Author's Note: Apparently the small editing/proofing skills I possess have left me completely. I apologize for the little errors that keep cropping up. If this chapter is like the last two, there are probably some stupid mistakes in it and I apologize ahead of time for them.

Execution - Chapter 3

"Unscheduled off world activation," said Chuck in response to the blaring alarm.

Richard Woolsey walked quickly from his office to stand beside the technician. After a brief check in the day before, Sheppard's team had been gone all night, investigating the possible home planet of the men who had killed Baker's team. Richard had barely been able to sleep the past two nights, thinking about how horrible the last few minutes had to have been for them, waiting for their own execution. A shudder passed through his body.

"It's Colonel Sheppard's IDC," said Chuck, sounding relieved.

Woolsey tapped his radio. "Colonel Sheppard, what is your status?" He didn't want to drop the shield to a potentially dangerous situation. Making that decision still made him incredibly nervous.

"Tired and ready to come home."

Woolsey nodded to Chuck. "We're dropping the shield now."

"Thanks Atlantis. We're coming through."

A few seconds later, four dirty and exhausted figures shuffled through the gate. They were covered with scrapes and bruises, bits of leaves and plant matter in their hair and clinging to their torn clothing. Rodney had a bloody field bandage tied around his left upper arm. Teyla was limping, obviously trying to keep the weight off her right ankle. Ronon had a bloody gash on his right forearm and a smaller one on the side of his neck. Richard had never figured out what the former runner's aversion to field bandages was, but he seemed to have one. John's arms and neck had small wounds that looked like shrapnel from a blast. The whole group looked ready to drop.

Woolsey hurried down the steps to meet the bedraggled team. "What happened? Did you find them?"

"We found them," John said, his voice rough and low. "They're all dead." Woolsey half expected the team leader to look pleased at that, but he just looked sad and beat.

"All of them?"

"All of them," Teyla confirmed. She was watching John carefully, as the whole team seemed to be doing. In the quiet moment that followed, Woolsey noticed the way Sheppard was wheezing slightly as he rapidly pulled in air. His face was flushed and sweat mixed in with dirt and blood to make him look a little wild.

"Okay, maybe you should get to the infirmary. You can fill me in on the details later." Woolsey was pretty sure Sheppard and possibly the others were on the verge of dropping in their tracks. He knew the guilty party had been found and dealt with, the details could wait until his people had been taken care of. He smiled a little at the thought. When had they become his people?

"I think that is an excellent idea," said Teyla with an appreciative nod.

Sheppard also gave him a nod, the small effort almost draining the man, and then the team slowly made their way out of the room. Woolsey watched them leave, wondering if he really wanted to know the details of how Sheppard's team had made it home relatively unhurt while taking down a group of at least a dozen violent and dangerous murderers. He was beginning to appreciate the art of creative editing when compiling reports for the IOA. He'd also developed a new respect for Elizabeth Weir in his limited time as the person in charge of the Atlantis expedition.

oOo

When they reached the infirmary, each team member was led to a separate exam bed. Apparently Woolsey had called ahead to warn the medical staff they were coming. Keller frowned at the group, as if deciding who looked worse. John had to smile a little at the hopeful look on Rodney's face as he watched and waited. Hope blossomed into a large grin when the good doctor headed toward the scientist after Keller had a brief word with her staff.

A nurse taking his pulse distracted John from friend-watching. He recognized the petite, dark-headed nurse as Amy, who had been his caregiver on more than one occasion. "You know, I could really use a long hot shower and big nap, not necessarily in that order."

Amy smiled at him. "You know the drill by now, Colonel. We'll let you go when we're sure you're okay." The smile fizzled just bit as she really looked at him. "How do you feel?"

As if on cue, John sneezed twice and then had to sniffle a little. "Fabulous for someone coming down with a cold."

Tsking under her breath, Amy frowned as she looked at the thermometer. "More than just a cold. I'm afraid you're running a fever, Colonel. You sound a little wheezy, too. Are you having trouble catching your breath?"

