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.)

11. Part 5 The Wild Wild West Day 5- 9

Title: Road Trip

Part Five: The Wild Wild West… Day Five - Nine

Author: stella_pegasi

Rating: K +

Genres: Slice of life, action, friendship, humor, and Whump!

Word Count: 24,660

Spoilers: Post Season Five

Warnings: Minor 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: First to all of you who have contacted me regarding Road Trip, thank you for reading this story, and for your patience. It's been a crazy few months, and as much as I have wanted to get back to Road Trip, real life didn't allow it. I did finish my novel, and now doing the hard part, editing it. I hope you enjoy this segment. As much as I hate to say it…this story is going to have to end at some point and that point is getting near. I think there will be one more chapter to Road Trip after this; I promise I won't be as long getting the last segment written.

Thank you again for all the wonderful comments; I'm so glad you've enjoyed the trip with the guys.

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Road Trip

By stella_pegasi

Part Five: The Wild Wild West… Day Five - Nine

Sheppard glanced over at Ronon, slumped in the front passenger seat. His normally quiet friend was being even quieter…bordering on sullen. He decided to risk asking what was wrong.

"Hey, buddy, you pissed about something?"

"No."

Sheppard sucked in a deep breath, he knew that tone, "You are pissed."

"No."

Tapping the steering wheel, Sheppard realized why, "You're mad because I'm driving."

"No."

"Yes, you are." Gesturing out the window, he said, "We're sitting in bumper to bumper rush-hour traffic on Friday morning. I figured it would be like this, so I decided to drive since you hadn't experienced traffic this heavy. Once we're through Tucson, the road narrows at some point to two lanes, and I just thought it would be better for me to drive."

Ronon nodded, "Okay."

Biting down on his lower lip to keep from laughing, Sheppard glanced in the rearview mirror, to find Beckett grinning broadly. He realized how much they had discovered about their friend, the big man from Sateda, during this trip. He knew if nothing else was worth the trouble they'd been through, that fact was.

An exaggerated sigh sounded from the back seat, "Why did we have to leave so early?"

"Because Rodney, it's a two-hour drive. Factoring in at minimum one pit stop and two snack breaks for you, I decided I wanted to get there before noon."

"Bite me, Sheppard."

Beckett snickered, "Come on, Rodney; John's just funning with you."

"My sunburn hurts."

"Oh ya big baby…maybe the tips of your ears and your nose are bright red but the rest of your face is only slightly pink." Beckett poked McKay's cheek with his index finger, prompting McKay to swat his hand away.

Beckett pulled his sunglasses off, rubbing the bridge of his nose, his expression pinched. "Do ya have the cream I gave you last night?" He waited while McKay reached into his pants pocket, pulling out a small silver tube. "Then use it, it has lidocaine and will take away the pain, only use a little bit, you don't need the entire tube."

Sheppard glanced over his shoulder, noting Rodney's very red ear tips. He felt sorry for his friend but wasn't going to let on, "McKay did you bring a hat?"

"Yes, I did."

"Good… that way you won't be whining all day."

With no quick retort from his friend, Sheppard decided McKay might really hurt and decided to change the subject.

"Ronon, did you have time to look at those websites about Earp and the OK Corral?"

"Yeah, I did."

Sheppard laughed softly, dragging more than three words at a time was an effort, "And… what impressed you?"

"The Buntline gun, with the twelve inch barrel Earp was suppose to carry was a lie."

"Really?"

"Yeah, he used a .44 caliber 1869 American Smith and Wesson with an eight inch barrel. Story I read said the Buntline was a lie used by some guy to promote stories he wrote about some of the sheriffs in the west."

Noting the enthusiasm in Ronon's voice, he prodded, "Who were the other sheriffs?"

"Some guys named Masterson and Basset and some others, don't remember."

"Ah…Bat Masterson, loved that TV show…used to watch the reruns when I was little," Sheppard replied, a far away look in his eyes. "His horse was named Stardust."

Ronon turned to Sheppard, confused, "Bat Masterson was on TV?"

"Gene Barry played him."

"Rodney, that's right; how did you know?"

"I liked the show."

"Never figured you for the cowboy type…thought you were into superheroes."

McKay sighed, "I liked Bat Masterson and I liked the Lone Ranger."

Beckett interjected, "I liked The Virginian, saw it in reruns; I wanted to be Trampas."

Sheppard nodded, "Trampas was cool but I liked the Virginian and Deputy Sheriff Emmett Ryker. Ryker was played by Clu Gulager…always thought that was a cool name."

"I'd like to see that show," Ronon said.

"Tell you what, we'll check to see if we can order the DVD set when we get back to the hotel. I wouldn't mind seeing them again either."

"John, did you ever watch High Chaparral?" Beckett asked.

Sheppard nodded, "Oh yeah, loved that show…great cast and…" in unison, Sheppard and Beckett said, "Victoria…" The two men laughed and Sheppard added, "I always envied Big John Cannon, even when I was too young to understand why."

Ronon grinned, "Pretty?"

"Very pretty, Chewie, very pretty…we'll get those DVDs as well. Can't believe we never added them to the DVD library on Atlantis.

Beckett replied, "That's because Elizabeth," Beckett paused…stumbling over Elizabeth Weir's name, "…uh… put Dr. Sparks in charge of the movie library and neither one of them liked westerns."

Sheppard fiddled with the rear view mirror, Ronon and Rodney staring out the window at the passing scrub brush, all lost in their memories of Elizabeth Weir. Shaking off the melancholy settling over him, Sheppard replied to Beckett.

"Well, we'll have to update the DVDs." Spotting a convenient store, Sheppard pulled in, announcing, "I need another cup of coffee."

"I thought I was going to slow us down, but you're the one who needs a snack." McKay sat back in his seat, arms crossed, a smirk on his face.

Sheppard looked over his shoulder, as he opened the car door, an impish grin on his face, "Bite me, McKay."

Back on the road, coffee for everyone but Ronon, who bought a two-liter of Mountain Dew, Sheppard asked, "Who has the brochure from Tombstone?" Beckett replied that he did.

"Tell me some of the things to do there, I was too tired to look it up last night."

"There's a two-hour walking tour of the city with some guy called Dr. Jay…reviews look good…supposed to tell the real story of Tombstone."

"Okay, sounds good, maybe we should start there; what else?"

Beckett rattled off several other attractions they could visit, the discussion keeping them busy until they reached Tombstone. Traffic was lighter than Sheppard expected, and they arrived in the small western town around 0930. Sheppard found a place to park on a side street beside the Birdcage Theater.

Ronon and Beckett hopped out of the Rover quickly, walking toward Allen Street, the main street of the Old Tombstone attraction. Sheppard was about to open his door when he realized that McKay hadn't moved.

"You getting out?"

A frown was his only answer, but by the time Sheppard reached the rear of the Rover, Rodney had exited as well. They walked in silence toward the main street, turning the corner onto the dusty street where many of the original buildings of the Earp era were still standing. Sheppard spotted Ronon and Beckett already halfway down the block.

He tugged on McKay's sleeve, "Come on, let's catch up."

McKay didn't answer and Sheppard sensed his foul mood, "McKay, having fun yet?"

"Seriously, Sheppard, I doubt this dusty, dirty place even has running water."

Shaking his head as he listened to McKay whine, Sheppard patted him on the back, "I'm sure they have running water, not so sure about indoor bathrooms though." McKay reacted to Sheppard's taunt by slowing his pace; Sheppard walked on, chuckling.

After joining Beckett and Ronon, Sheppard suggested they head to the tourist center to sign up for the walking tour. They bought tickets for the tour and the OK Corral show later in the afternoon, along with cold drinks and headed to the jail to wait for the tour to start.

Ronon was soaking in the atmosphere, as Beckett excitedly pointed out some of the things he remembered about Tombstone. McKay leaned against the jail, drinking a diet soda, looking morose.

Sheppard walked over, and leaned on the wall next to him, "Put your cap on, you don't want to get those ears any redder."

McKay pulled a cap from his jacket pocket and put it on. Sheppard asked, "That the cap you bought at Lake Mead?"

"No, this is Carson's fishing hat, he let me use it to cover my ears. Feels like an eternity ago since we were at Lake Mead."

"I hear you, we've crammed quite a bit of fun into these past weeks."

It was McKay's turn to chuckle, "If you call mayhem fun, then I suppose we have."

"Not having fun, Rodney?"

"McKay snarked, "Why of course I am."

Deciding not to bite on McKay's snappy answer, Sheppard simply said, "Good, I'm glad."

McKay frowned, but changed the subject, "You know this is nothing more than a glorified tourist trap."

"Where's your sense of adventure? Use your imagination, pretend you're a cowboy ready to take on the Earps."

"You really are a kid, aren't you?"

Sheppard took a long drink of water, "Nothing wrong with being a kid, Rodney. You just don't have to act like one." He pushed away from the wall, "Come on, looks like our tour guide is here."

Dr. Jay arrived with a few 'town folk' in tow, all dressed in western period clothing. Their tour guide sported long graying hair, pulled back in a ponytail, a white tab-collared shirt, pale green ascot with a diamond stud, tapestry vest, and a black hat. Hanging from his vest was a gold watch fob and strapped around his waist was a worn brown leather holster replete with a shiny six-shooter.

For the next two hours, as they followed him around town, Dr. Jay regaled the group with antidotes of the real Tombstone, using humor and interesting tales. To the surprise of his friends, McKay engaged in the discussion, asking several questions.

When the tour was over, they decided on lunch at Big Nose Kate's Saloon based on the recommendation of a woman from Delaware, who had chatted with Beckett during the tour. They entered the saloon, crowded just after midday, and found a table in a cramped corner.

"All that walking made me hungry." Sheppard said as he looked over the menu. 'Um…I think we need that Sample Platter first…it's got onion rings, Buffalo chicken bites, and cheese sticks…" he stopped as Ronon held up two fingers. "Okay, Chewie, two Sample Platters."

The server brought their drinks, saying she would be right back with the platters. Beckett had ordered root beer and he took a sip. "Ah…now that is good root beer; haven't had any in years."

Sheppard, without looking up from the menu said, "Hey, Rodney…were you surprised Tombstone had running water and telephones before most cities in the US?"

McKay tilted his head back and forth, "Okay, rub it in…I made a joke about there not being running water here now…so flyboy here wants to be funny."

Beckett answered, "You seemed really interested in the stories Dr. Jay told, I didn't expect that."

McKay, reaching for his iced tea replied, "I was really surprised about the oyster bar they had here. Shipping oysters packed in ice from the Gulf of California all the way here was quite a feat. What was it, Jay said it's somewhere between six to eight hundred miles away? Amazing."

"Yeah, just think he said the shipment came by rail to Tucson, then it was a fourteen hour stagecoach ride. We did that trip in less than two hours," Sheppard commented.

Ronon grinned, his eyebrows rising roguishly, "If McKay was driving, it would take fourteen."

Beckett and Sheppard burst out laughing. McKay leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest, muttering, "Funny."

Sheppard, trying to curb his laughter, said, "Lighten up, Rodney; it was funny."

Thankfully, the platters arrived to end the conversation. The server barely got the plates down before Ronon and McKay were already reaching for food. She asked, "Okay boys, what else can I get ya?"

Sheppard and Ronon ordered 'Goldie's Famous Over-Stuffed Reuben,' recommended by the woman from the tour, Rodney decided on the Philly Cheese Steak. When the server got to Beckett, she cooed, "And what can I get for you blue-eyes."

Beckett's cheeks flushed and he mumbled, "The chicken sandwich."

"Okay, baby, you want Kate's Breast? Crispy or grilled?"

Beckett turned redder, "Crispy with honey mustard."

"Ah…you're gonna like Kate's Breast, its tasty…I'll get refills for your drinks and your food should be out in about ten minutes."

Beckett didn't say a word as his three friends stared at him and then broke out laughing. Sheppard leaned over the table and whispered, "You were embarrassed to ask for that sandwich, weren't you?"

"No, laddie, I just didn't remember the name of it. Besides, who would name a sandwich like that?"

Sheppard shook his head, "Big Nose Kate was a prostitute, ran a bordello, and was Doc Holliday's girl friend. So, it's apropos…and funny."

McKay asked, "Wasn't this a hotel?"

Sheppard nodded, grabbing an onion ring, "Yeah, the Grand Hotel…remember Jay said the bar in here and in the Birdcage are the only two original bars in Tombstone. The rest burned up in some of the fires that swept through here."

Beckett asked, "Were there over 100 saloons when this place was really booming?"

"Yeah, that's what Doctor Jay said," Ronon answered.

"So, if we have time before the OK Corral show at 1400, we'll go to the Birdcage. Then after the show, I want to go to Boothill…we'll drive up there. Then come back here, check out what we haven't seen and then have dinner at The Crystal Palace before we go home. Sound good?"

They all agreed and proceeded to devour the platters and then their sandwiches. Sheppard paid the bill and they left Big Nose Kate's, heading for the Birdcage Theater, where they joined a group of tourists to listen to the tour guide.

Where Doctor Jay was polished and well-dressed, Dean, the Birdcage tour guide looked like he walked right out of the silver mines and into the Birdcage for a night of fun. His long graying hair, scruffy beard, big black hat, and period clothing gave him an air of authenticity.

When Dean finished his spiel, and they were free to roam the theater, Sheppard walked to the bar, running his fingers along the smooth, old wood. Ronon followed him.

Sheppard noticed his friend had joined him, "Remember the bar at my father's house?"

"Fancier than this one."

"Yes, it is… you know it's funny... my father would have been embarrassed by such a bar, definitely looks saloon-like as opposed to the British gentlemen's club atmosphere he felt comfortable in. But my mother's father, Anton Allain, visited Tombstone a couple of times and told me how much he wanted a bar just like this. Such a difference between those two men…."

"Sounds like your grandfather was a good man, Sheppard."

Nodding, Sheppard replied, "That he was…." He didn't have a chance to say more as a loud 'Rodney' echoed from the casino area, "Let's go…the kids are fussing again."

Thirty-five minutes later, Sheppard herded his friends toward the OK Corral for the main show. They settled in the bleachers about ten minutes before the live show began. The 'stage' was a walled in area with a false backdrop of building along Allen Street, painted in bright colors.

Ronon remarked as they sat down, "Why didn't they set this up where the real gunfight was?"

"Didn't Doctor Jay say it was because some movie called it the Gunfight at OK Corral came out years ago, and everyone assumed the OK Corral was where the fight actually happened? We watched a movie about the gunfight, didn't we? Think I remember seeing Kurt Russell in it."

"Yeah, caught the last half-hour while we were at the lake, you slept through most of it."

"I slept through everything… well, nearly everything… at the lake. We'll have to watch it again," Sheppard replied.

McKay was grumpy, "This is really going to be cheesy, isn't it?"

Beckett snapped, "Rodney, for once…could you just shut up and enjoy something for what it is, not what ya think it should be."

"Yeah, well…I'm telling your mother you bought those photos."

His interest piqued, Sheppard asked, "What pictures?"

McKay smugly said, "Those kind of pictures…"

Sheppard pushed back a laugh, "What kind of pictures?"

