Author's note: Slight warning that some vomiting will happen this chapter, nothing descriptive or gross but those with a weak stomach here's your heads up.

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Chapter 14: Share & Share Alike

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Inspecting the medical supplies Kannar had sat on the table, Rodney grumbled, "What are we on Survivor: Stone Age? Cloth bandages, elixirs, some honest to goodness herbs. These people should want to befriend us just for the mishmash of supplies Beckett has in his medical go bag."

"I'm sure they aren't wasting their best medicines on me," John theorized as he put his hand on the chair's seat and tried to lever himself off the floor.

"Whoa whoa!" Rodney instantly protested. Darting to John's side, he assisted his friend to achieve his goal even as he worried, "Sure you should be getting up?"

"I hate everyone looking down upon me. It's a leftover from my childhood," John quipped, sinking heavily into the chair before waving off Rodney's possessive hold on his arm.

Uncoiling his grip on John with reluctance, Rodney still didn't move from his close proximity to John, waiting to see if he would topple out of the chair.

Feeling Rodney's concerned inspection of him, John tried to divert him by asking about the other vials on the table. "What's in the vials? Any ale, you think?"

"I don't think we're at the drinking-buddies stage of our friendship yet," Rodney sarcastically drawled, starting to read off the labels. "Tree Cascade Bark. Red Flower Root. I'm seeing a plant theme here."

"Some of our herbs treat pain and reduce fever, seems to reason these do similar things." John fingered one of the elixirs, not all that gung-ho to add another medical experiment to his tally for the day. Especially since his first one wasn't turning out so well. Seeing that there were three vials, John pointed to the one furthest from his grasp, which seemed to have something white peeking out from under it. "How about that last vial?" hand waving toward it. Rodney grabbed it and John saw a small folded up note was under it. Grabbing the note and opening it, he found a scrawl that was starting to become familiar to him.

"Whatever you do, don't mix this with Red Flower Root and apply it to your skin. May result in dizziness, upset gut, and induce mass hysteria. We wouldn't want that..until McKay is on his way back to you."

Unaware of John's discovery, Rodney saw something being dropped from the rafters. Tilting his head back, he saw a child's smiling face beaming proudly at him. Always curious, Rodney went over to inspect what the little urchin had dropped. Picking it up, he voiced his confusion. "Gloves. Why do we need gloves? It's like a sauna in here."

"Oh, I think we'll have a use for them," John drawled, this new development encouraging enough for his smirk to be nearly up to its usual charm meter.

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After McKay had shoved in some gruel masquerading as food, Sheppard watched him dutifully go with Kannar and an armed escort. Left alone in the building, John gave up the brave front he'd put on for Rodney's sake and slid out of the chair to lay on the ground. Even closing his eyes didn't abate the sense of his world spinning, like the time he'd gotten gas at the dentist and thought he was doing somersaults in the chair. This wasn't as pleasant. Coughs erupted out of him, leaving him heaving for breath and a coppery taste in his mouth. Swiping at his lips, he looked at the blood on his fingers.

His death wasn't supposed to be like this. But from his past near-death experiences in the Pegasus galaxy, he should have guessed it was never going to be a quick merciful ending for him. The galaxy definitely had it out for him.

The quiet in the building was unwelcome, allowed his mind to get a bit introspective. Well, the quiet plus being alone and him most likely dying. John guessed it was the combo that had him digging deep to not spend his last hours be thinking about his last golf score or how many reports sat on his computer waiting to be signed off on. Reports that would fall to Lorne to finalize. He imagined the Major would curse him posthumously for that torture.

Yet other unpleasant thoughts were crowding in. Like how he had interacted with his gate team today, unknowingly on their last mission together. He should have handled it better, probably could have. Rodney, Ronon even Teyla, he had been too hard on all of them. Sure, he had the mission to think of, but he had been an ass. He had been like so many of his COs that it was embarrassing for him to think on it.

Ok, it wasn't like Rodney hadn't screwed up with the 'insulting their hosts' thing or that he should have given Ronon permission to stay on the planet and do his reunion thing. No, his decisions were sound. It was the bastardly way he had delivered his commands where he could have used a lighter touch, done less channeling his dad and more that surfer- laid-back-soldier vibe he worked so hard to keep hold of no matter how much the mission was going FUBAR.