"Only when running for my life," John quipped, carefully avoiding answering the question. He was already unhappy about the fever, knowing that it reduced his chances of going back to his quarters considerably. He really wanted . . . no, he needed some time alone . . . time to decompress and pull himself together. Lying in an infirmary bed with nurses and visitors coming and going was not his idea of alone time.

The look Amy gave him reminded John of the way his father used to look at him when he gave one of his evasive, smart aleck answers to avoid giving up too much information. "You know we'll just do a scan in a few minutes and figure it out anyway. But if it makes you feel better to pretend you're okay when you're sick as dog, then go right ahead," she said, patting his arm. Suddenly he felt like a silly little boy. "I'll be right back, so stay put."

Alone, he sat staring at the floor and suddenly feeling very sad. A shiver ran through him with a sudden chill, even as sweat ran down the side of his face. His eyes burned, only partially from the lack of sleep, and his head throbbed relentlessly. Rubbing his hand roughly across his face, a tickle in his throat launched a coughing fit that left him dizzy and gasping for breath.

Things got fuzzy for a while after that. While struggling for air, he was peripherally aware of hands and faces, guiding him and talking to him. Sights and sounds and touches faded in and out, not making any sense. The only thing John cared about was getting enough oxygen. Some time during the confusion, the whole lack of air problem was solved, so he finally relaxed and let the events around him unfold without any contribution from him.

The next thing he knew, John was lying down looking up into the face of Jennifer Keller. He blinked a couple of times, letting the rest of the fog lift from his brain, only to realize Keller was smiling at him.

"Are you back with us?"

"Think so," John replied, his voice so scratchy it was barely there. "What happened?"

Keller adjusted the covers slightly against his chest and it was then that he realized he was in scrubs. Becoming more aware of his surroundings, he also discovered an IV and nasal cannula. He'd been more than just a little fuzzy, apparently.

"You've gotten yourself pretty run down is what happened," she said firmly, but without scolding. "You're exhausted, but I guess you already knew that. You're slightly dehydrated and you've built up quite a respiratory infection, now going into pneumonia. Fortunately it isn't anything a few days rest and some strong antibiotics won't fix."

"Sorry about that," John said. "I just . . . I had to take care of things for my people."

"I know," she said softly. "I heard about what happened. I'm really sorry."

John turned his head a little, noting the relative silence. "Where'd everyone go?"

Keller chuckled and crossed her arms. "I threatened them with their own IVs if they didn't go get something to eat. They'll probably be back in a few minutes to check on you. I had to swear you were going to be all right to get them out of my hair for a while."

"So everyone is okay?"

"Yeah, they're fine. I had to put a few stitches in Rodney's arm and Ronon's as well. Teyla sprained her ankle, but it's a mild sprain. I wrapped it and gave her some crutches to use for a few days."

"I'm guessing she loved that."

"Not so much," Keller said, grinning again. "Feel like eating?"

The question drew John's attention to how completely empty his stomach felt. "I could eat."

"Good. I'll have your team bring a tray back with them. Why don't you get a little more rest until they get here."

John gave her a small nod. He was still so tired he felt like his body was anchored to the bed. Although dulled, probably with drugs, his headache was still throbbing along enough to be uncomfortable and then there was the issue of the small elephant sitting on his chest. His eyes shut down operations even before the doctor was all the way across the room.

oOo

"John?"

Opening his eyes, John was not surprised to find Teyla standing beside his bed looking at him. He'd known it was her as soon as his brain registered the sound of her voice. Yawning, he shifted a little and looked around to see Rodney setting a tray of food on the rolling table near his bed. Ronon stood at the foot of the bed grinning at him, a large white bandage on one side of his neck and another on his arm.

"Hey, guys," John said roughly, clearing his throat and then coughing. Teyla pushed the button to sit him up a little more and then adjusted his pillows, all while balancing crutches beneath her arms. When he was finally settled, Rodney pushed the tray table over his lap and adjusted the height. "Thanks."