"You know…"

"No, I don't, Rodney; tell me." Sheppard knew what kind of pictures; he'd seen the copies of the original photographs of some of the ladies of ill repute who worked the Birdcage. He simply wanted Rodney to see if Rodney would describe the quite intimate pictures.

"They are…uh…"

Beckett snarked, "Ya cheeky bastard, I bought some photos of the prostitutes because I am interested in photography and these were good examples of early photographs."

"You bought them because they're naked," McKay snarked back.

Ronon asked, "Can I see them?"

Sheppard held up his hand, unable to contain his laugher any longer, "Enough, all of you." He pointed to McKay and Beckett, "Stop sniping at each other." Then, still laughing, told Ronon, "We'll look at the pictures later."

Ronon grinned broadly, then asked, "Can we set up a bar and poker room an… At… uh… at home? I liked that poker room."

McKay said, "You don't play poker."

"Yeah, I do… Corporal Rodriquez has been teaching me."

Sheppard glanced at Ronon, "Ray's quite the poker player… I've lost a few bucks to him."

"He says I have the perfect poker face."

Chuckling, Sheppard replied, "Yeah… that and the blaster… I'd let you win."

Beckett opened a box of chocolate fudge he bought along with the pictures and handed everyone a piece, "Those 'cribs' lining the walls, where the prostitutes plied their trade was interesting. Just a curtain separating them from the rest of the patrons while they…" he raised his shoulders, "you know. Amazing to think how they lived back then. All those famous people that performed there like Caruso and Little Egypt…"

Ronon asked, "That was the belly dancer in the painting hanging in the front?"

"Yeah, and the poker game that went on for how long…"

Sheppard answered, "Eight years, five months, three days."

"Numbers, you always remember the numbers…and don't tell me you could have been Mensa." Rodney stuffed the rest of his piece of fudge in his mouth as an exclamation point.

"Well, laddie, what surprised me was how much it cost to get into that game…a thousand dollars to buy in and over ten million dollars was played during that eight years. When Dean said to buy in today would be thirty thousand dollars, I was shocked."

Sheppard shrugged, "That's why it was the wealthy of the time like Bat Masterson, and Diamond Jim Brady could afford it."

"I liked all the bullet holes…" Sheppard, Beckett, and McKay turned in unison toward Ronon, who simply said, "All the bullet holes and the stories about how they got there…it was cool."

Beckett popped another piece of fudge into his mouth and mumbled, "That hearse, the Black Mariah, was something… so interesting to see a piece of history… think about how many bodies that hearse took to Boothill. Not surprised it's worth two millions dollars now."

"Shhhh…" Sheppard chided, "Looks like the show's about to start."

Quite a crowd had gathered and the stands were full by the time the Clanton-McLaury gang walked in. For the next twenty minutes, the story of the shootout at the OK Corral unfolded in front of them.

When the show ended, Sheppard looked over at Ronon, who was grinning from ear to ear.

"Like the show, Chewie?"

"Yeah… they always shoot at each other like that… not taking cover?"

Sheppard whispered, "Pretty fearless. You think they might be related to the Satedans?" Ronon laughed heartily.

As they were walking out, Beckett asked, "The brochure said thirty shots in thirty seconds and the McLaury brothers and Billy Clanton dead, Virgil and Morgan Earp, and Doc Holiday wounded."

"Don't forget Carson, the Earps and Holiday were charged with murder… some claim Virgil shot Clanton point-blank to start the shootout. They went to trial but were found not guilty."

McKay said, "Frontier justice… very civilized."

As they stepped onto the street, Sheppard answered, "More civilized than Canada was at that time, McKay." Sheppard stopped, glancing at his watch. "Okay, it's about 1440 and I'd like to go to Boothill, but first I want something to drink."

"I'd like some ice cream," Beckett said pointing across the street to the ice cream parlor.

"Ice cream it is… let's go," Sheppard replied.

The clip clop sound of a stagecoach approached and they waited to cross the street until the red coach drawn by a couple of bay horses passed. They bought ice cream and drinks, and strolled along the street, window-shopping on the way to the car. They were about to turn the corner toward the Range Rover when Sheppard stopped.

"There's a western wear shop… come on… I want a hat."

McKay dropped his head, "I said he was a kid…"

Beckett grabbed McKay's arm, "I want one, too… now stop whining."

Thirty minutes later, the four friends left the shop, attired in cowboy hats. Sheppard adjusted the black Stetson on his head, smiling, "I always wanted one of these." He checked out Ronon's hat, "Yeah, the dark brown was the best choice for you and for Carson."

Beckett chuckled lowly and tilted his head toward a car parked in front of the lot, where Rodney McKay was peering at his image in the side window. Sheppard walked up and loudly announced, "White hat looks good, Rodney."

McKay jumped, "Damn it, Sheppard… do you have to sneak up like that?"

"Why, yes… McKay… I do… let's go, you can admire yourself while we're driving to Boothill."

The drive to Boothill took less than five minutes. There were only a few dusty cars in the lot, a warm mid-afternoon sun glinting off the metal trim. An old trading post, which appeared to be more tourist trap than trading post, sat across the lot from the main building. They walked toward the main building, Beckett diverted to a tall stone monolith standing next to the building, taking pictures of it.

As he walked back to the group, Sheppard asked him, "What did that plaque say?

"The monument was erected by the American Legion to honor the pioneers, veterans, and settlers."

They walked into the gift shop, which was full of t-shirts, mugs, books, and other items. Sheppard thought so much for the trading post across the street being the only tourist trap.

"Come on, guys, we'll look around in here later, I want to see the cemetery."

Boothill Cemetery sat on a ridge overlooking the expansive valley. The ground was covered in fine gravel; the graves piled with rocks were in nearly even rows spread across the grounds. Small signs marked the majority of the graves, some identified with tall wooded markers curved at the top, and occasional stone markers. A wide variety of cacti grew all over the cemetery; Sheppard recognized prickly pear, yucca, and there was a thin, gnarly dark green cactus he didn't recognized but liked. Many of the plants were in bloom, scattering splotches of pink, yellow, and purple around the predominantly gray cemetery.

"Sheppard, come here." Ronon was standing next to a tall wooden grave marker, "Look." He pointed to the words written on the marker. Sheppard read the inscription aloud.

"Here lies George Johnson Hanged by Mistake 1882 He was right we was wrong but we strung him up and now he's gone."

Sheppard shook his head, "Poor bastard, that'll ruin your day." Ronon only nodded in agreement.

Beckett hollered at them, "John, Ronon, over here."

Beckett and McKay were standing along the second row of graves, Beckett said almost reverently, "Here's the Clanton gang."

A tall marker listed the names of Billy Clanton, Tom McLaury, and Frank McLaury, with the words "murdered on the streets of Tombstone 1881" written below. The graves of the three men sat to the markers left, their name and date on death on individual makers.

Ronon stood quietly staring down at the graves, as McKay and Beckett chatted about which one of the actors from the reenactment was playing the men whose graves lay before them. Sheppard moved closer to the Satedan.

"What are you thinking?"

"I wonder how many men I've…" he paused, realizing there were too many ears around, "you know… how many are resting some place like this because of me."

Sheppard bit his lip, then sighed, "Let's just say, I've had my share, too… but most of yours… well, you took care of those life-sucking bastards. Not the same thing."

"Really, Sheppard? How about Todd?"

Sheppard's eyes darted to his friend's, then he quickly looked away. When he spoke, his voice was cold, "In a heartbeat, if I had needed to."

They wandered around for nearly thirty minutes, finding the grave markers and some of the comments interesting, then spent some time in the gift shop. Sheppard bought Ronon a book and DVD on Tombstone, and a couple of T-shirts for himself. He was checking out when Rodney walked up with a bald eagle sand globe and a jar of hot mustard and a hot pepper sauce.

"McKay, I figure the sand globe is for Madison but the mustard and hot pepper sauce?"

McKay looked a bit embarrassed, "Yes… the globe is for Madison, the other stuff's for Zelenka."

Sheppard eyebrow shot up, "For Radek?"

"Yeah, he likes hot sauce…so I saw it… and I…"

Sheppard spared him further discomfort, "That's nice, Rodney."

Once back in the car, heading back to town, Sheppard announced that the clerk told him about a silver mine tour about a block from where they had parked before.

"Ronon, wanna go check it out?"

"I'd like to."

"Okay then…"

"I'm tired, I don't want to go on any more tours." The unmistakable whine of Rodney McKay came from the back seat.

Sheppard shook his head, "You don't want to go, you don't have to go. You and Carson look around town or head to the Crystal Palace and we'll catch up with you. Sound okay, Carson?"

"Sounds good to me laddie. I could use a cool pint about now."

Parking this time in the parking lot across from the Birdcage, Sheppard and Ronon parted company with McKay and Beckett.

Sheppard pointed in the opposite direction, "The mine is this way. Last tour is at 1600 so we'll have to hustle." They briskly walked to Toughnut Street, then a short block toward a metal arch with the name, Tombstone Consolidated Mines on it.

Shirley, one of the owners according to her nametag, was about to close the tour when they got to the mine office, a small rickety looking hut. She smiled broadly, "You boys almost didn't make it." Sheppard paid for the tickets and she handed them bright green safety vests and plastic hard hats.

"Go on down the stairs, they just went down. And you, big fellow, be extra careful, it's kinda low down there so you're gonna want to duck."

Shirley's husband Andree was their tour guide, his voice drifting up to them as they descended the narrow, steep stairs into the main hall of the mine. Andree was the ex-mayor of Tombstone and he knew every detail of the Good Enough Mine. He regaled them with the story of the original claim holder who named the mine Good Enough, because the vein of silver ore running through it was good enough for him. Nearly a thousand feet long, the mine was spotless, unlike a working mine; Andree hired two men to wash the walls so the tourists could see the ore veins. He chuckled, saying the guys lived underground for nearly six months to make the mine pretty. He also pointed out the splotches of red paint on the wall where he had bumped his head a few times…all considerably lower than Ronon's forehead.

After they returned topside, Sheppard replaced the hard hat with his new Stetson, "I could get used to this hat."

Ronon nodded, "Yeah, like mine, too."

As they headed in the direction of the Crystal Palace, Sheppard asked, "Did Rodney ever figure out if stega was the same as silver?

"He looked at this," Ronon held out a nugget he wore around his neck on a very long leather cord, "and thought the mineral looked very similar and except for possibly some trace minerals that could be in it, was probably the same. Said he run some tests on it when we got back to make certain."

"That's cool, means that there's something in common to our…well, you know."

"Yeah."

The sun was dropping low in the sky as they reached Allen Street. Tourists were milling around on the sidewalks, some heading to their cars, other heading toward the many saloons in along the old street.

"There's the Crystal Palace." Sheppard motioned to the building across the street. As Sheppard started to cross the street, Ronon grabbed his arm.

"Sheppard, thanks…I like this place."

"No thanks needed…I like it, too."

"McKay doesn't."

Sheppard shrugged, "Rodney doesn't always know what he likes. He's spent his entire life in a lab or a classroom; I'm not even certain he understood what fun was when he was a kid. My feeling is he's enjoying this more than he'll ever let on. But don't worry about him, we'll make him have fun."

The day's bright sunlight was fading into the yellow pinks of sunset, as they entered the Crystal Palace Saloon. Sheppard and Ronon's boots created a scuffing noise as they walked across the old wooden floor. The light was dimming; red curtains over the windows cast a rosy glow over the tables, where only a few diners sat at such an early hour.

Ronon tapped Sheppard on the shoulder pointing to the bar, where McKay and Beckett were sitting, chatting with a barmaid. Sheppard nodded, "Those boys are doing okay on this trip."

The young woman walked away as they approached the bar, but smiled coyly at Sheppard and Ronon. As Sheppard slipped onto the barstool next to Beckett, he noticed the barmaid speaking to another woman, pointing toward them. He sighed silently, too bad they were behaving themselves on this trip, the servers' costumes were quite nice. He turned his attention to his friend, "Carson, having fun?"

Beckett turned his entire body toward Sheppard, "Aye, laddie…that I am." His bright blue eyes were slightly glassy, a definite tell the Scot had a bit to drink. Sheppard was about to ask McKay how many beers Carson had consumed but the scientist's flush pink cheeks, unquestionably not the result of sunburn, revealed he'd probably kept up.

Glancing at Ronon, he asked their friends, "You guys eaten anything?"

"Waiting for you laddie."

Sheppard grabbed a menu and motioned for the bartender, "Can we have a order of BBQ wings and two orders of onions rings."

The bartender nodded, "Coming up, what can I get you boys to drink?"

Sheppard nodded at Ronon, who ordered a shot of tequila. Sheppard tapped the bar's smooth surface and said, "Jack…Black."

"So, how was the mine?" McKay asked.

"Interesting," Sheppard answered, "Remember the basement room in the Birdcage where the mine shaft opened into?" McKay nodded a bit too vigorously. "Well, according to the guide Tombstone was built overtop of the silver veins. But when the ore ran out the town died, only coming back to life when they made a tourist attraction out of it."

Rodney grinned broadly, "That's nice," and then motioned to the bartender for another beer.

"McKay, how many beers have you had?"

"This is my third…" Beaming he pointed at the mug.

"Okay…"

Beckett bumped Sheppard with his shoulder, "Laddie that's not scotch."

"No…decided I wanted whiskey since we were in the Wild West."

Beckett giggled, "That's… good." He lifted his beer mug, "Here's to the wild west."

"Sheppard shook his head, pushing a small bowl of nuts in front of his friend, "Carson, eat some peanuts."

As the next hour passed, people began drifting into the saloon. Beckett and McKay devoured the ribs and onion rings, and had sobered up a bit. Carson perked up considerably when a group of tourists entered, their Scottish accents unmistakable.

Hopping off the stool, Beckett announced, "Got some kinfolk here, gotta go talk to the lads."

Sheppard looked around, noticing the tables were getting full, "Let's get a table, order dinner. It's been a long day; I wouldn't mind getting back to the hotel fairly early."

They settled in at a table next to the doctor's new friends. When Beckett noticed he joined his teammates, his smile beaming. "The lads are all football fans, belong to the Six Nations Supporters club. Their wives are on a trip to Rome together, so they decided to visit the Old West, been in the US for three days. I told them we'd have a drink with them before we leave. If that's okay with you lads?"

"Sounds good to me; I'm hungry, let's order."

Everyone ordered the big rib eye, with grilled cowboy potatoes and ranch beans, and another round of drinks. As they waited for the food, Ronon asked Beckett about his friends.

"Football in Scotland, is it like the football Sheppard showed us?"

Beckett smiled, "Nah, laddie... it is a rough and tumble game, not a sissy game like the Americans play."

"Hey, I resent that," Sheppard teased, "I played football."

McKay snarked, "You played football, Sheppard? You never told us that."

Sheppard's eyes shifted from one friend to another, "Sure I did…" No one moved, just kept staring at him.

McKay said, "No… you didn't tell us. You showed us the Hail Mary film but never told us you played."

"Well, I was a quarterback in high school, running back for the Falcons until I bummed up my knee. I quit the team, to let my knee heal, because I preferred skiing and didn't want to do anymore damage."

