Disclaimer: Stargate Atlantis - and all the characters and settings related to the show - do not belong to me, obviously. That credit goes to MGM, Brad Wright and Robert C. Cooper. The plot of this little story, however, does.

A/N – Hello, and welcome to the newest instalment of this little tale. Thank you for all your lovely reviews after the last chapter – you're all too kind! This chapter is similar to the last one in that it is quite introspective to start with, but I suppose that's what you get when your main character is on his own with no one to talk to! Having said that, I think I've come up with a way around that (sort of) which will be revealed towards the end of this chapter. I'm a bit nervous about it, but hopefully you'll like it! So with that in mind - and without further ado – on with the story…

~ Alone ~

Part Four

By the end of his second day of exile, John felt a little better – physically, at least.

Once he'd made it back to the jumper after his exploration of the clearing earlier that morning, he'd stayed true to his word and simply camped down for the rest of the day in an effort to try and recover. It had taken some time, but eventually the dizziness had subsided to the point where he didn't feel constantly on the edge of losing consciousness, and his headache – whilst undoubtedly still there – had gone from white hot knives poking around in his brain to merely a slightly overweight man stomping all over it.

John sighed again as he poked languidly at his gradually dying fire, glancing down at the unappetizing MRE that was slowly heating up in the flickering flames. The sun was setting in the sky above him, and there was a definite chill in the night-time air, but at least John felt a little better placed to face anything the planet had to throw at him now – a big contrast to how he'd felt when he'd first woken up that morning.

Please don't do this.

John shook his head forcefully and concentrated on keeping the small flames alive. It hadn't been easy – even with a pack of matches - but he'd eventually managed to get the fire started just outside the open hatch of the jumper. It meant he wouldn't die of smoke inhalation – as he most certainly would have done had he started the fire inside the jumper – and yet it was still close enough to the hatch that he could sit on the edge of the ramp of the jumper while he tried to cook something vaguely edible from his food supplies.

John closed his eyes briefly and paused for a moment, holding out both his hands towards the flickering flames in an attempt get as much warmth from the meagre fire as he could whilst his pathetic 'meal' cooked.

As he waited, John considered his condition. He definitely felt much more comfortable than he had earlier on in the day – mainly because he'd finally been able to dry out his damp clothes by the fire - but he doubted he would feel completely warm until he could get off the damn planet altogether and make it back to civilisation – or at the very least somewhere with central heating and a shower. A washing machine would be nice too, John thought bitterly, pulling slightly at his dirty clothes. The rainwater, whilst undoubtedly soaking him to the skin, had done nothing to clean his standard-issue clothes, so despite being dry for the first time since arriving on the planet, John still felt unclean and thoroughly miserable.

And sick, and hungry, and thirsty, and alone…

The fact that he had been sat in nothing but his boxers and an emergency blanket for a couple of hours that afternoon whilst his clothes had dried hadn't exactly been the highlight of his day either, and it would have been mildly embarrassing had there been anyone there to see him. But there wasn't.

Alone. He was alone.

As if he'd needed the reminder, John thought bitterly. Huddling as close to the fire as possible in order to conserve his body heat, he thought back to the miserable day he'd just endured. The lack of suitable distractions was leading his mind down tracks he really wished he could avoid. John shivered. Even being marooned with Kavanagh would be better than this...

The rain had mostly held off throughout the day, thankfully, but John still hadn't left the relative safety of the jumper beyond his brief exploration that morning – and it wasn't out of some desperate sense of self-preservation either. No, it was mainly because he simply couldn't find the energy. The events of the last couple of days had taken everything from him, so instead John had spent the rest of the day – when he wasn't passing out, of course - doing yet another painstaking inventory of his meagre supplies. Anything to take his mind off his situation.

Anything to help him forget.

Of course, that had ended up backfiring spectacularly when he'd realised that his previous inventory had been a little too optimistic. He had enough MREs and power bars to last him at least three or four days, that much was still true, but what he didn't have was a good supply of water. He'd already started to ration what little he did have, but he didn't expect it to last much longer than a day, maybe two days at the most.

From his survival training – and his own extensive experience in this type of situation – John knew that a fresh water supply was the most crucial thing to find. A human – particularly one as concussed and battered as he was – would only last three days at the most without water. He wasn't desperate yet, but he was only going to get weaker the longer he left it. Tomorrow he would have to start actively searching for a river, or at least a large body of water that didn't look too dirty; anything he could survive on until his friends came back for him.

Please don't leave me...

John shook his head and gave his MRE a nudge, trying to decide if it looked edible yet. He wasn't sure he will willing to risk it yet, so he allowed his mind to wander again.

