Road Trip

by stella-pegasi

The boys take thirty-days leave and set off to see the sights. What could possibly go wrong on vacation? (Please note: For the most part each chapter is contained to one location and the story arc is complete within each. Road Trip began to take a life of its own at some point and became this epic length. And yes... I'm going to finish this... almost halfway done.)

5. Part 3 Vegas Baby Day 3 and Beyond

Title: Road Trip

Sub-title: Part Three: Vegas…Baby

Author: stella_pegasi

Rating: K +

Genres: Slice of life, action, hurt/comfort, friendship, humor, and !Whump, of course

Word Count: Part Three…Day Three and Beyond: 21,117 words.

Spoilers: Post-Season Five

Warnings: Language

Characters: John Sheppard, Rodney McKay, Ronon Dex, Carson Beckett

Summary: The boys take thirty-days leave and set off to see the sights. What could possibly go wrong on vacation?

Disclaimer: I do not own them; I would have treated them better.

Author's Notes: It's the morning of 'Day 3 of the boys Vegas Adventure'…the day is filled with fun, but once night falls….well…..things change.

To all of you who sent me PM's about the next segment, I apologize for the delay, sometimes real life is a pain. Thanks so much for your interest in the story. I hope you enjoy Vegas…Baby, Day 3 and Beyond as much as I've had fun writing it.

Enjoy, I'd love to hear from you!

ROAD TRIP

by stella_pegasi

Part Three Vegas, Baby…

Day Three: Daytime

"Come on, McKay, get up."

Sheppard scowled, glancing at Ronon, "He hung up on me."

John Sheppard and Ronon Dex were standing outside Rodney McKay's room, attempting to wake Atlantis' chief scientist. Ronon was pounding on the door, while Sheppard called the room phone, again.

"What the fuck do you want, Sheppard?" A groggy McKay grumbled into the phone.

"I want you to get out of bed; we have places to go."

"Well, what I want is for you to go away, and leave me alone, and would you please tell Conan to stop pounding on my door. I know that's him."

"Nope, sorry, not going to happen; now open the door. We're going to grab breakfast, then it's off to have an adventure."

"It's fucking 7:00 AM, go away."

"No; now open the door like a good boy, McKay." Sheppard hung up on the scientist, smiling at Ronon. "He's getting up."

As Sheppard predicted, the door to McKay's suite flung open, revealing a very sleepy looking Rodney McKay. Sheppard and Ronon brushed past him into the living room, Sheppard heading for the window.

"What the…what do you want, Sheppard?"

"Go get dressed, McKay; we're in a hurry, "

Sheppard tugged the bulky drapes apart. The suite's living room flooded with sunlight, as Rodney continued to whine, repeating his mantra of what was Sheppard thinking waking him up so early. Sheppard turned around to chide Rodney about getting dressed, but forgot what he was going to say when he saw Rodney in the bright light.

"Rodney, what in the hell are those?"

Rodney glanced down at the bright yellow pajama pants he was wearing, then at Sheppard, somewhat embarrassed. "Oh, Madison gave me these for my birthday."

"Those pajama's are covered with happy faces, all over them, McKay." Sheppard shuddered, scrunching his face, as if he sucked on a very sour lemon.

"I know; Madison thinks I don't smile enough. She and Jeannie were shopping when she spotted these pajamas and insisted on buying them for me. Jeannie was more than happy to oblige her, and before you say something snarky, Jeannie made all the snide comments I need to hear about them."

"Get dressed, wear jeans, a zip-up jacket, and sneakers, you'll be more comfortable; meet us in the lobby in fifteen minutes."

Rodney flopped down on the couch, "Exactly where are you dragging us today?"

Sheppard answered, an impish grin spreading across his face, "The desert."

Rodney groaned.

"I'll ask you again, exactly where the hell are we going." Rodney mumbled through a mouthful of bacon, egg cheese biscuit he ordered at McDonalds.

"I told you, already; we're headed for the desert. You'll find out more when we get there."

"I hate you: you get me up from a sound sleep, drag me to a fast food restaurant, and won't tell me where we're going…really." He was still mumbling.

"Rodney, how much food did you get; everyone else finished eating five minutes ago."

"I only ordered two bacon and egg biscuits and two hash brown thingies."

Carson shook his head, "How could you eat that much this morning after the dinner you had last night? You had more to eat this morning than Ronon."

"I was hungry," Rodney retorted.

"Hey, doc, don't worry, doc; Rodney will be working that big breakfast off shortly."

"What does that mean, working breakfast off? Don't tell me we are going on some horseback jaunt through the desert, or something nonsensical as that."

Sheppard caught Rodney's eye in the rear view mirror, "Just wait, and you'll see."

Sheppard laughed, knowing that Rodney was not going to be happy when he found out what he had planned for the morning. Briefly, after waking up early, he had considered running and not telling Carson. He decided not to run; somehow, the good doctor always knew when he did what he wasn't supposed to do. He cruised the internet for a while looking possible destinations for the rest of the trip when he stumbled onto a website of an attraction near Vegas. That's when he began to wake up everyone.

The colonel was feeling much stronger, the pain in his side considerably less than the day before. He swallowed a couple of Advil before he left and had knocked down the residual pain. Now behind the wheel of the Rover, he was heading with his friends for what he thought was going to be a fun adventure. Fun, because the adventure sounded fun, and because Rodney was likely to whine like a five-year-old when they arrived.

Ten minutes later, they pulled into the parking lot of a company called Bootleg Canyon Flightlines. Sheppard parked next to the building, and announced they had arrived at their destination.

"What is this place; flightlines, what the hell are flightlines? Don't tell me, you drug us out here to go flying."

Sheppard appeared quite pleased with himself, "These flightlines are cables suspended over the canyon. It's really cool; you sit in a harness and slide down the cable while suspended in the air."

"You can sit in a harness, flying across some silly desert canyon; not me." McKay sagged back in his seat, folding his arms across his chest.

Sheppard's opened his door, looking over the seat at the reluctant McKay. "Oh yes, McKay; you are so going to do this. Come on, everyone let's go do some flying." He hopped out of the car, feeling only a slight twinge in his side.

Carson and Ronon followed Sheppard out of the Rover; however, Rodney didn't budge. Sheppard caught Ronon's eye and within seconds, Ronon had opened the car door, unbuckled McKay's seatbelt, and hauled him out onto the parking lot, sputtering. Sheppard headed toward the front door of Bootleg Canyon Flightlines; the others fell in line behind him.

"Exactly what makes you think I am going to do this fool stunt."

"Because it's fun and because I asked you; besides, it's a good bonding experience, Rodney."

"Bonding experience, who are you, some sort of corporate guru, Sheppard; team bonding, perfect."

"We're doing this."

Carson tugged at Sheppard's sleeve, "Colonel, how strenuous is this flightline ride? I'm not certain it is something you should do."

Sheppard sighed, "All you do is sit in a harness and ride to the bottom, not strenuous at all."

" Are you sure about this, colonel; I mean, I'm not fond of heights." Carson appeared nervous.

"Piece of cake, Carson; I'd never have you do anything that was dangerous," Sheppard grinned.

After undergoing orientation from the Flightlines' guides, the Atlantians, along with a family of six, took the shuttle ride to the launch point on top of the canyon. They hiked a short distance to the launch platform and waited while the father and the two pre-teen boys were strapped into harnesses. The trio stepped off the platform and began the long slide down the canyon, shouting with glee as they descended. Sheppard chuckled silently as he watched McKay; the scientist did not look happy. Next, the mother and apparent grandparents were strapped into the harnesses and followed. The same sounds of delight trailed behind them.

"Come on, Rodney; let's get harnessed up." Sheppard slapped him on the back.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Rodney, surely you are not afraid to do this. I mean, after all you've been through, you can't be scared of a zipline?"

Rodney gazed around the mountains and ridges that surrounded them, "Have you seen how high we are up this mountain?"

"Yes, and it's beautiful; you can see Vegas and Lake Mead from here. You will enjoy the scenery; get in the harness, McKay, let loose a little."

"'Let loose', that's funny Sheppard, 'let loose'. We are about to risk our lives, tethered to a thin stand of metal, and you use the term 'let loose.' You are one sadistic flyboy."

Ronon walked over to Rodney and grabbed him by the collar, "Let's go, little man; this'll be fun."

"Relax, Rodney; we are all going to go down together, so we'll witness your demise." Beckett was already harnessed and waiting on the platform. "It really pretty up here, reminds me of Scotland, " he paused, "well not really, Scotland is green"

Within five minutes, all four men were ready to go, standing on the edge of the launch platform. The guide made one last check, giving Sheppard the thumbs up. Sheppard looked at his team, "We go on three." Sheppard counted down and even reluctant Rodney pushed off from the platform. They were flying.

As they slid along the steel cable, Ronon began to creep ahead of them, his heavier weight pulling him down faster. Sheppard was slightly in front of Rodney, with Carson, the smallest of them, trailing a tad behind. The sky was crystal blue; the mountains around them burnt red, dark brown. Grayish-beige sand dotted with scrub brush dominated the scenery.

Turning to look slightly behind him, Sheppard could see Rodney. The scientist was calmer than he had expected him to be. Especially, considering the fact that McKay had closed his eyes, his face scrunched tightly as soon as he stepped onto the launch platform. Now, his eyes were open, gazing at the scenery, a contented look on his face.

Sheppard concentrated on the amazing view. In the distance, he could see the sparkling blue water of Lake Mead tucked between the mountains, to his right, Sin City, the Stratosphere towering over the tall hotels. Las Vegas, so overpowering when on its streets, looked small and unobtrusive from above the canyon. Above the wind, he could hear Ronon's yelps of joy, and Carson's giggles. He chuckled as he thought about the Scottish doctor. Carson Beckett, full of trepidation, was giggling from the sheer delight of the flightline. Sheppard knew one thing; he was having the time of his life. Only the reverberation of the buffeting wind and the drifting voices of his teammates permeated the silence, the warm morning sun bathing his face. For the first time since they left Atlantis, he felt relaxed, at peace; he was flying.

The trip to the canyon basin consisted of four segments. After reaching the first landing pad, they hiked a short distance to the next launch pad. Ronon positively bounded toward the pad, Carson right behind him, as Sheppard fell in step next to Rodney.

"Having fun yet, McKay?"

"Oh, loads," McKay didn't look at him as he spoke, "Seems like Carson's enjoying himself."

"Yeah; I think he is and so is Ronon. Enjoy this Rodney, its pure adrenaline on a cable; don't you like the wind in your face, the gorgeous scenery?"

"You just like flying through the air."

Sheppard laughed, "Yeah…I do; it's an exhilarating experience. As hard as you try to pretend, I know you're having fun; you just don't want to admit it."

They were stepping up on the next pad, and Rodney gave Sheppard a slight, impish grin, "Well…it isn't as bad as I thought it was going to be."

They jumped from the pad, gliding down the next segment, and repeating the process until they reached the final landing zone. The last segment was steeper than the previous ones, and they traveled at a much faster rate. The speed had only served to increase their euphoria.

Ronon was grinning as they walked back to their vehicle, "That was awesome; I wouldn't mind doing that again. Can we rig something like that up on Atlantis? That would be so cool."

Carson laughed, "I believe that's the most words you have ever uttered at one time, laddie. I think you enjoyed the ride; I did, as well. Thanks, John, for bringing us here."

Sheppard was climbing into the Rover, "Come on; time to return to civilization...," he laughed, "well, I guess Vegas can be called civilization."

After stopping to fill up the Rover and get Ronon a two-liter bottle of Mountain Dew, they began the return trip to Vegas. Rodney had chosen to sit in the back seat, concentrating on his pad. Sheppard noticed but decided to leave the scientist alone, he had put him through enough already, and it wasn't noon yet.

Carson was in the front with Sheppard. "You know, laddie; the flightline was fun. I wasn't sure what to expect, but that was amazing."

"Yeah, it was fun; I've done ziplines in training before, but this time, it was just for the fun of it. I thought you guys might enjoy it."

Ronon mumbled, "I want to do that again."

Sheppard glanced in the rearview mirror, "Chewie…you eating again?" He grinned as Ronon held up a package of chocolate cupcakes.

Carson asked Sheppard, "How are you feeling after this morning's activities?

The colonel glanced sideward, a resigned expression on his face, "I'm fine, really; sore, but fine. My head's clear, no dizziness, pain in my side has lessened; wound's beginning to itch, that's a good sign."

"That's good, John, but you should rest, nothing strenuous for a couple more days. I'll need to check your stitches sometime today, and redress that wound." He turned, looking at Ronon, "You, too; I need to re-bandage your arm." Ronon nodded in response, still eating his cupcake.

"OK, what would you guys like to do this sunny afternoon in beautiful Las Vegas; gambling, Rodney?"

Rodney only grumbled, prompting the others to laugh. Carson winked at Sheppard, "Rodney, you're on a roll, you should play blackjack again. I imagine there's a gangster or two you haven't pissed off yet."

"Har de har har…Dr. Beckett; you are such a comedian, you should book your act into one of the casino's."

Beckett laughed, "I might have a new career, colonel, what do ya think?'

