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 – Well, hello one and all! Sorry for taking so long yet again – especially after the last chapter's admittedly mean cliff-hanger – but here I am finally with a new instalment. I had quite a bit of fun writing this one, and hopefully that will come across when you read it. Enjoy!

~ Alone ~

Part Six

John froze.

In fact, as he stared at Jett's wide, feverish eyes and his sharp, deadly teeth, John didn't even dare breathe. In that moment – even with his heart beating wildly in his chest, and adrenaline flooding his system - John knew that he had to stay completely still; that if he did anything to spook the dog, anything at all, then the beast would attack, no question.

And even though he had just spent the majority of the last day saving the animal's life, John wasn't deluded enough to think he would survive the encounter.

Even so - and with his eyes never leaving the dog - John slowly took hold of the knife he'd attached to his leg, and carefully pulled it free. The cold handle was a comfort, and he gripped it with a little more force than was strictly necessary. Even with the odds stacked against him, he wasn't going down without a fight. If the last few days had taught him anything, it was that he didn't want to feel that powerless ever again.

And if that meant he had to be ruthless instead, then so be it.

The good news, however, was that Jett seemed in no hurry to attack, so without moving an inch, John took a shallow breath and released it slowly. He was exhausted, battered and bruised, and his muscles were taut, almost shaking with the effort of keeping still, but John stubbornly powered through any lingering pain. He'd been in life and death situations before – more times that he cared to count - but this was an old-fashioned standoff; only John had nothing but a knife to defend himself with, and his opponent could probably kill him with one swipe of his giant paws.

John swallowed, and tried to stay calm. This was not good…

Jett looked every inch the wild animal he was, and John knew he would already be dead had the animal been fighting fit. As it was, Jett looked awful, limping forward slightly, and still clearly favouring his right side. The soldier in John was already thinking up ways to take advantage of that weakness, but the tired man in him - the man who had been broken by the events of the last few days – couldn't help but think of ways he might be able to help the poor creature instead.

Please don't leave me alone…

John swallowed, and gripped the knife so hard that his knuckles turned white. He still didn't make his move though, and with the seconds ticking by - and as they continued to stare at each other - he finally came to a decision, and it was a decision he hoped he'd at least live to regret it.

He lowered his knife.

With his heart thudding wildly in his chest, John ignored his baser instincts – the ones telling him go on the offensive – and instead frantically wracked his brain for any knowledge that might actually help him survive the encounter without outright killing the dog/wolf/bear hybrid currently staring him down.

Because even though he would if he had to, John didn't want to kill Jett, not if he could help it. It was ridiculous and stupid and sad, but Jett was the only living thing he'd had any sort of interaction with in the last few days, and he really didn't want to have to kill him. John knew he only had himself to blame for putting himself in this position, but even as he gripped the knife even more tightly, he hesitated once more, drawing a shallow breath as he tried to think of an alternative. Jett paused too, and John decided in that moment that it was worth trying to find a solution to the temporary impasse they'd reached.

The diplomatic route. Which definitely wasn't his strong suit. He sighed; at least Teyla would be proud…

"Okay, easy boy," John began, careful to keep his voice calm, monotonous, unthreatening. He was also careful not to move, but that was more down to instinct than anything else. He knew what to do if faced with a bear on Earth, but a rabid, feverish, giant alien dog/bear/wolf crossbreed like Jett? He didn't have a clue…

As if sensing John's hesitation, Jett barked in warning and stepped forward a touch, and John immediately tightened his grip on the knife. Then he held up his hands – albeit still with one hand holding his knife - in the universal sign of surrender, even though he was almost certain that the beast in front of him couldn't comprehend it. Still, he had to try something. It couldn't end like this…

"Hey, buddy," John continued, keeping his voice so soft that it was almost a whisper. He had no idea what to say, but he was hoping that just saying something, anything, would help. "Look, I don't know if you remember me, but I'm the guy who brought you back here. You weren't in very good shape, and I know you're still hurting, but I'm not the bad guy here."