John knew from experience that it would be risky to drink from any water source he found, but since he was on an unknown planet, he was probably already taking a risk with his health simply by just being there. And if it was a choice between dying from a bacterial infection, or dying from thirst, John knew which one he would go for.

Of course he hadn't been left with much choice – Ronan, Teyla and Rodney had seen to that - and at least he had found a few purification tablets in the medical bag that would at least minimise that risk of a bad reaction to the water when he inevitably did take a drink. At least until he could set up something that would start collecting the rain water.

John poked at the fire again, and finally took his food of the heat. It smelt as unappetising as it looked, but he knew better than to throw it away. No, he'd force himself to eat every last bite, because knew that he would need all the energy he could get in the next few days, particularly if he was going to explore his new home properly.

And he would, he decided firmly, ignoring the pounding in his head with a forceful shrug as he tried to keep the rising bitterness at bay.

Because of course, once again he hadn't been left with much choice. Being deserted alone meant that he had no one to rely on but himself. And John knew that if he didn't get off his ass and find a fresh water source tomorrow, he would die not long after that.

John sighed, and took a bite of the steaming hot but tasteless food, chewing slowly, even though his hunger was diminishing with every second that passed.

Throughout both his childhood and adulthood, John had never really been a social outcast, but he'd also been quite content to spend time alone. In fact, that had been one of the main reasons he'd taken the deployment to Antarctica. The solitude he'd found in that cold, barren land had helped him through a pretty rough patch, and he'd really benefitted from the freedom that had come with being alone there – the opportunity to be completely free from judgment, good or bad, had been more than refreshing. It has saved him.

The trouble was, he had a feeling that this time it would be different.

This felt different.

"Come on guys," John finally muttered aloud, a little hoarsely, a little desperately, staring straight into the fire as he almost willed his wish to come true. "I'm right here. Get your asses back here, and come find me."

Please don't leave me alone.

"We have to go back."

Ronan, still wearing a very thin hospital gown and nothing else, was sat on the edge of his bed, arms folding across his chest, and looking for all the world as if he would punch a hole through the wall if he didn't get his way in the next ten seconds.

Rodney watched almost detachedly from his own bed as Major Lorne stood a little straighter, clearly preparing for trouble, and as Woolsey – consciously or not – took a step back, his bureaucrat hands rising immediately in the universal sign of surrender. "Mr Dex…"

Rodney didn't blame him for looking worried. Ronan really did have the look of someone who was not going to take 'no' for an answer. So did Teyla for that matter, although she was showing a little more restraint than Ronan. Her face was saying plenty though, and it was clear that Woolsey wasn't quite yet used to such strong opposition to his requests. Woolsey looked intimidated, even a little scared, which would have greatly amused Rodney had he been in any sort of mood to appreciate it.

But he wasn't.

"John is missing," Teyla said simply, looking up from her own hospital bed as if that statement was all that needed to be said for the argument to be won. In Rodney's opinion, it was, but he knew that Woolsey – a man of rules, of procedures, of set steps to be followed - wouldn't quite agree with that assessment.

"We're going back," Ronan repeated with a low growl, pulling himself off the bed in one move. He yanked of the various monitors attached to his body, and stood on unsteady feet. His eyes looked wild but he seemed, to Rodney at least, to be in full possession of his faculties.

"Ronan, lad, sit down before you do yourself some damage," Carson said, hovering by the big man's side like the mother-hen he was. Ronan ignored the doctor, and Rodney decided to take advantage of the distraction by pulling himself out of bed. His legs were wobbly, but they held.

"Rodney, not you too!" Jennifer exclaimed, having noticed Rodney's efforts. Rodney gritted his teeth but refused to let her concern filter through.

"We're going back," Rodney said firmly, careful to keep his voice free of the shakiness he felt deep inside. Because the truth was, he was struggling to keep a lid on the wave of anxiety and guilt that was welling up deep inside.

John was missing. And the worst thing was, they had no clue where he was, or what the hell had happened to him. No matter how hard they tried - and Rodney knew they were all trying pretty damn hard - they couldn't remember what had happened after they'd arrived on PX6-662. Of course, one thing was abundantly clear; whatever had happened to them on that planet, they'd left John behind.

God, they had to go back…

"McKay…" Lorne began, concern etched across his face. Rodney could see the strain that being in charge was putting him under, but Rodney's sympathy for the Major didn't stretch far enough for him to stop. "The Colonel wouldn't want you to get yourselves killed trying to find him."

