I struggled with this chapter a lot for some reason, especially the first part. Let me know what you think!

Chapter Seven:

Night Horrors

Ronon did as he said he would. In two hours after everyone had bunkered down for the night, he woke Sheppard who took on the next watch. The colonel sat down on the rock Ronon had just given up and he was surprised, in the cool of the night, how warm he felt. Of course, he wasn't stupid, he had an idea as to why, but he refused to think about the possibility. Last thing they needed on top of a thunderstorm and unexpected grief, was an ill commander.

Shaking his head, Sheppard thought about the young man they had just lost. Corporal Samuel Johnson. According to what he could remember of the young man's file, he had been only twenty-six years old; the second son of his parents and the third child born of seven. Now, because of him, they had lost their son and brother.

John sighed. He knew if the others were aware he was blaming himself, they would try to correct him, but it didn't matter what they would say; he knew the truth. Had he not brought that boy out here on this training, across a bridge that had looked dangerous even before they had begun to cross it, he would still be alive.

A snapping noise caught the Colonels attention, jerking him from his own discouraged thoughts and he looked in surprise to see Allen Beard standing there. The young man had not said hardly a word since the incident and the reason he was up now was pretty clear; he couldn't sleep due to nightmares, if the dark smudges under his eyes were anything to go by.

"Sorry," the young man whispered, "I just, wanted… I needed, to walk a bit."

Sheppard couldn't blame him.

"I understand."

The young man snorted quietly, probably trying to hide it, but John had heard.

"You know Corporal," John started and then stopped. He wanted to say he had been where he was, that he had lost friends…close friends many times before, but he couldn't. Every case was different and he did not know how the man was feeling, though he could gander a pretty good guess.

"Mind if I tell you a story?"

Beard didn't say anything, but he didn't move away, so Sheppard took that as a yes.

"When I was a kid, I was raised by a father who had everything planned out for me."

Beard continued to stay silent, a bit curious where the man was going with this as he stared at the flickering flames of their dwindling fire.

"I revolted and joined the military," John explained, "My father was angry, but all of my life, we had moved from state to state. Country to country, for his business meetings. I was sick of it, but flying…it was something I loved to experience every chance I had. Anyways, because of all the moving around, I didn't have any friends. None I kept in contact with anyways. I had a younger brother, David. He was only a year younger than me, but we were too different to be truly close. So when I joined the military, the first true friend I ever had was a man named Lyle Holland."

Sheppard paused, memories he hadn't thought about for years came rushing back to him. Laughter while sitting and eating in the camp mess. Encouraging eye glances from across the compound while in training and that unspoken request to be safe, before a dangerous mission. All those times, all those little moments… Sheppard could see them all again.

Beard watched his commander. He hadn't been trying to really pay attention, but the man's tone had conveyed more than his words ever could. He could almost feel it…the sadness.

"W-What happened to him?" he whispered, his voice nearly gone.

"He died," Sheppard answered, nearly without thought.

Beard closed his eyes. He had figured it was something like that. He knew what the Colonel was trying to do and he appreciated it, but… Sam…

"I know my story," Sheppard started, interrupting his thoughts, "isn't the same as what you are going through. I suppose my reason for telling you this is a selfish one, in trying to make you understand you're not alone when going through this because I have been there too, but… and I don't know if Johnson was this way, but I know if Lyle were still alive… he would have kicked my ass for mourning him like I was…like I still am."

Beard smiled.

"Yeah, I could see Johnson doing that too."

Sheppard's own smile reflected his. A little sad, but warm. Beard sighed and sat down beside his commander, staring off into the darkened, shadowed trees around them. Now that he truly paid attention, he realized how creepy this planet had become. With Sam around, everything had always seemed so… secondary. Now… now he didn't know how he would get through each day, but he knew he would, if only for the sake of his friend's memory.

"I am going to miss him, Colonel."

Sheppard nodded. He didn't do good with emotions or any communication at all really, but he did what he had to when one of his men were in trouble.

"I know, kid. I know."

The two sat in comfortable silence, unaware of the eyes watching them at that very moment.

SGA

Ronon tossed and turned, his dreams vivid and fresh in his mind as he startled awake, a dagger held tight in his hand and raised for a kill that was not there. Breathing hard and quick, he listened, his senses hyped by adrenaline. He heard it…

Jumping from his bed, he stepped out of his tent and noticed Sheppard and Beard sitting by the fire. His eyes connected to his friends and Sheppard froze, his body becoming tense at the look the Satedan gave him.

"Beard," he could hear Sheppard whisper to the Corporal beside him, "slowly, very slowly, go wake the others up and be silent."

Beard said nothing but did as he was told. Slowly the Corporal stood up, his hands out in a show of being non threatening to whatever the threat was that his commanders had sensed and made his way to the tents.

Sheppard stood just as slowly and stepped up beside Ronon, his hand hanging right near his gun holster.

"What is it?" he whispered.

"Don't know," Ronon grunted out, "but I sense three of them. Animals I think."

"Any idea what kind?"

"No."

Sheppard sighed. He wished they had more information, but he supposed this would due for now.

"Will they attack?"

"Probably, but they are waiting for the right moment. So as long as we are silent, they will probably hold off until we let our guard down and then go for the strike."