As the words drifted over to the dog, Jett stilled, and quirked his head to the right. John swallowed and tried not to show his relief, although it was a close run thing. The animal was listening though, and that had to be a good thing. John had talked to Jett a lot over the last day or so, and he hoped it hadn't all been for nothing. Maybe, if he was lucky, he would survive this after all…

"My name's John, remember?" John continued quietly, still careful not to move in case Jett saw that as a threat. He could feel exhaustion creeping up on him, but he forced himself to keep going. "I'm not from around here, so you might not have seen me before. I'm just visiting for a bit. When I found you, you were pretty out of it, but I fixed you up."

The beast didn't move, merely cocking his head to one side, but John definitely took that as a good sign this time. Jett's piercing blue eyes met John's, and he had the distinct feeling that he was being judged. John squared his shoulders and stared right on back, determined to pass the test.

"Your name's Jett," he continued softly, not really sure why he was still talking. It was part desperation, and part hope, and he didn't know which one was more pathetic. Even so, he persevered for lack of a better plan. "I know that's probably not your real name, but since we've got a bit of a language barrier thing going on, it'll have to do for now. If you've got another name, I'd be happy to call you that instead?"

John hadn't really expected an answer from the animal, so when he didn't get one, he wasn't all that surprised. Instead, Jett growled – again, not such a surprise – but at least it seemed less threatening now. John felt the relief rush through him, mingling with the aftereffects of the adrenaline that had shot through his system only moments before. Maybe Jett recognised him as the man who'd saved his life…

"Are you hungry, boy?" John asked quietly, his eyes fixed to the watchful, and almost considering, gaze of the animal. "I haven't got much food, but…well, it's not like I've got anyone else to share it with."

John swallowed back the bitterness that rose at that statement, and shrugged his hurt away. It was done. Over. He had to move on or he would never survive, even if that meant forgetting his friends and his life on Atlantis altogether.

Careful to move slowly, John lowered his hands and started to shrug his backpack off his shoulders. Jett growled in warning at the movement, but didn't make any move forward, and John took that as another good sign.

Heaving his backpack onto the ground in front of him, John started to slowly search around inside until he found what he was looking for. He pulled out the prize – a MRE made up of some sort of questionable meat product– and tore it open. The smell almost made him gag, but he held back his nausea as best he could.

He could see Jett tense slightly, clearly sensing the new smell as well. The animal didn't pounce though, which told John that Jett was definitely still recovering from the quite severe blood loss he'd suffered the day before.

"Here," John said, placing the food on the ground and nudging it forward. "It's all yours."

The animal just tilted its head, almost as if he was considering the idea. John decided to wait it out. In his experience, it wouldn't take long…

Then, moving slowly but surely, the beast lumbered closer to John, limping quite a bit and definitely favouring his right side. John held his breath, but released it when the animal stopped short of touching him. Instead, Jett sniffed at the food John was offering as if trying to determine if it was indeed edible. Since it was cold meat – albeit pre-cooked – John didn't think that Jett would have a problem with it.

John was proved right when the beast took a large chunk of the meat concoction in his mouth in one bite, almost swallowing the entire pack – plastic wrapping and all - down whole. Strangely though, he left at least half of the meat in the packet.

"Have it all," John said hoarsely, gesturing towards the food. Maybe once he'd filled his stomach, Jett would see John less like prey to be captured and eaten. Then John could eat something too; all of a sudden, he was tired and hungry and fed up of just…surviving.

Jett, however, had other ideas.

"Seriously, I've got more," John said, when the big dog didn't move. "Take it all."

This time the beast moved slowly moved towards the food. Then, as if taking great pains to be gentle, Jett nudged the food with its large nose. It took a few seconds for John to realise that the dog was pushing the food back towards him.

"You're not listening to me," John said, trying to ignore how ridiculous it was that he was having a one-sided argument with an animal that could quite easily tear him in two. "I can easily get more. Just eat the damn meat."

The beast ignored him, and continued pushing the packet until it bumped against John's feet. The meat looked even less appetising than it had before, but John couldn't ignore the burning pang of hunger gripping at his stomach. Even covered in mud and all manner of alien bugs, John found that he wanted to eat it.

"Fine," he said finally, when it became clear that the animal wasn't going to let up until he'd eaten the food. "I guess we can share."