But leave it to today for him to screw the pouch and do it all wrong. Course maybe that was how things were supposed to end for his team, made his exit all the easier. They probably will be glad that they didn't have to continue to work with an ass like him. They already respected Major Lorne. He wouldn't have command issues with his team. There would no fuzzy line between, 'hey let's go on an adventure together and call it work', vs. 'I lead you, you follow, there is no middle ground'. Yeah, he had done it wrong from the start. Course murdering your commanding officer to get your promotion kind of said a lot about what a screw up he was. It didn't even make sense that Elizabeth had argued to keep him as the military leader and gave him a promotion to boot.

Ushering in the new regime, Caldwell could ditch the presently nonfunctional Daedalus and set up his military post on Atlantis. Run it as he saw fit. A year ago, heck, a few months ago John would have thought that was the worst thing for Atlantis, but Caldwell had changed his mind. Heck, the Colonel had changed, period. He was a good leader after all, had softened around the edges, had started to see that the people of Atlantis, and not just Operation Atlantis, as his to safeguard from attack. So really, no worries there.

'Atlantis will be just fine without me. Heck, probably safer without my repeated screw-ups putting them and the whole galaxy in danger.'

He could just imagine his biography now, probably titled something like, Sheppard Leads Pegasus Galaxy into Extinction. They would interview all his old COs who hated him and throw in that science guy who complained every chance he got (No, not Rodney. The tall, glasses, ponytail guy). Then they would get quotes from the people of the worlds heavily culled by the Wraith because of him. He was pretty sure his ears would be burning wherever his afterlife took him.

Honestly, if he was half…a quarter of the man he had convinced himself he was, he should have offed himself when he was going from John-the-goof-off-leader to John-the-bug-boy-soon-to-be-wraith. But he hadn't. Had smothered that voice in his head telling him to cut his wrists with some broken mirror or empty the Tylenol container down his gullet. Or, if he got desperate, relieve one of his guards of his gun and go out with a bullet. But he had been a coward, found he didn't want to die, that he was going to cling to the slim hope that his friends would save him. And he had nearly killed them, had choked Elizabeth. He deserved to die just for that, wouldn't have let anyone else do that and get away with it. Then there was the whole being imprinting thing and getting Ronon shot, because his friend had trusted him to be…well, himself.

All in all, he should have eaten a bullet a few times, definitely should be on a morgue slab for all the close calls he had had. But he had survived all that. But this? This felt…different, final. He hadn't exaggerated his prediction to Lorne. Going through the stargate was like being disassembled, molecule by molecule and the pieces weren't falling back together anymore, were …floating, adrift…broken. And he knew he didn't have the strength to hold it all together if he went through another wormhole, if more molecules broke away. It would leave his body feeling detached to his mind, like he was a passenger again in his own body, like he had been with the imprinting. And even he knew that if a total break was made between his body and his mind, there was nothing on the other side but death.

Right now, he knew undeniably that he was toeing that line. And staying conscious proved a task too great for him to maintain.

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As Kannar led him through the still milling, shouting death threats crowd, Rodney dove his hand into his pocket, fingered the small cork stopped bottle nervously. Until he remembered it could leak on him then he jerked his hand free. Looking to Kannar and then over his shoulder to the three soldiers following them, he wanted to ask Kannar how all this was supposed to play out. But the soldier's expression was closed, like John's was after he'd shouted an order at him he expected him to follow without any more discussion.

They walked a few minutes, leaving the quaint village of blood thirty residents behind until they were walking though the woods. This was the part of the journey Rodney would normally demand to know just how long he was expected to walk in this sweltering heat. He didn't voice a complaint and thought John would be proud of him. It drew his worry back to his friend who had been sagging in the chair more and more and thought Rodney hadn't noticed.

The woods abruptly gave way to a circled clearing, one which had a raised pedestal with a very familiar red crystal poised on it. However, the ZPM wasn't lit up, giving off its usual red glow, instead it was stone cold. Part of Rodney clapped for glee at their failure to get it to work, and yet he also feared the crystal had been damaged in the theft. He went to charge forward but Kannar slapped a hand on his chest, halting him.

"Forcefield," Kannar explained and gave as an order as he looked to the right.

Rodney followed his line of sight, saw that they were joining a team of soldiers already at this location. There were six soldiers spaced around the clearing and another nonmilitary man was hovering around the soldier Kannar had signaled to.

