no use to Sheppard panicking like this. And he knew that that was exactly what he was doing. His breathing evened out and as the wind and rain picked up a pace, he forced himself to move downwards until at last he felt netting under his foot and risked a glance to the left and over to Sheppard. His head was facing the other way, his right cheek pressed tightly into the cool stone wall. One leg dipped and was dragged slowly up several times, each movement eliciting a low strangled groan from the injured pilot. He seemed to lose the strength to hold on all of a sudden, and when the foot slipped once more, he could not get a purchase on the wet netting and tightened his grip on the net in a seemingly automatic grasp.

Carson knew he had to be in pain and called to him several times to reassure him that he would have someone with him soon, but the storm carried it away every time. His own foot slipped and for a moment his breath was interrupted but he carried on his slow climb towards his friend.

He was almost beside him, just having to skirt a large knot of netting, when Sheppard seemed to lose consciousness and was starting to fall.

"Colonel! John!" Carson shouted for all he was worth.

"Hold on!"

Carson was relieved to get beside him just as Sheppard slowly turned his head and his unbelieving eyes took in the sight of Carson at his side.

"D…doc? Wha…?"

"Ssh, don't talk, save your breath, son." Carson advised him.

Carson gave him a reassuring smile. "So, you've found yourself in a precarious position here, and me along with you. Are you hurting?" He stopped talking, watching Sheppard for a reaction, wanting to make sure he was with him.

Sheppard managed a small nod and Carson winced at the pain that then must have flared in his head, as he closed his eyes and panted for a moment. The side of his face was covered in thick blood and Carson could not make out if the head wound was from a bash with this head connecting with the side of the building or a bullet wound. Which was worse? He had no idea.

Quickly, Carson assessed him further from the side that he could see. Blood drenched his right shoulder and the hand that was holding tight to the net, was using only three of its fingers. Two looked purple and swollen and decidedly broken. His right leg looked strong enough but Carson had seen the left weakly slip so he hoped it wasn't broken. Not having time to assess him any further, he gently touched the top of his head.

"Son, we have to move now. The storm is getting worse. We need to climb up the net…are you listening?" He asked, seeing him sway slightly.

Sheppard moaned slightly but stared at Carson long enough for him to know he knew what he had to do.

"We'll take it slow. I'll be holding on to you tight and we will do it together." This was terrible, speaking to him as if he were a child but he seemed very disoriented and Carson worried for damage to his brain.

"Hu..hurts!"

"I know John. We have to move now." Carson reiterated. He didn't wait for him to acknowledge, just grabbed a good chunk of his sodden jacket and forced him to step to the left and away from the nettings unsafe thinner section. Seeing a good place to step up, Carson stopped Sheppard moving and put a hand under his right arm pit and pushed him up to let him get the idea they were climbing up. Sheppard shivered slightly and Carson thought he heard a short yelp, but persisted with the climb. One step, two and Sheppard was now slightly higher than Carson until he could climb up parallel to him again, never letting go of his death grip of the ailing man. He managed this relatively gracefully, and they managed to do this through a couple of sections when suddenly Carson felt Sheppard go limp.

"John! No! Come on, stay with me. John?" Carson rested his forehead on the soaked stone and briefly closed his eyes. The strain of the climb and holding onto the weaker man was taking its toll on him.

"JOHN!" He fair shouted, but it roused the man and was gladdened to see a short nod of his head again.

"Right, let's be having you." He looked up into the rain. "Three more of these and I think we could clamber over onto one of the balconies thankfully before we run out of netting. Think you can do that?"

A grunt was enough, and Carson assisted Sheppard to slowly climb up the tower. Carson searched for the best holds and guided Sheppard to them every time as Sheppard was too out of it to offer any thought to the task himself.

Eventually the balcony was in sight, and Carson was giddy with relief.

"Hold on, do you hear me Sheppard. I need you to stay where you are whilst I climb up above you for a minute."

Another grunt.

Carson had to trust him to stay put, so warily released one supporting arm and climbed up and over the ledge until he was once again standing on solid ground. Not once did he let go of a handful of Sheppard's jacket, but now that he was braced to take his weight, he hauled on the material and the man within stirred and managed to glance up towards Carson, who grimaced when he saw all the matted blood in his hair on the left-hand side. His face was also pale, bruised and had streaks of blood coursing down his cheek, the rain water diluting it as it flowed.

"John, lad. I know I'm asking a lot of you here, but you must climb up this last bit yourself. I'm holding you and will help you over the balcony. Colonel?"

A shiver and a nod and Carson could see a more determined look in Sheppard's eyes.

"Oh John." The wind whipped from his mouth.

The blue sky of earlier had turned menacing and Carson feared his cold and wet fingers would be took weak from this position to aid Sheppard. He gripped his shoulders tight as Sheppard started to move and felt the shivers that ran through him. He marvelled at his ability to survive; his tenacity never failed him and right now Carson thought he had never admired him as much as he did right now.