"You skied for the Academy?"

Sheppard nodded, "The one thing my father, and I had in common was that he loved to ski, took us skiing every chance he could. The Academy offered competitive skiing through the ski club, so I decided to ski only, instead of play football after my third…uh sophomore… year. We were allowed to compete in amateur ski competitions."

Beckett sighed, "Too bad it's still a bit early for skiing; I'd like to see you ski."

Sheppard's brow raised, "Been a long time, I'm a bit rusty."

Ronon asked, "Did you win?"

The right corner of Sheppard's mouth turned up slightly, a faraway look in his eye, "Yeah, most of the time."

Ronon was full of questions about skiing and kept them occupied until the food arrived. They dived into the food, silent while they savored the steaks.

McKay made an "ummm" sound and Beckett laughed, "Rodney, I think we've finally found something you like."

His mouth full, Rodney mumbled, "Really good steak…"

"Mind your manners, McKay," Sheppard mumbled, having just taken a bite of steak as well. "This steak does live up to its reputation." He washed down the bite with the remainder of his drink, and called the barmaid over.

The young woman who was chatting with Beckett and McKay earlier came over, "What can I do for you handsome?"

"Another round for everyone, please."

"For you, anything…be back in a jiff." She smiled at Sheppard, then Ronon before she trotted off.

McKay looked at Beckett, "That took longer than I expected?"

Sheppard asked, as he was about to devour a forkful of potatoes, "What took longer?"

"For the waitresses to hit on you and Ronon."

"Give it a rest, McKay," Sheppard answered testily. An irritated look from Ronon shut McKay up.

They finished their meal about the same time the Scottish football fans, and one of group stood up, "Carson, why don't you and your friends join us for a round?"

Beckett looked to his friends, who all agreed, and the four joined the Scotsmen; an hour and a half later, Sheppard knew his desire for an early evening wasn't going to materialize. The Scots were fun, regaling them with stories of rugby games, pub-crawls, and their families. Two of the group, Ian and Mark, former rugby players, took a great liking to Ronon and were trying to figure out how they could make him a Scot, so he could play for the Scottish national team. Another, Fenton, was a former Royal Navy enlisted man, a plane captain on a British carrier. He and Sheppard chatted about jet fighters.

Drinks were flowing freely; Sheppard had lost count on how many pitchers of beer had been delivered to the table. The Friday night crowd seemed to be a mix of tourists and locals, and the saloon was getting crowded. Sheppard had continued drinking Jack Daniels, but decided if they were going to make it back to the hotel, he needed to switch to a non-alcoholic drink.

He also decided he needed a trip to the head. As he got up, Beckett asked, "Where ya going laddie? Not leaving, are ya?"

"Just going that way," he pointed toward the back of the saloon, "I'll be right back."

He made his way through the crowd toward the restrooms. When he emerged, he spotted one of the barmaids who had been serving them. He slipped up next to her, "Hey."

She whirled around, "Ooh…must be my lucky day."

"Sorry, no…I just wanted to tell you to make my drinks ginger ale from now on: I'm driving."

"There you go, getting my hopes up…but sure, I'll bring you unleaded drinks from now on." She was smiling, but her smiled faded as she glanced toward the front entrance.

Sheppard tracked her gaze, spotting four young men entering the saloon. Looking back at the barmaid, he saw a look of panic on her face. "Something about those guys you don't like?"

She looked startles, "Uh…no…uh…well, they've been known to cause problems. One of them has been harassing my friend, Jill; she's the blond next to the bar. He doesn't like the word no."

He sucked in a deep breath; he hated bullies, "Look, maybe they'll behave themselves."

"Dream on, mister; Tom Howard and his friends, never behave themselves. Gotta go…new table."

She walked away, but not before Sheppard noticed, she took another furtive glance at the Tom and his entourage. Sheppard decided he'd keep an eye on them as well; his spidy sense was kicking in and it what it was telling him wasn't good.

The numerous pitchers of beer were beginning to kick in and the Scottish lads, Beckett included, were getting a bit rowdy. Ronon went the head and came back, pulling a chair from another table, next to Sheppard's.

"What's got your attention?"

"Never can hide anything from you…see those four guys at the bar?"

"Yeah, noticed them come in, the bartender reacted to them, figured they might be a problem."

"Well, according to the little brunette waiting on us, the guy in the white shirt is stalking the blond waitress standing with her right now."

"Got that look about him."

"Well, we're not here to start anything or stop anything for that matter. Just keep an eye on the girls, don't want them hurt."

Ronon leaned back in his chair, stretching his long legs out, nursing a mug of beer, as he kept an eye on the four men at the bar. The next round of drinks came, a ginger ale for Sheppard, and everything appeared to be calm, but Sheppard recognized the signs. The stalker was getting antsy and was watching every move Jill was making.

The Scottish tourists were getting a bit more vocal, laughing and making toasts. Tom and his friends began to take notice of them, throwing angry glances toward the guys.

Mark stood up and made a toast, and began singing a Scottish rugby song, the rest of them joining in. Beckett was singing louder than any of them, his face red from all the beer he had consumed. They sang two choruses of the rugby song, then launched into another Scottish song.

Sheppard was somewhat surprised to see many of the other patrons clapping and smiling, but he noted one young man was not. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Jill heading for the table with a couple more pitchers of beer. When she arrived, Ian and one of the others threw their arms around her, bringing her into the group. As he straightened a bit in his chair anticipating a problem, Sheppard heard the legs of Ronon's chair hit the worn wooden floor.

Tom bolted from his chair, his friends behind him, and crossed the narrow restaurant to reach the table. He grabbed Ian's arm and jerked the tall, beefy Scot around.

"You keep your filthy hands off her."

Ian threw up his hands, "Sorry, laddie, no harm; we're just having fun here. The wee lass has been sweet to us, and we wanted her to join in."

"The wee lass…who the fuck do you think you are. I said get your hand…"

Jill grabbed Tom, "Stop it; they're just having fun. They aren't doing anything. But you are, now go away…and take you friends with you."

Tom glared at her, "You bitch, you like this running around in this costume having this men stare at you…well, I don't like it."

Sheppard and Ronon were on their feet. Through the din, he heard McKay yell, " Not again…"

Sheppard had almost reached Tom, when Jill shouted, "I don't care what you…" A slap across her face from Tom silenced her, a trickle of blood trailing from the corner of her mouth.

Ian decked Tom with an uppercut to the jaw. Tom recoiled, blood dripping from his nose, then lunged at Ian. Sheppard was about to grab Tom when one of the stalker's friends threw a punch at him, glancing off his jaw as he ducked. Spinning around, Sheppard took out his attacker with a quick blow to the guy's chin. Mark subdued another member of Tom's group, and Ronon had one of the others in a chokehold. The guy passed out and Ronon dropped him to the floor, then reached for Tom.

Grabbing Tom by the collar, Ronon said gruffly, "You don't hit women." He drew back his fist, but Sheppard seized his arm.

"No, let the police handle this." He tilted his head toward the door as several of Tombstone's finest arrived.

The Tombstone marshal and his deputies herded the Scots, Sheppard, and his team, Jill, and the four locals into a private dining room. Carson tended to Jill and Tom's injuries until an EMT squad arrived.

The marshal spent some time talking with the owner of the Crystal Palace, while his deputies took statements from everyone. Once he finished with the owner, the marshal conferred with his deputies, then walked over to where Sheppard was sitting. As he started to stand up, the marshal motioned him to remain seated, and sat down himself.

"Colonel Sheppard, I'm Marshal Dane…been one of those nights."

"Yes sir, it has. What do you need from us?"

"We got statements from everyone, Tom and his friend Billy will be charged with assault. The other two boys, well…we'll see, they waded into the fight, but Tom's a bad influence…might let them go, hoping they've learned their lesson."

"Marshall, my friends and I are on leave, when we return to duty, we're going to be difficult to reach. Do you think you'll need us to testify?"

"I don't think so, Colonel. But this contact number you gave us, if we need anything the prosecutor can get in touch with you here?"

"That you can."

The marshal stood up, and Sheppard followed suit. "Colonel, thanks for helping keep this from being a real free for all. Jill's parents came and got her, she's gonna be fine. Everything's back to normal in the saloon, you're free to go any time." They shook hands, and the marshal left.

Sheppard turned to his teammates, "You guy's ready to head to the hotel?"

Ronon nodded, and Rodney answered, "Yes, I am…" Rodney's words were slurred, he was still feeling the effects of the beer.

"Me, too." He looked over at Carson who was talking to his new friends. "Carson, you ready to go back to Tucson?" Still a bit, glassy-eyed, Carson nodded.

They said their goodbyes to the guys from Scotland and headed out through the saloon. Sheppard stopped to pay the bill and was nearly at the door when he realized he didn't have his Stetson. He turned around to find Jill's friend running toward him with his hat.

"Here, I was waiting for you to come out. Thanks, mister, to all of you; maybe Jill will finally be rid of that jerk."

"Thanks," he said, taking his hat, "let's hope so. You take care."

"You come back and see us, handsome."

Sheppard joined his friends on the sidewalk, and they walked to the Rover. By the time they passed the city limits, McKay and Beckett were sound asleep in the back seat.

Ronon stretched as far as he could in the front seat; he glanced over at Sheppard, "You want me to drive?"

"Maybe, once we get on the four-lane road. You've never driven at night?"

"No."

"Well, there's always a first time."

"What are we doing tomorrow?"

"Not one damn thing."

~ooOoo~

Sheppard woke with a start, his heart pounding until he realized he was lying in bed in his hotel room. The dream that awakened him still fresh in his mind. He was walking down a dusty street, spurs jangling, his hand resting on the smooth wooden grip of the six-shooter strapped to his hip. There was trouble in the saloon, and as he approached the few people on the street parted to let him pass. He pushed the swinging doors open and entered the dark chamber.

A saloon girl, waiting on a table, pointed toward the bar where the apparent troublemaker was sitting. The man was tall, long silver hair trailing below a scruffy hat, a shot glass in front of him. He called out to the man, who flipped a coin toward the bartender and turned to face him. It was Todd…

He shook off the dream, whispering in a raspy voice, "No more drinking, John." At least, there were no Wraith queens in the dream so it wasn't a nightmare, he thought as he rubbed his eyes. He glanced at the clock; it was 0735, too early to get up. It was just before 0200 when they arrived back at the hotel, and although exhausted, he showered before collapsing into bed. For once he decided, he was sleeping in; the bed was comfortable, the sheets smooth, and he was cozy. He turned onto his left side, slipping into sleep.

When he woke again, nearly two hours had passed. Sheppard stretched, still not enthusiastic about moving from the comfortable bed, but forced himself to throw back the covers and stumble to the bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later, he wandered onto the Core Kitchen, coffee his main objective. The hostess smiled as he walked in, and pointed toward a table where Carson Beckett sat, a carafe of coffee and one of orange juice in front of him. Sheppard could tell from across the room that Beckett was feeling the alcohol from last night.

Dropping into a seat across from Beckett, Sheppard asked, "I thought coffee was not good for hangovers."

Beckett stared at him, "Laddie this morning, I'll try anything."

"You Scots do know how to party."

"Aye, we gie it laldy last night." Beckett dropped his head into his hands.

"I've learned a lot of Scottish slang on this trip, but I have no idea what you just said."

Despite his obvious discomfort, Beckett smiled, "Gie it laldy means to give whatever you're doing a hundred percent effort. To Scots, that means drinking and partying with gusto."

"Gusto is exactly what you and your Scottish buddies did last night. But those were some good guys; I enjoyed meeting them."

"That they were, glad we ran into them. Nice to have a little touch of home."

Sheppard didn't comment, prompting Beckett to ask, "John, why don't you go see your brother?"

Distracting himself by pouring a cup of coffee and then taking a sip, Sheppard finally answered, "I've been thinking about it. I'd like to see Miss Gilly. Haven't seen her since my father died, and I was thinking about going to see my aunt in Louisiana. Don't know, Carson, never had the connection to my family like you have. Sometimes the desire is there to see them, but…"

"Your brother, you two patched things up, didn't ya?"

Sheppard chewed on his lower lip, pausing before he spoke, "We… we came to an understanding… probably had the most honest conversation we've ever had after our father died. But we have so little in common; Dave's all about the money, the prestige, the power. I…I never wanted any of that."

"Well, laddie, what you do have in common is your mother. You can't tell me that Dave wasn't just as devastated to lose her as you were."

Sheppard's eyes narrowed, "He had my father to help him through that time."

"You had Miss Gilly, didn't you?"

"Yeah… and Aunt Adelise… maybe… I should go see her."

"I went home to Avonbridge after we got back, it was good to go home. See those things we cherished as a child, even those things that gave us pain."

Sheppard was thankful he was saved from answering as the server arrived with Beckett's breakfast and took his order.

"Greasy fried eggs and bacon? Good move; that'll help chase the queasiness away."

"Hope so, laddie."

"Where's Ronon and McKay?"

Beckett was about to shove a forkful of fried egg into his mouth, "Ronon's been up for hours, think he went to workout and then to the pool. McKay slammed the phone down in my ear, saying he was ordering from room service and to leave him alone."

"Rodney tried to keep up with you; he needs to learn better. I think a morning by the pool would be a good thing, you up to it?"

"That was my plan, let the sun bake the beer out of me."

Sheppard and Beckett wandered out to the pool after they finished breakfast. The warm mid-morning sun cast bright glare off the crystal water. Sheppard was about to arrange for a cabana when Beckett spotted Ronon stretched out on a deck chair underneath one of the white canopies scattered poolside.

Ronon rose up as they approached, "'Bout time you two got here."

"You're awfully chipper this morning," Sheppard said as he dropped his sunglasses and phone onto one of the chairs.

"Had some cobwebs but swimming chased them away."

"Worked, huh? Think I'll find out for myself." He pulled off his t-shirt, and slipped off his jeans, swimsuit on underneath, and quickly dove into the pool.

The water was cool but refreshing; he swam hard for several minutes, then rolled onto his back, feeling the sun warm his chest. He let his mind wander for a while, as he drifted across the pool. A shadow passed over him and he opened his eyes to see Ronon on the edge of the pool, standing over him.

"You're about to bump your head."

Sheppard rolled over, swam a short stroke to the edge, and push himself out of the water. "Time I got out anyway, thanks for the warning."

He followed Ronon back to the cabana, where Beckett was sound asleep. Ronon snorted, "Good thing, the only other people out here are at the other end…his snoring would wake the dead."

Laughing, Sheppard replied, as he grabbed a towel, "Remember the time we went with him when he was treating the Cenars. Where we had to sleep in that big tent with everyone in the village? They thought he was dying… apparently, none of them snore."

"They were scared to death but did everything he told them from that point on."

"It was pretty funny," Sheppard nodded, finished drying off, and plopped down on a lounger sitting in the sun. "Right now, a nap seems like a good idea."

It was nearly 1300 before McKay wandered down to the pool. Ronon and Carson were swimming; Sheppard was under the cabana watching a movie on his pad.

"Glad you decided to get up and join us."