The civilian called out to Kannar. "I'm sure I can fix the problem. We don't need the outsider's help."

"Ah, so that's the useless scientist of yours," Rodney drawled. At Kannar's dark look, he wisely shut his mouth.

Kannar's next words, however, were for his people's scientist. "The outsider is here and he knows the intricacies of the power source. I say we might as well make him work instead allowing him to be idle."

The scientist still scowled at McKay but addressed his next words to Kannar, more because he was the head councilor's son than he was their military leader. "It should work. We've maintained the integrity of the base from generation to generation and I cleaned it of anything that could affect the power source before I laid it into the cradle."

"Cradle? It's not a baby," Rodney snarked, before going "Ow, ow!" as a booted foot tramped on his own.

Trying to ignore his mouthy companion, Kannar pacified, "You did admirable work on the cradle and the pedestal. That's why I worry that the reason it isn't working may be a safety precaution they have initiated." He roughly grabbed McKay by the elbow, "This one can turn that program off without irreparably damaging the power source."

At the horrifying notion that the power source could be accidentally destroyed if he continued to fiddle with it, the scientist relented, "Yes, I see. Fine. If he can get it running then…"

Even as he thanked the scientist, Kannar wasn't all that proud of himself for striking fear into his fellow citizen. He had to remind himself this was for his people's greater good, their future survival.

Watching his soldier deactivate the forcefield, Kannar roughly shoved McKay forward with a hand to his back, the action not all for show. The man had a lip on him that was going to push people too far. And Kannar couldn't afford that. Heck, McKay's ill leader couldn't afford that. "You want this to end with them putting a bullet in Sheppard's head, then keep up the snark," he lowly hissed to McKay as he gave a nod to his soldier to turn the forcefield back on.

McKay paled at Kannar's grim prediction and swallowed hard. He wanted to be the cause of John surviving this, not the opposite. Uncertain if he was there to actually fix the ZPM or confirm, truthfully or falsely, that it was dead and useless to both Kannar's people and his own, Rodney knelt down to inspect the pedestal. Was going to touch it when Kannar undertoned, "Put on the gloves."

Startled from his focus, Rodney was called back to the bigger plan. Dutifully he pulled the gloves from his pocket and slipped them on. Using careful strokes, he checked for any breaks in the connections. For being as old as it was, it was in good shape and should be functional.

Standing, he looked down at the ZPM, his naked eye didn't detect any cracks in the crystal. Pulling off one glove, he ran that hand over the crystal's surface but his fingers didn't catch on any minuscule fissions. "Ok, I need to lift it out, check its base," he announced, looking to Kannar for assistance as he slid the glove back onto his hand.

"I got it," Kannar offered, stepping forward to lift the crystal. It weighed a lot less than he'd thought it would.

With the ZPM removed, Rodney got a good look at the base the crystal had been sitting on. "You've got to be kidding me," he scoffed, ready to reach in and clear out the debris littering the base.

But Kannar inconspicuously put all his weight on Rodney's foot as he stepped closer, seemingly to get a better vantage point to look down into the base. "As our scientist said, he cleaned and inspected the base." Pretending he didn't see anything amiss with the base, he innocently asked, "What are you seeing that he didn't? Do you have to deactivate a safety protocol?" His eyes rose to McKay's, goading the man to join in on the playacting.

It took Rodney longer than it should have to realize this was a deception. Was worthy of John Sheppard even. So he peered down at the rubber which seemed suspiciously like fingers from a glove like the one Kannar had provided to him. There were also snippets of paper and shards of what once had been a ceramic cup liberally spread around the bottom of the base. All nonconductive materials. Materials that would not allow the ZPM to establish a connection with the base and power up.

The audacity of Kannar was hitting Rodney. How smart he was, how he'd worked this out, how much he was going against his own people. Rodney wasn't foolish enough to think he liked him and John that much. No, Kannar had his own reasons. He was trying to save his people, just as Rodney was trying to save John.

Leaving the debris where it was, Rodney remained bent over the pedestal while he retrieved the small bottle from his pocket. Unstopping the bottle, he poured the liquid onto his glove. 'Oh crap, oh crap,' he freaked out as the solution almost ran down his glove onto the unprotected skin of his wrist. Quickly he rubbed his gloved hands together, coating both with the formula. That accomplished in the shelter of the platform away from all eyes but Kannar's, he straightened up sporting a believable scowl.

