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 – Hi all, another chapter has finally arrived! I'm sorry it took a while to post this one (again) but I've really been struggling to write lately, and it doesn't help that I've been suffering with a monster cold that I still can't seem to shake off. Having said that, hopefully I'm past the little bout of writer's block (and the illness) so that I can actually finish this story! I really hope you like this newest instalment! Fair warning though, it isn't very fluffy...although I can't imagine many of you are expecting it to be at this point in the story! Either way, enjoy...

~ Alone ~

Part Ten

Outside, the world raged, rain beating down on the land as if the heavens themselves had opened, but John – who had finally succumbed to the fever that had been building for days - was oblivious to it all.

Instead he was lost in the terror-filled world inside his mind, trapped in a feverish nightmare of his own making; a place that felt as hellish as the planet he had been abandoned on, and twice as terrifying.

"No," John mumbled, eyes closed as he tossed and turned on the floor of the jumper. "Please. Don't…"

Please don't leave me…

He was back there, tied to that damn tree, again the wind and rain constantly swirling around him as he desperately struggled to get free. The ropes were strangling him, wrapped around his battered chest and neck so tightly that he could barely breathe…

He needed to breathe…

"Let me go!" he screamed in desperation, but there was no one to hear him - at least no one who cared. His team were watching him of course, standing off to one side, but they made no move to help him. Instead they were laughing at his desperate struggle, his weakening fight, and even worse...

They weren't alone.

Suddenly, Elizabeth was there too, and his father, and Sumner. God, they were laughing at him too…

"No…" John muttered, shaking his head. He flailed out a hand, though he wasn't coherent enough to know why, clenching his fist so tightly the skin on his hand was turning white from the pressure.

He called out to his team, his friends, begging them to show him some mercy - to let him go - but his voice echoed around the clearing, eventually becoming lost in the deluge. Lost like him…

Don't leave me here…

Please don't leave me behind...

But they were already gone, and he was alone, and hurt, and damn, he'd had enough of it! He wanted out.

"Let me go," John mumbled feverishly, jerking slightly.

But no one did. He was trapped, and the ropes wrapped around his body were slowly killing him. He was dying a little more with each second that passed, and he knew he wasn't going to last much longer. He was dying...

And a part of him even wanted to...

"No!"

John jerked awake with a shout, chest heaving and heart hammering as the adrenaline continued to rush through his weakened body. John blinked hard, but it didn't help. He was hot and cold, and he felt like he was going to puke any second, so instead of worrying what he could and couldn't see in the darkness of the jumper, he spent the next few seconds trying desperately to catch his breath and calm down. He had to calm down...

Please don't..

He couldn't though, almost clawing at his throat in an attempt to get free, to breathe. John knew he was in the jumper, he knew he was safe, but he could still feel the ropes, the fear, the desperation.

The desire for it to just be…over.

He wanted it be to over.

Over.

John let his arms fall back to his side in defeat. He swallowed back the bile that had risen up, but it stuck at the back of his throat, leaving him feeling nauseated and dizzy and ready to throw up all again. He didn't, but only sheer will was holding it back. He ran a hand over sweat-soaked face, but felt no relief from the action.

God, how much longer could he do this for? How much longer could he hold on?

He was hot, cold, in pain, and numb, all at once. He had the vague sense that he was burning up, but all he felt was the chill that had sunk deep into his bones. He just…he couldn't think straight anymore, and he could barely move without feeling like he was going to pass out. John knew he was sick and he hated that he couldn't do a damn thing about it. More than that, he despised feeling weak, and in the situation he'd been left in, his weakness was going to kill him.

John slowly sat up, blinking back any latent dizziness, but he immediately braced himself as his lungs tightened and a great big hacking cough burst from his lungs. He tried to hold it back, he really did, but it was like trying to hold back a wave with nothing but a spoon. It stole the breath from his lungs, the energy from his body, and the fight from his heart.

He couldn't do this anymore. He couldn't…

To his right, Jett barked loudly, drawing John's watering eyes over to the dog's direction. Jett looked agitated, upset, but John knew instinctively that it wasn't because of any external threat.

He's worried about me, John realised as he desperately tried to keep the coughs at bay long enough to catch his breath. It's a shame that there's nothing either of us can do about it…

Jett barked again, this time with increasing desperation. The dog slowly and cautiously limbered over to John's position but paused inches before reaching him, almost as he wasn't sure it was safe to approach.

"I…know, buddy," John mumbled, clumsily rubbing Jett's ears in an attempt to reassure him. "I'm sorry. Just…I'll be okay. I will…"

He didn't believe the lie any more than Jett apparently did, but the big dog moved closer anyway, burrowing his head into John's chest in response. John would've complained that the extra pressure wasn't going to help his breathing, but the warmth of the dog's body felt nice, and John wasn't sure anything would help his breathing now anyway. Except maybe some of Beckett's happy drugs…

"You hungry?" John asked shakily, glad that he had someone else to focus on. "Got some…nuts leftover from breakfast that you can have."