McKay frowned and plopped down, "I've been awake, just needed some down time."

"We boring you?"

"No…my head hurt and after all that noise and music last night, I just wanted some peace and quiet."

"Oh… I see… you were hung over."

"I was not hung over."

"Yes you were."

McKay started to argue, but folded his arms across his chest and remained quiet.

"McKay… what's eating you?"

"Nothing."

"Okay, don't play Ronon with me… he's the one who doesn't talk."

"Right, flyboy… like you're Mr. Communicator."

"Mr. Communicator? That the best you can do?"

A long sigh was all Sheppard received in reply. He put down his pad and turned toward McKay, "Did you call Zelenka?"

"Yeah…"

"Don't make me pull it out of you … what's wrong?"

McKay winced, "Zelenka said he thinks those goons from Area 51 found something in the database, and they won't tell him what. I called Lee and he said he didn't know what I was talking about."

"Rodney, you know those guys from 51, you told me when we were back at Cheyenne Mountain after the Tria showed up they got over excited about everything. Whatever they found you've probably discovered and already forgotten."

"I don't know…I just have this feeling…"

Sheppard leaned back in the lounger, "It's the hangover…"

"I am not hung over."

Beckett was out of the pool, walking toward him, "Well, I was this morning laddie, and you drank nearly as much as I did."

"Watch it…you're getting water everywhere. And I was not hung over…"

Sheppard shook his head, and waved his hand at Beckett, "Give a rest, Carson; it's not worth it."

Beckett sat down, "I've worked up an appetite, how's lunch sound."

"I could eat," McKay offered.

"I bet you can," Sheppard answered, chuckling. "Let's get Ronon out of the pool and get some food."

~ooOoo~

The sun was setting, as Sheppard and Ronon grabbed a table on the patio at Cayton's, the restaurant of the hotel's golf club. The sky was turning a pale slate blue, with a splash of purple, pink, and orange radiating from the setting sun.

Ronon pointed, "Those plants…"

"The Saguaro cactus?"

"Yeah…those things are really cool."

The server brought their beers, and neither man spoke for a bit, simply enjoying their beer and the sun setting behind the tall, branching Saguaros.

Sheppard had drunk half his beer before Ronon asked, "They meeting us here?"

"Yeah, Carson called while you were changing shoes, they were about to leave the hotel, should be here soon."

"Good, I'm hungry."

"Oh yeah…like that's new…"

"Bite me, Sheppard."

Sheppard flashed Ronon a sharp glare, then broke into a broad grin, "That's it, time to wrap up this trip; you're beginning to sound like McKay."

Ronon grinned in return, took a swig of beer, and announced, "I like golf."

"I'm not surprised, golf requires athletic ability, but a lot of it's a head game, a game of skill and finesse. You need to think, reason out what you need to do, and have a lot of patience, and execute. That fits you buddy."

The Satedan was silent, and Sheppard didn't prod him to answer. Ronon took another long swig on his beer before he answered.

"For so long I had to use those skills in a game to stay alive…to use them in a game for fun takes some getting use to."

"It's about time you had some fun, Chewie; you're way overdue."

"So are you."

"Guess we all needed a vacation."

Sheppard motioned to the server to bring another couple of beers, as McKay and Beckett arrived. Sheppard waved them over.

"Beer?"

"I'll take one, John."

McKay shook his head, "No…done enough of that. I'll have a club soda."

Drinks ordered, Sheppard asked, "So what did you guys do while we were playing golf?"

Carson answered, "We took a walk, then we sat in the lobby and watched the people for a while, then we played chess."

"I played a game of chess; I don't know what he was playing," McKay snarked.

"I beat ya, Rodney." Beckett beamed impishly.

It was Sheppard's turn to grin, "You beat Rodney, way to go Carson."

McKay sputtered, "One time out of three games."

"I beat you all the time."

"In your dreams, Sheppard."

Beckett wisely, changed the subject. "So, John how was the golf game?"

"It was good, Ronon damn near beat me."

Beckett cocked his head, "Not bad, Ronon…John's a very good golfer."

Sheppard grunted, "May have a lot to do with how long he hits the ball…par five he can hit the green in less than two drives…unnerving. Good thing we were walking the course by ourselves today. I'd be embarrassed."

Ronon was halfway through his second beer, "It's fun."

Sighing, Sheppard said, "If he ever learns to putt really well, I'm putting him on the PGA tour, no one will touch him."

"Aye, laddie, I don't doubt that. Never was great at golf, so I decided to stick to fishing."

Twilight was fading into darkness over the desert; torches on the patio provided a warm glow as the four friends sat staring into the shadows. One by one, the stars revealed themselves; Sheppard pointed toward an area of the sky, and whispered, "Home's that way."

Sitting next to Sheppard, Beckett answered quietly, "We'll go back, laddie; I'm sure of it."

"Yeah, we will." Sheppard stood up, "Let's go eat, then make an early night of it. I hear they have great burgers and ribs here…I'm hungry."

"Where we going tomorrow?" Ronon asked.

As they walked inside, Sheppard answered, "I called Davis-Monthan Air Base, they run one of the largest boneyards, and there's a great Air Museum next to the base… thought it would be fun to tour. We're to meet Colonel Ralph Gates tomorrow for lunch at the officer's club, then we get a personal tour. After that we'll go over to the Pima Air and Space Museum."

Beckett asked, "What's a boneyard?"

"It's where old or surplus planes and helicopters are stored."

McKay snarked, "Seriously, old planes?"

"Yep, McKay, and you're going to have fun."

McKay hesitated outside the restaurant doorway, uttering a soft groan, then followed his friends inside.

~ooOoo~

At 1145 hours, Sheppard turned off the four-lane road and stopped at the gate at Davis-Monthan. After checking their credentials, the MPs directed them to the Officer's Mess, located near the flight line.

As they parked, Beckett asked, "John, what do these people know about Atlantis?"

Sheppard shut off the engine, and looked over his shoulder, "Absolutely nothing to my knowledge… doubt even the base commander knows about us, since we're part of the military's most classified unit. No talking about Atlantis, or other worlds or anything. Ronon, remember your cover story, civilian contractor originally from Hawaii."

Ronon nodded, and as they got out, Sheppard added, "And Rodney, you might want to lie about being from Canada…"

"Bite me, Sheppard."

Colonel Ralph Gates, commander of the 55th Rescue Squadron met them inside. "Colonel Sheppard, welcome to Davis."

"Colonel Gates, thanks so much for having us. I'd like to introduce Dr. Rodney McKay, Dr. Carson Beckett, and Ronon Dex; all civilian contractors with the Air Force, and members of my team."

"Welcome, gentlemen, glad to have you on base. Colonel, some of the members of my squadron are waiting for us in the private dining room."

After introducing the other members of his squadron, they sat down. As lunch was served, Gates asked Sheppard, "Are you the same John Sheppard, who was a member of this squadron when it was attached to Hurlburt?"

Sheppard answered; a tad guarded, "Yes I am…was at Hurlburt from 94 through 98…right after I switched to flying helos."

"Unusual career move, Colonel."

"That it was, but as much as I loved flying jets, I sort of had a knack for choppers."

"That's why I asked if you were the same Sheppard, I have a Master Sergeant here, Dom Pontella, who tells me you were the best chopper pilot he ever served with."

Sheppard chewed on his bottom lip for a second, "Pontella's a master sergeant; he was an airman when I knew him…good guy."

"That he is, and invaluable to my command. If you don't mind, I've arranged for him to give you and your team the boneyard tour."

"That would be an honor, Colonel."

They spent the rest of lunch talking about the changes in the 55th, finding some personnel they served with in common, and trading war stories. When lunch was over, they exited the Officers Mess to find Pontella waiting for them. The sergeant was leaning against an open humvee, arms crossed.

"Well, well…Colonel…John Sheppard…who'd have thought? Guess since you're in civvy's sir... I don't have to salute you."

Sheppard strode over to the humvee, hand outstretched, "You…Master Sergeant… are a sight for sore eyes."

Pontella said, "Ah hell, good to see you, sir." He hugged Sheppard, who awkwardly patted the master sergeant on the back.

"You, too. Never thought I'd see you again."

"Me neither; I heard you were sent to McMurdo, glad to see you thawed out."

Laughing, Sheppard replied, "Me, too. Come on, let me introduce my friends to you."

They piled into the humvee, which was outfitted with upholstered benches in the back and headed into the boneyard.

They drove through row after row of outdated or unneeded planes and helicopters, Pontella stopping to point out a special plane or when Sheppard asked him to halt when he spotted a plane or helicopter, he was interested in.

As they walked around an old B-52 bomber, Beckett asked, "Why all the Army, Marine and Navy planes here… I thought this was an Air Force base?

Pontella answered, "Air Force Material Command's 309th Aerospace Maintenance and Regeneration Group is headquartered here. The group is better known as the sole aircraft boneyard for all excess military and government aircraft. Our dry location allows for the best preservation of the aircraft."

Ronon asked, "Why keep 'em?"

Sheppard answered his question, "Unfortunately, there could come a time when we might need to refurbish them and put them back into action. There are still a lot of volatile areas in the world, never know when they'll flare up. A lot of these planes have been cannibalized for parts, or had engines and other equipment removed for storage."

They spent nearly two hours roaming the boneyard, viewing areas the tours groups from the Pima Museum couldn't access. Pontella returned them to the Officer's Mess where the Rover was parked.

After the others said their good-byes to Pontella, Sheppard held back. "Dom, it's been really great to see you again."

"You, too, Colonel. Listen I heard about the divorce, sorry."

"No problem, it was for the best. How 'bout you? Still married to the lovely Genell?"

"Yes, sir, you remembered; she'll be thrilled…kids, Mario and Leia, both in high school." He hesitated, then said, "You know I never believed some of the things I heard. Those of us who knew you well, knew whatever you did you did for the right reasons." Sheppard didn't answer, and Pontella continued, "I hope whatever it is you're doing now you're happy."

"I am, glad you are. Listen, you ever want a change of scenery, get in touch with me. I'd love to have you on my team."

"Thanks, Colonel but I'm pretty happy, got my twenty in, once the kids are out of college, Genny and I are going buy a little bed and breakfast and live the good life."

"You take care, Dom." Sheppard shook his hand, and turned toward the car.

Pontella called after him, and Sheppard turned around. The master sergeant smiled, "The hell with regs, Colonel John Sheppard." He saluted Sheppard, who returned the salute.

"Thanks, Master Sergerant."

Sheppard was quiet as they exited the base and headed the short distance from the gate to the Pima Museum. McKay broke the silence as they pulled into the museum driveway.

"Have to admit, Sheppard, that was interesting. I knew the boneyards existed but didn't realize how big they really are."

"I think Davis is the largest, Pontella said there's over 5000 aircraft there; but there are others scattered across the southwestern US."

Beckett asked, "What do they do with them?"

Sheppard shrugged, "Eventually I think they sell them for scrap or to collectors. At least, the ones they don't want to keep in reserve in case they're needed. Millions and millions of dollars sitting in that desert."

He found a place to park, "Let's go check this place out… there's a space exhibit…" Sheppard grinned, "thought we might enjoy seeing what being in outer space would be like."

For the next two hours, they wandered through the exhibits of World War II planes, experimental aircraft, and other flying craft. A stop at the museum store and by 1715, they were headed back to Tucson.

As he exited the museum grounds, Sheppard asked, "Carson, did you get one of those bomber jackets?"

"Yeah, I did…"

"You know I can get you a real one if you want it?"

"Not necessary, I like this one…"

Sheppard looked back at McKay, "You find something for Madison?"

"Yeah, got her a book on airplanes and a jacket."

Beckett snickered, "And he bought himself one of those Hawaiian looking shirts with the planes all over them."

"Seriously? McKay…you have no taste in clothes."

"Leave me alone. I like it."

Sheppard laughed, "Just warn us before you wear it."

Beckett said, "I loved that little plane that looked like a bumble bee."

"The Starr Bumble Bee is listed in the Guinness Book of World Records as the smallest air craft ever flown. That little plane will cruise at 180 mph." Sheppard added, "Bit cramped for my taste, and I've been in some cramped cockpits."

"I liked the fire trucks we saw on the way out, and the barracks. Reminded me of the barracks on Sateda." Ronon remarked, then asked Sheppard, "You ever stay in barracks like that?"

"Yeah, close to it at McMurdo…but as an officer, I got a bit more privacy…but not much. McKay, didn't you stay in barracks when the SGC sent you to Russia to work on their gate?"

McKay glared at Sheppard, "Gee…thanks for reminding me."

Beckett asked, "So, where to now?"

"How 'bout an early dinner, then head back to the hotel. We need to decide where we want to go from here, so I thought we'd scope out some locations tonight. We'll leave sometime tomorrow or maybe the next day. I could do with another day around the pool and another round of golf."

"Another restful day would be nice," Beckett said.

"Where are we going to eat?" McKay asked.

Sheppard shuddered, "You checked him for a tapeworm, Carson?"

"No, but I might need to, laddie."

McKay just frowned, and sat back in the seat, arms crossed.

"I asked the concierge for a recommendation of a landmark Tucson restaurant, and he told me about the El Charro, it's the oldest Mexican Restaurant in Tuscon. Thought it might be fun to check out. Love Mexican food and we haven't had any yet."

Sheppard took a more scenic drive from the museum into Tucson. Downtown was a mix of modern glass and brick buildings and adobe structures with tile roofs, some painted in vibrant colors. They passed by a beautiful cathedral called St. Augustine, its twin bell towers framed by tall palm trees. The architecture of the aged church was decidedly old Mexico.

Across the street a building caught Ronon's eye. "Doc, what's a Scottish Rite Cathedral?"

Beckett turned to see what Ronon was talking about, "Ah…that's a Masonic group…part of the Freemasons. It's a group of people who claim they are simply like-minded people for meet for spiritual and intellectual enlightment. My mum's brothers were freemasons…lots of famous people belonged through the ages."

McKay added, "Some people think the Masons are a group of people who want to rule the world."

Sheppard asked, "You believe that McKay?"

"Uh… I don't know… I don't know much about them."

Beckett continued, "Well, me uncles were not conspirators unless you count trying to get an extra pint at the pub, when the barkeep wasn't looking."

They continued by the Tuscon convention center, a large one-story complex, and headed north for the original location of El Charro, passing colorfully painted apartment complexes and parking garages, and the rosy pink Tucson Covention and Toursit Bureau. As they turned onto the street where the restaurant was located, they entered into an older section of town.

The El Charro was located in Tucson's historic district. Its patio and lounge area was built of dark yellow stucco connected to the restaurant proper, which was located in an old stone house, the front covered with large glass windows, several dark-red benches sitting along the curb. At the front door, a host stood behind a wood podium, ready to seat guests. Sheppard parked in the large lot across the street, and exited the car. He opened the rear hatch and got out his Stetson.

McKay came around the Rover, "You wearing that?"

"Yep, won't have too many times to wear it once we get back to…well, home… thought I'd get some use out of it."

"I left mine at the hotel."

"You can wear yours tomorrow Rodney."