Moving slowly, careful to show the animal that he meant it no harm, John reached down and picked up a slightly muddy piece of meat, wiping it slightly to get rid of the slobber left behind by the animal. Watching carefully, in case the beast decided that he wanted to eat him after all, John lifted the meat, and popped it in his mouth. The animal, who it seemed was watching him carefully, seemed to nod slightly in what John could only assume was encouragement. John tried to ignore how completely weird that was, and instead ate another bite of the meat with a little more gusto.

He felt shame flush through him, but it was pushed back by the hunger gripping his stomach. And the truth was, he'd eaten worse, and if this kept him alive just that little bit longer then it was probably worth it.

Satisfied that John was finally doing as he was told, Jett limped forward and took another bite himself, and it didn't take long before man and beast had finished the small meal between them. Jett still didn't seem comfortable being so close to John, but it felt as if the dog had at least stopped thinking of him as a threat.

Which was good, John thought tiredly, because he was exhausted, and all he wanted to do now was go to sleep in the jumper, where he was at least somewhat protected by the elements.

Still moving slowly in case he spooked Jett into attacking, John rubbed at his neck, and then turned to the jumper, taking his eyes off the dog for only the briefest of moments.

Then, John took one step forward.

Which, as it turned out, was a huge mistake.

Before John could even comprehend what was happening, Jett tore forward, leaping across the small gap between them as if it was nothing.

As he turned his head, John saw Jett pounce, heard the loud, guttural growl, even felt the impact hit him square in his already aching back.

Then his head hit the ground, hard and unforgiving, and he knew nothing more.

Rodney's chest heaved with exertion as he pounded after his two team-mates.

God, he hated PX6-662 with a passion he usually only reserved for the soft sciences. The ground was hard, the air hot, and the pace unforgiving. Honestly, if Sheppard wasn't MIA, there was no way in hell they would have been able to drag him back to this god-forsaken planet…

"Can you please slow down a bit!" snapped Rodney finally, gasping as he tried to catch his breath, and stumbling slightly on the uneven ground. He knew that they didn't have time to waste – that Sheppard needed them - but the pace Ronon and Teyla were setting was getting ridiculous…

"Don't be so dramatic, McKay," Ronon retorted, not even taking the time to turn around. Instead, the big man marched on, and Rodney had no choice but to try and follow on.

And he did try, he really did, but it didn't take long for him to crash.

"Are you...trying to…kill me?" he gasped, clutching at his chest. Rodney stumbled again. Black spots were dancing over his eyes, and he felt very warm all of a sudden…

"Ronon!" Teyla exclaimed, and Rodney felt her grab at his arm. "We must stop for a moment."

The next few seconds were a bit of blur for Rodney. In fact, he had a feeling he'd blacked out at some point, because the next thing he knew he was sitting on the floor with his head between his knees.

"McKay?" Ronon asked. Rodney lifted his head, and squinted in the bright light at his two companions. The Satedan was standing on his heels, clearly chomping at the bit to get moving again. Teyla, on the other hand, seemed very worried.

"Rodney, how are you feeling?" she asked, brow furrowed.

"M'okay," Rodney muttered. Usually he was the first to complain, but he still felt a little lightheaded, and he really didn't want to waste his limited reserves of energy explaining all the ways he was probably going to die. Besides, Sheppard was still missing. His own condition could wait until they'd found the Colonel, and after they were all safe and sound back on Atlantis.

"Here, drink," Teyla said softly, pushing one of their water canteens into his shaking hands. Rodney obediently took a large drink. It was only then he realised how thirsty he was. And how hungry…

Rodney paused. Oh…

"You have not been eating as you should, Rodney," Teyla said knowingly, her eyes crinkling in concern.

Rodney ignored the fact that it was definitely his own fault this time, and instead scowled. "Haven't exactly had chance," he said, nodding to Ronon.

A flash of guilt crossed Ronon's face, but it was gone in a second.

"We can't afford to waste time," Ronon argued. "We have to find Sheppard."

"I'm hypoglycaemic, you idiot," Rodney retorted irritably. It felt good to be mad at the Satedan. Better than being mad at himself. "I can't exactly help you find Sheppard if I'm dead."

Without waiting for a response, Rodney pulled out an energy bar, tore it open, and then took a large bite, washing it down with a little more water.