"I think that we need to keep Rodney away from the gaming tables, and I think we need to find a cool diner for lunch. So keep your eyes peeled for somewhere to eat. As for this afternoon, if no one else has any other ideas, I accept the position of tour guide. We are going to play tourists."

It was just after noon when they arrived back in Las Vegas; Sheppard exited the Las Vegas Freeway onto Flamingo, heading toward the Strip. They had travelled about a mile and a half, when he exclaimed, "Lunch."

The Blueberry Hill Family Restaurant was on their right, and Sheppard turned into the parking lot of the busy restaurant. Finding one of the few empty parking places, he pulled in.

"I forgot all about this restaurant; when I was training at Edwards, after the Academy, we used to come to Vegas on leave. This was our favorite place to feast after a night of gambling and drinking. The food is great, come on, let's eat."

A twenty-minute wait for a table only whetted their appetites as they watched food delivered to the waiting guests. A friendly hostess seated them, paying particular attention to Carson, telling him as she walked away what an adorable smile he had.

Rodney was grumpy, "I expected Kirk and Conan would get all the attention from the ladies. But no, it's Carson, who all the ladies seem to like. Really?"

Carson snickered, "Rodney, I can't help that that lovely lass liked my smile, or that those showgirls invited me to come back later when they got off work."

Rodney sputtered, "They invited me, too. They liked us both since we were doctors.''

Sheppard sputtered as well, in response, "Wait, you didn't tell us that the showgirls you ran into asked you come back later. Two Las Vegas showgirls asked you two to join them after their show was over."

Preening every so slightly, Rodney said, "Yes, they both did."

Sheppard looked at Carson, then at Rodney, "Nope, not letting you two out of my sight, anymore; no telling what trouble you could get into."

Rodney grinned that little smirky grin that he always made when he thought he had outdone Sheppard, "You, flyboy, are just mad because Carson and I got the girls, and you didn't. You just want to hang out with us to get our leftovers."

"Rodney, what are we, twelve? Besides, you didn't get the girls."

"Well, we could have,'' Rodney snarked.

Rodney was spared further needling from Sheppard by the arrival of the server who took their orders. While they were waiting, Sheppard was looking over tourist brochures he picked up in an information rack in the restaurant lobby.

"Carson, what would you like to see while we are here in Vegas?"

"Me mum was an enormous fan of Liberace; she adored his dazzling smile, as she called it, and his glittery, elaborate costumes. She would play his records for hours on end, had a framed photograph of him sitting on the piano. I'd like to visit his museum and find a nice souvenir for her."

"Okay, we can do that; Rodney?" When Rodney only stared blankly at him, he pushed a brochure on the Atomic Testing Museum across the table toward the doctor, "Interested?"

Sheppard was amused as he watched Rodney's face go from disinterest to quite interested, "So, that's yes, right?" Rodney only nodded, still reading the brochure.

"Ronon; as for the two of us, you and I are going to have fun at the Stratosphere Tower. There is a ride there that you might like since you liked this morning so much, it's time for another thrill."

Their food arrived and all of them dug into the delicious fare. Sheppard was cutting another bite of chicken fried steak when he noticed Carson watching him, "Doc, what?"

"I finally believe that you are feeling better; for the last few days, you've ordered food but mostly pushed it around the plate when it arrived, eating very little. I was concerned about how much nutrition you were getting; however, today, you are eating with gusto, and that makes me very happy."

"Thanks for not nagging me about eating; truth was I didn't feel like eating. That's not the case, today; I told you that I felt better."

About thirty minutes later, the well-sated group of friends got back into the Rover, heading for the Atomic Testing Museum, which was further down Flamingo Road. As they walked into the museum, Sheppard told Rodney that he had one hour. Rodney immediately began to complain but Sheppard repeated, one hour.

They began the tour watching a short video about the Nevada Test Site and how it began, then proceeded through the galleries. Ronon enjoyed the Atomic Age Gallery that showed a lot of the pop-culture of the atomic era, then they watched a 10-minute video, which was highly interactive. The room they were in gave them the experience of being close to a bomb blast, featuring bursts of hot air, thunderous sounds, and strong vibrations. Rodney wanted to stay longer, but reluctantly, agreed to leave after buying a couple of books in the gift shop.

Sheppard headed back east on Flamingo and turned on the S. Maryland Parkway, taking them past the University of Nevada Las Vegas campus. The Liberace Foundation and Museum was a couple of blocks from the university. The front of the museum was gaudy but fun…a wavy piano keyboard, surrounding a round stage that held the metal framework of a piano, Liberace's trademark candelabra on top. They wandered his collection of pianos, costumes, and photographs before Carson selected some CD's and a poster for his mother.

Back in the Rover, Sheppard took them back to Las Vegas Boulevard, heading west toward the airport. As they passed the Stratosphere, Rodney asked, "Hey, weren't you planning on stopping there?"

"Going somewhere else first, then we'll come back; so you guys having fun yet? "

Carson answered, somewhat soberly, "I liked the Liberace museum, and me mum will love the CD's, but that Atomic museum was something. What in the world were we trying to do to ourselves."

"All in the name of war and science, Carson; there were bad people around who led to the development of that technology."

Ronon asked, "Those bombs; they the same thing the Genii have?"

Rodney answered, "The Genii's weren't quite so sophisticated but yes, about the same thing. And Sheppard, don't blame the scientists who developed the weapons, the military abused the technology, using it for dominance."

"McKay, really; you want to blame the military for using the bomb? Nobody wanted to use that damn thing, but it stopped the horror in the Pacific. The military did what they had to do to put an end to that war."

"Defend them if you will, but you know as well as I do that the military is still trying to make every feasible scientific discovery into a weapon. I mean scientists try to do good and the military undoes everything. It's…"

Sheppard interrupted him, "I cannot believe that you think all military…."

It was Carson's turn to interrupt, "Lads, enough; we are on vacation, this is not a debate."

Both Sheppard and McKay quickly looked at Carson, then sheepishly at each other. Sheppard sighed deeply, "You're right; we'll leave that discussion for another day."

No one spoke until Sheppard pulled off the street into a parking lot situated in the median. He parked and motioned for everyone to get out.

"Welcome to Las Vegas," Sheppard said, sweeping his arm out toward a sign which was the focus of the small area.

Carson exclaimed, "Oh that is so cool; I've seen this sign in so many movies and pictures." He pulled out his digital camera and began taking pictures of the iconic sign that had come to symbolize the city. They stayed for a few minutes, Carson managing to get another tourist to take a picture of the four of them under the sign.

The Stratosphere was their next stop. A hotel and casino, the Stratosphere was also home to the most recognizable structure of the Vegas skyline, the observation tower. They parked in the garage, then strolled through the lobby and casino area to the elevators that would take them to the observation lounge.

Sheppard paid the admission price and they exited into the indoor observation deck, then out onto the outside deck. It was late afternoon and the light was golden, the wind reminding them of the mountains from the morning. Above them, the Big Shot thrill ride loomed.

"Ronon, up for a ride," Sheppard grinned, pointing to the tower mast.

Ronon looked up at the people strapped into the seats' overhead, dropping rapidly toward them, "Yeah."

Sheppard turned to Rodney and Carson, ''You guys wanna join us?" He laughed as both backed up a couple of steps, shaking their heads vigorously.

When the next group strapped in, Rodney and Carson were watching nervously from the observation deck. When released, the Big Shot catapulted the passengers to the top of the 1,081-foot mast, then back down before being shot back up again. The carrier made two more trips up and back before gently coming to rest.

Sheppard and Ronon exited the ride, appearing as happy as they had on the flightline adventure in the morning. Both were grinning broadly, faces flushed.

"That was awesome," Ronon said, breathlessly.

Sheppard slapped Ronon on the back, "You just pulled 4-G's, buddy, as if you were flying a fighter jet.

Rodney was standing with his arms crossed, "So, I take it, you two enjoyed yourselves."

Sheppard grinned, "Why, yes, Rodney; we certainly did. I have to say one of the most fun things I have done."

Carson was staring at the mast above the tower, "That is one of the scariest things I have ever seen, laddie. There is no way I would ever do that."

Ronon squeezed Carson's shoulder, "You don't know what you're missing, doc."

"Okay, guys; it's nearly 5:00 PM, I vote for going back to the hotel," Sheppard said.

The others concurred, and Sheppard led the way back to the hotel garage. As he pulled the Rover onto Las Vegas Boulevard, he thought what a great day it had been. Silently, he hoped the upcoming evening was just as much fun.

Day Three: Nighttime

John Sheppard walked through the crowded casino toward the Galleria Bar. He had become restless waiting for the others to get ready, and decided to wander down to the lobby. He called Rodney, telling him that he was heading to the bar and would meet them there.

They split up after returning to hotel. It had been a busy but rewarding day; however, Sheppard was exhausted; he hadn't run in a couple of days and the inactivity was catching up with him. He took a two-hour nap, and after waking up, took a long, hot shower. He was getting dressed when Beckett knocked, arriving, as promised, to redress his wound. Beckett had been pleased that he was healing well, then left to check on Ronon's wound. When he spoke to Rodney, the scientist was distracted, said he was working on something and would join them later. Sheppard hoped he wasn't contacting Atlantis. He had elicited a promise from Rodney that he wouldn't call Radek until they were ready to leave Vegas.

Leave Vegas, yeah, he was more than ready to leave Vegas. Even as a young lieutenant on leave, he had never enjoyed more than two to three days of Vegas. Besides, they had done many things that Ronon, Rodney, and he enjoyed; it was time to take Carson Beckett fishing.

Entering the bar, he glanced around, locating a small table surrounded by four chairs and headed for it. A comely server appeared and he ordered a Glenfiddich neat, and relaxed, slouching down in the soft armless chair. He gazed around the room, watching the few patrons, who were in the cozy, quiet bar. Most of the revelers on this holiday weekend were at the more trendy bars, or in the casinos. He liked the quiet jazz combo playing in the corner and the relative solitude of the bar. He was daydreaming about the plans he'd made for Beckett's fishing trip, when a soft voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Excuse me, do you mind if I sit with you while I wait for my sister and her husband? Those men over there keep pestering me for a drink, and I don't want to deal with them."

The voice belonged to a very lovely woman, late thirties – early forties, with short, dark hair, and deep brown eyes that seemed to be pleading with him. He smiled slightly, and motioned for her to sit, as the server approached with his drink.

"No problem, you're welcome to stay here as long as you need. Not to be presumptuous but can I get you a drink?"

She shrugged slightly, "A white wine?" The server nodded and departed for the bartender.

"I'm Michelle, Micki; and thanks, I never like coming to these places alone; people seem to get the wrong ideas."

"I'm John, and a pretty woman walking into a bar unaccompanied in Vegas, or anywhere that matter, always gets someone's attention. There are jerks everywhere."

She blushed slightly at his pretty woman comment, "Yeah, there are definitely jerks, everywhere. Normally, I wouldn't have come down alone, but my sister and brother-in-law were on Skype talking to their kids. I decided to leave them 'oohing and awing' over their son and daughter's latest drawings; so, I made my escape. What brings you to this bar alone, John?

The server quickly returned with her drink. Sheppard waited to answer until she left, "I got a bit impatient waiting for my friends to get organized to come down for dinner."

"So, you're here with friends; how nice. Do you come to Vegas often?"

"No, don't have much opportunity to take time off; haven't been here in a long time."

"But you have been here before?" When Sheppard nodded, she continued, "Maybe you could give us some pointers for things to do here. We just arrived today and none of us has been here before. Maybe you could join us for dinner?" She stumbled over her words, "I mean you and…your friends."

Sheppard swallowed, sitting in front of him was a very nice, and pretty, woman, who obviously had an interest in him. He wasn't going to deny that he found her attractive and wouldn't mind getting to know her better, but that couldn't happen. The need now was to let her down gently.

"I doubt I am qualified to be a tour guide. I imagine that the concierge desk can give you some great ideas of things to do around here, besides gambling. My friends and I are leaving tomorrow, so we won't be much good as tour guides."

He watched as she deflated a tiny bit but recovered quickly. A good trait, he would definitely like to get to know her better, in another life. She took a large gulp of her wine, downing nearly half of it before she continued. As she replied, he saw Carson entering the bar.

"Well, our loss, my brother-in-law couldn't find his way out of the hotel without a map, but he's a good guy, so we overlook it. Yes, I'll check with the concierge for some tips."

Carson walked up, "Colonel, who's your lovely friend?" Carson's smile was wide and mischievous.

"Carson, this is Micki; Micki, this is Carson."

"Nice to meet you, Carson." She looked at Sheppard, looking surprised, "Colonel?"

"Yeah, Air Force," he admitted.

"No wonder you don't have much time to visit Vegas."

Before Sheppard could reply, a couple, who had just entered the bar, called out Micki's name. Picking up her wine, she rose, "There's my sister; thank you, John, for the drink. Hope you and your friends enjoy your trip; bye." She walked away, both men watching her.

"John, did I interrupt something?" Carson was looking at him, still with that mischievous smile that was not quite as wide as before.

Sheppard threw him an annoyed look, "No; you didn't."