"Why are you wearing it, you're just going to take it off when you walk in the restaurant. It's less than fifty feet away."

Sheppard sat the Stetson on his head, "Yeah... I know. Come on, Beckett and Ronon are already inside."

The interior was colorful and crowded, almost all the tables taken, and it was just past 1800 hours. Sheppard and McKay joined their friends at a table next to the window in the corner. A lively server took their orders, while chips and salsa were served by an assistant. Everyone, save Rodney, ordered Negra Modelo's, along with guacamole and tortilla chips, and a plate of mini-chimichangas.

The beer and appetizers came quickly, and they dove into the dips.

"Um…good guacamole," Beckett mumbled, mouth full of the creamy green dip. He swallowed and continued, "I'll never forget the first time me mum tried guacamole. My sister Diane had just gotten married, and she was learning to cook and decided to experiment and make a Mexican meal. She served this bowl of green stuff with chips, and Mum just stared at it. She looked at my sister and asked her if she'd served baby food as a way of telling us she was pregnant." He laughed, "Diane wasn't and was really upset; Mum was a bit embarrassed, but she ate the guacamole and said she liked it. I don't think Diane ever believed her."

Sheppard laughed, "Diane's a sweetheart, really like her."

Beckett appeared confused, "When did you…" Then he realized his friends met his sisters when they attended his funeral. "Oh…sometimes I forget."

"So do we, Carson."

Between the crowd and the lively music, the restaurant was noisy so their conversation was sporadic and short. The server brought their entrees, El Charro's signature dish, the carne seca chimichanga. The serving was huge and came with rice and beans.

Ronon's eyebrows raised, "This looks like a dish my mother used to make."

Sheppard asked, "She air-dry the meat on the roof like they do here?"

Shrugging, Ronon said, "No…but it was made of dried beef and rolled in dough and fried. It was good."

"Dig in and we'll see how good this is."

As they finished the meal, Ronon announced, "This was good."

McKay answered, "Yeah... it was good…not even a big fan of Mexican, but I like it."

Sheppard chuckled, "We've finally found something Rodney doesn't hate. It's a good day." He didn't give McKay time to respond, "You guys ready to go?" When everyone said yes, Sheppard motioned for the bill.

When the server brought it, Beckett snatched it from Sheppard's hand, "This one's on me, laddie."

Although he hesitated, Sheppard said, "Okay…it's on you." He stood up, "I'm gonna hit the head, then go outside; get away from this noise."

Ronon said, "Meet you outside."

When Sheppard returned to the dining room, Beckett was paying the bill, and Ronon was standing on the sidewalk. Sheppard joined him, "Where's McKay?"

"Went to the gift shop."

"Poor Madison, wonder if she'll like half of what…" A scream and a gunshot rang out, stopping Sheppard in his tracks.

A black van was parked across the street along the curb. In the parking lot, two men had grabbed two teenage girls as they were getting into a car. The mother jumped out of the front seat running after the men, who were forcing the girls into the van. On the ground next to the car, a man lay bleeding from a gunshot wound to the chest.

Ronon raced across the street, just as one of the men grabbed the mother, yelling for him to let the woman go, but the man raised a weapon and fired three quick shots. As Sheppard watched, Ronon fell lifeless to the ground. He realized he had no way to defend himself, but Sheppard kept running toward the van. He was near the van when he heard Beckett's voice screaming, 'Colonel,' but he didn't stop. As he reached the van, he grabbed one of the masked men, as Beckell yelled, 'Colonel Sheppard' again. A second man struck Sheppard in the head with the butt of a handgun, "Get him inside," he told the other man, "a colonel might be a valuable hostage."

McKay exited the gift shop in time to see Sheppard being thrown into the van, which then sped away. As he stood on the sidewalk, the world seemed to be moving in slow motion. Beckett was running toward Ronon as people began to spill out of the restaurant, but only one thing caught McKay's attention. Sheppard's Stetson was lying in the middle of street and John Sheppard was gone.

~ooOoo~

The revolving blue and red lights from the police and fire units bathed Rodney in eerie unnatural light as he stooped to pick up Sheppard's Stetson from the middle of the street. He felt paralyzed… numb… as he watched Beckett and the paramedics attending to Ronon. John… John was gone, thrown into the back of a black van… along with the woman and two girls he was trying to protect. He turned toward one of the ambulances, where the woman's husband was being loaded for transport, a thick bandage covering the gunshot wound to his chest.

Beckett ran over to him, "Rodney… I'm gonna go with Ronon; they'll bring ya to the hospital."

"How is he?"

"Not good, not good at all… he's not breathing on his own." Beckett swallowed hard, squeezed McKay's shoulder and headed back to their wounded friend, leaving him alone once more, in the middle of the street.

Tucson Police Detective Eduardo Montez finished interviewing the manager of the El Charro, and approached McKay. "Dr. McKay?"

"Uh… yeah…" McKay voice was shaky, anger simmering under the surface.

"I'll take you to the hospital, that your rental over there, the Range Rover?" McKay nodded, and the detective continued, "I'll get an officer to bring it to the hospital. You got keys?"

"John had…no wait; I have a set."

Fumbling, McKay pulled an extra set of keys from his pocket, his hand shaking as he held them out. Montez called a uniformed officer over, handing him the keys, instructing him to drive the Rover to the University Medical Center. He motioned McKay to follow him.

McKay's anger erupted, "I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what you're doing to find Sheppard, and those women."

"Doctor, we have all available resources looking for them. I assure you we will do everything we can to locate them."

"No… Sheppard wouldn't sit idly by and neither will I. Now, tell me what's happening."

"Let's ride, I'll tell you as we head to the hospital."

Reluctantly, McKay agreed, and got into the detective's dark-gray sedan. Flipping on his lights and siren, Montez pulled away from the curb. Montez glanced over at his passenger, "What kind of doctor are you, medical like Beckett?"

"No… astrophysicist."

"Oh… and you say you and Doctor Beckett, who is a medical doctor, and Dex are all part of Colonel Sheppard's team? What do you guys do for the Air Force?"

McKay's lips thinned, "It's… classified… now what are you doing to find Colonel Sheppard?"

"We've put out a bolo on the van, one of the waiters who heard the commotion looked out the window in time to see one of the perps… ID'd him as a member of the Juggalos. They're considered one of the top gangs in Tucson; drug trafficking still the most important of their activities but they've been branching out… assault among other crimes. They are not widely recognized, only three states consider them a gang, but the FBI thinks they are becoming more organized and getting more violent. We've alerted all the gang units and SWAT is converging on two known addresses for the gang, and…"

"Isn't that dangerous…you could get them killed."

"We're not going to storm the locations, just secure them…look, Dr. McKay…"

"No… you look… you have no idea how valuable Colonel Sheppard is to the safety of this pla… country. We have to find him and those women. Now get me to the hospital, I have a call to make."

Montez stared at McKay for a second, but the determined look on the doctor's face apparently convinced him to listen. He pressed down on the gas.

McKay jumped out of the car at the UMC emergency room, rushing in to find Beckett. A nurse directed him toward a trauma bay. Beckett was standing just outside the glass doors of the room; inside several doctors and nurses were working on Ronon.

"Carson?"

Beckett turned to look at him, and McKay's mouth went dry; he felt unable to breath, as Beckett said softly, "The lad's on life support. I don't think he's gonna make it, Rodney. I spoke to the doctor who's going to operate on him to attempt to repair the damage to his lungs, but he's not hopeful."

McKay clenched his fists, his face rigid, "No... he's going to be okay; I'll be back in a minute."

Rushing outside, he pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed a number, "This is Doctor Rodney McKay, authorization code Zulu885Tango4, and I need General Landry, now."

He was pacing back and forth along the sidewalk, oblivious to everything but the dead silence from the phone. He nearly jumped into the air when Landry's gruff voice sounded.

"McKay, what the hell are you calling for? Where's Sheppard?"

"I need you to listen to me, General, we don't have much time. I need all the special ops you can send me."

"Doctor, slow down… why the SOs?"

"Ronon was shot; he's on life support and Sheppard's been kidnapped along with three women, by some gang. Oh, and I need the Apollo to locate Sheppard's transponder signal."

Landry sucked in a breath, "McKay, how did this happen?"

"General… no time for questions, just send Marines."

"Don't worry, I'm sending in the cavalry… but Doctor McKay... I'm never granting you four leave again."

"Yeah, yeah… General... listen... I need one more favor…"

~ooOoo~

The first sound Sheppard heard was soft whimpering, coming from nearby. He squirmed as he moved his head off the rough concrete floor, grimacing from the tiny shards of concrete embedded in his cheek, and the pain in his head where he was struck. He tried to rise but only managed to roll over, groaning as pain radiated from his bound hands and ankles.

A frightened female voice called out to him, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, think so… you?"

"My girls, they took them away… I'm scared. They sh-shot my husband... I don't know if he's alive."

"Just try to remain calm, I promise you; people are looking for us. How many men were there?"

"I… I don't know… four or five… they have my daughters."

Sheppard's gut clenched, separating the girls from their mother wasn't a good sign. He had to figure out how to get untied and find them before they were harmed.

"I'm John. What's your name?"

"Nora. Thank you for trying to help us… I'm sorry…"

"Don't… no need to say you're sorry. Can you move?"

"No, they tied my hands and feet."

"Crap… okay… like I said, there are people looking for us. We'll get out of here and find your girls."

Sheppard rolled back onto his side, to take the pressure off his hands. All he could do was wait for his friends to come and hope they arrived in time.

~ooOoo~

The soft compressions of the respirator pumping air in and out of Ronon's lungs echoed through the silence of the post-operative unit. Surgery to repair the damage done from the gunshots took a bit over an hour. Like a sentry, Beckett stood next to Ronon's bed, his hands resting on Ronon's arm, as his eyes never left the monitor displaying the injured man's vital signs. McKay sat in the corner of the small chamber, fidgeting with his phone, and constantly looking at his watch.

"Rodney, please try to relax; there's nothing more you can do. The detective said he would contact us as soon as he had any information about John."

"Nothing? There's plenty I could be doing but Landry hasn't sent them yet."

"General Landry…what have you done, Rodney?"

"I called Landry and told him I want SOs here so we can go after Sheppard. It's been nearly three hours since they were taken and time's running out." McKay stood up and walked to the bedside. "Any change?"

"No, he still can't breath on his own and… well... the surgeon removed the bullets and repaired what he could." Beckett's voice was timorous, "Now we wait to see if the lad can fight his way back."

"Carson, there's something I should tell…" McKay stopped as the glass door slid open, and the SGC chief medical director, Dr. Carolyn Lam entered.

"Dr. Beckett, good to see you, so sorry for the circumstances. How's Ronon doing?"

"Dr. Lam, I am pleased to see you here, and I appreciate the support, but I'm afraid there's not much we can do for him."

"Perhaps, there is, thanks to an idea Dr. McKay had, we might have a chance to do something for Ronon. I have a medical helo ready to transport us to a hanger at Davis-Monthan; from there, Colonel Ellis is giving us a ride to Cheyenne Mountain."

Beckett spun toward McKay, "What's your idea, laddie?"

Lam intervened, "Doctor, I'll explain once we're in the helicopter. We need to get Ronon discharged and transported. Dr. McKay, General Landry asked me to tell you the cavalry was waiting for you in the parking lot, and he sent direct orders for you to find Colonel Sheppard."

McKay glanced at Ronon for a moment, his eyes darting to Beckett's, "Carson you take care of him."

"We will; you find John."

McKay nodded briskly and hurried out of the room.

Two large dark-blue SUVs waited in the emergency room parking lot, engines running. As McKay ran toward the vehicles, Major Evan Lorne exited from nearest one. As the major opened the rear passenger door, he said, "Dr. McKay, hop in, let's go find the colonel."

~ooOoo~

Footsteps echoed outside the door to the room where Sheppard and Nora were held, causing the hairs on the back of Sheppard's neck to bristle in anticipation. Loud voices drifted through the door; straining to hear what they were saying, he realized they were speaking Spanish.

He whispered to Nora, "Can you understand them? My Spanish is rusty."

"A little…I... I think one of them is mad they took you." She paused, "The other one is saying you're important…a military man, a good hostage."

Before Sheppard could respond, the door opened and two men entered. Sheppard was still lying on his side. One of the men loosened the ropes on his wrist and ankles and pulled him to his feet.

"Come on, he wants to see you."

As Sheppard was pushed out the door, Nora kicked her bound feet at one of the men, striking him in the shin. "Where are my daughters? Are they okay?" The man backhanded her and Nora collapsed, unconscious.

Her attacker sneered, "Cállate, puta." He kicked her, "Bitch needs to learn to be quiet."

Pushed down the long narrow corridor, lit by a single light bulb hanging from a broken fixture, Sheppard was alert, his senses heightened. Faint tinkling of cantina music drifted toward him, and the aroma of spicy food cooking filled the air. As he passed by a partially open door, he caught a glimpse of the two girls tied to chairs, but the man behind him pushed him hard, and he stumbled forward. As he fought to stay upright, relief flooded through him, the girls were alive and apparently unharmed… for the moment.

A door opened at the end of the corridor, and a burley man, tattoos covering his arms and neck, motioned for them to enter. A shabby leather couch, a few chairs, and a long wooden table filled the center of the room; scales and plastic bags of white powder sat on the table. Sheppard grimaced as one of the men pushed him onto a straight-backed chair, his arms tied behind him, his ankles bound to the chair legs. A quick glance around the room told him the man sitting on the couch was the ringleader. Of medium build with long black hair pulled into a ponytail, he oozed overconfidence, and ego.

Lazily the man asked, "Lonzo, que tenemos aqui? This is the one they called colonel."

"Si, Vicente; this is the one called colonel."

Vicente rose and walked to Sheppard. "Colonel…what are you a colonel of? The Salvation Army?" His gang laughed loudly until their leader raised his hand; they quieted immediately.

One of his men handed him Sheppard's wallet, "Here is his ID… he's Air Force."

Opening the wallet, Vicente pulled Sheppard's military ID out, "Colonel John Sheppard, United States Air Force. Un héroe…saving the women and children. Who's going to save you?"

Sheppard remained silent, which angered Vicente. The gang leader grabbed Sheppard's hair and pulled his head back, "Do you know who I am? I am the leader of the Juggalos, and you would be wise not to underestimate me, guero. I could kill you right here and never break a sweat…but Jose here," pointing to the tattooed man, "thinks you are very valuable? Are you valuable, Colonel or should I kill you now?"

Sheppard chuckled, "Who me? Yeah, some might think I'm pretty valuable…at least more valuable than the women you kidnapped. Let them go and I'll tell you just how important I am."

Vicente released his grip on Sheppard's hair but backhanded him across the jaw. "You are a smart ass; I don't like smart asses."

Spitting blood from the cut inside his cheek, Sheppard muttered, "Yeah, that's me."

The gang leader walked to the table, absently picking up a knife, "The girls... I will not let them go. I have a buyer for the young ones… a businessman in Ecuador; he likes young American girls. As for the woman, I might let her go if I cannot find a buyer for her, but after my men enjoy her." He walked over to Sheppard, "But you… well, my Russian friend Nico might like a chat with you… he loves to sell secrets."