"You should have said something then," Ronon retorted finally. Rodney couldn't really argue with that, so he settled for a scowl.

"I didn't think," Rodney replied snarkily, swallowing another bite. "Usually Sheppard…"

He trailed off at the thought of their missing team leader, but it was obvious that both his companions knew what he was thinking. The truth was, the Colonel would've noticed something was wrong long before Rodney had, and he would have made him sit down and eat something well before his condition went past the point of no return…

"We all miss the John, Rodney," Teyla said softly, resting her hand comfortably on his shoulder.

"We need to find him," Ronon said quietly, although some of the manic urgency had left him. He looked a little lost in fact, which scared Rodney more than anything else could have. "He could be hurt. I don't remember what we did to him, but I think…I think I might have hit him."

"I think I did too," Teyla admitted, shame crossing her face. "I cannot be certain, but…"

"We need to find him then," Rodney interrupted, pulling himself off the ground. He still felt dizzy, but overall he felt much better now that he had a little food and water in him.

"McKay…"

"But," Rodney interrupted again. "Maybe we could go a bit slower this time? We're not far from the settlement now, and if we keep going at this rate, it's probably going to kill me."

"Right," Ronon replied with a smirk.

"Which I'm sure you wouldn't mind too much," Rodney replied with an annoyed scowl. "But remember, Sheppard will kill us all if we die trying to save his ass."

"He does not value his life as much as we do," Teyla replied sadly.

"Good job we don't listen to him then, isn't it?" Ronon replied, he gave Rodney a less-than-gentle push forward. "Come on then, let's go."

It took them another hour to reach the settlement, and by the time they finally arrived at the small town where they'd started trade negotiations with the local priest – the last time any of them had any coherent memories of seeing the Colonel alive – they were all irritable and fed-up.

Rodney particularly was exhausted, and was not shy in letting everyone know it. Thankfully, Teyla and Ronon just ignored him and allowed him to let of steam in the only way he knew how. They knew each other well; they were a strange kind of family, but family nonetheless. That's what made it hurt so much when he thought about what they'd done to Sheppard. Being drugged was no excuse.

"Please don't do this…"

"Rodney," Teyla prompted gently, shaking him out of his thoughts. "Do you wish to wait here while we meet with the Priest? You still appear to be a little unwell."

"I'm fine," Rodney insisted with a firm shake of his head. "Anyway, I don't trust these people. I don't think it would be a good idea to get separated."

"I'm with McKay," Ronon agreed. "We stick together."

"Okay," Teyla agreed with a small smile. "But please, allow me to do the talking. It is not that I do not trust you both, but…"

"But we're not the most diplomatic people," Rodney replied with a shrug.

Ronon merely shrugged. "We get it. But when you don't get anything from them, it's my turn."

"Ronon…" Teyla began, her voice full of uncertainty and warning.

"We're bringing Sheppard home," Ronon said. "By any means necessary."

McKay shivered at the cold look in the bigger man's eyes. Rodney had no doubt that Ronon would burn the village down if it meant getting Sheppard back in one piece.

The odd thing was, even though he'd always been opposed to that sort of tactic, Rodney almost found himself nodding along to Ronon's words.

Because Sheppard was important. He was part of their family, and they couldn't leave without him.

"By any means necessary," Rodney repeated quietly.

He hoped it wouldn't come to that, but he was a little scared to admit, even if only to himself, that he was fully prepared to act if it did.

"Welcome," chimed the priest as they were shown into an elegant chamber with plenty of comfortable looking chairs, and Rodney already had make an effort to school his face to hide any lingering anger he felt. Teyla was right; he and Ronon were terrible at this.

"Thank you for allowing us to return," Teyla replied with a short bow.

"I must say," the priest began, gesturing for them to sit. "I was expecting you to arrive much sooner. What was the cause of your delay?"

"Delay?" Rodney asked, closing his mouth when Teyla shot him a warning look.

"Excuse my friend," Teyla said. "He is just worried for our leader."

"Ah, Colonel Sheppard," the priest replied, a small smile on his face. It infuriated Rodney as much as it scared him. It was clear; the priest had had something to do with Sheppard's disappearance.