"Of course he wouldn't, the self-sacrificing idiot," Rodney snapped. "I can't say I'm too crazy about the idea myself, but he's missing, and the only way we're going to find him is to actually look!"

"We don't know what you would be walking into," Woolsey argued. "We've already sent the MALP back through, but there's no indication that the area is safe. For all we know the natives could just be waiting to ambush you. We simply can't risk it, not until we get more information."

"It is a risk, yes, but an acceptable one," Teyla replied, and Rodney nodded in agreement. "It is a risk that we face every time we go through the Stargate."

"Excuse me," Carson interjected. "But in case any of you have forgotten, you were all unconscious just a few hours ago. You can try and hide it as much as you want, but I know you're still as weak as kittens, so if you think you're in any condition to go back to that planet today – "

"We're going back," Ronan interrupted gruffly, standing straighter, almost in direct defiance of Carson's words. Rodney rolled his eyes.

"What Conan is trying to say in his own oh so eloquent way is that we're not going to let a few insignificant dizzy spells stop us from going back to get Sheppard. He'd do the same for any of us, and you know it!"

"With all due respect, Dr McKay, I can order you to stay," Woolsey replied without much feeling. Rodney was getting the impression that Woolsey wanted them to go back to the planet as much as they did, but that he was also worried about the trouble they would inevitably cause when they did. Rodney glanced over at Ronan, who looked ready to start a war, and realised that Woolsey might actually have a point there…

"Sorry, Sir," Lorne replied, turning to face Woolsey before Rodney could respond. "But I doubt you'll find anyone here who will help you enforce that order. Truth is, there isn't a single soldier in this city who would willingly fire any of Sheppard's team. Not even Rodney."

Rodney rolled his eyes. "Thanks…"

"And," Lorne continued, taking a firm stance as he faced down Woolsey. "I sure as hell won't order them to. If anyone's going to find the Colonel and bring him back, it's his team."

"And, I think you're forgetting that I'm not military," Rodney argued, turning to face Woolsey as well. "I realise you're the commander of the expedition, but I can leave any time I like. I'm a scientist, I'm under no obligation to be here. And rest assured, if I do decide to leave, good luck getting everything to run smoothly. This city needs me a hell of a lot more than I need it."

"You'd really leave?" Woolsey asked. "You'd give up your research? Your home? Your career?"

"For John Sheppard?" Rodney replied, not a trace of doubt on his face, or in his heart. "Yes. Yes, I would."

Ignoring the early morning chill in the air, John trudged through the trees, stumbling every now and then on the uneven ground as he hacked his way through the forest. He was still exhausted and aching all over – both inside and out - but he definitely felt better than he had the day before. His afternoon and night of rest had done him some good, and he finally felt a little more capable of putting his survival plan into action.

Step one of said plan was to find a water source - which accounted for why John was making his way through the forest at an hour so early that most of the local wildlife was probably still waking up.

Since the jumper was dead, John had no technology to perform scans of the surrounding area, so he'd been left with no choice but to do it the old fashioned way. He'd decided to be as methodical as he could – determined not to waste what little time he had. He decided that he would walk for an hour in one direction, marking the trees with his knife as he went. That way, even if he didn't find any water, at least he would at least be able to find his way back to the jumper.

John's sense were on high alert as he marked another tree. He was trying to keep half an eye out for any wildlife, particularly those on the ground. Not because they posed a threat – although they probably did – but because where there was life, there was water. So far they were all being stubborn, but if he could just find some animal tracks, he would be able to follow them to their water source, and then everything would be okay…

John scoffed at himself as he continued on through the trees, adjusting his backpack slightly on his shoulders as he went. Yeah, because water would solve everything, he thought sarcastically. John stopped again, and raised his knife, ready to mark the next tree. Then he heard it…

A loud growl and a thump, followed by a high-pitched cry. Then silence.

The hairs on the back of his neck rose, and John stilled immediately. He'd been in this type of situation often enough to know when something was wrong.

Something was definitely wrong.

Moving slowly, John gripped his knife tightly, holding it out in front of him as he continued to move along the trail. He could hear rustling in the trees – something big was moving around in there, and John wasn't sure why the hell he wasn't running from it. One thing was for sure – he'd found the local wildlife. And it didn't sound friendly…

Regardless, John kept moving forward slowly, carefully, ears pricked for any sound. The rustling was getting quieter, thankfully - obviously it was moving away - but it was replaced by another sound; a soft whimpering, coming from somewhere on his left.

It was close, but quiet – so quiet that John could barely hear it. It was unmistakable though, and John swallowed hard, gripping his knife even more tightly.

