Thanks so much for the reviews and the continued support of this story in spite of my long delays. Life has been interesting to say the least. When I started this story I lost my job. Now a few short months later, I'm looking at buying a wonderful condo. :D Needless to say, fandom has taken a back seat to RL more than once during the course of this story.

Thanks for the patience. :)

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"Dr. Beckett, come in please."

Pulled from sound sleep, Carson rolled over and stared at the clock next to his bed before grabbing the radio headset and fitting it over his ear. "This is Beckett. 'Tis five after three, Susan, this better be good." Internally, he winced at his snappy tone, but he hadn't had much sleep lately and was feeling less than charitable.

"Carson, I'm sorry," Susan Biro, the doctor on night call this week responded. "I really didn't want to wake you, but, well, I thought I should…"

Carson yawned as he listened to Biro's typical chatter. "Susan," he cut her off as he rubbed is eyes, "what is it?"

"Colonel Sheppard is missing," Biro answered quietly.

All lingering fatigue fled from Carson's body as he sat up straight. "Missing? Bloody hell!" he stood and crossed his room, before fumbling around for clothes.

"Carson, Kathy was sure he was sleeping…" Biro's voice trailed off.

Carson's thoughts touched on the competent graveyard shift nurse that had been assigned to the Colonel since his injury. He sighed. "I know, its okay. I should've seen this coming. Memories or not, the colonel can be a perfectly bullheaded patient." Pulling a shirt over his head Carson reached for his pants. "How long?"

"We just noticed on the three AM rounds," Biro responded. "He was sleeping at two so, an hour at the most. We tried reaching him by radio but there was no response. He doesn't seem to have it with him."

"Aye," Carson finished dressing and headed for the door. "Or he's just not answering. He could be anywhere by now. Contact Ops and see if they can use the city's scanners to find him. And," he sighed, "as much as I hate to do it, you better wake Dr. Weir and the Colonel's team and let them know what's going on. I'll meet them in Ops. Beckett out."

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John stood silently at the back wall of the infirmary and stared, watching as the base surgeon, Lieutenant Colonel Kenton, and his team worked on Martinez. The flight back had been a blur. He'd pushed the chopper past what any sane pilot would've considered, relying on his gut instinct to keep them all from getting killed; the sound of Edwards counting of CPR cycles driving him. Barely sparing a hand to contact McMurdo to have a med team standing by…

He glanced at Edwards who stood next to him, his gaze riveted on Martinez. John had known Edwards for almost a year and even for a medic, Edwards took every patient's health and welfare personally. It was part of what John liked about him. The attitude was not unlike the one he took towards any man under his command. "At least they're still working," he offered quietly.

"Yeah," Edwards' reply was gruff.

John looked over his shoulder and straightened slightly as Colonel Hays walked towards him. He nodded once. "Colonel."

Hays returned the gesture. "Major." It was at that moment that Colonel Kenton left Martinez side and walked over to the group.

For the first time, Edwards looked away from Martinez gurney. "Sir?" He stared at the surgeon.

"Damn fine job you did, Lieutenant," Kenton smiled at Edwards. "He's going to make it thanks to you." Kenton turned his gaze to John. "And you, Major. Hell of a quick trip back, and that made the difference."

John smiled slightly. "Glad to hear it, sir."

"By all rights your asses should be crashed somewhere out there instead of standing here feeling smug about yourselves." Hays glared hard at John. "You were lucky, Sheppard."

John's smile faded and he felt a spark of challenge rise in him. Didn't he just get them back in one piece? Saved Martinez's life? He pursed his lips remembering how he fought the sheering winds and near suicidal speeds the whole way back to McMurdo. He sighed. Hays had a point. "Yes, sir."

Hays smiled. "That said, damn fine flying, Major.

John's smile returned. "Thank you, sir."

"Colonel Kenton," Edward's soft voice interrupted John and Hays' conversation. "Martinez? Is he going to be okay?"

Kenton sighed. "He's going to live."

John's gaze narrowed at the doctor and he beat Edwards to the question. "What does that mean?"

After a moment, Kenton looked directly at John. "He's going to lose his left foot. Frostbite. I'll wait a bit for him to get stronger and then we're going to have to amputate it. He'll get an honorable discharge after that."

"Damn it!" Edwards turned away and ran a hand thorough his short hair.

"Honorable discharge…" John whispered to himself as he stared at the stars overhead. That had done nothing to placate Martinez and now, John really knew how the young airman had felt.