"You look a little better than the last time we saw you," Rodney announced. "I've never seen anyone come that close to doing a nose-dive off a gurney before."

John just stared at him blankly for a moment before shrugging his shoulders and stabbing his fork into the meatloaf. He was kind of glad he couldn't remember that part.

"How do you feel?" asked Teyla.

Swallowing, John considered the question. "Tired. And a little like a truck ran over me." He looked up at Rodney when the scientist sneezed. "How are you guys doing?"

"I have a cold, thanks to you," Rodney said, wiping his nose with a wad of tissues he'd pulled from his pocket.

"Rodney, is it not possible that you would have gotten sick anyway? You were with us in the rain and cold for four days," pointed out Teyla.

"Suck it up, McKay," said Ronon. "At least you aren't stuck in the infirmary with an IV and that breathing tube stuck under your nose."

"Well, that's true," Rodney said with a nod, relief on his face.

John stared at the Satedan as he let out a long breath. "Gee, thanks Chewie." Looking down, he swirled his fork in his mashed potatoes and resisted the urge to scratch the itch stirred up the cannula.

"Ronon," Teyla said in exasperation, "perhaps you could choose your words more carefully next time.

Ronon looked a little confused and then shrugged one shoulder. "Sheppard knows what I mean."

John stuffed a bite in his mouth so he wouldn't have to respond and almost gagged on it. He'd been starved a few minutes ago and now, only a few bites later, he felt full and slightly nauseous. Suddenly his food smelled musty and bitter.

"John?"

Snapping his head up, John frowned a little at Teyla. "Yeah? What?" All three of them were staring at him, worry in their eyes. He waved on hand at them while pushing the table away with the other. "I'm fine . . . just not as hungry as I thought."

"You barely ate anything," Rodney whined.

"He is ill, Rodney. Sometimes people do not feel like eating a lot when they feel bad."

John silently thanked whatever powers existed for Teyla. She knew how to rescue him when he needed it. As she pushed the table back against the wall, Woolsey entered the infirmary. Looking around a second, he headed over once he spotted them.

"Ah, good, Colonel, you're awake. It's good your team is here as well. I thought we could do a little informal briefing to give me an idea what happened and then you can write up your report when you've recovered."

"Does Jennifer know you're doing this?" asked Rodney. "Because the Colonel is sick, you know."

"It's okay," John said. "We might as well get it over with. Waiting isn't going to make it any easier."

"Fine," Rodney snapped, grabbing a chair. "But I'm sitting down." He plopped down loudly in the chair.

"Someone might want to get a chair for Teyla," John suggested. "You know, since she's the one on crutches."

Teyla tried to hide her smile as Rodney rolled his eyes. But the scientist stood up and pushed the chair over beside Teyla. He even took her crutches when she sat down and leaned them against the wall. "There, satisfied?" he asked, walking across the room to grab another chair.

"Thank you," Teyla said as Rodney sat down beside her.

"You're welcome."

Woolsey looked a little confused for a few seconds, but then turned his attention to John. "Uh, Colonel, you were saying?"

John pushed all his emotions back, trying to distance himself from the fear and horror of the past two days. Had it only been two days? "It took us several hours to find the camp we were looking for. Let's suffice it to say that Learc'ksay is not a nice place. Lots and lots of very bad people there. Anyway, we located their camp about six klicks from the gate. They had a pretty big wooden building with a couple of large gathering rooms and a kind of kitchen area. There were two wings coming off the back with living quarters. And their gang had a lot more than twelve in it. We counted . . . what, about thirty?"

"Twenty-eight," said Ronon.

John nodded. "Yeah, that's right. It was close to dark when we found their camp, so we hid out in the trees and watched them for a while. They had two guards posted outside."

"Were they expecting you?" asked Woolsey.

"No, they just don't trust the other groups on the planet," said Rodney.

"The camps have been known to raid one another when their supplies get low or they are bored," explained Teyla.

"Oh," said Woolsey, looking a bit surprised.