John pulled himself up a little bit and reached over for the last of the food supplies from the day before. John knew he was in no condition to go hunting and gathering at the moment, but he wasn't hungry anyway. He was more worried about Jett, who was still recovering himself. After everything they'd been through, John wasn't going to stand by and let the dog die if he could help it.

With that in mind, he held out the last few nuts, almost begging Jett to take them– to survive where he couldn't – but even though he'd never had a problem eating the nuts before, for some reason, the big scruffy animal wouldn't eat them now.

Instead, Jett nudged John's hand back. Damn…

"C'mon pal," John muttered, pushing his hand out again. "They're all yours. I'm...I'm not hungry, and…hell, I don't think I'll be eating much...for a while."

Or ever, John thought to himself. He was too weak to even stand up, let alone make a fire. There was no way in hell he was going to be able to hunt or collect more water. Jett was a wild animal, he'd be okay eventually, but John…well, John knew he'd hit his limit.

He'd tried, he really had, but it was out of his hands now. He would either survive the next few hours, or…he wouldn't. It was a waiting game now, and John had a feeling that it wasn't a game that he was going to win.

John had always thought he'd go out fighting, but it wasn't about fighting anymore. It was about… acceptance.

He was done. It was over.

Over.

John closed his eyes and lay back down. It wasn't even a matter of if it was going to happen anymore.

It was only a matter of when.

Rodney McKay hated waiting.

As he stared out of the window of the Daedalus, watching almost half-heartedly as the stars flash by at speeds that could barely be comprehended by the human mind - even one as quick as his – Rodney considered the position they were in. Usually he was fascinated by the sheer vastness of the universe, of the way they were all just mere flecks of dust in the cosmos, but not today.

Not today.

Today, Rodney had other thoughts clogging up his mind. He had other things to focus on. Other things to care about.

They were finally on their way back to John now - or at least where they believed he was - but since they were only on day two of a three day journey, it was still a waiting game. And he hated waiting.

Rodney knew that he was a naturally impatient person anyway, but his impatience always seemed to come out even more when he was feeling particularly anxious about something, be it a general project that he really wanted to succeed, or even just the intense demands put upon him on a daily basis by the Atlantis expedition.

He revelled in pressure, but waiting…he hated being out of control, and waiting only ever served to remind him just how out of control he really was.

"McKay," came a gruff voice from his left. McKay was vaguely proud of himself for not flinching, but it was a close run thing.

"Ronon," Rodney greeted with a nod, not even bothering to take his eyes off the stars flashing by outside the window. Ronon didn't seem to mind.

"What are you doing, Rodney?" asked Teyla softly, coming up on his other side.

Rodney sighed. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing."

Waiting, waiting, waiting...

"We'll find him," Ronon said with conviction that Rodney couldn't share no matter how hard he tried. "When we get there, we'll find him."

"Right," Rodney replied sarcastically. "Because it's just that easy."

"We must have hope," Teyla said, her voice slightly chastising. "We know where he is now."

"We think we know where he is," Rodney corrected, clenching his fists slightly. He didn't usually doubt himself, but he couldn't help it. The stakes were too high. God, if they were wrong…

"This is the only planet of the three that mentions hounds of hell," Ronon said, eyes fixed on the flickered stars. "That's good enough for me."

"Yes, well, some of us are harder to please," Rodney replied. He'd always been pessimistic, but this thing with Sheppard was testing him in a way that he had never been tested before. If it turned out that they were wrong, that Sheppard wasn't on this planet after all…

Rodney wasn't sure how he would handle that.

"It will be okay, Rodney," Teyla said softly, gently patting him on the shoulder. "John is strong."

"Stronger than he looks," Ronon added, a vague look of pride flickering across his face. "If anyone can survive hell, he can."

"It's not hell," Rodney replied with an eye roll. "It's purgatory, you idiot."

"Whatever," Ronon shrugged. "Felt like hell to me."

Rodney couldn't argue with that, so he didn't even try.

"John is strong," Teyla repeated. "No matter how many tests he may have faced since we left him, I have no doubt that he will have survived them."

"He'll be waiting for us," Ronon said confidently.

Rodney sighed. "He better be."

Because if he wasn't, if they were already too late to save their friend from the terrible fate they themselves had left him in, then nothing was ever going to be the same ever again.

Rodney ran a hand through his thinning hair, but kept his eyes on the stars. God, he hated waiting.

A/N – So, how was it? I realise that this is only a short filler chapter, but it was necessary to keep the story moving - I hope you don't mind! The next chapter will have plenty more action I promise, although I'm not going to tell you any more than that at this stage because I really don't want to spoil it for you all! Hopefully you're still enjoying the story at least? Are you looking forward to more? Do you have any theories on what's going to happen next? If you can spare a minute or two, I'd love to hear from you! For now though, and until next time, thanks for reading!