He spoke loud enough for his words to carry to the scientist hovering by the forcefield perimeter. "The conductivity of your base has worn down over the years. Saw a few of these defunct bases on other planets," Rodney announced with applauding believability. Mostly because he focused on the facts, that if a base was not functioning, the ZPM was a big old paperweight.

The scientist was hurling out curses, apparently taking McKay at his word. "How do we restore it?" he called out to the Atlantean, begrudgingly asking for his opinion because he couldn't fail his people.

"You don't," McKay bluntly decreed. He turned to Kannar, remembered John coaching him that he had to make it seem that Kannar was their enemy so no one would ever suspect he was acting as their ally. "Congratulations. You murdered twelve of our people so you could have a pretty paperweight," he scathingly snapped, saw Kannar flinch and knew the other man took it to heart. That the soldier felt remorse at the lives he and his team had taken. It almost made Rodney apologize but instead he started stalking back in the direction of the village.

Putting the ZPM back on the base with care, Kannar called out "Put the field down" before McKay walked into it and got a shock. Then he was doing a little double time moving to come abreast of McKay whose progress was halted by two of Kannar's soldiers, ones McKay recognized from the theft squad. McKay tried to push by them, purposefully touching their bare forearms with his treated gloves. They didn't let him pass until they received a nod from Kannar.

Free to stalk again, Rodney gained some ground from the tag along soldiers as Kannar came to his side again. Lowly, Rodney asked, "What's our time frame?"

"About ten minutes," Kannar just as quietly returned.

"And lasts how long?"

"Couple hours."

"But no one will die, right?" Rodney worriedly pressed.

"Nope. They'll just wish they could," Kannar grimly answered, wished he could spare their targets the misery to come.

Rodney seemed to be breathing weirdly and Kannar shot him a look. "Don't freak out now."

"I'm not!" Rodney hissed back in affrontery. Then he began a litany of words meant solely for himself. "This is gonna be worse than eating lemons. Ronon or Teyla should be here to do this."

Kannar wasn't sure what had the Atlantean so upset, was about to ask when the man grimaced like he'd put something awful in his mouth and then he was raising one of his gloved hands toward his face. Suddenly he froze mid motion, like he remembered what he had on the glove. Again the man was muttering, words Kannar knew weren't directed at him.

"I'd rather take a bullet, two…for Sheppard instead of this. Oh crap, crap, crap. This is gonna suck." Then, before he could chicken out, Rodney swiped the glove across his own cheek.

Kannar fought back the urge to yank McKay's hand from his skin, growled, "What did you do that for?!"

Dropping his hand but his expression was one of gagging, Rodney explained, "We have to sell this epidemic and that means I should be sick too, seeing as I've been exposed to Sheppard's illness longer than your people."

"You could pretend to be sick, that's what I'm going to do," Kannar hissed back, hadn't planned on both Atlanteans being out of commission.

"I'm not that great of an actor and if we want to sell it…I have to dose myself. Oh great, Sheppard's lack of self-preservation has totally rubbed off on me." Rodney cringed, hoped it was only temporary insanity brought on by his worry for his best friend and his need to get John well again.

Kannar might have said something in response but one of his soldiers was trotting down the trail from the village. He came to his leader's side and spoke lowly to him. Kannar nodded and the soldier paced back to give Kannar and his prisoner their space again. Rodney didn't ask if it was good news, read Kannar's expression to know it wasn't. Of course. Dealing in good news wasn't really this people's forte.

Approaching the village, Rodney coached himself to be handsy. Invading people's personal space and therefore having them invade his wasn't his favorite thing, but desperate times and all that. So as he entered the village, the same unhappy campers were still gathered into lynching parties. Kannar unobtrusively steered them close enough to the largest of the groups. McKay dodged out and grasped at as many unprotected arms and hands as his infected gloves could touch, all the while imploring them, "My friend needs medical help that only Atlantis can provide. If he dies, you all are murderers! He's sick!" he shouted as Kannar grabbed his arm to yank him away, careful to stay out of contact with the Atlantean's gloves.

Three more soldiers from the village came to Kannar's aid and grabbed McKay. They roughly manhandled him toward the building and easily got themselves infected. Rodney shrugged as he saw Kannar's father in the crowd and directed his next shout to him, "You're not murderers! Let me take Sheppard back to Atlantis to be healed! The power source does you no good and letting Sheppard die will ensure Atlantis will wipe you out without mercy. There's a deal to be made that would be beneficial to both of us!" He shouted desperately but then he was shoved into the building, and ended up sprawled out on the ground.