Carson sat down, "Well, laddie…I should have been interrupting something. You need to have a little diversion."

"We talked about this, Carson, before we ever left San Francisco, and we all agreed. We would avoid any romantic liaisons on this trip. It isn't fair; we can't continue a relationship here; and none of us cares for one-night stands. Besides, eventually, we are going to be a bit far away to go to dinner or the movies, or be with anyone here. Best we just stay away from those kinds of attachments."

"Aye, laddie, I know all the reasons; but that doesn't make it any less tempting or difficult to walk away from."

"Yeah, tell me about it," Sheppard sighed, watching as the lovely Micki left the bar with her family, very difficult indeed.

Carson ordered a scotch, and the two men sat in the quiet bar, waiting for Ronon and Rodney to join them. After about twenty minutes, Sheppard was reaching for his phone to call them, when the phone beeped.

"Finally, it's Rodney," he said to Carson.

"Rodney, where the hell are you?" He listened, then began to rise, "We'll be right there."

"Come on, Carson; Ronon's got a little problem outside his room," Sheppard said, as he began to walk quickly toward the entrance. Confused and concerned, Carson followed.

They ran off the elevator on their floor, to hear Rodney sputtering, "What the hell is your problem?" Down the hall, Rodney was pinned against the wall with his hands behind his back; Sheppard noticed his phone lying on the floor next to him. Four young men surrounded Ronon, two of them grasping Ronon's arms tightly. The young men from the pool. One of them, the one nearly as tall as Ronon, was taunting the Satedan, who was angry but not resisting.

"So, not so quick to show off here, when it's just us guys are you…you freak." He drew back and punched Ronon in the gut. "You made us look like fucking fools in front of our girls, and all they can talk about now is how handsome you are, what a gorgeous body you have, and how we look like ninety-eight pound weaklings next to you. I think we need to teach you a lesson not to mess with other guys' girls."

Ronon, who appeared unfazed by the blow to his abdomen, caught Sheppard's eye. The colonel nodded slightly, and Ronon knew he had his friend's permission to end this. He spoke quietly, "You were treating those girls with dishonor, making fun of their ability to play that game. It made you feel superior to them; but you aren't. You're bullies, who were enjoying bullying the women, who thought you cared about them. I just evened the odds."

"Oh…the big caveman with the creepy hair can talk," the ringleader said, as he noticed Sheppard and Carson. "Not even your friends are a match for us, about time we taught you a fucking lesson."

Sheppard shook his, head, "You're making a mistake," but the angry young man didn't listen. He struck out to slam his fist into Ronon's abdomen again, but this time Ronon reacted.

When it was over, all five young guys were lying on the corridor floor. Sheppard was helping Rodney to his feet, having dispatched the kid, who had held him, while Ronon stood in the middle of the pile, shaking his head, sloughing off his anger. Beckett began to check the prone young men, who were stunned.

Sheppard dropped to his heels next to the young man who started the fracas, "You should have quit while you were ahead. You are not now, and never will be, a match for this man physically or in any other way. You can learn something from this; you can learn to treat the women in your life better. If you do, even Ronon couldn't turn their heads." Sheppard chuckled, "Well, he might turn their heads, but they'd still like you better. Don't think they are going to like you very much after this."

As he stood up, Sheppard saw hotel security rushing to the scene. One of the security officers, walked up to him, "There a problem here?"

Beckett continued checking the guys, who were slowly getting on their feet as Sheppard answered, "No, no problem; a bit of a misunderstanding, but it's over. The kids were just confused about something, but they get it now, right guys?"

The tall one, who had confronted Ronon, took a deep breath, then answered, "We were wrong, everything's cool"

The security officer looked incredulous, but said, "Okay, let's everyone clear this hall." He walked over to the young men who were now standing together, "I remember you guys from last night, you got a little rowdy, and we had to talk to you. When are you checking out?" One of the young men mumbled 'tomorrow' and the security guy continued, laying out the ground rules for allowing them to stay in the hotel.

Sheppard motioned for his team to follow him, and they took the elevator to the lobby. The only talking done by Beckett asking Ronon if he was all right, the doctor's question was met with a stony stare.

Sheppard announced he was hungry and wanted southwestern food, as they got off the elevator, and they walked through the casino toward Mesa Grill. He'd made reservations at 9:00 PM prior to going to the bar, giving Rodney plenty of time; now they were almost late.

They'd ordered and were waiting for their food. Sheppard noticed Ronon looking around, "Still impressed with the décor, Ronon?"

Ronon nodded and Sheppard had to agree; the burled wood, and sleek contemporary lines of the restaurant were very pleasing, more so the food. They consumed several appetizers, then great entrees; sated once more, the friends left the restaurant headed for the casino.

"Okay, I feel like a poker game, anyone?" Sheppard asked.

"No, no poker for me; you always tell me that I'm horrid at poker. So you go play cards, and I'll play blackjack," Rodney quickly replied.

Carson offered, "I'll stay with him and try to keep him out of trouble, John."

"Okay," Sheppard walked ahead, then remembered he had Rodney's phone that he picked up from the hallway floor. "Hey, McKay, here…you forgot this." Carson caught the phone when Rodney missed it.

Sheppard headed for the poker room, Ronon electing to stay with the colonel. The pit boss directed Sheppard to an empty seat at a table playing a game that he was interested in, while Ronon leaned against the wall, content to watch the action.

Carson and Rodney wandered through the casino. Rodney kept looking at the blackjack table, longingly. After walking around for fifteen minutes, Carson's patience wore thin, "Okay, you go play blackjack, but do not get into trouble. Try not to count cards; I don't want to get thrown out of this hotel."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to play craps or roulette, not certain. Just meet me back here in a couple of hours." As Rodney started to walk away, Carson said, "And stay out of trouble."

With a wave of his hand, dismissing Carson's words, Rodney walked away toward the blackjack tables.

Over two hours later, Rodney found Carson, in the Sea Horse Bar. The doctor was having a drink with two women, who seemed to be laughing at whatever story a very animated Carson was telling them.

"Carson, finally, I've been searching for you everywhere for the last twenty minutes. Did you forget where we were going to meet? Never mind, I want to cash out my chips," he flashed an impish grin, "let's go."

"Rodney, you are being a cheeky bastard, be polite, say hello to Sally and Maureen; they're from Minnesota."

"Hello," Rodney tossed out a weak greeting, then turned back to Carson, "Come on, Carson; I need to cash in my chips, and we need to find Sheppard and Ronon."

"Ah, Rodney, the wee lads are fine, go cash in your chips, and come back and join us for a drink." Carson was grinning, his eyes slightly glassy.

"I think you've probably had too much to drink, come on."

"No, you come back and join us, we're having a nice chat, and besides, Maureen here teaches high school science, you two have something in common."

"Sorry, but what could I possibly have in common with a high school teacher. Are you coming or not?"

Carson just stared at him, and Rodney stared back, then throwing his hands up, said, "Fine; I'll go cash in my chips and catch up with you later."

Carson sheepishly apologized to his companions and they continued their conversation. Ten minutes later, the Las Vegas police burst through the front door of the hotel, rushing toward the Palace Casino area. Carson stood up, a feeling of dread evident on his face; the police were running toward the area where Rodney had gone.

"Excuse me, ladies, but I have to go check on my friend." Before they could reply, Carson was on his way out of the bar.

The main lobby area of the hotel and the front of the Palace Casino was full of police and hotel security. Officers guarded the main entrance, not allowing anyone in or out of the hotel. Carson pushed his way through the crowd toward one of the police officers.

"What's going on?"

"Sir, you'll have to step back."

"I'm not going anywhere laddie, until I know what's happening here. My friend was headed to the cashier's window about ten minutes ago; I need to know that he's alright."

The officer paused, then said, "Come with me."

Pushing their way through the crowd, the officer told him to wait. Walking over to a man in a suit, he whispered to the man, who nodded and followed the officer back to where Carson stood.

"I'm Detective Hank Marshall, LVPD; you say your friend was at the cashier's window?" Carson said yes, and the detective continued, "Who are you and what's your friend's name? Can you describe your friend for me?"

"I am Dr. Carson Beckett, my friend's name is Dr. Rodney McKay; he's about average height and weight, not skinny, light brown hair with a receding hairline, blue eyes. Detective, what's going on, has something happened to him?"

"I'm afraid, doctor, that matches the description of a man who was taken hostage a few minutes ago."

"Hostage, Rodney been taken hostage? Where is he?"

"Right now, we don't know."

"You don't know? How could you not know?"

"Right now, doctor, you need to let us do our job. I want you to stay right here, I'll be back with you."

"No, I have to tell Colonel Sheppard; he's in the poker room, I'll get him and we'll be back in a minute." Carson didn't wait for the detective's answer, or realize that the detective sent the officer with him. He only wanted to get to Sheppard as soon as possible.

Carson was nearly at a run by the time he negotiated the crowded casino and entered the poker room. He stopped abruptly and the police officer bumped into him; Carson whirled around.

"Sorry sir, the detective sent me with you. Where's your friend?"

Carson spun back around, his eyes darting around the room until he spotted Ronon leaning against the wall. Carson hurried toward Ronon, then saw Sheppard sitting at a table, a large pile of chips in front of him.

"Colonel, colonel…"

At the sound of a familiar voice, Sheppard and Ronon looked over, to see Carson running toward them. Sheppard, who had already thrown in his hand for the round, stood up quickly and he and Ronon rushed to meet Carson. The fact that a police officer was with Carson, wasn't lost on Sheppard.

"Colonel, colonel, Rodney's in trouble, he…"

Carson's words were running together, and Sheppard grabbed his shoulders, "Slow down; what's happened to Rodney?"

Carson seemed unable to tell Sheppard, and the colonel looked at the officer, "What's happened?"

"Sir, there's been a robbery in the casino, and apparently, your friend was taken hostage."

Sheppard glanced at Ronon and then at Carson, "It's okay, Carson. We'll find him; let's go."

Sheppard led the way, as they headed for the main casino floor. When they reached the secured area, the officer pointed out Detective Marshall to Sheppard.

The colonel approached him, "Detective; I'm Colonel John Sheppard, US Air Force, Dr. McKay is a member of my team. What's happened here?

"Detective Hank Marshall," he held out his hand, and the men shook, "Colonel; we don't have a lot of information as of yet. It appears there has been a robbery at the cashiers' cage. The perps got away, taking three casino workers and a guest with them. From the description, the doctor gave us the guest may have been your friend, uh…" he looked at his notepad, "Dr. McKay. Apparently, he walked up to cashiers' window and spotted something wrong. A witness said the man yelled something like, "what the hell are you doing.' The witness said another man outside the cashier's window put a gun in his back, and hustled him through that access door that leads to the non-public areas of the hotel."

"Where are they?" Sheppard asked. His voice was even, but very measured; anyone who knew him, would realize that his tone reflected cold fury.

"We don't have any idea, colonel; I can assure you that we have a lot of people looking."

"We have an idea." The group turned to see another detective approaching, "At least, we know what happened to the hostages when they exited the hotel."

Marshall introduced the new arrival as Detective Everett Burton, who continued. "Caesars' security cameras show they were thrown into a black limo that was waiting at the VIP entrance, on Flamingo Road. We're beginning to check all traffic cams to see what direction they took from there. Roadblocks are being set up on all roads leading out of the city, and we've notified the Highway patrol. Trouble is they left in a limo; not like there aren't a few of them around."

Sheppard said, "Detectives, we'll help to search for him."

Marshall stepped closer to Sheppard, the tall detective looking Sheppard in the eye, "No, colonel; you won't, the Air Force has no jurisdiction here. Besides, you fly airplanes, you are hardly qualified to do my job."

Both Carson and Ronon tensed waiting to see how Sheppard would react to the not so subtle put-down from the Vegas detective. Sheppard didn't blink, "Detective; you have no idea how valuable Dr. McKay is to the security of this country. His safety and that of the other hostages, is my only concern; you can play with the bad guys all you want. I get enough of that in my job." He pulled the detective's notebook and pen from his hand and scribbled some numbers on the pad. "This is Dr. McKay's cell phone number, see if you can get a GPS lock, the other number is mine. I expect to be updated constantly."

Sheppard abruptly turned and walked away, catching Ronon and Carson off guard. Ronon reacted faster than Carson, who was still standing next to Marshall. He heard Marshall mutter under his breath, "Who the fuck does that asshole think he is?"

Carson answered, "That is Colonel John Sheppard, United States Air Force, and you don't want to mess with him, laddie; consider yourself warned." He hurried to catch up with his friends, leaving the detective glaring at them as they walked away.

Sheppard was impatiently punching the elevator call-button when Ronon, then Carson, caught up with him. Carson had seen the colonel extremely angry, but there was intensity to his demeanor that he hadn't witnessed before.

"John, I…this is my fault. I was having a drink with a couple of ladies, and Rodney wanted me to go with him to the cashiers; I refused. Maybe if I had…" He paused as Sheppard looked at him, his hand raised for Carson to stop.

"No, this is not your fault; if you had gone with Rodney, you could both be hostages or worse. If anyone's at fault here, it's me for thinking we could possibly have a good time without finding trouble."