The cool deck plating under him sent a shiver through his body. John sighed before carefully trying to sit up. He got about a foot off the deck before a strong wave of vertigo flattened him. It was a few minutes before he felt confident enough to open his eyes and move his head gently without worrying about losing whatever might be in his stomach. He left his injured hand lying on his stomach and reached for his radio, his hand making it all the way to his ear before he remembered that he'd 'conveniently' left it behind. "Great," he sighed, "might be in a little trouble here…."

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Elizabeth climbed the last flight of stairs to the command deck. Carson was already there and she nodded in acknowledgment as she approached him.

"Ronon, Teyla and Rodney are on their way," Carson nodded back.

"What…" Elizabeth started.

"What the hell does he think he's doing?" From the back stairwell, a slightly disheveled Rodney McKay stalked into the control room, his voice demanding attention. "For god's sake, we have better things to do than babysit him." Rodney took a moment to glare at Carson. "Isn't that your job anyway?"

"The night staff thought he was sleeping, Rodney," Carson's low voice held a tinge of irritation.

"Well, apparently not!" Rodney snapped as he sat down at one of the consoles. "Here I am trying to figure out that damn scanner and I have to take time to play Hansel and Gretel trying to follow a trail of breadcrumbs in hopes of finding him simply because he has the patience of a twelve year old boy!"

"Rodney!" Elizabeth cut him off mid tirade. Her voice was a little sharper than normal but at nearly four in the morning, it was the best she could muster. "Can the sensors help us at all?"

"Probably," Rodney reached in front of the night technician who spared a moment to glare at him before scooting out of the way. Oblivious, Rodney continued. "At this hour, there can't be that many people out and about… hello."

Elizabeth walked up behind him. She could feel the rest of the team standing behind her. "What?"

"The lights are on in the Jumper Bay," Rodney answered before he tapped a few controls on the panel. "That's odd."

"Do you think the Colonel was there?" Carson asked.

"Well someone turned them on!" Rodney snapped back. "I for one don't believe in coincidences." Rodney brought up a schematic display of the Jumper Bay. "But, whoever it was, isn't there anymore. Widening the scan… Ah ha!"

Elizabeth looked down at the display and nodded at the one life showing on one of Atlantis' several outdoor balconies. "Ronon's quarters are the closest." She reached up and tapped her headset. "Ronon, this is Weir."

"Go ahead," Ronon answered.

"We think we might have found Colonel Sheppard. Balcony 3, section 5D. Are you close by to confirm that?"

"Close enough," Ronon's voice was even.

"I'll meet you there," Carson interjected.

"No."

Elizabeth narrowed her gaze at the Satedan man's immediate reply. "Ronon?"

"Let me talk to him first," Ronon replied.

Elizabeth looked at Carson, noticing the determined gaze in his eyes.

"Son, he could be injured," Carson insisted. "He may need some help."

"If he's hurt , I'll call you. Ronon out."

Elizabeth arched her brows as Ronon cut off communication, her gaze still fixed on Carson's unconvinced look.

"Guess he told you," Rodney muttered sarcastically.

She looked away from Carson and thought for a moment about the strength of the bond that had developed between John and Ronon in the last year. Ronon had to have a reason for his actions, and she trusted him enough that if something was wrong with John, he'd call for Carson.

"Elizabeth, I should be there," Carson insisted.

She shook her head. "Let's give Ronon a chance. He'll call if John needs you." She smiled slightly, as, after a moment, Carson sighed and nodded in agreement.

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Ronon passed his hand over the control crystal for the door to balcony 3 and stepped through the doorway as soon as it opened. He waited a moment, his senses extended, as his eyes adjusted to the dark. Even before he could see Sheppard, Ronon knew he was there. He could feel it, and, as his eyes adjusted and a dark form lying on the deck came into focus, he knew his gut had been right. He walked towards the colonel. "Sheppard?"

"Hey, Ronon," Sheppard's voice was weak but clear. "Funny meeting you here."

One side of Ronon's mouth turned up in mild amusement as he stopped and crouched next to Sheppard. "McKay's sensors. You okay?"

Sheppard blinked and sighed. "Sort of…"

Ronon's smile faded. "Want me to call Beckett?" His brows furrowed as Sheppard's neutral expression turned into a wince.

"Not really, no."

Ronon slowly rocked back and sat down, parallel to Sheppard. He let his arms rest on his knees. "What are you doing out here?"