Grousing under his breath about his mean treatment, he pushed himself up to his knees and then he saw Sheppard was lying on the ground, not moving. It panicked him and he crawled over to him, only just remembered to yank off the infected gloves and throw them far away from John. Then he was reaching out, laying a hand on John's chest. He hung his head in relief as he felt the thud thud of his best friend's heart. "You gotta stop scaring me to death."

"Haven't met my daily quota yet," John slurred, his eyes fluttering open to see Rodney's worried features looking down at him. His eyes sharpened as he remembered what was at stake. "The ZPM?"

"Intact as far as I could tell," Rodney reported, some tension draining from John at his words.

"And your mission of spreading goodwill?" John asked, knew Rodney hadn't liked the plan, was freaking out at the odds he'd get some on his own skin.

"No one was doing an Exorcist fit yet but I tagged some people," Rodney reported, eyes darting away from John's probing look.

"Rodney," John drawled in the warning tone. "What aren't you telling me?"

Rodney let out a huff of breath. "Hey, you wanted to go with this plan, remember that."

"Meaning?" Dread building in John's chest at Rodney's hemming and hawing. Ok, more dread.

"I knew we needed to sell it, that you're contagious and it seemed…unconceivable that the person who spent the most time with you didn't get it. It was logical." Rodney finished, his chin jutting out in that stubborn 'I'm right and I'm not going to change my mind' way.

John's brain wasn't firing on all cylinders, he knew that. So he couldn't make the connection, needed Rodney to spell it out for him. "What did you do?!" menace gathering in his tone because whatever Rodney did do, he was pretty sure he wouldn't like it.

Rodney looked sheepishly as he admitted, "I followed your lead: I dosed myself." At John's pissed off look, he rambled, "But I'm probably immune. I have a superior iron stomach. I once ate a hotdog that had been out in the summer sun for hours and …Oh crap…" he turned to his side and threw up.

The good news was the drug worked, the bad news was…the drug worked on Rodney. Forcing his weak body into into an upright position, John reached out and rubbed Rodney's back as the man got sick again. 'Damn it, Rodney,' he silently cursed his friend's self-sacrifice, jolted to know that was the same torment he had put Rodney through that day. Aloud he offered, "Purposefully getting sick to save us, that's almost worth two regular 'I saved your life' points."

Wiping his mouth and groaning, Rodney collapsed down onto the ground on his side. When his vision swam and his gut threatened to rebel again, he closed his eyes. But not his mouth. "Two?!" he indignantly protested. "This rates at least three…even four saves."

"No, it doesn't!" John objected to Rodney's rating system. "So what do I get for taking the ATA drug?"

That stupid question had Rodney opening his eyes and giving John a quelling look. "Ah, the Moron of the Year award. And Beckett will gladly bestow it on you when he gets here."

John gave a feeble smile and agreed, "Yeah, he will." Feeling just awful, he stretched out onto the ground beside Rodney.

Rodney looked at John's profile, his expression serious. "We'll get him to you, John. This crazy plan of yours and Kannar, it's gonna work." It had to because John looked like a man down to his last prayers, what with the blood on his lips, the sallowness of his complexion and the way he chose to lay down instead of getting up to face what came next. That wasn't John Sheppard's style. "Soon they'll be begging us to call Atlantis and make a trade for a cure."

John shifted on the floor unto his shoulder touched Rodney's. "You being the optimist is seriously creeping me out, Rodney."

"Shut up," Rodney mockingly retorted, secretly reveling at being the recipient of John's jeer. He was clinging fiercely to the belief that, if John could still joke, he wasn't going to die.

Then they lay there, quietly, side by side. It wasn't long until they heard the unmistakable, yet wholly disturbing sound of retching coming from outside their building. They each envisioned the reaction it was having on the unaffected people: disgust and fleeing.

"Seems like your plan is in full swing," Rodney offered up praise to his leader's evil but wonderous mind.

John turned his head so he could unleash a full watt smirk at Rodney. "Misery really does crave company."

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TBC

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Now both our boys are miserable. Hope it's worth it. Thanks for reading and I'm so loving the comments!

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.