The elevator arrived and they rode to their floor in silence. Sheppard slipped his keycard from his inside jacket pocket and entered his suite. He hurried into the bedroom, where he pulled the gun locker from his closet.

As he handed Ronon a 9-mil, he said, "Don't say it, Chewie; next time, you bring your blaster." He then handed Carson a 9-mil, grabbed his weapon, and Rodney's from the locker, and slipped them both in his belt. He tucked a couple of extra clips in his jacket pockets, putting the rest into a satchel he handed to Ronon.

"Sheppard, what's the plan?" Ronon asked, as he slung the satchel across his chest.

"First, we have to get clearance to be involved in the search for Rodney. I need to call in a favor." He sat down on the couch, and punched in a number. "This is Colonel John Sheppard, authorization 3258772107. I need a secure line." He waited for a few seconds, then punched in another number, speaking almost immediately, "This is Colonel Sheppard, I need to speak to General Landry."

Fifteen minutes later, after Sheppard received a return call from the general, they headed downstairs. Detective's Marshall and Burton were talking to witnesses outside of the cashiers' window. Inside, a forensics team was combing thought the room for clues. Sheppard knew that Marshall was aware he was there, but wouldn't acknowledge him.

Ronon was impatient, "Sheppard, we just going to wait here?" Sheppard only nodded in reply, continuing to stare at Marshall.

When Marshall's phone rang, Carson noted a slight smile cross Sheppard's face. He looked at the detective who was now openly staring at Sheppard, and he didn't look happy. Marshall finished his call, and walked toward them.

"The chief of police just received a call from the Secretary of Defense, who informed him that you are to be included in this investigation. In fact, the secretary suggested that you run this investigation. At least, the chief of police saw fit to keep that from happening. I don't know who the fuck you are, but if you want to be involved, you're involved. But you better remember that this is my case, and I make the decisions."

Sheppard's voice was low, raspy, "Detective; I am not your enemy. I only want my friend and colleague, and the other hostages back safely."

Marshall glared into Sheppard's eyes for a few seconds, then said, "I'm headed to Caesar's security office to look at the cameras. You can come if you want." He turned, briskly walking away.

Sheppard moved to follow the detective, but Ronon stopped him, "You gonna let him call the shots on this?"

Sheppard replied somberly, "No; we find Rodney."

Rodney McKay was lying on the floorboard of a stretch limousine that he was unceremoniously thrown into after being hustled out of the hotel. His arms were tied behind his back and his feet bound; a piece of duct tape stretched across his mouth. He heard whimpering, first wondering if he was making the sound. Hearing the whimper again, he realized it was coming from a woman, who was similarly tied, but was lying on a seat. He rolled around as best he could, to see another woman lying on the opposite seat. In the dim light filtering through the darkened windows, he could tell the second woman's eyes were wide, filled with fear.

The limo had stopped approximately five minutes before. He heard the creaking of car doors opening, then felt them slam shut. As he attempted to slow his breathing, he wondered if they had been abandoned, and whether they would be found. He bounced his head against the floor in frustration and anger at himself. If he had listened to Carson, and joined the doctor for a drink, he wouldn't be here.

He sighed deeply, wondering why the hell he couldn't have taken time to relax. Did he really say 'what would he possibly have in common with a high school teacher' in front of her? He was thankful Sheppard hadn't heard that, he would have chewed his ass off for being so rude. Not that Carson would ever allow him to forget it; the Scot would probably have a few choice words for him.

His thoughts were racing, when the car door opened, startling him. Huge hands reached for him and dragged him from the limo, depositing him on his stomach onto a hard, rough surface. Minutes later, the two women were lying beside him. Blindfolds were placed across their eyes before they were rolled over.

A high-pitched male voice shattered the silence, "What the fuck are we going to do with them, Jessie? We just fucking kidnapped three people."

"Moron, don't use names, I swear you are a fucking idiot. We may need these people; we didn't exactly escape the casino without being noticed. The cops found out quicker than we thought they would." This man's accent placed him from the Boston area.

A female voice joined the conversation, seething with anger, "If you had done what I told you, you wouldn't have gotten in this situation. I was watching for people to come up to the windows, but you weren't paying attention. Little Dana here got your blood boiling, and you were fixated on her. That idiot saw your gun, and that why we had to grab him. Because of you stupidly talking to me about him, we had to take the girls, and blew our plans of having the police think I was the only hostage. Honestly, I ought to kill you right here."

Boston said, "Listen, bitch, we got the money, it's being loaded in the van. We're keeping these three as bargaining chips. If we make it until the plane arrives without being found, we'll dump them on the side of the road."

"We just kidnapped three people, you fucking idiot, killing 'em won't make a difference. Where's B?" she asked, not wanting to say his full name.

"He's on his way to the ranch. He dumped his car and picked up the SUV."

"Okay, get changed and get that truck loaded. I'm taking the car, and heading for the ranch," the woman said. Rodney heard the sound of footsteps fading away.

Boston spoke again, "Idiot, check his pockets; if you find a cell phone, throw it away."

Rough hands searched his pockets, finding his cell phone; the sound of plastic hitting the floor told Rodney the phone had been tossed away. Idiot also found the cache of chips in his jacket pocket. Rodney heard him laughed, then he whispered, "Nice little haul here, I think I'll keep them for the next time I'm in Vegas."

About fifteen minutes passed before the hostages were thrown into a vehicle of some sort. Something lumpy was under Rodney's back; he suspected it might be stacks of money. Right before the doors slammed shut, he heard Boston say, "We'll drive to the ranch and lie low there for a couple of days. Once things have died down, we fly to Mexico."

As the buzzer sounded and the doors into Caesars' main surveillance center opened for them to enter, Sheppard immediately thought of the banks of monitors in the main science lab on Atlantis. The darkened room covered with monitors was about the same size as the Atlantis lab, but the screens here displayed visuals from every corner of the hotel.

Detective Burton, who introduced Dane Rogers, Caesars' head of security to Sheppard, spoke, "Rogers just told me that one of his security monitor techs, Bill Penn, has disappeared. Penn told the tech next to him he was feeling sick and ran toward the corridor leading to the bathroom. There is also a staircase in that direction; we are assuming he fled the hotel. His assignment tonight was to monitor the screens from the cashiers' cage."

"So, you think he was in on it?" Detective Marshall asked.

Rogers answered, "We think so; from what we've put together here, there were only three cashiers on duty when the man was taken from the lobby. That is considerably fewer than the number of cashiers, who should be on duty. The four men, who were in there, were very careful to keep their heads down and not appear on any of the several cameras in the room. They are wearing cashier uniforms, but no one recognized them from the limited view we had. Besides, they all disappeared at the time the hostages were taken."

Sheppard asked, "Who could arrange for only three cashiers to be on duty?"

Marshall threw Sheppard an angry glare but kept quiet as Rogers answered, "The supervisor on duty handles the schedule, which shows a full crew. We found three of them on break together, unusual because only two are allowed to be on break at the same time. The others are not in the hotel; we've begun contacting them. We spoke to one so far, he's on the schedule but said the supervisor game him the night off."

Marshall asked quickly, "Supervisor's name?"

Burton answered, "I have that info already, Hank. The head cashier's name is Marcella Ponci, 36; she's been with Caesar's for five years, night supervisor for seven months. I called dispatch to send officers to her address; no call back yet."

Sheppard spoke again, "You have Dr. McKay's abduction on tape?" Rogers nodded and directed them to a large monitor on the right side of the room, and motioned for the tech to start the video.

They watched as four men, dressed as cashiers entered through the secure door at the rear of the cashier's area. Three men immediately approached the three cashiers who were on duty; the three women straightened a bit as the men spoke to them, but their expressions didn't change. The fourth man pulled several bags from a bin that was stored in a cabinet and distributed the bags. Hastily, they proceeded to fill the bags with the money from the three open drawers, and the drawers in the closed cashiers' windows.

Marshall asked, "Which one is Ponci?" Rogers pointed out the strawberry blond sitting in the far right window.

Once they emptied the drawers, one of them men pulled a gun from under his shirt. Rogers said, "This is a second or two before the time stamp on the other camera when the hostage walked up to the window." He spoke to the tech, "Rack up camera 15."

The view from camera 15 was from outside the cashiers' cage, showing the lobby area directly in front of the cashiers' windows. They could see the three women sitting at the cash windows and the four men moving around behind them. About ten seconds into the video, Rodney McKay walked into the picture, approaching the first window where Ponci was sitting. McKay reacted when he apparently spotted the gun, Ponci left the window, and a man appeared behind McKay. The man moved extremely close to McKay, and the two men disappeared to the left and out of range of that camera. Another view of McKay walking to the window followed, and from that vantage point, they could see the gun pressed against McKay's back. The gunman pressed the keypad next to the door leading to the back areas of the hotel, and the two men disappeared through the door. The third tape showed one man talking to Marcella. They appeared to be arguing, while the other two cashiers were grabbed and taken out the back. The next tape was a view of the VIP entrance next along Flamingo Road. There were three limousines in view, parked along the curb. The last was a black stretch limo with the lights on. Several people entered the view, the four men who were holding on to two of the female cashiers, one lone female, and McKay and the gunman. They all got in and the limo sped away.

Ronon was leaning against the outer edge of the horseshoe bank of monitors, and Sheppard heard him say something in Czech, under his breath. Radek Zelenka had jokingly taught Ronon to cuss in Czech late one night in the mess. Sheppard sighed; he wished Ronon didn't need that now. He glanced at Beckett, who he found staring at him.

"Carson, you okay?"

"No, colonel, I am not; we have to find him."

"Don't worry; he's alive, and we are going to find him."

Sheppard reached in the inside pocket of his jacket, pulling out a small card, "Carson, here; go to the valet stand and have the car brought down, tell the valet it's an emergency and you need the car immediately. Stay with it…if security gives you any trouble, tell them Mr. Rogers said it was okay for you to stay there while you're waiting. I'm going to see if our crack police detective has any results from the GPS search on Rodney's phone."

Carson took off, and Sheppard walked toward Marshall, dampening his anger. He knew that the detective was extremely angry with him, but he frankly didn't care. However, Landry had made it clear that he was to cooperate with the police; so for now, he'd cooperate, unless they got in the way of rescuing Rodney.

"Marshall, how's that GPS search going?"

Burton reacted nervously, which concerned Sheppard that Marshall hadn't followed up on the phone number. He took another step closer to the detective, "Marshall; I gave you McKay's number nearly forty-five minutes ago, what's the result?"

Marshall glared at him, and pulled out his phone, making a call, "Jack, anything yet on that phone number I gave you? I'll wait." He waited for few minutes before he got an answer then hung up. "Nothing yet, and colonel, I'm not vindictive. I called that number in; the phone is apparently not working."

"Crap, Rodney probably turned it off when he was playing blackjack." Sheppard rubbed the back of his neck, "Any word on the road blocks?"

Marshall shook his head, "Nothing; HP has cars on the major ramps on all the freeways, LVPD is covering all the major streets but hell, looking for a limo that looks like every other limo on a holiday weekend, without a license plate number, it's impossible. Even if we get good surveillance from the traffic cams as they left the hotel, we'll probably lose them in traffic when we switch between cameras."

"Luck seems to be something we're out of at this point."

"I was about to head over to Marcella Ponci's condo to see if we can find anything useful." Marshall didn't appear that he wanted to say the next words, but he did, "You're welcome to come along."

Sheppard nodded and he and Ronon followed the detectives out of the security department. They were in the casino heading for the front door, when Marshall's phone rang. He listened, then turned to Sheppard. "McKay's phone just turned on and it's active. He's at a warehouse about five miles out of town."

The group hurried out of the hotel. Sheppard spotted the Rover and headed toward it. Marshall called back to him, "You can come with us."

Sheppard replied as Beckett slipped out of the driver's seat and got in the back, "I can drive as well as fly; we'll follow you."

They treaded their way through the heavy Vegas traffic, assisted by police cruisers with lights and sirens going. Eventually, they started going through an industrial area and then through a residential area and into open terrain with only a scattering of houses and businesses along the road. The convoy kicked up speed and within a few minutes, the cruisers turned off their sirens and lights. They journeyed another half-mile, a large structure outlined in the moonlight coming into view.

A rusty sign that said 'Howard's Trucking' hung crookedly over a doorway that had office painted on the glass panes that formed the top of the door. A couple of bicycles were lying on the ground next to the office door. Double sets of large garage doors filled the near side of the building.

Marshall sent two police officers, to recon the building. They returned within a few minutes; they found a locked rear door, and a window into a very large garage. The officers reported a lone vehicle inside, a black limousine.

As Marshall laid out the assault plan, Sheppard and Ronon both pulled their weapons. Marshall stopped in mid-sentence, glaring at Sheppard, "Just what do you think you're doing?"

"We're going in with you."

"No, no you're not."

Sheppard bit his lower lip before he spoke, quelling his anger once more, "Marshall, don't make me have the Secretary of Defense call your boss again. We're going in with you."

Marshall was pissed, but he just shook his head, "Your funeral, but don't you dare get any of my men hurt." He turned away, ordering his men into place.