"Tell Nico I'll talk to him, but you have to let the women go."

Vicente laughed loudly, "You are a funny hombre, and in no position to bargain…and you will tell us what you know." He drew the knife along Sheppard's left cheek, leaving a thick trail of blood, "If you do not, there will be many, many more slices of the knife."

He turned to Jose, "Take him back to the storeroom. Blacio's people will be here in a couple of hours to get the girls, and I haven't had dinner yet, gonna to eat before they get here."

As Vicente left the room, he made a call, "Nico… qué pasa? You might want to come see me…" His voice faded as he walked away, but Sheppard knew the call meant he didn't have much time. Jose untied him, pulling him to his feet, but he managed to glance at his watch; over three hours had passed since they were kidnapped, help had to be on the way.

~ooOoo~

"What do you mean you can't locate his transponder?"

Rodney McKay and Major Evan Lorne were standing in an alcove outside of the conference room where they were to meet with the police detectives.

"Doc, all I can tell you is Ellis says they can't locate the beacon; it's not transmitting."

"Then he's dead?"

Lorne shook his head quickly, "No, not necessarily…look, you have to know more than I do about these transponders. From what I've heard you guys have been through a lot these last few weeks, maybe his transponder got damaged or something. Let's not give up yet, we'll find him."

"Yeah…okay," McKay wagged his finger nervously, "that's possible."

"Come on, doc; we need to get in there."

McKay and Lorne slipped through the door, quietly joining Major Teldy, and Captains Stackhouse and Isaacs in time to hear the lead detective arguing.

"I don't like this." Detective Montez was standing nose to nose with the Tucson Police Chief. "You can't let these military goons take over my case; hell, they aren't even sanctioned to operate within the US…this isn't right."

As the detective complained bitterly about them, Lorne sensed his team tense up. McKay opened his mouth, and Teldy shifted onto the balls of her feet; Lorne put his hand out to quiet them, then took a couple of steps forward.

"Detective, we have no intention of taking over your case. We do have every intention of finding Colonel Sheppard, and on that issue, our orders are clear. We have been directed by the President of the United States to locate and safely extricate the colonel and the other hostages. If you're worried about your closed case ratio, I promise you're welcome to all the glory."

Montez bristled; his breathing labored, "I don't need some punk military…"

"Enough, Montez…" A tall thin man stood in the doorway.

The police chief reacted quickly, "Mr. Mayor."

The mayor nodded, then continued addressing Montez, "You have your orders, while you are technically in command of the case, Major Lorne and his team are now responsible for locating the victims. I have been contacted by the White House; the President has requested we cooperate with the Air Force in whatever manner they require."

The chief turned to Montez, "Get to work."

"Montez, why don't you let me talk to Major Lorne; I think we might have a lead."

Lorne spun around to face the man who was leaning against the wall behind him. "Who are you?"

"I'm Julio Martinez, better known as Rico Alvarez on the street; I'm an undercover detective, working the gang unit. A few minutes ago, I got a text from one of my men currently undercover with the Juggalos; he's beginning to do some drug running for them. He works as a cook at one of the places Vicente Cruz, the leader of the Juggalos hangs out, called PePe's. The place is owned by one of Cruz's brothers. Seems as though there's some activity in the back of the restaurant. My man hasn't been undercover long enough with the gang to be trusted at the top levels, but he's good. I trust his instincts."

Lorne asked, "Anyone see the women or the colonel?"

"No, but I'm well known there and can walk in and asked for Vicente without raising too much interest. Might even get an invite to the back; past the kitchen is a series of rooms where we think part of their drug-trafficking operation happens. Done some small deals with the Juggalos, and getting close to doing a big deal with them."

Lorne shifted his weight, "If you're going in, so are we. The officers in this room and the SOs waiting outside are very well qualified to conduct undercover operations. If Colonel Sheppard is there, I want him to see familiar faces when we enter, he'll know exactly what we are trained to do and will react accordingly."

"Agreed." He hesitated, "Major... we've been hearing rumors Vicente Cruz is trafficking in more than drugs…"

"Human trafficking?"

Martinez nodded in reply, "If that's the case, he'll move those girls, and maybe the mother tonight; we need to move quickly." He turned to Montez, "If you don't have any objections, I need to brief these people."

Montez gave Lorne an irritated glance, and nodded, "You guys are running the show."

~ooOoo~

Sheppard was lying on the floor of the storeroom. Nora hadn't stirred in the thirty minutes since he was shoved back into the room, but he kept trying to wake her. "Nora… Nora… can you hear me?"

It took another five minutes of prodding, but he finally heard a groan from her. "Nora... I saw your daughters; they're safe at the moment."

Her voice was weak, "Y-you saw them?"

"Yeah, they haven't been harmed. Listen to me…these guys might come get me again. Don't do anything to provoke them when they do, I need for you to be alert."

"Are they gonna kill us?"

Sheppard took a deep breath, before he replied, "No, we'll be out of here soon. Now, save your energy, don't talk."

She didn't respond, and Sheppard was thankful; he didn't want to talk to her about her daughters. He had to figure out how to get them out of the situation.

When the door opened abruptly, Nora yelped but composed herself quickly. Two men grabbed Sheppard and dragged him from the room. Instead of taking him to the room where he met Vicente, they took him outside, across a dark alley, and into another building to an old freezer. Several meat hooks hung from the ceiling; the men looped the ropes around his wrists over one of the hooks.

One of the men laughed, "We should stay around for this, should be fun."

"No way I want to watch Nico work…that man's brutal."

Vicente's men closed the freezer door behind them, leaving Sheppard to wait. His gut churned; somehow he didn't think the next few hours were going to be fun.

His arms were burning by the time the door reopened, and a thin pale man, no doubt Nico, walked in followed by two men. Sheppard swallowed, as he thought, it was just his luck; both could have been linebackers in the NFL.

"You must be the Russian."

Nico lit a cigarette, blowing smoke in Sheppard's face, "I am; so nice to meet you, Colonel Sheppard."

"That accent…Minsk?"

Laughing, Nico said, "You are good, Colonel… how did you know?"

"Served with a Russian officer on a joint training mission a while back; he was from Minsk. He was an honorable man."

"You think I am not honorable, Colonel?"

"You tell me…"

Nico turned to one of his goons, "Artur, show the colonel how honorable we are."

Artur grinned, drawing back his fist and slammed it as hard as he could into Sheppard's abdomen. Sheppard tried to stifle a groan but couldn't. Nico laughed, "Not so honorable…now I have questions about lots of things. If you are as valuable as you say, you should the answers to what I need to know."

Nodding to Artur and his companion, "Soften him up a bit…"

~ooOoo~

A panel truck, with the City of Tucson Water company logo, sat a block away from PePe's. Several police officers set up a safety perimeter around an open manhole, large flexible pipe extending into the hole as cover. Inside the van, Detective Montez, a police department tech, and Dr. Rodney McKay sat, earphones on.

Montez spoke, "It's nearly two am. PePe's serves liquor until the mandatory closing time, just minutes away, but they stay open all night serving food, and we think liquor in a back room. Unfortunately, enforcement's never caught them."

"So Martinez and the SOs going in will not be out of place."

"Nah…in fact, it's after two when most of the gang members show up."

McKay was fidgeting with the cord on his earphones. Montez asked, "You worried about your people."

McKay snapped, "Of course I'm worried about them, but they are the best at what they do. They'll get the job done."

Lorne's voice over the COM stopped Montez from replying, "Martinez and our people are entering the restaurant now. Head's ups, but no one moves until my mark." A chorus of 'understood' echoed through the COM; everyone went quiet, intent on listening to the three people who were going inside.

Julio 'Rico Alvarez' Martinez pushed open the dirty glass door and walked inside, followed by Sergeant Dusty Mehra and Corporal Ramon 'Ray' Rodriguez. There were twelve people still in the dining room. Rico called out to the bartender, "In under the wire Manni, need a couple of rounds of beers for me and my friends."

The bartender nodded and pulled the beers from the case; Rodriguez and Rico grabbed the beers while Mehra grabbed a table, near the back where Vicente was sitting alone at a large corner booth in the rear of the restaurant.

As Martinez sat down, Vicente called out to him, "Rico, good to see you man…I was wondering when you were coming back to see me. We still got some business to talk."

"Yeah, we do…but I've been busy with my associates from Miami…we've been working a deal with some mutual friends in Cartagena."

Vicente's eyes widened; his interest obviously peaked, "Why don't you and your friends join me." He swept out his arm toward the open booth, as they rose to join him, Vicente's eyes swept over Mehra's body, now clad in tight jeans and a low-cut top under a jeans jacket, compliments of the police undercover division.

Noticing his stare, she smiled at him, slipping into the booth first. Without taking her eyes off of Vicente, she said, "Rico, you did not tell me, you had such handsome business associates. I would have come to Tucson much sooner." She slid close to Vicente, "Much sooner."

Vicente yelled to Manni, "Bring us a bottle of champagne. I think we need to celebrate our new friends."

As they waited for the champagne, Vicente asked, "And your name my little chica?"

"I'm Dusty…" she replied coyly as she brushed her long hair from her shoulders,
"and this is my brother Ramon."

"Dusty…I like that name."

Manni brought the champagne and glasses, and Vicente popped the cork, pouring the bubbly into glasses. "I propose a toast to new friends."

They all drank, and Martinez remarked, "Champagne, Vicente; I never suspected you had taste. You seem to be in a great mood; you have a good deal go down?"

"You know, man… life can be good."

Leaning over to give me a better look at her cleavage, Dusty growled, "Oh…you are in a great mood. I'm always in a great mood when I'm about to make a lot of money. Are you about to make lots of money?"

"Yeah…as a matter of fact I am." He smiled leeringly at her, then looked to Ray. "So, tell me about your Miami operation."

Ray downed his champagne, "We're Latin Kings, broki; I imagine you know of us."

Vicente nodded, his voice cautious, more suspicious of Ray, "Yes... I have… you got the ink?

"Yeah, man…I got the ink." Ray rolled up his sleeve, revealing a crown tattoo.

Vicente nodded, then asked Dusty, "And you, chica?"

Smiling she lowered her jacket revealing a crown tattoo on her upper arm. "I have others, but I don't know you that well…yet."

Vicente leaned back in the booth, "Ramon, is it true the Kings been branching out into more than drugs,"

"Yeah… getting crowded in the drug world… we've been dealing in more intimate things. You know…people pay for specialties…a certain age, a certain hair color…"

Martinez leaned on his elbows, "Vicente... I know we've been talking drugs, but Ramon has good connections… we might be able to do some of this other business. I brought these two to you; this is too big for me to do on my own. My organization's not big enough."

Vicente hesitated, prompting Dusty to run her hand along his thigh, "I think we could do some business. Rico trusts you, and we trust Rico… what do you say?"

"I say… we might be able to work something out."

Ramon's tone changed; he became decidedly more serious, "We do business only if the Kings are convinced you can handle your end. How do I know if your contacts to move the merchandise are reliable?"

"You don't trust me, compadre?"

"As my sister said, we trust Rico… he trusts you… but I need proof."

"Get up, come with me; I'll give you proof."

In the trailer, McKay and Montez heard Lorne's quiet whisper, "Everyone, proceed to the next staging point, and hold. No chatter… double-click to report."

McKay was fidgeting again and Montez taunted, "You really are nervous aren't you McKay. Good thing you're here with me, safe."

Anger simmering in his voice, McKay replied, "That's the problem; I'm usually with them. I don't like being in here and not helping"

Montez, stunned, asked, "What is it again that you people do for the Air Force?"

"I told you, it's classified."

~ooOoo~

Nico returned to the cooler, where Sheppard was hanging limply, nearly unconscious. He pushed against Sheppard's chest, getting a slight groan in response. He turned Artur, who was wiping blood from his hands, "I told you to soften him up, not kill him."

"He's tough, Nico…took more than most…"

Turning to the other man, "Taras get some water to throw on him, I need him conscious."

Taras returned quickly with a bucket of cold water, which he threw over Sheppard. The icy water caused Sheppard to gasp.

"Welcome back, Colonel. I see you, and Artur had a nice long chat."

Sheppard's lip was split open and swollen; blood had congealed over his left eye from split skin above his eyebrow. Dried blood trailed down his face from the ragged cut on his cheek. He managed to squeak out, "Not m-much…of a talk-er…"

"Not much of anything from what I can find… I ran your ID… I can't find where you're stationed or what you do for the Air Force. So I called in, shall we say, some markers from my contacts in your government, and mine. Colonel John Sheppard barely exists… which makes me believe you are more important than you have indicated. The people I work for are quite interested in you, Colonel."

"N-nice… to be… want…wanted."

"Who are you? What is your mission?"

Sheppard dropped his head, not replying.

Nico stepped aside, "I think he needs more convincing."

Artur and Taras stepped forward, taking turns hitting Sheppard.

After a minute, Nico yelled, "Stop."

Bright blood flowed from new cuts on Sheppard's face, blood seeping through his shirt where Artur had pounded on his right side.

"Cut him down; Taras call for the van. I don't want him bleeding in my SUV. We need to get him where we have access to drugs; we will not get anything from him this way. I'm going to call Sergio; he needs to let Tariq know we have a US military officer to barter with."

~ooOoo~

Vicente led Martinez, Rodriquez, and Mehra through the kitchen and into the back of the building. On the way, Jose caught up to tell Vicente his brokers had arrived. He smiled at Rodriquez, "Ramon you are in luck…I am dealing with people who have many contacts in Ecuador and South America. In fact, I have two delicious young girls I am about ready to sell. Come, we'll do the deal, and then we will celebrate our new alliance."

He led them to the room he first met Sheppard in and where his brokers were waiting. "Jimmy, Orlando, good to see you."

Jimmy's hand slipped under his jacket, revealing a Luger, "Who are these people?"

"Put that away, these are business associates of mine…you do business with me; you're doing business with them."

Orlando put up his hands, "Everyone just calm down. Let's see the merchandise, Cruz."

Vicente jerked his head to Jose, who stepped to the doorway and motioned to someone. Within seconds, two of his men entered pushing the young girls in front of them.

Vicente approached the girls, "You asked for two girls, fourteen to sixteen, slight build, blond hair, and here they are…both virgins. Jose was more than happy to verify that for you."

The girls were crying, and Rodriguez saw Mehra's jaw clench, her normal tell before she sprang into action. He glanced at Martinez. The detective's impassive face did not give away his feelings but Rodriquez recognized the look in the man's eyes, raw fury at the spectacle enfolding in front of them. The agreement, however, was to wait until money exchanged hands, then they could take the bastards down.

Orlando circled the girls, running his hands over their bodies, "Si...our client will be very happy; he is a powerful business man in Quito and loves to have such sweet little ones for his associates."

"Alright, we agreed on ten thousand apiece, an extra twenty-five hundred if you found us sisters," Jimmy said. "I have a feeling Senior Carbo will be most pleased." He reached into the satchel slung over his shoulder and pulled out a stack of money.