"You do not seem to be surprised that he is not with us," Teyla noted.

"I am not," the Priest said, clearly taken aback by the question.

"Could we ask why?" Teyla replied. "We…have had difficulty remembering."

"Ah, that is a common side-effect of the Flae root," the priest nodded. "Your memories will return in time."

"Until then, maybe you could explain a few things for us," Rodney interjected. Teyla shot him another warning look, but thankfully the priest didn't seem to mind.

"Of course, I am always happy to assist the worthy," The Priest began, almost shaking with excitement.

"The worthy?" Teyla asked.

"Why, you, Ronon and Dr McKay, of course," the priest replied with a wide smile.

"And Colonel Sheppard?"

"His mind resisted the effects of the root," The Priest said, expression darkening. "Our Goddess' teachings are clear. He was not worthy."

"His damn gene, probably," Rodney muttered.

"What does the Goddess say should happen to those who aren't worthy?" Ronon asked with a grunt, clearly holding himself back from violence.

"They are taken to the land of no-return, of course," the Priest replied cheerfully.

"By us?" Rodney asked.

"You offered to complete the task," The Priest replied with a frown. "That is not unusual when the unworthy are discovered."

"But if it's the planet of 'no-return'," Rodney began. "How were we supposed to return after 'disposing' of Sheppard?"

"You were not," the Priest replied simply. "Those who go with the unworthy are expected to sacrifice themselves for the Goddess. They are the most worthy of all."

"And yet, here we are," Rodney muttered.

The priest frowned. "You assured me that you would not need to sacrifice yourselves, that you would find a way to ensure that the dialling stone would work." His frown deepened. "I did not truly believe you until now."

"Sorry to disappoint you," Rodney muttered irritably.

"Rodney…" warned Teyla.

"Oh, don't misunderstand me!" the priest said, moving to reassure them. "I am pleased. It is truly a gift from the Goddess."

This time, Rodney couldn't hide his scowl. Thankfully the priest didn't seem to notice.

"Although you were supposed to return here after leaving your leader to his fate," the priest asked with a frown. "Why did you not?"

"We each recall experiencing a very distinct desire to return home," Teyla told him. "For us, that is our own city. Not here."

"That is not the way things were supposed to be," muttered the Priest.

"Well it's the way things are," Ronan said bluntly.

"And a good job, too," Rodney added. "If we hadn't returned home, your brain-washing chemicals may not have worn off until it was already too late."

The priest seemed unperturbed by Rodney's comment.

"Ah, but it is already too late," replied the Priest with a smile; the kind of smile that sent shivers down Rodney's spine. "Your leader is lost to you."

"Not if you tell us where we took him," Teyla replied.

The Priest's eyes widened. "It is forbidden. I cannot – "

Ronon stood up so suddenly that it made Rodney jump. The Satedan clenched his fists. "Tell us where you sent him!"

Fear crossed the Priest's face with alarming speed, but after a moment's pause, it was replaced with a sudden steely resolve. Rodney felt his heart drop.

"I will not," the Priest replied, crossing his arms.

"I wasn't asking," Ronon said, pulling the Priest up from his chair by his shirt. The Priest, overcome by his new resolve, didn't even seem spooked by the implied threat, a fact that was confirmed only a moment later when he spoke.

"You can kill me, you can kill our children," the Priest said softly and without wavering. He gestured around himself. "You can even burn our villages to the ground, but we will not tell you the gate address of the planet where your friend now resides. He is lost to you, guarded by the hounds of hell. You will never see him again."

Ronon paused, chest heaving in barely repressed anger, then he glanced towards Rodney and Teyla.

"Let him go, Ronon," Teyla told him, although the fire in her eyes spoke of her own anger. "I believe he is telling the truth. He will not tell us, not if we use violence against him."

"Sheppard is counting on us," Ronon growled, shaking the Priest slightly.

"He would not want this," Teyla said, nodding towards Ronon's hands, which still held the Priest's shirt in an iron grip. "We will find him, but we cannot lose ourselves in the process."

At her words, Ronon threw the man back into his seat, fists clenched so tightly that Rodney was honestly surprised he hadn't hit the wall with them.

"Fine," he grunted. "Then let's go."