"To bad they don't realize we have our own animal."

Ronon glanced at his friend, meeting his joking smile with a playful 'I kill you' look, before huffing and turning away to glance behind him. Sheppard's smile only grew before he bit it back. Now wasn't the time for jokes. If these things really were waiting, then they needed to be ready.

"Colonel," a voice whispered.

John turned to find the Captain and lieutenant standing there, their weapons in their hands, ready.

"Be quiet, we don't want any loud noises to…"

Before he had even gotten the entire sentence out, a shout of annoyance filtered through the air, slicing the tense silence like a knife through melted butter.

"I HAVE AT LEAST FOUR MORE HOURS BEFORE MY DUTY TO BE ON WATCH! I DON'T…"

But as fast as the words had come, they stopped as Sheppard shot into the tent, slamming his hand over the man's mouth.

"You speak another word, Sergeant, and I will knock you out again myself," the colonel hissed.

Franks glared at the man from behind his hand still plastered across his mouth, but they all froze when a howl echoed around them.

"Oh god," Sheppard groaned, "wolves."

"They are coming," Ronon announced and Sheppard removed his hand, slipping back outside as he took up position by Ronon.

"Still three?"

"So far, but that howl… it might draw more to our location."

"Wolves are known to travel in packs," Price whispered, "I saw a fair share on the reservation."

Sheppard hummed. He filed that information away to ask about another time. For now, he needed to make sure they had the upper hand.

"Rook, Price, you two take left. Ronon and I have the front. O'Connor, Beard, take the back. Franks, Stevens, take the right."

"And me, C-Colonel?" Wesley whispered, his voice shaking.

Sheppard glanced at him.

"Stick with myself and Ronon."

"Y-Yes sir."

The four groups continued to eye the trees, but there was no movement they could detect, but Ronon knew they were there, waiting. He could feel them and he knew Sheppard could as well, because the man was stiff beside him, yet he knew at the first sign of danger, he would unwind and lash out before anyone besides maybe himself, could react.

The silent standoff last only a few seconds, but Sheppard it felt like an hour before finally, something happened. A growl came from the right and before anyone had a chance to shout, the wolf leaped and sunk his teeth into the first victim it came upon: Franks.

With a gargled scream, the man was thrown to the ground. Sheppard and Ronon began firing upon the beast, dropping it before it could dig in any further, but that left them open from their end.

"Colonel watch out!" a voice shouted.

John turned, only to be shoved out of the way by Ronon as the wolf bit down on the big man's arm, his fangs sinking into muscle and making a ripping motion that left the satedan warrior screaming in anger as he struck the muzzle repeatedly with his free hand. Sheppard opened up on the wolf, but it refused to be thrown, biting down even further. Drake and O'Connor moved to assist the commander and opened up their own fire on the wolf, but their attention was between it and two others that had appeared behind them. Wesley screamed and fired his weapon, but the wolf dodged and lunged, grabbing the boy by the throat. Sheppard didn't need but only a glimpse of the ugly scene to know the private was already dead. Rivlets of the crimson liquid flowed from the wolf's canines as it stood over its lifeless prey, daring any and all to try and take him. Sheppard had, had enough. Grabbing Ronons gun that had been knocked away when the wolf had attacked his friend, he turned and fired immediately at the wolf, killing it as the shot stuck it in the face. He turned and fired at the next wolf, taking it in the shoulder before it could bite him. The wolf whimpered and ran, the last two wolves dashing after it, deciding their prey was too difficult to take right now, but Sheppard didn't doubt they would come back.

"Damage report!" he barked.

"Alive and well Colonel," Steven answers.

"Here colonel, but Wesley is dead", Drake answered, staring down at their comrade. The kid didn't have a chance. He draped his hand across the boy's forehead, closing his eyes for the final time. "Sorry, Private."

Sheppard was silent before turning to the others.

"I'm good Colonel," Beard replied, his gaze still staring at the kid.

"Franks is alive, but badly injured," O'Connor reported.

"And you?" Sheppard asked.

"I'm fine, sir."

John nodded before turning to Ronon who sat on the ground, his hand covering the badly bleeding fang marks.

"Can you make it?" he asked, true concern in his tone.

Ronon just huffed a pained laugh. "Try and stop me."

John smiled, before standing and becoming serious again.

"Those wolves will return. We need to move out. No doubt the smell of our blood will intice not only them, but other predators…"

A sudden rumble of thunder in the sky seemed to reflect his sudden stormy mood.

"More to add to our growing list of problems," he grumbled.

"Rook, grab Wesley's tags. Price, you and O'Connor assist Franks. Stevens, help me with Ronon. Rook, take point."

Drake nodded, quickly unclipping the kid's dog tags and pocketing them before heading back the way they had come.

"What about the bridge colonel?" he asked as they began moving through the dimly lit trees.

"Guess we will have to…" Sheppard paused, "figuratively, cross that bridge when we come to it."

Rook pressed his lips together, stifling a snort. "Yes sir."

Sheppard gave him a small smile before looking to his friend.

"Those are deep wounds, Ronon. When we get to safe place to stop, we need to treat them."

"I can make it," he growled.

"Maybe, but Franks probably can't. Might as well patch you up at the same time."

Ronon said nothing as the group struggled on.