As Jimmy counted the money, Rodriguez noticed Mehra edge closer to the girls, making eye contact with the oldest. He saw her wink at the girl, and was thankful he saw a spark of understanding in the girl's eyes.

Jimmy handed the cash to Vicente, prompting Rodriguez to pull his weapon. In a prearranged move, to protect Martinez's undercover status, Rodriguez pulled a police badge from under his shirt, and yelled, "Hands up, Tucson police!" Mehra stood with her weapon drawn as well.

In the trailer, McKay and Montez listened as Major Lorne ordered everyone to go, and within seconds, the restaurant was under siege. Jose ran down the hallway, only to be cut off by Captain Stackhouse and his team entering from the rear alley door. He ducked into the door where Nora was, grabbed her, and stepped into the hallway, the muzzle of his gun resting on her throat.

"Let me through…or I'll kill her."

Stackhouse held up his hand to halt his team, "Not gonna happen, you've no where to go. Put the gun down or you die."

Jose took a step, dragging the bound woman, "You let me out of here, or she's dead."

"Sorry, I warned you."

The words were barely out of Stackhouse's mouth when the retort of two single P-90 shots echoed in the hall. Jose fell, two bullet holes in his head, Nora falling on top of him.

Sergeant Morton pulled Nora away from the body, using his K-Bar to cut away her bindings.

Corporal Paul Brenner checked Jose for a pulse. "He's dead." He looked at Stackhouse who knew exactly what Brenner wanted to do, go help the other member of their team, Ray Rodriguez.

"Go, this guy came from the end of the hall. I'm right behind you." Brenner took off, and Stackhouse turned to follow as soon as he told Morton to get Nora to safety. Before he could leave, she grabbed his arm.

"My… daughters?"

"Ma'am, I'm sure they're fine; two of the best people we have are with them. I'll bring them to you as soon as I can."

As he turned to leave, she stopped him again, "John… they took him somewhere. Please find him."

"We will, ma'am."

As soon as Rodriguez revealed them as police, Mehra grabbed the two girls and dropped them to the floor, then threw a quick uppercut to the gang leader's jaw. Vicente fell limp across the couch.

Orlando ran toward the door, as Jimmy pulled his gun and shot toward Mehra, missing her but winging Martinez in the arm. One shot from Mehra to Jimmy's torso sent the man spinning. Rodriguez kicked Jimmy's gun away, then ran into the hallway after Orlando.

"Stop or you die. I'm only telling you once."

Orlando, hearing gunshots from further down the corridor, dropped his gun, "Okay...I give up."

Pulling disposable handcuffs from inside his jacket, Ray was cuffing Orlando when he spotted his best friend, Paul Brenner racing down the long corridor. He was about to speak, when Brenner raised his weapon and yelled, "Duck."

Trusting his friend, Rodriguez ducked to the side, pulling Orlando with him, as Brenner fired, his shot going through Vicente's shoulder. The gang leader dropped his weapon, and Mehra tackled him to the floor.

Brenner ran toward them, Stackhouse right behind, the captain asked, "You guys okay?"

"Yeah, we're all fine," Rodriguez answered.

Mehra, standing in the doorway, the girls hiding behind her, said, "Sir, we need to get these girls out of here."

The youngest one grabbed her arm, "Mom and dad?"

Stackhouse smiled, "Your mom's fine; she's here. Your dad's at the hospital; the last I heard he was in surgery but going to be okay."

The girls ran to Stackhouse, hugging him tightly, as he said to Mehra, "Let's get them to their mom."

Brenner asked, "Anyone see the colonel?"

Stackhouse shook his head, "Nothing yet."

Rodriguez said, "I know who will know. Come on, broki, Vicente will tell us."

They hurried back into the room; SWAT officers stood guard as paramedics treated Martinez, Jimmy and Vicente. Rodriguez strode across the room where Vicente sat on the floor, leaning against the wall. He pushed the paramedic treating Vicente out of the way.

Grabbing the gang leader by the collar, he asked, "Where's Colonel Sheppard?"

Vicente spit at him, "You'll never see him again."

Rodriguez pulled the gang leader to his feet and slammed him against the wall, "And you die here, now, if you don't tell me."

"You're a cop and you gonna kill me in front of all these cops?"

"I'm not a cop…I'm a Marine… and I doubt any of these cops will care if you die. You were gonna sell those girls into slavery. Where's Colonel Sheppard?"

Vicente glared at him. Rodriguez pressed his gun against Vicente's temple, "Now."

"Está bien…He's probably dead already if he didn't talk…I turned him over to a Russian mob guy…he trades in government secrets."

Brenner leaned in, "Name…"

"Nicoli Vasin."

"Where did they take him?

"Building across the alley, used to be a butcher's shop."

Rodriguez dropped Vicente to the floor, "If anything happens to the colonel, I'll find you, usted lo siento hijo de puta."

Brenner tapped his COM, "Major Lorne… we know where the colonel is; old butcher's shop across the alley…this bastard turned him over to a Russian."

"Understood…we're on our way."

Five minutes later, Lorne and his people were deployed around the abandoned butcher's shop. He called Rodriguez and Brenner over, "Look...we need some element of surprise. There's an SUV parked on the next street in front of the opening, don't know how many perps are in there."

Lorne looked at Rodriguez, "You already know the names of the players…"

"No need to say anymore Major, I'll go in."

"I'm going too," Brenner stated.

Rodriguez laughed, "Broki... you don't look like a gang banger, and you're not dressed for the role. I'll be fine."

Lorne handed Rodriguez a couple of magazines for his nine-mil, "Be careful, Ray."

"Yes, sir. I'll try to describe what I see so you'll know where the colonel located, if he's there."

Rodriguez slipped through the back door into a dark room, pausing for his eyes to acclimate. Stainless steel tables, cabinets, and a couple of old band saws were scattered around the room. To his left, metal walls indicated the structure taking up floor space was a large freezer. He headed for the faint light coming from the front.

Rounding the corner of the freezer, Rodriguez came face-to-face with one of the Russians speaking on a phone. Glancing toward the freezer opening, everything faded as he saw Sheppard lying on the floor, the colonel's face battered, cut, swollen, smeared with blood.

Pushing his emotions aside, he asked, "Hey…que Nico?"

"Who are you?"

In the heaviest Puerto Rican accent of his cousins, Rodriguez said, "I'm Ramon. Vicente sent me to see if you got what you wanted from the hombre?"

"You tell your boss, not to worry, he'll get paid, as soon as we get some info from this bastard."

"Si, I will tell him." Rodriguez stepped up the ramp toward Sheppard, his heart pounding in his chest; the colonel hadn't moved. "You guys really did a number on him…is he alive? I'd love to watch you beat up someone sometime."

Artur stepped in front of him, "You need to leave."

"Okay, man…me voy…I'll go." He turned to walk back down the ramp, purposely stepping in blood, and slipping. He fell down, catching himself before he slammed into Sheppard; buying time for Lorne to send in the troops.

Nico yelled, "Get out of here, or I swear I'll kill you."

As Rodriguez tried to get up, he heard Lorne through his ear bud, "A van just pulled up with two guys in it. We're taking them out and coming in, get ready."

"Artur, Taras get him out of here," Nico barked.

"I'm going…getting off this slick ramp in the freezer with all this blood, man…it ain't easy."

Taras grabbed him by the arm and pulled him up, pushing him off the side of the ramp, just as Lorne and the teams rushed into the room.

Artur ducked around the side of the freezer, and began firing; a blinding flash of light from Major Teldy's P-90 dropped him. Nico and Taras took cover behind a cabinet, as Rodriguez scrambled up and jumped back onto the ramp, intending on pulling the colonel to safety. He was nearly to Sheppard when a bullet whizzed by him. Nico was firing at Sheppard, while Taras attempted to keep the Atlantians at bay.

Nico's eyes darted to Rodriquez, before aiming at Sheppard again. Before he could pull the trigger, the corporal yelled, "Oh no you don't." He fired striking Nico between the eyes, then threw himself over the colonel.

Gunfire continued for several more seconds, then it became eerily quiet. Rodriguez remained hunched over Sheppard protecting him, jumping when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Ray, it's okay... it's Lorne. We took them out; time to get Colonel Sheppard some help."

Rodriguez rolled over, blood on his shirt; Lorne gasped, "Corporal you hurt?"

"No, it's the Colonel's."

McKay came running in with Montez, stopping abruptly when he saw Sheppard lying in a pool of blood. Shaking, he walked slowly toward Lorne, who was kneeling next to his CO.

"Major?"

"He's alive, but he's hurt badly…they beat him up pretty good."

Tucson paramedics arrived, immediately beginning to tend to Sheppard. Lorne backed off and walked away from the local police, motioning McKay to follow.

"Change your frequency, I'm contacting Landry." He tapped his COM, "Apollo, Lorne… patch me to General Landry." A few seconds passed, before Landry came on the line.

"General, we have Colonel Sheppard, but he's badly injured, need helo transport to Davis-Monthan, then to the SCG."

"What about the women?"

"Safe, sir; on their way to the hospital to be checked out and reunited with the dad."

"Good job, Major; helo is standing by, should be to you in just a few minutes. Notify your paramedics the pilot is cleared to land in the parking lot two blocks from your location."

"Yes, sir."

"Come on, Dr. McKay, the paramedics to get Colonel Sheppard ready for transport."

~ooOoo~

The infirmary at the SGC was quiet, only the soft beeping emitted by the monitors, and the compressions from the respirator assisting Ronon's breathing could be heard. When anyone on the staff did need to communicate, they did so in whispers.

McKay was leaning on his elbows, holding a cold cup of coffee in his hands; a position he had been in for thirty minutes. Beckett walked in, two fresh cups of coffee in his hands, and sat in the chair next to McKay.

"Here, Rodney, this cup is hot; now drink."

McKay took the coffee, without saying a word. Beckett leaned his head against the wall behind him, "Rodney, you need to eat something; it's been a long time since dinner."

"What I need is for Sam to get here. The Hammond was on a mission, and they won't tell me where she was or how long until she arrives."

"She'll be here, Rodney; General Landry said so."

"She needs to be here now."

"You sure this is gonna work?"

"Yes…" McKay answered sharply, then sighed deeply, his voice softer when he continued, "yes…but Sam's the only one who can make it work. Even though O'Neill had a Goa'uld in him, he can't do what Sam can."

"Rodney, Ronon is very badly injured, are you sure she's strong enough to…"

"It'll work, Carson; it'll work." He changed the subject, "How's Sheppard doing?"

"Thankfully, he'll live. Bastards lacerated his liver, broke a couple of ribs, and he has contusions, cuts and serious bruises on his face; he really got battered. It's gonna take a long time for John to heal."

"Why, Carson? Why did he and Ronon run straight into that situation? They didn't have weapons, they just…"

"It's who they are, and we will never change that fact." Beckett rubbed his chin, "Those two are who they are."

A new voice interrupted, "No…I doubt either one of these men could be anything but who they are."

Beckett and McKay turned to see General Landry. McKay jumped up, "Is she here?"

"No, not yet, but the device is…just arrived from Area 51." Landry glanced at the two injured men lying on beds next to each other. "Any change?"

Beckett stood up, "The colonel should wake up from the anesthetic any time now, surgery to repair the liver laceration was successful, and we had a plastic surgeon suture the deep cut on his face. It'll take a long time for him to heal." The doctor hesitated, "Ronon…well, you know what we're dealing with, sir."

"Yes, I do. I wanted to let you know I just spoke with Major Lorne. He's still in Tucson with some of our people dealing with the police. He arranged for the rental car to be taken back to the hotel, and I had Walter call and extend your reservations until we notify them differently."

"Thank you, General."

"You're more than welcome, Dr. Beckett."

McKay started to speak, but Landry stopped him, "Don't ask…Sam should be here within the hour."

McKay took a deep breath and nodded, uttering soft thanks.

Landry left and the two men resumed their vigil over their friends. They had grown so accustomed to the silence that a groan from Sheppard's bed reverberated like a klaxon. Both men jumped up, rushing to Sheppard's beside.

Beckett asked, "John, can you hear me? It's Carson."

Sheppard took several shallow breaths, then asked weakly, "Ro-non."

Beckett closed his eyes, steeling himself to tell Sheppard about his friend, "Alive but very badly injured."

"M-make it?"

"I don't know, laddie; I don't know."

McKay interjected, "John, Sam's coming and the Goa'uld healing device is here. We think it will help Ronon."

"N-ora?

Beckett looked perplexed, but Rodney understood, "Nora and her daughters are fine, and her husband is recovering."

"Are you in pain?" Beckett asked, the only reply from Sheppard was a slight nod of his head. "John, you need to rest now." Beckett adjusted his IV drip, upping the dose of pain meds. They remained at Sheppard's bedside until he fell asleep again.

An hour passed and McKay was pacing, "Where the hell is she…she's supposed to be here."

"I'm here, Rodney."

They turned to see the silhouette of Colonel Samantha Carter standing in the doorway, backlit by the bright lights in the main ward.

McKay rushed to her, hugging her, "Sam, thanks…you have to help him."

"I'll do my best, but I haven't used the device in a long time, not certain if I can control it."

"You have to try…"

"I'm going to. Doctor Lam wants to give me a quick baseline exam first, in case something happens. I'll be back in a few minutes."

A few minutes turned into fifteen, before Carter returned with Doctor Lam and General Landry in tow. A nurse with them was carrying a box, which she sat down on the table next to Ronon's bed.

Carter opened the box and withdrew the round device, running her fingers along the twisted metal wrapped around the healing crystal. She positioned the device in her hand and stepped toward Ronon's bed.

Closing her eyes, Carter raised the device holding it above Ronon's chest. As she concentrated, the deep orange crystal began to glow…soft amber light radiating from the device, spreading a golden glow across Ronon's chest. Slowly, the readings on Ronon's monitor began to change.

As Carter concentrated, Dr. Lam quietly warned her nurse, "Stand by on my mark, if he starts breathing on his own, I want this tube out of him stat." The nurse nodded.

Minutes flew by; beads of sweat building on Carter's forehead as she concentrated. Ronon's numbers were improving, the respirator indicating he was beginning to take breaths on his own. Carter appeared to be weakening from the effort; Beckett reached out to stabilize her, but she shook him off and continued. Another few minutes passed before Carter gasped, breaking her concentration; the amber light fading. This time, Beckett caught her before she fell and led her to a chair.

Lam ordered the nurse to remove the breathing tube, as she began to evaluate Ronon's condition. After a few anxious moments, she looked up, a grin on her face. "Amazing, his lungs are functioning normally. He's going to be alright."

McKay said, "Way to go, Sam."

Before she could answer him, Colonel Samantha Carter fainted.

~ooOoo~

Two hours had passed since Carter used the Goa'uld healing device. Ronon was resting comfortably, and Carter was asleep on a bed against the far wall of the trauma bay. Beckett was sitting near Sheppard and Ronon, when McKay returned from Landry's office.

"How are they doing?"

"Ronon's been awake, his lungs are healed, but he's pretty weak, think it will take a couple of days to get him on his feet."

"And John?"

"He's doing better…"

"Sam needs to use the device on him."