"Admiring the stars… but that part was a little… unexpected." John answered quietly. "I set out with every intention to spark memories and plug some of the holes in this damn hunk of Swiss Cheese I call a brain." His voice turned cynical. "This wasn't part of the plan."

Ronon nodded to himself and saw a dark humor in it all. Sounded like something he'd do, and Sheppard's frustration was understandable. He knew he'd be a lot more pissed then this if their roles were reversed. "Shouldn't have fell," he quipped darkly.

"Thanks for pointing out the obvious," Sheppard replied, "but it was either that or pass out from vertigo. Either way, I'd be on my ass right now."

"Did it work?"

"Did what work?" Sheppard questioned.

"Memories," Ronon looked down at him. "Did you remember anything?" For the first time since he'd been there, Ronon saw a smile fleet across Sheppard's face.

"Oh yeah, lots. Bits and pieces and I still don't have it sorted, but… yeah."

Sheppard sighed loudly and there was a long pause before he spoke again; a pause Ronon was content to let linger.

"Ronon," Sheppard began quietly, "they're going to take Atlantis from me."

Ronon nodded slightly, even though Sheppard couldn't see the gesture. "Yep."

"What?" Sheppard's slight chortle had a distinctly sarcastic note to it. "No 'don't say that' or 'we won't let that happen'?"

Ronon scratched the back of his head. "Nope."

"You're not really strong in the bedside manner thing are you?" Sheppard chuckled quietly.

Ronon didn't say a word as instinctively, he felt the humor leave Sheppard.

"It's a post of a lifetime you know," John continued. "Atlantis. I know if they take me away from here, I'll never see her again. Even if I fully recover. I'll never get to come back."

Ronon nodded. Other than being here in Atlantis, he had no experience with Earth's military way, but in many ways he suspected it was a lot like Sateda; and he knew if this had been Sateda, that the same thing would be happening. "You gonna let them do that?" He asked.

Sheppard's sigh was clearly audible. "I don't think I have much say in it. Especially if I can't get my memories back." His voice turned snappy. "Why do you think I'm out here anyway?"

Ronon sat silent for a moment, considering the situation and what Sheppard had done. He knew no one else would agree, but he thought Sheppard was doing the right thing. Maybe pushing himself too hard, but it was something that Ronon respected. In the same situation, he'd be doing the same thing. In the last year that he'd known Sheppard, his respect for the colonel had grown considerably. Like him, Sheppard was a fighter, but he didn't harbor it close to the surface the way Ronon did. At first, Ronon had seen it as a weakness. Hadn't seen the fighter in Sheppard; the kindred spirit. But he'd seen Sheppard fight; truly fight, and he knew the strength was there. "Keep fighting," he said quietly. He barely heard Sheppard's quiet chuckle.

"I intend to."

Shifting in to a crouch, Ronon looked down at Sheppard. "Beckett's pretty mad."

Sheppard grimaced. "Figured that." He pointed at the hand that lay on his waist. "He's really not gonna like this either."

Ronon's gaze narrowed. "You hurt?"

"Just the wrist," Sheppard admitted. "Think I sprained it when I fell."

"Ronon this is Weir. Did you find him?" Weir's voice over the radio startled him slightly. Ronon pointed at his head. "Weir."

John sighed loudly. "Great. Ass chewing number 2…"

Ronon stifled a chuckle as he tapped his radio headset. "Yeah, he's here. He's okay. Taking him to the infirmary. Ronon out." He looked down at Sheppard again. "Think you can stand?"

"With some help? Maybe." Sheppard lifted his good hand towards Ronon. "Just take it slow, okay?"

Ronon firmly grabbed Sheppard's wrist. "Yep." He slowly stood, carefully pulling Sheppard along with him. When they were both standing, he steadied Sheppard with both hands as the colonel rocked slightly. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Sheppard whispered, his head bowed. "Just… gimme a second…" After a long minute he looked up. "I'm good."

Still keeping one hand on Sheppard's arm, Ronon slowly started walking towards the door. Right before they reached it, he stopped and stared Sheppard squarely in the eye. "Keep fighting," he said. "And next time, call me. I'll help you."

Sheppard stared back, before a smile slowly formed on his pale face. "I doubt I'll be able to escape Beckett again, but if I can, you got a deal."

Ronon smiled back and nodded, before carefully helping Sheppard back through the door and towards the infirmary.