"By the time we'd been there a few hours, it was well past sundown. We had kind of figured out the layout of the building and found the two sentries and were trying to formulate a plan when one of the guards discovered us."

"How?" asked Woolsey. "Did he see you?"

"Not exactly," John drawled. He resisted looking at Rodney, but Ronon didn't.

"Okay, fine it was me," Rodney exclaimed. "I'm the one that gave us away." When Woolsey raised his eyebrows, Rodney sighed. "I sneezed."

"You sneezed," the IOA representative said.

"You heard me," Rodney snapped.

"It doesn't matter how they found us, just that they found us," John said, heading off another round of you made me sick. "We managed to take out the guards, but not before the rest of their group figured out we were there. We held them off for a while, but then a few managed to escape the building. We were trying to keep the ones still inside where they were while trying to eliminate the ones who'd gotten out."

"Sounds like a big job for four people," observed Woolsey.

"You have no idea," Rodney lamented. "The ones that got out were sneaking around trying to kill us. That's how I got shot," he said, nodding toward the bandage on his arm.

"They did keep us pretty busy most of the night," said John. "Eventually we managed to eliminate the ones outside, but more kept trying to sneak out and the ones in the compound were still shooting at us every time we moved. And we were starting to run low on ammo. At dawn, I think they must have decided they were tired of playing with us. They really opened up on us and we were having trouble keeping them all in the building . . . so I blew them up."

"You . . . what? You blew them up?" Woolsey stammered.

"Kaboom!" said Ronon proudly, throwing his hands up over his head.

"Yes, our favorite kamikaze pilot over there ran right up to the building while a dozen people shot at him and planted several C4 charges. Then, just in case that wasn't enough, he threw a couple of grenades through the windows . . . past those same people with guns trying to kill him." Rodney sighed and shook his head. "I have no idea how he got out of that alive. When the charges started going off, he was still trying to throw one in the window."

Woolsey studied John and then nodded. "That explains all the cuts. He was close enough to the blast to get peppered with debris."

"He's just lucky he didn't end up being chopped beef," Rodney said.

"And were there any survivors?" asked Woolsey.

John frowned deeply as he stared at his hands. "No. The place went up like a tinderbox. We waited til it cooled down some and checked. They . . . they were all killed." He wasn't proud of what he'd done. It was never a good thing when you killed that many people. He tried telling himself that the galaxy was better off without them, and realistically, it probably was. But killing still left a very bitter taste in his mouth, even when it seemed there was no other option.

"We did what we had to do," said Ronon, as if reading his thoughts.

John leaned his head back as he looked at his friends. "Yeah, I know. It's just not something I want to celebrate. But at least they won't be able to kill any more innocent people."

"You did the right thing," said Woolsey quietly. "I should let you get some rest before Dr. Keller comes after me. Take it easy, Colonel."

John nodded at the man and then rubbed his eyes. He barely had the energy to keep them open.

"We should let you rest as well," said Teyla, pushing herself to her feet. Rodney jumped up and grabbed her crutches.

"I know you guys have to be tired too," John said. "You should get some sleep."

"Now that sounds like a brilliant idea," said Rodney. "We'll come by in the morning and make sure you haven't found any more trouble."

"Sounds good," John said.

"Rest well, John." Teyla gripped his hand a moment before turning to go. Rodney walked out beside her, carefully watching her with one hand out in case she lost her balance. He doubted the scientist was even aware of the protective streak he'd developed about his team.

Looking up, he found Ronon taking over the chair previously occupied by Teyla. "What'cha doin', big guy?"

"Sitting with you for a while."

"You know, you don't have to do that. You didn't sleep last night either and I know you got banged around some. Go on. I'll be fine."

Ronon grunted. "I'm staying her for a while Sheppard. Get used to it."

John closed his eyes. "Suit yourself." He lost the battle not to smile.

TBC

I know I did too much telling on this chapter, but time is a big ugly monster right now and it was do it like this or not do the story at all. And this story was eating a hole in my brain to get written. Have I mentioned I was briefly possessed by it?