"She might be able to, but Lam won't allow it until she gets some rest, and they have time to look at her blood work. Healing Ronon took a lot out of her, don't want to tax her too much."

McKay plopped down in the chair next to Beckett, "Well, I just came from General Landry's office. Seems that little snake Coolidge of the IOA is furious we moved the Goa'uld healing device from Area 51 to the SGC without his permission; like we need permission from that little bastard. He was on Atlantis when someone notified him. I told you I didn't want those idiots in the city."

"R-Rodney…"

McKay jumped, "Sheppard…"

Beckett beat McKay to the bed, "Hey, laddie, don't try to talk."

"Sam… she heal... healed Ronon?"

"Aye, he's gonna be fine, just needs to rest."

"Good…don't let her try… me… fine."

Beckett dropped his head to his chest, Sheppard never ceased to amaze him. "Sam's resting…we'll see when she wakes up. Right now, you need to rest."

Sheppard raised his left hand, which Beckett seized, whispering, "Go to sleep, John."

By midnight, Carolyn Lam put her foot down and ordered Beckett and McKay to quarters to rest, arguing Sheppard and Ronon were both improving. Reluctantly, they agreed.

It was the middle of the night; nearly twenty-four hours since Sheppard had arrived when Carter woke up. She sat up in bed, taking a deep breath, glancing at the box containing the device sitting on the bedside table. She had awakened a couple of times and knew Ronon was nearly healed, but she also knew Sheppard was still badly injured.

Carter hopped off the bed, removing the device from the box, and walked past Ronon's bed, careful not to wake him. She positioned the device over Sheppard and closed her eyes, the amber glow spreading across the colonel's body. Already weakened by healing Ronon, Carter was unsteady; she pushed through the discomfort, concentrating, but she was fading. She grabbed the bed railing as she started to fall, but strong arms encircled her.

"I've got you," Ronon's deep voice offered comfort, and Carter refocused.

As Sheppard was bathed in the glow from the device, the swelling on his face reduced, the bruises faded, the deep cut disappeared. Carter focused as long as she could, finally running out of energy. She whispered to Ronon, "I can't…"

He pulled the device from her hand, "You've done enough." She collapsed against him, and he picked her up carrying her to her bed, as Dr. Lam ran in, alerted by the alarm sounding from Ronon's monitor.

"I told her we would evaluate her in the morning to see if she was recovered enough to work on the colonel." She looked at Ronon, "You back in bed; you're close to a hundred percent but not completely."

Lam saw that Carter and Ronon were situated back in bed then checked on Sheppard, who was still sleeping, his face now recognizable, bruises and swelling nearly gone. Glancing at the nurse, she said, " Order an MRI to check on his liver damage, but his vitals look much better. And bring me a suture removal kit, need to get those stitches out of his face," she checked his arm, "and this older wound on his arm." The nurse left to get the necessary equipment.

As Lam waited, she took stock of the three people in her trauma unit. Smiling she whispered, "Stubborn to the last and loyal to each other, what more could anyone ask for."

~ooOoo~

Samantha Carter was on her way to General Landry's office, when Sheppard caught up with her.

"Sam, wait."

She smiled, "You're looking chipper."

"Thanks to you. You feel okay?"

"I'm fine, John… just needed a bit of rest."

"I understand The Hammond's breaking orbit today, going out on the mission you were on when you were called back?"

She pursed her lips, and nodded, "Yeah…we're just checking out some intel."

'Okay… well… I just wanted to say thanks for…"

"No need, John… I'm just thankful we had a way to save Ronon."

"Sam, I would have healed without you… I didn't want you to jeopardize your health for me."

"You'd do the same for me if you could. Besides, the women in two galaxies would have been quite angry if I hadn't taken care of the scar you mostly likely would have had."

Sheppard coughed nervously, his eyes glancing away from Carter.

She smiled, "John, when I was on Atlantis, I became very aware you feel responsible for everything and everyone. For once, let someone feel responsible for you."

He gave her a small smile, "Hard to accept sometimes."

Master Sergeant Walter Harriman walked up, "Excuse me, Colonel Sheppard, your car's waiting up top."

"Thanks, Walter."

"Going somewhere?"

"Yeah, Ronon's been cleared and is working out with the Marines, Rodney's been harassing Dr. Lee since this morning, and Beckett been with Lam all day going over some reports about a virus…

"Oh…the outbreak on Keta…"

"Yeah…think that's what he said. So, thought I might drive over to the Academy and walk around. Never made it over there when we were kicked off Atlantis, and I was stationed back here."

The distant look in his eyes didn't escape Carter. "You okay, really."

"Yeah, I'm fine." He hugged her, "Good luck on your mission, and thanks."

"Take care, John."

Sheppard walked away, and Carter continued to General Landry's office.

"Colonel Carter, you about ready to leave?"

"Yes, I'm beaming aboard in a few minutes. General, are you sure we shouldn't tell them what we may have found?"

"No…and it's the 'may have found' part of your statement keeping me from telling them. I don't want to give them false hope."

"General, I'm worried about John. I got to know him pretty well, and I can tell you, guilt should be his middle name. He is one of the bravest men I've ever met, and an incredibly qualified commander, but he takes the weight of the world on his shoulders."

"Don't you?"

Carter gave him a small smile, "Comes with the territory, sir. Right now, you have an entire battalion of troops, not to mention the scientists, who are literally without a home. Atlantis sitting on the Pacific Ocean is not where she, or her crew, belongs, and her military leader feels responsible for all of them. He needs a pep talk."

"Pep talk…from me?"

"Yes, sir…from you. He's headed to the Academy…you should go find him, take him out for a beer."

"Colonel Carter, don't you have a ship to beam to?"

She grinned, "Yes, sir. I'll keep you informed of our progress."

Carter left, and Landry sat quietly for a while. She was right, Sheppard and his team had been through a lot. Maybe some healing of the mind was necessary, and he might as well start at the top. Grabbing his jacket and car keys, he walked out of his office yelling for Walter.

~ooOoo~

Driving into Colorado Springs, Sheppard had fully intended on looking up an old professor who was still teaching but the closer he got to the Academy, the less he felt the desire to speak to anyone. He picked up a pass at the gate, but instead of finding a parking spot, he drove around for a while. He passed the Visitor's Center, along Cadet Drive past the Chapel, the tennis courts, the field house, circling back down Faculty Drive, then the aeronautics laboratory. He kept driving.

Turning onto Interior Drive, Sheppard drove past the Eisenhower Golf Course, until he reached the football stadium. Pulling into the parking lot, he stopped in front of the main gate, sitting in the car for a moment, before he got out.

He was nearly at the gate, when a military police guard approached him, "Can I help you, sir?"

Sheppard pulled out his ID and his gate pass, "Colonel John Sheppard, just here to visit. Can I go inside?"

The guard handed his ID back, "You use to play here, sir?"

"A long time ago."

Smiling the young guard said, "Go on in, sir… lots of former players like to see the stadium again."

"Thanks, Airman."

He walked inside, emotion washing over him. He made his way to the top row of the lower section, sitting on the fifty-yard line, the large AF letters on the field facing him. The end zones spelled out Air Force on his right, and Falcon, the Academy nickname on his left. The magnificent Peregrine falcon was the inspiration for the nickname the sports teams used. As he stared at the left end zone memories of his grandfather flooded his thoughts.

The summer he spent with his mother's father and his aunt, before he entered the Academy, had been the best summer of his life. The day before he was to leave for the Academy his grandfather Anton Allain had taken him to a wildlife center where a Peregrine falcon was on display. He wanted John to see and interact with the mascot of the Air Force Academy. Sheppard chuckled; his grandfather had a lesson to teach, one he hadn't thought of in years.

He braced his feet against the seat in front of him, as his thoughts drifted to their conversation on the trip back to his grandfather's house.

"Listen, that bird, he's a lot like you, John."

"How so, Granddad?"

"Well, he's strong, handsome," he had laughed as John blushed, "stubborn, and dangerous. I think you can be dangerous, if you put your mind to it. When that bird's flying free, he doesn't have a care in the world. He just soars, and dives, and takes his prey. On the ground, in the control of that handler, that bird is confined, anxious, unsure. He wants to fly, and he doesn't want anyone to keep him from flying. Sometimes, somebody else is going to be in control, and he has to remember that, and so do you."

Sheppard smiled as he remembered how Anton sensed he was uncomfortable with what he was saying.

"You want to fly, John, and fly you should. I know this is what you should do; you're like your mother, not your dad. You're a free spirit, and so was she. Your father is mistaken about what you need, but that doesn't make him a bad person. He needs to control the things around him the only way he knows how to control. When you enter the Academy, and you enter the military, you'll find a lot of people who'll want to control you like your father. Keep the blinders on, John, and stay calm. You can let go when you fly."

"You can let go when you fly." He leaned back in the seat, talking out loud, "Maybe that's what's wrong John… you can't fly…"

But he knew that wasn't true, he could fly whenever he wanted while he was on Earth. It was just that he couldn't fly what he wanted to fly… the jumpers would certainly garner too much attention. Well, nothing he could do about that problem, at the moment. He closed his eyes, letting his mind wander to the Saturday afternoons he spent on the field.

He jumped out of the seat, when a deep voice said, "Damn, Sheppard, you're hard man to find."

"General, what are you doing here?"

"I had to drop something off for the superintendent, so I thought I'd find you and see if you wanted to grab dinner with me."

Sheppard was a bit taken back, "Yes… uh… certainly, that would be good, sir."

"Glad you got your transponder replaced; I had to ask the Apollo to locate you." Landry sat down, "They ever figure out what happened to the other one."

"The techs think I broke or loosened a sensor wire when I fell off the cliff in Grand Canyon. Happened, they believe, when I grabbed onto a tree with my right arm and my muscle contracted tightly over it. Dr. Harp replaced it yesterday."

Landry scoffed, "You and your team certainly have had an eventful leave."

"Yeah… that we have."

"By the way, Lorne was returning from Tucson as I left the mountain… we'll debrief tomorrow morning, then Ellis will return them to Atlantis."

"Yes, sir."

"What's eating you, Sheppard?"

"Sir?"

"I've been around long enough to know when one of my command's unhappy."

"I'm fine, sir."

"Sheppard… don't try that on me… I know better."

Sheppard shifted in the seat, "I used to play football for the Academy, did you know that, General?"

"No, I didn't."

"I was sitting here thinking about the skinny kid who showed up here, wondering where he'd disappeared to…"

Landry chuckled, "I think we've all pondered that question from time to time, especially the skinny part."

Sheppard laughed lightly, then replied, "I thought this was going to be a fun trip… get the guys away from Atlantis… but all I've managed to do is nearly get them killed."

"Wow…. Sheppard… didn't know you were so all powerful… planned all of the things that happened to you, did you?"

Sheppard glanced at Landry, then stared toward the field. He sighed, "No sir, I didn't and I get your point."

"Colonel, men like you, Ronon, Beckett… hell, even McKay… are men of action, you aren't going to stand by when something happens, when someone needs help. It's in your DNA…you're too situationally alert not to notice things, and too well trained not to act. Don't beat yourself up… last count, I think the bad guys all lost, and the four of you are in one piece."

"Yes, sir…all in one piece…thanks to Sam."

"Yeah… we're lucky to have her."

"General... anything important happening on Atlantis?"

"Why do you ask, know something I don't know?"

"No, just a hunch Rodney has from something Zelenka told him."

"Well, Colonel, nothing I'm aware of, but I do know Lee said the 51 crew wants another couple of weeks. So, you should take a couple more weeks leave."

"With all do respect, General, I need to ask the guys. They've been through a lot; I'll let them decide."

"Fair enough but I've extended your leave already… might as well take it. Come on, let's get going. Leave your car; I'll get it picked up. I think dinner at MacKenzie's Chop House is in order. They have a great happy hour and cook a mean steak."

Sheppard rose, "Sounds good to me."

As they walked out of the stadium, Sheppard asked, "General…do you really think McKay's a man of action?"

The general laughed, "I wouldn't have thought it, but he took charge when you were kidnapped, told me what he needed. Surprised me a bit, but yeah, I think you guys have influenced him."

Sheppard scratched his head, "Do me a favor, sir; don't tell him."

Landry grinned, "Understood, Colonel."

~ooOoo~

After the morning's debriefing on the Tucson situation, Sheppard caught up with Corporals Brenner and Rodriguez.

"Corporals, wait up."

Brenner smiled, "Yes, sir. Sure is good to see you healthy sir."

"Yeah, feels better as well. I just wanted to thank you both… again… for rescuing me. You two do seem to be making a career of it."

Rodriguez grinned, "Like I told you once before, sir; the recruiter told us our job in the military was gonna be rescuing a colonel whenever necessary."

"I'll try to give you respite for a while. How's that?"

"I think we can speak for the Marines and the airmen, sir," Brenner answered. "Ooh-rah to that plan."

"By the way, Ray, I understand you and Sergeant Mehra are sporting new tattoos."

"Yes, sir, but only temporary… the gang unit fixed us up with the King's tattoo but it'll wash off. Although, I think the sergeant kinda likes hers, sir."

Sheppard gave the corporals a lop-sided grin, "That wouldn't surprise me. When are you beaming onto the Apollo?"

"About two hours, sir, we're gonna hang out in the mess hall until then," Rodriguez answered.

Brenner winked, "I think he likes Airman Malone."

Sheppard cocked his head, "The quartermaster clerk?

Brenner answered, "Yes, sir; she's usually in the mess checking supplies about now."

Rodriguez's blush was not lost on Sheppard. "Well, Corporal, watch yourself. Both of you, thanks again. I'll see you on Atlantis in a couple of weeks."

Sheppard continued on to the lab McKay was using, finding Ronon and Beckett there as well.

"So…guys…what's up?"

Beckett answered, "We were discussing what you asked us this morning, and the answer is yes."

"You guys certain?"

Ronon said, "Yes," then nudged McKay, who nodded.

Sheppard sucked in a deep breath, then said, "Okay, two more weeks of leave it is. We'll hitch a ride to Davis-Monthan on the Apollo, and get transport back to the hotel. Get ready, bus leaves in two hours."

As they left the lab to gather their things, Sheppard, Beckett, and Ronon chose to ignore McKay's stifled groan.

End of Part Five The Wild Wild West Day Five - Nine.

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Thanks so much for reading and hope you enjoy! I'd love to hear from you!

A tiny disclaimer… I do not speak Spanish, so all Spanish phrases are courtesy of Bing Translator, and I have no idea, whether the translation or grammar is correct. My apology if any of the Spanish is not proper.

Tucson is a wonderful city; for plot purposes, I chose to write about gang activity, and the two gangs mentioned in this chapter are actual gangs…the gang member characters, and their exploits are fiction. I have tried throughout this story to be as accurate as possible, so the hotels, restaurants, tourist spots, and the highways they travel are real. I wanted the story to be a chronicle of these characters we all love, their friendship, and loyalty to each other, but to also be a tiny bit of a travelogue for fun.

Again, thanks for the wonderful comments and PMs regarding Road Trip. I really appreciate every one of them. FYI… I have started on the next and, probably last, segment…will have it to you as soon as I can.