A bloody hand appeared on the stone balustrade and Carson let go of his left hand's grip of his shoulder to grab it for all he was worth. Sheppard did hold tight, but the grasp, he knew, was not up to its usual strength. He could tell that Sheppard lacked the strength for the last hurdle and when he caught his eye and slight nod, Carson knew what he was asking. Carson sighed and just hauled him up, injuries be dammed, he would be dead anyway by crashing into the sea, if he did not get him up now.

Never mind, he now had something better to work with and using his left hand on his shoulder and pulling with the right, he aided Sheppard to climb the last distance and fairly hauled him over until he could grip him at the waist, slowing his descent onto the hard stone floor as gently but as quickly as he could.

As he pulled, Carson blanked out the scream that then silenced once he had landed on top of Carson's knees when he fell on his backside. Carson allowed a second to breathe and then placed his fingers into Sheppard's cold neck. Alive, but far from a good reading. He cradled him for a minute; whether for him or for his trauma, but right now he needed to comfort Sheppard and if that meant himself by return, then so be it.

His physician mode soon overtook anything else, though, and he shifted from under Sheppard's unconscious body and gently placed his battered and bloody head on the soaked ground. His strength had gone. A once over, and Carson was gulping down some bile. The left side of his face had what looked like a gun-shot had severely grazed the side of his head, but thankfully, not entered it. Still, it bled dangerously. Another gunshot wound to his right shoulder and one to his right arm, also bled profusely. His jacket was almost shredded on the left side so Carson drew the pieces aside and grimaced when he took in the badly grazed skin. He pressed on his stomach and torso and Sheppard shifted slightly but, at this stage, he just thought him to be badly bruised.

His left leg, however, had a gunshot wound to his thigh – in and out, and an ankle that looked badly sprained. Anything else that wasn't immediately obvious, would just have to wait until he could examine him further.

Carson still had not heard a noise from within Atlantis, so with a quick glance at Sheppard, he slipped out of the door as quietly as he could to double check.

The hallway was clear, and from recognition, Carson's heart had a reason to pick up slightly when he realised he was at one of the service area of Atlantis; one that would be of no consequence to the invaders probably. He crept back to Sheppard's side and slightly tapped his face to see if he would wake up.

"John. Please John, wake up! Colonel, I need you to wake so we can hide somewhere out of this weather."

A flurry of soaked eyelashes and Carson grinned like a Cheshire cat. "You are one tough soldier…John?"

He had watched him grimace and raise a shaky hand to his head.

"Aarggh."

"Sssh lad, I know, I know. Come on, move it. I bloody mean it!"

The sharp voice actually stopped Sheppard's moans and Carson allowed a grin. "That got your attention; now are you going to listen to me for once in your bloody exasperating and annoyingly stubborn self?"

Sheppard closed his eyes briefly. "Gawd...Car…son!" He whispered.

Carson patted his face and spoke with a gentler tone. "Come on, up you get."

Sheppard made a valiant effort, but it was mainly Carson doing the manhandling, but eventually he was standing on his good leg and whimpering slightly at the pain he obviously felt in his left ankle.

"There's a storage cupboard only a few yards away, I'm going to get you in there and get you as comfortable as I can before I go and get some supplies."

Sheppard looked up at him as if puzzled that he wasn't going to the Infirmary but then he obviously remembered what had happened as he sagged slightly and held tightly onto Carson's lapel.

"I should say I am going to try and get you some supplies, but the truth is, I have no idea what I will be walking into when I leave you."

"I…know." Sheppard slightly moved his leg, urging Carson on, and they returned to the warmth of Atlantis and inside to danger of a different level.

Carson bore most of Sheppard's weight but he did hop as much as he could on his good leg just following on through eyes squeezed shut with the pain it caused his many injuries.

Thankfully they met no-one as Carson predicted, and he propped Sheppard against a metal shelf until he managed to gather together some quilts and sheets and arranged them on the ground before lowering him onto them and covering him up.

"I wish I could check you over properly, but this will have to do for now until I can come back. I know I ask a lot of you John, but please try and stay awake until I come back." He said this as he deftly tied some towels around his leg, arm and shoulder tightly and placed another one against his head.

"Here, hold this?"

Sheppard looked at him blankly, so Carson just patted his knee and took a minute to grab his jaw.

"I will get back to you, just hold on for now." Carson licked his lips and grimaced. He doubted very much Sheppard was hearing him just then. He looked like he had zoned out.

Tutting, Carson stood and wiped his hands on his legs. He stepped towards the door and breathed out. Had all that really happened? He didn't allow time to wallow though, Sheppard needed him and he would bloody well do all he could to save the Colonels life.

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TO BE CONTINUED…