Sheppard looked at Carson, who also had his weapon in his hand, "You stay out here, Carson."

"No, laddie; he's my friend, too."

Sheppard dropped his head, sighing deeply. He wasn't going to convince Carson to stay, and he didn't want to order him, "Just stay behind Ronon." Carson nodded and they got in position to enter the building.

The front door was unlocked; Marshall and Burton entered first with Sheppard, then Ronon, followed by Beckett. There was a closed door across the room, which led to a corridor that spilled into a large garage. The light was coming from there.

The men slipped up the passageway; Marshall stopped at the entrance to the garage, Sheppard behind him. Marshall whispered, "The limo's parked close to the front side of the building." Over his radio, he told the two police officers at the rear door to go on his mark, told the other two to wait until they opened the garage doors. He whispered, "Now," and they burst into the large open garage.

The limo sat near the front and was the only vehicle in the garage. Checking the front seat, which was empty, they moved cautiously toward the passenger door. Once everyone was in place, Burton reached for the door handle and flung open the passenger door. Inside, two very frightened boys around twelve, screamed as four weapons were aimed at them. Hastily, Marshall yelled for everyone to stand down, and motioned for the boys to exit.

Shakily, the boys climbed out of the limo, and Carson immediately began to attempt to calm them down. One of the boys was holding a cell phone, and Carson asked to see it. He turned it over to Sheppard; the phone was working, but the case was cracked along one corner.

"McKay's," Sheppard said, and passed it to Marshall, who had donned a pair of gloves. He then turned to the boys, "What are your names?"

The shorter of the two boys said, "I'm Pedro; he's Tim."

"Pedro, where did you find the phone?" The boy looked past Sheppard and pointed to a large metal box sitting near the far wall. Marshall headed that way.

Carson smiled at the boys, who were trembling, "Now calm down, you lads are not in any trouble. What are ya doing out at this time of the morning?"

The boys looked at each other, then Tim answered, "We're not supposed to be out; our parents' think we're staying at each other's house. We thought it would be fun to stay out all night."

Sheppard smiled, "Yeah, I've done that before; when I was about your age. Tell me, did you see anything else, did you see anyone around here, any other cars, people?"

"We were down the road looking in the window of the roadhouse, just to see what was going on inside. A big black limo went past us really fast and looked like it turned in here. We waited a while, there looked like there was going to be fight at the roadhouse. We wanted to see it, but it didn't happen."

Pedro jumped in, "So we decided to come down here and see what the limo was doing, this place has been empty for a long time. The garage doors were coming down as we got here."

"Did you see any vehicles?"

"A really cool sports car passed us before we got here, and…" Tim interrupted Pedro.

"It was a Ferrari; red, I think. We checked the door; it was open, so we snuck inside. We heard voices but we got scared 'cause one of the men sounded mean. Then the garage doors went up and what sounded like a truck left, then we heard the doors closed."

"Yeah," Pedro said, "that's when we came in here and saw the limo. Tim opened the car doors and I found the phone. We were trying to see if we could get on the internet with it."

"Thanks boys, you did good." Sheppard smiled at them, and walked over to join Marshall.

"We need to look for a red sports car, the kids think it was a Ferrari and they said some kind of truck left here."

"Did they say which way they were going?" Burton asked.

"The sports car was headed back toward Vegas; the kids don't have any idea which way the truck went." Sheppard was standing with his hands on his hips, his fingers tapping, chewing on his lower lip. Both Carson and Ronon knew that look, the colonel was thinking. Marshall simply thought he was frustrated.

"Look, Sheppard, I know you're upset about this, but we'll get bolos out on both vehicles, including all the surrounding states. We'll find them."

"We will find them; I have an idea." He whirled around and headed back down the hallway they had entered through, Ronon and Carson on his heels.

Rodney McKay was a very unhappy man. He had been bouncing on top of lumpy bags, with two women rolling on top of him. At one point, when both women were on top of him, he thought, yeah, McKay; your fantasy with two women is not exactly what you thought it would be. He was pretty certain that thought was permanently out of his head. He had lost track of time, but he felt as though they'd been traveling for an eternity, but he suspected it was closer to two hours.

He was frightened, petrified to be exact, for himself and the two young women with him. The bastards who kidnapped them had nothing to lose, and if they were cornered…; he didn't want to think about that.

The van took a sharp right turn, and he was bouncing as the van quickly sped down an extremely rough road. The smaller of the two women with him, flew into the air when they hit a particularly hard bump, and hit her head on the side of the van. She moaned deeply and Rodney was angry; he felt helpless, she was injured, and he couldn't do anything to help her. They drove down the road for quite a while before the van came to a stop. The doors opened and they were pulled out of the van and dropped onto the rough ground. The only thought going through his head was the fact that Sheppard wouldn't give up until he found him. He just hoped he was alive to know when they rescued him.

By the time, Ronon and Carson caught up with Sheppard, the colonel was reciting his authorization code; then asking for General Landry. They waited.

Sheppard heard a click on the line, and then Landry voiced boomed through the phone, "Sheppard, did you find McKay?"

"No, sir; we found his phone and where he may have been held, but we were too late. Apparently, he and the other hostages have been moved. Sir, I need a favor."

"Sheppard, am I going to hate this?"

"I hope not, sir."

"What…just tell me."

"Sir, I need some assistance from whatever ship is closest to us right now."

Sheppard gritted his teeth as Landry said, "Ship, one of our ships?"

"Yes, sir; it's the only way to find McKay quickly, and general, there are two innocent women with him. Ship's sensors can pick up Rodney's transponder, and we can go rescue him."

"Well, at least you didn't ask me to have them pluck him out of wherever he is, because that I won't do; national security…the President would have my hide."

"No, sir; we'll get him, I just need to know where he is."

"Hang on, Sheppard."

Sheppard was pacing, waiting for Landry to come back on the line. He glanced at Carson and Ronon, who were leaning against the Rover, and shrugged. His patience was near a breaking point by the time Landry came back on the line.

"Sheppard, the Daedalus is currently on a check-out run after engine repairs, but they are still in the solar system. Caldwell says he'll be over Nevada in approximately one hour and twenty-seven minutes. When he's in synchronous orbit above you, I'll have him patched into your phone."

"General, thank you."

"Don't thank me, colonel; find McKay, and, for goodness sakes, try to stay out of trouble for the rest of your leave, will you?"

"Yes, sir," Sheppard replied. He slipped the phone in his jacket pocket, and joined Ronon and Carson.

"Caldwell will be here in about an hour and a half; we'll know where Rodney is then. Come on; let's tell Marshall, what we can tell him."

Rodney heard heavy footsteps approaching. He was lying on the ground exactly where they left him when dumped from the stopped vehicle. His heart was racing; he was afraid that he'd been abandoned on the side of the road, but to his relief, the vehicle never started up again. As the footsteps got closer, he sensed there was more than one person coming toward him.

Boston's gruff voice shattered the silence, "Cut those ropes on his legs, and get his ass up; I'm tired of carrying him. Get him and the girls into the house, take 'em to that back room."

Hands grabbed Rodney's legs, cut the ropes, and pulled him to his feet. He was wobbly, his legs cramping from being bound for a couple of hours, but he managed to stand. He was shoved from behind, and told to move. He stumbled as he attempted to walk, but someone caught him before he hit the ground.

"Geez, walk you son of a bitch; I'm not carrying your sorry ass anymore." The voice belonged to Idiot.

Rodney was led into a building, stumbling over the threshold, which elicited a blow to his back from his guide, who yelled, "Watch where you're going."

All Rodney could think was what a moron Idiot was, the blindfold he was wearing made it a tad difficult for him to see where he was going.

Idiot dragged Rodney down what he assumed must be a hallway, since he bounced into close walls on each side more than once, then Idiot shoved him through a doorway. He gingerly walked into the room, but walked into something, banging up his shins. Grunting he tried to take a step back, but he bumped into someone, who shoved him. Rodney fell onto a soft surface but rolled across hit hitting his head against a wall. The last thing he remembered was Idiot yelling, "I swear; this stupid son-of-a-bitch is an idiot."

Marshall ordered a forensics' unit to check out the garage, and they had returned to the Las Vegas Police Station. When they walked in, the desk sergeant, who was on duty the night Rodney and Carson had been detained, greeted Sheppard with a 'welcome back.' A gesture noticed by Marshall, who cast the colonel a quizzical glance.

As they walked through the department toward Marshall's office, Beckett asked where he could get a cup of coffee. Burton offered to take him to the break room, and Sheppard motioned for Ronon to accompany Beckett.

As he settled in a chair in Marshall's office, he glanced at his watch, still forty-one minutes to go. He looked up to see Marshall staring at him.

Marshall asked, "How much longer until your people get back to you?"

"About forty minutes," Sheppard answered, not offering more to the detective. From the look on Marshall's face, he wasn't very satisfied with the explanation that Sheppard had given him, which was none.

"You going to tell me how you can pinpoint where the hostages are with enough confidence that I can send my people out to find them?" Marshall leaned back in his chair, a suspicious look on his face.

"No, I'm not; it's classified."

Marshall guessed, "Satellite? Although I don't see how a satellite could find McKay."

Sheppard just shook his head.

"You know I'm pretty pissed that I have to babysit you."

Sheppard leaned back in the chair, stretching out his legs; his side was aching and he could really use some Advil but that could wait. "Nobody asked you to babysit me, just to allow me to assist in searching for Dr. McKay."

Marshall scoffed, "I've had to deal with VIP's before, after all, this is Vegas. At least, you aren't demanding warm hand towels, or water chilled to a precise temperature."

Sheppard chucked, "Not yet, anyway. Look, we are not VIP's; we just want to find our friend."

"Right, the Secretary of Defense just called to say hi. Hell, I doubt even Lady Gaga has that kind of pull."

Sheppard dropped his head, scratching just above his forehead, "Marshall; we're just Air Force personnel, trying to have a vacation.'

"What was the sergeant talking about, why did he say welcome back?"

"McKay and Beckett stopped an attempted rape a couple of night's ago; they got knocked around a bit. After they were treated at the hospital, they were brought to the station, and Ronon and I picked them up here."

"Been wreaking havoc in my town for a while, huh. I'll say this, you guys are the most unlikely looking group of military I've ever seen. I mean, what did you say McKay was, a physicist? Beckett a medical doctor, and I don't even want to speculate about the big guy. And you, you don't look like an Air Force officer. So what gives?"

"Yeah, I get that a lot, and sorry, your 'what gives' is classified."

Sheppard was rescued from anymore banter with Marshall by the arrival of Carson and Ronon. Ronon handed Sheppard a cup of coffee, while Beckett handed him Advil. Sheppard's slight grin was his only acknowledgement.

Burton rushed into the office, "Hank; the kids were close on the car, the red sports car was a Lamborghini, registered to a Jessie Gianfranco, 48. His address is the same as Marcella Ponci. He's got a rap sheet full of goodies, assault, terroristic threatening, drugs, robbery, spent some quality time in jail in Massachusetts. His parole ended about eight months ago. I've put his photo out along with hers; we're checking for known associates in the area."

The sound of a phone beeping startled them all; it was Sheppard's phone. As he reached into his pocket, he looked at his watch; it was still twenty-four minutes until the Daedalus should be overhead.

"Sheppard," he answered.

"Colonel Sheppard, Sgt. Specter, sir; hold for a secure line," Sheppard jumped up and walked into the hall.

A deep, gruff voice erupted from the phone, "Sheppard, can't do without me, can you?"

"Colonel Caldwell, you're early."

"Yeah, well, you know Landry; he's like an old mother hen. He gently suggested that I push it, and get here as soon as possible; so we pushed it."

"Have you…" Sheppard started to ask, but Caldwell interrupted.

"Yes, we've located McKay's transponder. Marks has cross-referenced the coordinates on a topography map and overlaid that with a road map. He's sending it to the SGC; they should be rerouting the map to your phone any minute. He's about two hours south of you, near the Arizona-California-Nevada border."

"Colonel…thanks…I…"

"No need to say it, just find him safe; and Sheppard, you so owe me."

"We'll find him, and yes, yes I do."

Just as Sheppard ended the call, his phone beeped and the email came through. He headed back into Marshall's office.

Beckett jumped up, "Colonel; you found Rodney?"

"Yes, he's two hours from here near a town called Laughlin."

Marshall reached for his phone, "I'll notify the Highway Patrol and the locals. Sheppard, they don't have many state boys down there, you willing wait 'til we get there?"

"If we go now, I am."

"Let's get that printed and we'll head out." He turned to Sheppard, "This time you are riding with me."

A door creaked, and slowly opened, scraping across the floor. Rodney had regained consciousness, but had no concept of how much time had passed. Soft footsteps told him someone had entered the room, and a soft voice, spoke, "Madre de Dios, esto es tan mal."

Rodney heard a soft moan, and a very weak voice requesting water; shortly, from a different voice, the same request. After another moment passed, Rodney felt soft fingers gently pulling the tape from his mouth. He sucked in a huge breath, and in a raspy voice uttered, 'I'll take some of that water."