It was the sound of pain.

While he strained his ears - evaluating any potential threat the animal might present - John didn't move. If he was being honest with himself, he just didn't know what to do. His instincts were screaming at him to help the creature whimpering in pain, but his head was cautioning him with images of his leg being ripped off by the same rapid animal that had no doubt attacked the creature he could hear whimpering now.

John shook his head, dislodging the macabre image as best he could. Then he took a deep breath, and made his decision. No matter how battered and exhausted he was, he was not the type of man to leave a fellow creature in the sort of pain he himself knew only too well. At the very least, he could put the poor animal out of its misery.

With that in mind, John – and with his senses still on high alert – began to make his way slowly towards the noise. The whimpering was becoming quieter and quieter, even though John was certain that he was getting closer to it. That could only mean one thing; the animal was dying…

John pushed his way through the trees with a bit more urgency, not even aware himself of why the hell it mattered so much to him that he get to the animal before it died. Maybe it was the fact that he hadn't had any contact with another living creature in three days, or maybe it was because he knew all too well how terrible it was to be left for dead…

John shook his head and held his knife out in front of him, moving through the last few trees. Once he worked his way into a small clearing, his eyes scanned the surrounding area. It didn't take him long to spot the source of the noise.

It was a dog.

Well, John told himself, it looked like a dog. Kind of like a big German shepherd, or maybe even a small, dog-like bear. Whatever it was, the animal in front of him was lying on its side, red blood pooling around one of its hind legs. John swallowed and began to creep forward towards the creature.

He didn't know why, but John wanted to save it. He'd come with the intention of putting the creature out of its misery, but faced with the choice now, he knew that he couldn't do it.

"Dammit," John muttered to himself as he crouched down next to the animal. The creature seemed oblivious to his presence – too caught up in the pain of the injury. John, for his part, was trying not to think too closely about what had caused such a horrific injury. In this case, he had a feeling that ignorance really would be bliss.

John shrugged his backpack off, and pulled out his first aid kit. He knew it was probably stupid to use some of his supplies on the creature – especially since it would probably die anyway – but John couldn't stand the thought of watching while the life slowly left the creature's pain-glazed, crystal blue eyes. Not if he could prevent it.

He'd felt useless and out of control from the moment they'd crash landed on this planet, but this was something he could do. He felt a second wind of energy rush through him, and John squared his shoulders in preparation. The he got to work.

Looking a little more closely as he pressed a bandage on the larger of the wounds, John could see enough of the dog-like creature's size and physical make up to know that it definitely looked like a German shepherd on steroids, albeit with jet-black fur all over instead of the more common tan-black mix.

John shook his head – after all these years, he really shouldn't be surprised by the strange similarities that popped up every now and then on world's lightyears away from Earth, but he was. In fact, the eyes of the animal were the only unusual feature that John could make out – bright shining blue – but even they weren't that weird. Glazed over and shining with pain, John had seen that look before, far too many times in fact. It was the look of something that expected to die.

The dog-creature mewled again, its leg jerking slightly. John immediately stilled, resting a hand on the animal's side as he tried to provide as much comfort as he dared. He could feel the heart pumping in his chest, but he forced himself to be calm. He couldn't flinch. Animals could sense fear. Weakness. He couldn't be weak. He wouldn't be weak...

"Hey," he said softly, his voice a little hoarse from lack of use. "My name's John. I won't hurt you, I promise."

The dog made no sign that it'd heard John, instead curling up even further. John felt his heart clench as he noted the pain on its face again.

Suddenly, John wanted to take that pain away. He adjusted his grip on his knife and crouch over the distressed animal. It would only take one swipe – quick and clean across the creature's exposed neck – and it would be over. No more pain.

Except John still couldn't do it. He felt like a selfish coward, but there was no way he was going to let this animal die if he could help it. Even if he had to drag it back to the jumper himself and work on it all day and night, he was going to save this creature if it was the last thing he did.

Please don't leave me.

"Hey," John soothed, deciding that a constant stream of words would probably be preferable to the harsh panting of the dying animal on the ground. "I'm here. You're going to be alright, okay? I'm going to look after you. I'm not going anywhere, you hear me? You and me, we're both going to be okay."

A/N – So the team are on the way back to the first planet (maybe), and John's made a new friend (sort of). Things will hopefully move a little more quickly now, although I do love slow-burning angst so I certainly won't be rushing things either. If you can spare a minute or two, please leave a review with your thoughts on this chapter, and on the story so far. I'd love to hear from you! And also, if you've got any name ideas for John's dog-bear, please let me know – I need all the help I can get!