Teyla nodded to him, then turned to face the Priest. "Our people will return, and when they do, I hope you have reconsidered your position. We will not harm you, but we are not the only people out there who care for John Sheppard. I fear for you. Truthfully, I even pity you for what will come."

And with that, she turned and left, leaving Rodney gaping after her. He pulled himself together, but not before Ronon had followed her out too.

"What she said," Rodney mumbled, before he left too.

It wasn't the greatest thing he'd ever said, but truthfully, he had more important things to think about.

Like finding the Colonel on whatever god-forsaken hell-hole they'd abandoned him on - a task that, unfortunately, had just got a whole lot harder.

With the wind buffeting loudly in his ears, John Sheppard slowly came to.

As always, the first thing he noticed was the pain. It hit him on his forehead first, and ran all the way down his back, stabbing through his skin and blinding him to any other sensations. He groaned and tried to move, but quickly gave up when his head swam dangerously and the dizziness made him want to puke.

God, what the hell had happened this time?

As he lay there, unmoving and in pain, it took him longer than he would have liked to admit to actually come up with the answer to that question. He remembered rescuing Jett, and then stitching him up. He also remembered going to search for water.

John strained his battered mind. Had he found water? He vaguely remembered filling up one of his canteens from a small stream, but he didn't remember actually making it back to the jumper with his supplies…

Oh.

The memories were trickling through, slowly but surely, but then he felt a nudge on his side, and it pushed all other thoughts to the back of his mind. He nearly jumped a mile, but the sudden movement only made him want to puke again, so he couldn't do much in the way of defence.

Of course, being who he was, he tried anyway.

John pulled himself up until he was sitting up rather than lying down, and raised his fists out in front of himself. He felt like the wind had been knocked out of him, but he didn't think he'd been mauled by the animal just yet, which was a little surprising.

In fact, now that he thought about it with a slightly clearer head, it was…wrong.

He should be dead.

John swallowed and lifted his head to meet the sharp blue eyes of the dog he had rescued. Jett looked…contrite, which was a strange emotion for a dog to have, even more so an alien one. John lifted his hand and rubbed at his face. Maybe he'd hit his head harder than he'd first thought…

In response, Jett simply leaned forward again and nudged John's leg, almost as if he was making sure the man was alive. God, this was getting weirder and weirder by the second…

"Are you my friend now?" John asked. Jett lifted his head, but made no sign that he'd understood John's question. That was okay, John thought. A giant dog he could handle; a giant dog that could understand English…that was a little more difficult for him to accept.

"So, how's it going?" John began. He didn't wait for a response, obviously, but he did carefully and slowly place one hand on the animal's back. Then, when the dog didn't shrug it off, John began to stroke Jett across the back in an attempt to put the animal at ease. Thankfully it seemed to work, and Jett lay his massive head on John's lap, clearly trying to give him better access.

John laughed in spite of how weird this was. "That's how it's going to be then, is it?"

Jett snorted, and rubbed his ear against John's leg. The big mountain of muscle had turned into a puppy, and John was all the happier for it.

"Okay, I guess that's fine with me, buddy," John continued. John's head ached like a son-of-a-bitch, and he wanted nothing more than to go back to the jumper and lie down for the next eight hours, but he had a strong feeling that he wasn't going to be moving anytime soon.

Strangely though, he was okay with that. For now, at least. When his leg went dead from Jett's weight, he'd probably have a different view on it…

"You and me," John continued in a low murmur. "We've got to look out for each other, okay? I...need you to help me, because there's no way in hell I can do this alone."

Please don't leave me...

Jett just snorted, and rolled over so John could rub the other side of his head. John smiled, shook his head once, and then - after deciding to push away his dark thoughts as best he could - happily obliged.

A/N - So, this was by far the longest chapter yet, so I hope you liked it? There was plenty going on in this one, so I hope it didn't feel rushed at any point. I also hope everyone is still in character, and that they "sound" right. I'm very conscious of the fact that I'm not from the US or Canada (I'm British), and I really want to do a good job with these characters, so I'm counting on all of you to help - if any of them feel 'off', please let me know! For now though, thanks for reading, and if you can spare a minute or two, please let me know what you think of the story so far!