"Of course, señor let me hold your head." A small, warm hand cradled the back of his head as a glass touched against his lips. He greedily drank the cool water before she pulled the glass away, 'No, no…not too much at once."

There was an edge of panic in Rodney's rushed voice, as he asked, "Are the women okay, one of them hit her head earlier. Where the hell are we, and who are you?"

The woman laughed softly, "You have many questions, señor, but you must be quiet or they will hear you. The señoritas are uninjured. I do not believe that Señor Jessie will like that I have come in here. But I knew you must be thirsty and uncomfortable."

Rodney demanded, "You didn't answer me, who are you and where are we?"

"I am Milagros; my husband, Esteban and I live here, we take care of this ranch for Señor Jessie. Now, please do not speak, I am going to lightly place the tape back across your mouth, but I will give you a bit more water first." She held the glass up against his lips.

Rodney drank a bit more water, then asked, "Please, can you loosen these ropes on my wrists; it hurts.

"Oh, señor, no, no puedo, no me pides, I cannot."

"Please, it hurts," his arms actually didn't hurt; they were too numb to hurt, but he wanted his hands loose. How else could he escape?

Rodney heard Milagros take a deep throaty breath, "Okay, señor; I will loosen your bindings."

She pushed him over on his side, and worked for several minutes until she had loosened the ropes. As the blood rushed back into his hands, he felt as if his fingers were on fire. As she began to turn him onto his back again, he pulled as hard as he could on the ropes, further loosening them.

"Hey, if you aren't going to let me go, could you leave me on my left side? And could you loosen the girls' bindings?"

"Madre de Dios, you are asking so much. I do not know why Señor Jessie brought you here. I swear to you, Esteban and I have done nothing wrong. I'm afraid for what is happening, but I will loosen the senoritas ropes, as well."

"Thanks, Milagros"

Rodney waited until Milagros left. As soon as the door shut softly, he rubbed his face against the bed cover until he rubbed the tape away from his mouth. "Ladies, can you hear me?" Two gargled 'uh-huh' replied, and he instructed, "See if you can rub the tape off of your mouth, and work on loosening the ropes around your hands. And don't worry, help is coming." He was positive Sheppard was on the way.

A convoy of Vegas police cars, including a CRT van, and several Nevada Highway Patrol cars, sped down US 95 toward the southern tip of Nevada, where California and Arizona meet. Sheppard, Ronon, and Beckett were riding with Marshall, Burton in the SUV behind them.

They were less than thirty miles from the location where Rodney was being held. Sheppard was slouched in the front seat; he appeared so relaxed that he almost looked as if he was being held upright by the seat belt. Inside however, he was anything but relaxed. They were walking into a situation where they didn't know the terrain, or how many people were there and how armed they were, or where the hostages were being held. The one thing he did know was that a group of people with the balls to rob Caesars wasn't afraid of anything.

Sheppard roused from his thoughts when Marshall's phone rang. The detective answered and listened for several minutes. When he ended the call, he looked over at Sheppard, "That was Lt. Hernandez of the HP; they're at the site. It's off the Needles Freeway in the middle of nowhere, out in the open, but the house is surrounded by an eight-foot adobe wall. Hernandez said that a Mexican couple, Estefan and Milagros Sanchez, live there as caretakers; the property is owned by Peter Tucker, a local bad boy. An aerial shot in the city manager's office showed that there's a large barn behind the house, within the compound. HP moved some local cops familiar with the terrain as close as they dared; they only have a few night vision scopes with them. I'd bet a week's pay that there are sentries posted or video cameras at that compound.

Sheppard sighed, "No way to sneak up on them, then?" Marshall shook his head.

"I could call in a helicopter, from Vegas or the HP and drop the CRT's inside, but it's too dangerous with the hostages, especially since we don't know where they are."

Carson blurted out, "Colonel couldn't the Da…" He stopped, realizing what he had almost said, "Oh, forget I said that…sorry."

Sheppard looked around at him, "It's okay, Carson; no problem, but no detail available."

Marshall quipped, "More 'what gives' I'm not going to know about, Sheppard?"

Sheppard scoffed, then asked a question, "Marshall, when's sunrise?"

The detective answered, "Around 6:20 or so, why?"

Sheppard responded, "I have an idea."

Day Four: Sunrise

Pale gold light spilled over the rocky hills to the east, and the increasing light exposed a desolate vista of beige-gray sand and scrub brush. A lone old faded-red pickup truck was traveling along a road that appeared to have been created by using a bulldozer to push the rocks and brush out of the way. Plumes of dust spewed from the wheels, nearly obliterating the truck.

Inside the compound, Marcella Ponci was in the kitchen yelling at Milagros, wanting coffee; Jessie Gianfranco had just come in from tending to the horses that he kept at the ranch. As he walked up to Marcella and grabbed her, Milagros slipped into the pantry to get coffee.

"Hey, baby; we lay low here for one more day, and then we'll have Carlos fly in and pick us up. In less than forty-eight hours, we'll be on the beach in Mexico."

"You'd better hope it all plays out like that, or I swear I'll kill you for screwing up."

Jessie's anger flared and his fingers dug into her arms, "Listen, bitch; I wasn't the one who took her eyes off her job, you should've warned us that idiot was approaching."

Marcella jerked her arms loose, spun around, slapping him, "You, pig!" You were too interested in the young chick to pay attention to what you were doing."

He grabbed her again, "And you were too jealous to pay attention to what you were supposed to do. This is your fault, but don't worry your pretty little head; I'm gonna clean up your mess. No one will ever find the bodies; we'll get rid of our little trio of hostages, and the Mexican help. Pete's coming this afternoon to get the horses and take em to the hacienda, señorita. There won't be any loose ends."

She stared at him, and angrily muttered, "You better make sure, or I'll tie up your loose end, Jessie. I'm gonna get dressed. Where the hell did that Mexican whore go? She'd better have coffee ready when I get back or she'll be the first loose end to go."

Milagros stood behind the pantry door, breathing hard, her chest heaving in fear. "Dios mio," she whispered, "they are going to kill us." She waited until Jessie and Marcella left the kitchen, then emerging from the pantry, she quickly made coffee, and placed cups and sweet rolls on the table. She stood in the kitchen for a moment thinking out loud, "That will keep them from looking for me for a while. I must find Esteban; we have to get those people loose and get away." She fled out the back door.

Ten minutes later, Marcella entered the kitchen, when she didn't see Milagros, she yelled, "Hey, you Mexican bitch, where's my coffee?" Glancing around the room, she spotted the coffee pot and rolls. "Well, you'll live a little longer, since there's coffee."

Wandering to the front room, coffee in hand, munching on a roll, Milagros sat down on the couch. Curiously, she watched as Bill Penn and two men were placing thin packets of money into heavy waxed paper, and then gluing the bundles to fabric stretched out on the floor.

"What the fuck are they doing?"

"Ah, my pretty bitch," Jessie grinned, "when the plane gets here, we are going to redecorate. You are looking at the new wall covering. If by some slim chance we get boarded, they'll never suspect."

She smiled, "You are so smart, even if you are an idiot."

"Jessie, " Idiot ran into the room, yelling, "Jessie, there's a truck coming."

Jessie turned to Penn, "Keep working, unless I call for you." Drawing a Glock pistol from his waistband, he looked at Marcella, "Don't just stand there, bitch, get your gun and come with me." He followed Idiot out the door.

Outside the compound walls, the red pickup came to a halt. Two men exited the truck; from the passenger's side, a tall man with dreadlocks tied back in a bandana, wearing a faded green t-shirt, and jeans. From the driver's side, the other man was wearing a black cowboy hat, sunglasses, and a black shirt and jeans. Sheppard and Ronon; they approached the large solid wooden gate and Ronon pounded on the structure.

A voice called out, "Who are you? What are you doing here?"

Sheppard answered, "Hey, man, we're here to deliver hay for the horses; Peter Tucker ordered it." He pointed to the pickup bed, which was loaded with bales of hay.

Inside the gate, Idiot looked at Jessie, "You think they are on the up and up?"

Jessie thought for a moment, "Yeah, Pete probably ordered hay for the horse van. He's going to Needles to pick one up this afternoon; let 'em in; but keep an eye on them. And keep your guns out of site; that got us into trouble before."

As Idiot yelled that they were opening the gate, Jessie returned to the house. Outside the gate, Sheppard got into the truck and drove slowly through the opening, while Ronon walked beside the truck. Following Idiot, Sheppard drove around the large house, and pulled through the open door of the large barn. He parked and got out, joining Ronon at the truck's rear. Only two of Jessie's men had accompanied them into the barn, watching as Sheppard dropped the truck's tailgate. With a glance at Ronon, Sheppard reached for the nearest bale of hay, Ronon the one next to it, lifting the bales, they both swung at the same time, hitting the two men, dropping them to the barn floor. As they finished the job by knocking both men out, six CRT's burst out from underneath the piled hay.

One of the CRT's approached Sheppard, "Colonel, I love it when a plan comes together." The CRT, named Castillo, turned to the others, "Jeffries, Parsons, secure these two, then recon the perimeter; the rest of you with me. I've signaled that we're in, so assistance is coming. Colonel, lead the way."

From the long back wing of the house, Milagros and Estefan had just entered the room where Rodney and the women were held. They untied Rodney first, Milagros whispered, "Please be quiet, they are going to kill all of us, Estefan and me, too. We must get away." She began to help Estefan untie the women.

"Señor Rodney, you almost had your ropes untied; you are very clever."

"Well, not clever enough, because I didn't get them completely done. How do you know they are going to kill all of us?"

"I heard Jessie tell that vile woman, Marcella, dios mio, that he would tie up 'loose ends' and kill us."

They helped the two women to their feet and Estefan put his finger to his lips, "Be quiet; I will check the hall and see if the way is clear." A whispered, "Ten cuidado," from his wife, and Estefan slipped through the door.

Sheppard, Ronon, and the CRT's made it to the back of the house without encountering any more of Jessie's men. The CRT commander motioned for two of his men to deploy around the sides of the building, then whispered to Sheppard, "After you."

They entered through the kitchen and proceeded down the hall toward the front. Two of the CRT's peeled off to check the side rooms, while the rest headed toward the sound of voices.

Marcella was complaining, "Are you sure that Pete ordered that stuff; it's not like Pete not to tell you everything."

"We've all be a little busy here; he probably forgot. You know Pete; he's probably sobering up somewhere right now. He tends to…"

The CRT commander yelled, "Police, put your hands up."

Jessie pulled Marcella in front of him, drawing his weapon. Penn dropped his gun on the floor, but the other two drew their weapons and began firing. Ronon took the first one out, the commander the other. Jessie pushed Marcella into Sheppard and jumped through the window; he rolled on the ground, then jumped up heading toward the Lamborghini, parked next to the side of the house.

Marcella was screaming, "Jessie, you fucking bastard, you used me as shield. I hope you fucking die!"

Sheppard pushed her toward the commander and ran out the front door toward the sports car. "Jessie, stop, it's over."

Jessie was nearly at the car, "No way, I'm getting out of here." He started to move toward the car when a body came running from the corner of the house and tackled him…Rodney.

"McKay," Sheppard raced toward the two men, but Jessie managed to get loose. Seeing the hostages, who had been led out of a window by Estefan, he sprinted toward them and grabbed Milagros. When Estefan ran toward them to rescue his wife, Jessie fired, dropping the man in his tracks. Milagros screamed, but Jessie jerked her around, holding a gun to her head.

"You let me go or I will kill her."

Sheppard, hearing the sound of several vehicles entering the compound, said, "Give it up, Jessie; you aren't getting away."

"Watch me," He dragged Milagros toward the car. He reached out to open the car door, glancing down for a second. Rodney, who had gotten to his feet, took advantage of Jessie's distraction and rushed him once again. Catching the movement out of the corner of his eye, he let go of Milagros and fired toward Rodney, the bullet tore through Rodney's arm.

Sheppard yelled, "Drop the gun." Jessie whirled the gun toward Sheppard and the colonel fired. Sheppard's bullet struck Jessie in the forehead, and he fell, but not before his weapon fired once more.

Rodney got up, his left arm bleeding profusely, rivulets of blood already dripping from his fingertips, and helped Milagros from the ground. She murmured gracias to him before she ran to her husband. McKay turned toward Sheppard and saw his friend standing, but instinctively, he knew something was very wrong.

Rodney began running toward Sheppard, who was swaying. Ronon reached him first and caught the colonel as he began to fall. He was laying Sheppard on the ground as Rodney ran up, "Sheppard…John, hey buddy, it's over; you got the bad guy…John…"

Ronon pulled his hand from beneath the unconscious Sheppard's back. His large hand was covered in a pool blood; he looked at Rodney, "It's bad, McKay."

Rodney yelled at the top of his lungs, "Beckett!'

Day Four: Nighttime

Rodney McKay was asleep; he had been back in his room in the surgical step-down unit for about four hours since the surgery to repair the damage from Jessie's gun. Ronon was sprawled in a chair in the corner, Detective Marshall walked in and at first, wasn't certain if Ronon was awake.

"Ronon," he said quietly, and when Ronon turned his head, he continued, "Any word on Colonel Sheppard yet?"

Ronon took a breath, "No. Beckett came out about an hour ago; said the surgery was going as well as they could expect." His tone told Marshall that Ronon wasn't pleased with him.

"Look, I know I dismissed you guys as a nuisance; I'm sorry, I was wrong."

"Yeah, I get that."

"You know, Dr. Beckett told me right after we met something to the effect of "That's Colonel John Sheppard, United States Air Force, and you don't want to mess with him, laddie", then he told me to consider myself warned."

Ronon stared at the leather cuff, trimmed with thin braiding that he was wearing on his wrist. It was the cuff he bought Sheppard when they were at the ghost town; Sheppard wore it yesterday. One of the flight nurses took it off him before inserting an IV in his arm, absently handing the cuff to Ronon. He had worn the cuff since; he'd give it back to Sheppard when he walked out of the hospital. "Beckett was right; Sheppard is the finest man I've ever known, and the best soldier."

"Well, I get that, too. Mind if I stay for a while?"

Ronon nodded and the two men sat in silence, while Rodney slept.

About forty-minutes later, General Hank Landry walked through the door. Ronon jumped to his feet, "General."

Landry introduced himself to Marshall, then walked over to Rodney's bed, "I just spoke to his doctor at the nurses' station. She tells me that the bullet was a through and through but did some tissue damage, and that's what the surgery was for, to repair that damage. She assured me the surgery was successful, he's gonna be fine." He turned around to look at the two men, "However, I understand that Sheppard's in bad shape."

Ronon got up and looked out of the window, turning his back on Landry and Marshall. Marshall answered the general. "Sheppard suffered a very serious gunshot wound. I'd insisted that they both wear vests before they went in, even though I begged him to let CRT do the assault alone. Sheppard wouldn't hear of it, but agreed to the vest. Damn fucking luck, when he shot Jessie Gianfranco, the bastard fell and I guess a muscle contraction caused Jessie to pull the trigger as he fell. The trajectory of the bullet began fairly low and the bullet slid underneath the vest Sheppard was wearing, striking him in the lower left side, and traveling upward. He lost a considerable amount of blood before Beckett got the bleeding stopped, at least the external bleeding." Marshall paused before continuing, looking over at McKay.

"McKay was bleeding badly from his own wound and wouldn't let anyone touch him. He only wanted Beckett to treat Sheppard. Ronon finally dragged him away and a CRT, who is also a medic, took care of him along with Estefan Sanchez, who was shot as well.

"The caretaker," Landry inserted.

Marshall looked at Landry, "How do you know that, I only filed my preliminary report about two hours ago? Oh, never mind, probably one of those 'what gives'," he continued despite Landry's confused look. "After Beckett got Sheppard's bleeding stopped, he left Ronon to hold pressure on the wound, while he checked on Sanchez. Told me he needed a helicopter immediately and within fifteen minutes, we had two med-evacs out of Needles. Dr. Beckett insisted we go to the best, nearest trauma center, so the med-evacs' brought them here to the University Medical Center. Vegas is the only city in Nevada with a trauma center."

"I understand that the Sanchez's had nothing to do with the robbery or the kidnapping. They actually freed the hostages, correct?"

"Yeah, according to Dr. McKay, they were innocent in all of this and wouldn't allow anything to happen to the hostages. Before he went into surgery, McKay informed the hospital that he'd pay all of Sanchez's medical bills. Good man."

"Yes, detective, they are all good men."

"Yes, we are," uttered by a weak voice, from the bed.

"Good men, detective, I didn't say at least one of them is not a bit egotistical."

"Funny, general, " McKay said weakly. "Sheppard, how is he?"

"Still in surgery, doctor, he's holding his own. I brought Walter with me, McKay, can I have him contact your sister?"

"No, no…d-don't call Jeannie; I'm fine and it would just scare her about S-Sheppard. I'll call her after…after we hear Sheppard's going to b-be okay."

"Well, Walter's going to call Sheppard's brother, as soon as he's out of surgery; might as well wait until we know the status then."

"No, don't c-call Dave; Sheppard wouldn't want that. Besides, Dave's out of the country for a couple of months; think that's another reason why J-John wanted to take this trip now." McKay took a breath, "He didn't have to deal with deciding on seeing his brother when he took leave."

Landry looked displeased, "We need to call someone in his family."

Ronon answered tersely, "We're his family." With that statement, Landry wisely let the matter drop.

Rodney asked for water and while Ronon was getting it for him, a nurse came in to check McKay's vitals. Marshall and Landry stepped out in the hallway to get out of the way.

"Pretty special group of men you have here, general. They are amazingly loyal to each other and seem to treat Sheppard as a hero."

"You don't even know, Marshall. What was it Ralph Waldo Emerson said, "A hero is no braver than an ordinary man, but he is braver five minutes longer." Sheppard seems to think five minutes is too short."

Marshall was about to reply when he noticed Dr. Beckett walking down the corridor toward them. "Here comes Beckett."

The Scottish doctor looked exhausted, having not slept the night before, other than a short nap on the way to the ranch. Now, as the sun was starting to set over Vegas, he had just come through four hours of surgery on Sheppard.

"General Landry, good to see you, sir; Detective Marshall," Beckett said as he shook the general's, then Marshall's, hand.

Ronon came into the hall, "Doc, McKay's awake; he wants to know about Sheppard."

They entered the room, and Rodney struggled to sit up. Beckett raised the head of the bed, "Rodney, you okay?"

"I'm fine, Carson; now tell us about Sheppard."

"John is out of surgery, but he remains in critical condition. The bullet didn't do major damage to any one organ, it nipped his large intestine, nicked his spleen, punctured his diaphragm, hit a lung and cracked a rib along his back, near his spine, before exiting. Thank goodness, it missed his heart, but it was only by millimeters. The good news is that all that damage was repairable, and his surgeon, Dr. Frankel was amazing. However, he lost a lot of blood, and John is still weak from the injury he sustained in Bakersfield. We are concerned about his blood pressure; we're having a hard time keeping it stabilized."

Rodney, clutching the sheet in his right hand, asked anxiously, "Carson is he going to be alright?'

Carson looked at Landry, then Ronon, and then back at Rodney, "The next twenty-four hours are critical. Rodney, the staff here is exceptional; they are supporting him with blood, fluids, and drugs, and are monitoring him closely. He's in good hands."

Ronon asked, "When can we see him?"

"He's in PACU right now, after about an hour, he'll be taken to the Surgical ICU. Once they get him settled, you can go in for a few minutes."

Rodney started to get out of bed; Ronon and Carson grabbed him, and forced him back. Carson said, "Rodney, you just underwent surgery; you are not getting up until your doctor says you can get up. I promise I will keep you up to date on John's condition. Ronon, keep him here; I'm going to go check on John. I'll be back."

Landry, with Marshall behind, followed Beckett into the hallway, "Doctor, before you go, I have a question. You mentioned that Sheppard was covering from another injury; he sustained in Bakersfield. Would you care to elaborate?"

Beckett looked a bit sheepish, but he explained the incident with the bikers and in the roadhouse to the general. Then he excused himself to return to Sheppard. Landry stood in the center of the bright hospital corridor watching the doctor walk away.

Marshall remarked, "General, I believe Colonel Sheppard has extended his time as a hero considerably passed five minutes."

Landry frowned, "Yeah, the dang fool. Come on, Marshall, let me buy you a cup of coffee; it's gonna be a long night."

About two and half hours later, a nurse entered Rodney's room and whispered to Ronon that Dr. Beckett said he could see Sheppard. The nurse left, and Ronon rose quietly so he would not wake McKay. He almost made it to the door before Rodney spoke.

"Ronon, you are not going without me; don't even think about it. Help me get out of bed."

"Little man, Beckett said for you to stay here. I'll be right back with news."

"No, I'm going." Rodney was attempting to get out of bed and nearly fell when he caught his IV on the corner of the bed. Ronon rushed over just in time, grabbing Rodney's torso and keeping him on the bed.

"McKay, for once, could you listen; you need to stay here."

McKay looked at Ronon, "No; he risked his life to save me and those women. All of you did; I have to see him, and you have to let me. What happens if he doesn't make it, Ronon? I have to see him to thank him, again, for saving my life, even if he can't hear me."

Ronon stared at him, then spoke, "Wait here; I'll be right back."

"Where are you going?" Rodney yelled as Ronon walked into the hallway.

"To get you a wheelchair," was the reply that wafted through the doorway.

Beckett and Landry were standing next to Sheppard's bed in the SICU, when Ronon rolled Rodney into the room. He shook his head, but didn't say anything as Ronon shrugged.

Several monitors surrounded Sheppard's bed. There were at least four IV's bags, including a unit of whole blood, hanging from suspended hooks above the head of the bed. He was pale, his skin translucent, like opaque glass; a ventilator was breathing for him.

"Come on over," Beckett said.

"Carson," fear was evident in Rodney's voice.

"Not a lot of change, we had a little crisis a while ago when his blood pressure dropped to a very dangerous level that kept us from moving him as soon we had hoped. However, his pressure's is up, and when he's had a chance to rest, he'll hopefully be more stable."

"Why the vent, can't he breathe on his own?"

"Rodney, his left lung was damaged and had to be re-inflated. Dr. Frankel wants to keep him on the vent until his pressure increases, then we'll wean him off."

They had stood at Sheppard's bedside for several minutes, when Landry spoke, Gentlemen; I think it might be time for you all to get some rest." Rodney, Ronon, and Beckett stared at the general, who continued, "or not."

"Come on, lads, the nurses have things they need to do; let's leave John to their tender mercies. We'll go to the lounge and have some coffee."

"I'll be there in a second; Ronon take the chair, I can walk." Rodney rose from the wheelchair and stood by Sheppard's bed.

"Listen, you crazy-haired, fly-boy, don't you go dying on us; we need you. The awful thing is that the whole time I was being held, I knew you were doing everything you could to find us. I told the women with me, not to worry; help's on the way. But, damn it, why the hell did you have to go and get hurt? Son of a bitch, it should have been me for a change; I get shot in the arm, you get shot in the gut." He stopped for a moment as rage and fear flooded his emotions. "Thank you for coming to save me, just like I knew you would. We all know you'll find us if we're in trouble. Just don't die, you hear me, John, don't die."

A nurse came over, "Sir, we need to do some things to help him, let me take you to your friends." Rodney nodded, and she escorted Rodney to the ICU lounge.

Day Five: Daytime

The night was endless. Sheppard suffered two more drastic blood pressure drops, but the staff managed to stabilize him. Around 2:00 am, Rodney appeared to be quite uncomfortable and General Landry forced him to return to his room. Ronon returned with him, coming back and forth to the lounge regularly for updates. The ICU nurses coerced Beckett to get some sleep in the ICU doctor's lounge. As the sun rose over Las Vegas, those gathered around Sheppard breathed a sigh of relief that the colonel had made it through the night.

Rodney returned to the ICU lounge shortly after breakfast. An arrangement he made with his doctor, who was decidedly unhappy he had gotten out of bed during the night. He arrived as Carson entered the lounge to brief them.

"Rodney," Carson asked, "how are you feeling?"

Rodney was anxious, "I'm fine; how's Sheppard?"

"Stable, and he has been for the last two hours; Dr. Frankel is encouraged, as am I. He has a bit more color, and his breathing is improved. Frankel has ordered his nurse to begin to wean him off the vent if his pressure and other vitals are still stable after another hour. We may have turned the corner here; it's perhaps, a bit early to say that absolutely, but he is improving. The nurses are doing some routine things right now, but one of them will let you know when you can go in to see him. I am going to meet with Dr. Frankel to discuss his status and treatment plan. This doctor has been extremely considerate in including me in the colonel's treatment; I'll let you know how that goes."

Carson departed and Ronon told General Landry that he looked like he could use some coffee, and headed for the cafeteria. That left only Landry and McKay in the private waiting room, Detective Marshall had gone home to shower with the promise to return. He was as concerned about Sheppard, as they were.

Rodney watched the tired looking general as he gazed at the television hanging on the wall, watching the news. A complicated man, this general, no one had expected him to turn up, but here he was, sitting in an ICU lounge waiting for word on one of his command.

"General Landry, " Rodney spoke quietly.

"You need something, doctor?"

"No, I just…was just wondering why you were here. I know that Sheppard's badly hurt, but none of us expected to see you. So, other than the obvious reason of Sheppard's injury, why are you here, general?"

Landry grinned ever so slightly, "I'm worried about Sheppard; got to know him when he was at the SGC for those months when Atlan…the base… was back in the hands of the original owners. Sheppard has a penchant for getting into trouble; that's fairly well known. However, not because he's a troublemaker, but because he just couldn't stand by and let something happen when he felt action needed to be taken, especially when people's lives were involved. Hell, I knew when you all took off to rescue O'Neill and Woolsey that in the end, Sheppard would be proven right regarding his actions and wouldn't be in trouble. Besides, O'Neill had been there too many times himself to call Sheppard on it."

Rodney said, "You know he respects you a great deal; in some ways, maybe more than he respects O'Neill. He once remarked that O'Neill understands what we do, because he's done it. You, on the other hand, haven't done what we do; yet you seem to make the right decisions about what we need. You understand the support that Sheppard and all the other commanding officer's require to do their jobs."

Landry was silent for a moment, "That's….that's nice to hear. To answer your question, Rodney, I care about Sheppard, and I care about what all of you have been through in the last few months. That's why I came; I want Sheppard, all of you know that you have my support. I fully realize not a one of you wants to be here, by here I mean here," he spread his arms out to indicate the planet. "I know where you want to be, and I promise I am working toward that goal. The IOA is being a pain in my ass, but I will make it happen."

Rodney brightened, "Really, when?"

Landry laughed, "Down, McKay; it'll happen when it happens."

"You know Sheppard likes Sam Carter best of all."

Landry sighed, "Don't we all, Doctor McKay, don't we all."

Ronon returned with coffee and snacks for both men, and they spent the next several hours waiting as Sheppard became stronger. Very late in the afternoon, after deciding that Sheppard could breathe on his own, the vent was removed. There were some tense moments, as he seemed to have some trouble getting full breathes, but slowly he began to breathe regularly. Beckett was encouraged and insisted that Ronon return to the hotel to rest. Ronon went back to the hotel but only to take a shower and change clothes. He returned in a couple of hours, bringing clothes for Beckett and McKay, who was being discharged the next day. General Landry had gone to his hotel for a rest, promising to return in a few hours.

Day Six: Midnight

Exhaustion had finally caught up with McKay, and Ronon had taken him back to his room around 10 pm, then returned to the SICU. Carson was napping in the doctor's lounge and while the unit was quiet, the nurses allowed Ronon to sit with Sheppard for as long as he liked. He had been in the darkened room watching Sheppard sleep for almost two hours when he heard a slight moan. He stood up quickly, and took the short step to the bedside.

"Sheppard, can you hear me?"

Sheppard's head moved slightly toward Ronon's voice, "R-Ron…Ronon.."

"Yeah, it's me, don't talk; I'm gonna get the nurse." He started to walk away when Sheppard reached out and weakly grabbed his arm, "Rod…ney…okay?" His voice weak, rough, but clear.

Ronon grinned, "Yeah, Rodney's fine; now be quiet, I'll be back."

While a nurse went to check on Sheppard, Ronon went to the doctor's lounge and roused Beckett, who jumped up and ran into the unit and Sheppard room. The room was bathed in bright light; the nurse had turned on the light over Sheppard's head.

"Doctor, he's very agitated."

Beckett reached up, dimming the light, "Ah, lassie, I should have told you he hates to wake up to bright light in the infirmary. He'll calm down now, don't worry."

"John, it's Carson, come on, lad; talk to me."

"C-Carson…"

"Welcome back, John; it's good to hear your voice."

"How…l-long…"

A little over thirty-six hours, you've had surgery to repair the damage from the bullet, but you're going to be fine. You're in the surgical intensive care unit at the University Medical Center in Las Vegas."

"Ro-Ronon said Rodney okay, the girls…"

"Not a scratch on them, and the caretaker is going to make it. His injuries were serious; he's here in the SICU as well, but he's going to be fine." Sheppard nodded slightly, but didn't reply.

Carson asked him, "A sip of water, John?" Sheppard nodded again, and as Beckett reached for the glass and straw, Ronon spoke.

"Doc, I'm gonna go get McKay."

"No, we should let Rodney rest; he'll find out in the morning that Sheppard has awakened."

Ronon frowned and Carson sighed deeply, "You're right; he will kill us if we don't tell him now. Go get him."

Twenty minutes later, Ronon returned with a groggy McKay, who insisted on walking to the SICU.

"Carson, is he still awake?" Carson nodded and Rodney approached the bed.

"Sheppard, it's Rodney; it's about time you woke up."

"S-sorry, not on y-your schedule, 'Kay," there was a definite note of sarcasm in Sheppard's voice.

Rodney smiled, "Yeah, just like you to ruin the vacation."

"Rodney," Carson snipped, angry with the scientist.

"Okay, d-doc, wasn't me…who got kid…napped; his…fault," Sheppard whispered.

Carson laughed, the first laugh in nearly two days, "He's got you there, Rodney. Now, come on, we need to let him rest. The nurses will look out for him, all of you out of here.

Before Rodney left, he leaned over Sheppard's bed, "Listen, flyboy, I never doubted you were coming to save us; just sorry you got hurt." He grabbed Sheppard's hand and felt the colonel weakly squeeze his hand.

By noon the next day, Sheppard had progressed enough to transfer from the SICU to the med-surge floor, where his friends could remain with him full-time. Another twenty-four hours passed and Carson was ecstatic over his improvement; Sheppard was eating better and walking with assistance.

Day Nine

General Landry, who had spent a great deal of time at Nellis Air Force base, once Sheppard was out of the woods, dropped by before he returned to the SGC. Detectives Marshall and Burton, stopped by to see Sheppard and update them on the case. Marcella Ponci and the others had been arraigned on numerous charges, including kidnapping and attempted murder. Marshall asked to see Sheppard alone for a minute.

"Colonel, I just wanted to apologize for not wanting you on this case. We couldn't have caught them without your assistance, whatever it was. Thank you." He held out his hand, and Sheppard accepted his handshake.

"Marshall, no hard feelings; you were doing your job, and I was trying to protect my people and save a very valuable member of my team, and a friend."

"Thanks, colonel, speedy recovery, and next time you're in Vegas, look me up, I owe you a drink."

Sheppard was tired after all the company, and Carson ordered everyone to either leave or be quiet. After Sheppard had fallen to sleep, the others busied themselves with games or watching the TV, which was turned very low. It was nearly eleven pm, when Rodney brought up the subject of the hotel.

"When I went to take a shower and change today, I checked with the front desk; we were scheduled to check out yesterday, but Caesars offered to leave our reservation open-ended, we can stay until we want. They were quite willing to do anything that we wanted considering Sheppard recovered all their money. I think it's best to stay here while Sheppard recuperates. Carson, what do you think?"

"Yes, Rodney, I thi.."

"No…" Sheppard said weakly.

They all got up and went to Sheppard's bed. Rodney responded, "No, what do you mean no?"

"Reservations made at Lake Mead," he paused, catching his breath, "rented houseboat, taking Carson fishing."

Carson was smiling broadly, "Fishing, colonel, on a houseboat; my uncle had a houseboat I used to spend time on, it was great fun."

Rodney frowned, "Oh joy."

Sheppard sniped, "McKay, shut up; Carson, info's on my laptop. Bring it to me in the morning and I'll get it for you."

"I can retrieve the information from your laptop," Rodney said.

"If you think I'm going to let you hack into my computer, McKay, you're crazy."

"What do you think I'd…"

"Both of you, enough; John, Rodney and I are going to the hotel tonight, Ronon is staying with you because he refused to go. We will see you in the morning. Sleep well and Ronon, call us if you need us. Come on, Rodney."

Day Ten: Morning

The next morning, Carson and Rodney arrived before breakfast, Sheppard's laptop in hand. Sheppard retrieved the houseboat reservation information, which made Carson almost giddy. Sheppard was scheduled for an MRI to make certain all of his surgical repairs were healing without complications. About an hour and a half later, when he returned to his room, Rodney was tapping away at a computer.

"That better be your computer, Rodney." Sheppard said as the tech helped him back into bed. Rodney frowned at him and didn't reply.

"Where's Ronon and Carson?"

"They went to Lake Mead to check on the houseboat. Carson was way too excited; it's embarrassing."

"You let Carson and Ronon drive to Lake Mead, McKay; what were you thinking?"

"Carson can drive, what's the problem?"

"Can he stay on the right side of the road, is my question. Geez, McKay, you should have made them wait until I got back."

"What, were you going to drive them?"

Sheppard stared at him, reached for his cell phone, and called Carson, who assured him everything was fine. He found himself fretting for four hours until an excited Carson and Ronon burst through the door.

"John, the houseboat is a palace, the thing's seventy feet long. I even got to take her out of the marina and back, so I'd know how to handle her. The interior is amazing, and Rodney, they have Wi-Fi, so you are not going to go nuts."

Ronon was beaming, "It's really cool, Sheppard."

"Yeah, it is and they have a great bait and tackle shop, I got some new stuff that I was playing with on our way back."

Sheppard swallowed, "On your way back, while you were driving?"

"Oh, no; Ronon was driving."

"Ro-Ronon was driving, Ronon can't drive."

"Yeah, I can; we had vehicles on Sateda."

Carson said, "He has a license, colonel."

Sheppard sank back on his pillow, "It's a fake, for ID only, you know that."

"Well, he did good, but if it makes you feel better, I took over when we got close to town."

"No, it doesn't, but it's done; no one goes anywhere without me again."

Rodney smirked, "Well, he's feeling better; back ordering us around again."

Carson ignored Rodney, "John, on the way up here, I ran into Dr. Frankel. He said you are healing faster than he had expected; he's quite pleased. I discussed his discharging you from the hospital into my care. He said if you ate well tonight and your vitals were good tomorrow, he would discharge you. We'll go back to the hotel, get packed up tonight, and we'll head straight to Lake Mead from here.

Day Eleven: Morning…On to Lake Mead

The next morning, Dr. Frankel stopped by to examine Sheppard, and after laying some ground rules, discharged him from the hospital into Dr. Beckett's care. Rodney went to the business office to take care of Esteban Sanchez's bill. Milagros has stopped in the day before to thank Sheppard and Rodney for saving them, and brought a gift for Sheppard, a rosary. She told him that no matter his beliefs, she wanted him to have her rosary and hoped that it would keep him safe.

Carson took Sheppard's things, and headed downstairs to bring the Range Rover to the hospital entrance. Ronon remained with Sheppard to accompany him downstairs.

Sheppard emerged from the bathroom, attempting to walk as if he were perfectly fine, Carson, however, had warned Ronon that Sheppard was not nearly as strong as he was trying to make them believe. Ronon stood just outside the bathroom door, and when Sheppard stumbled, Ronon kept him from falling.

"Hey, big guy; thanks," Sheppard said as Ronon helped him ease down on the side of the bed. Sheppard had managed to get his jeans on but he was having trouble with his shirt. His entire torso was tender and movement was painful. Ronon grabbed it from him and helped him slid his arms into the dark blue shirt. When Ronon started to button his shirt, Sheppard slapped his hand away, and gingerly buttoned it himself.

"You know, you don't have to act like you don't hurt. We all know how bad your injury was."

Sheppard frowned, "I'm fine," and started to bend down to put on his shoes. A moan escaped his lips, and a fine bead of sweat appeared on his forehead.

Ronon rolled his eyes, "Yeah, fine; stop, I'll do it." He knelt down and put Sheppard's shoes on and laced them.

"Don't tell Beckett," he said when Ronon finished.

Ronon began to take the cuff off his right wrist, Sheppard watched, then realized it was his leather cuff. "That's the cuff you gave me."

Ronon motioned for him to put out his wrist, and Sheppard complied as Ronon explained, "The paramedic from the helicopter removed it to put an IV in your hand. He was afraid you hand would swell, so he wanted it off. I decided to hold it for you until you walked out of here." He fastened the cuff and took a step backwards. Sheppard ran the fingers of his left hand over the braiding along the edge of the cuff.

He didn't look up as he quietly said, "Thanks; I'm glad you were with me."

Ronon patted Sheppard on the shoulder and both men were spared anything further conversation as a nurse's aide rolled a wheelchair into the room. Sheppard with help from Ronon sat in the chair and after a quick goodbye at the nurse's station, they headed for the hospital entrance.

Rodney and Carson were waiting for them, and Sheppard attempted to get up as though he was fully recovered. Carson stepped in front of the wheelchair, "Just what do you think you're doing, laddie. You are still extremely weak, and probably should be in this hospital for another two, possibly three days. You are not going to do anything for the next forty-eight hours, unless I tell you can."

"Yeah, doc; you were right, he almost fell trying to get dressed." Sheppard glared at Ronon, as the Satedan did exactly what Sheppard asked him not to do, but Ronon just smirked back.

Beckett looked at Ronon, "Aye, Ronon; I expected that, help him into the car."

Sheppard stared at the doctor, but nodded to Ronon, which immediately told his friends that the colonel knew he needed help. No one chose to state that fact that out loud.

"Okay, people, let's get going," Rodney said, as he got in the driver's seat.

"Hey, McKay, I'll drive," Ronon volunteered.

From the back seat, Sheppard sighed, "Get in the car, Chewie; you're not driving."

As McKay pulled on to the street, Carson was grinning broadly and announced, "On to Lake Mead, for a few days of fishing, relaxing; this is going to be such fun!"

Rodney groaned.

Notes:

The quote, "A hero is no braver than an ordinary man, but he is braver five minutes longer." by Ralph Waldo Emerson, was sent to me by a very close friend. Her fourteen-year-old daughter included this quote in a message she wrote in my friend's Mother's Day card. To be considered a hero by a fourteen-year-old is high praise indeed.

The Liberace Museum closed on October 17, 2010. This story is set in September 2010. The Liberace Foundation is still in operation, providing scholarships for young musicians.