Archive of Our Own

Adrenaline was such an interesting thing. A powerful tool designed to get you and your body out of sticky situations; the jet fuel to the instinctual fight or flight response. For people new to such situations, the adrenaline rush could be a big problem. Filling your body with electricity and a whirlwind of blood pumping furiously through one’s veins could sometimes lead to confusion and inaction. The dreaded “deer in the headlights” reaction, otherwise known simply as panic in its purest form. 

But, when used properly by those accustomed to the surge of lifesaving “juice”, adrenaline was an old, reliable friend; there to save the day when your body’s normal capabilities would not be enough. Not enough to mask the ache of otherwise debilitatingly painful injuries or not enough to physically overcome an adversary twice your size. 

The point being, adrenaline was like a super power to those who knew how to wield it. And after years on the battlefield, both on Earth and the Pegasus Galaxy, and more extreme, life or death situations than John Sheppard cared to admit, he welcomed the adrenaline. He saw it as the perfect wave that you waited patiently for while floating in the ocean, timing it so that you could soar. 

And now, as the new wave of backup rebels from this Godforsaken planet drew ever nearer through the trees, Sheppard took a deep breath and embraced the newest surge of adrenaline, ready to ride it out and hopefully give them (or at least his team) a chance at survival. He knew their time was almost up as they were severely outnumbered, outgunned and all running on fumes as is. 

It was always the routine missions that took the wildest turns. Trade missions, usually, in which they wished to establish a friendship with a reportedly friendly group. Only this time, unbeknownst to all of them, the “friendly” population described in the ancient database had since been overrun by a militaristic society that apparently liked to shoot first, ask questions later. With no desire to watch his team die or else be captured and tortured for information, they had chosen to fight off the initial attack and make a mad dash for the PuddleJumper just a few clicks outside of the town. An understandable retreat. 

Teyla had taken an arrow to the shoulder, rendering her dominant right arm largely useless, though she was still holding her own. Ronon had taken on a few of them when the initial fight had gone down, with Sheppard at his side, and together had taken out the first wave but not without injury. 

Ronon had caught a rather nasty knife slash to the upper chest that was still oozing blood while Sheppard had been the recipient of a log to the temple, resulting in the crimson liquid covering the side of his face and dripping into the neckline of his uniform. Why did head wounds have to bleed so much?

Still, the biggest issue they were having was the busted ankle of Rodney’s that had come during their retreat when he stumbled on a root and went down hard. Suddenly their retreat had slowed down considerably and although Teyla was doing her best to support Rodney, despite her own injury, while Sheppard and Ronon continued to provide cover fire, there came a point in which John knew. And a glance towards Ronon displayed the same grim knowledge: they weren’t going to be fast enough. 

“We must go faster, Rodney,” Teyle groaned under his weight and from the wooden rod protruding from the opposite shoulder. 

Rodney panted, “You think I’m unaware of the hoard of murderous, weapon wielding madmen practically breathing down our necks? I’m so sorry my mutilated ankle isn’t cooperating with me enough to win any races here!”

“Not trying to win, McKay,” Ronon bellowed as he shot a red blast into the nearby treeline across the field in which the first of their pursuers were beginning to emerge. “Just trying to stay alive.”

“Again, you’re not telling me anything that I am not woefully and painfully aware of!”

Sheppard stayed quiet, however, as the ever pressing knowledge of impending defeat loomed nearer and knew he needed a plan. Temporarily removing one hand from his weapon to search his flac vest and BDU’s, he was soon rewarded with the beautiful feeling of two small, round objects. One flash bang, one grenade. It wasn’t much, but it just may be enough to give his team a safe passage to the jumper. 

Having already seen the enemy’s battle techniques that relied heavily on the not-so-effective “divide and conquer” method, he knew that breaking away from the group would effectively slow down their pursuit, therefore giving his team enough time to make their escape. All he needed to do was convince them to continue forward while he did what needed to be done. 

“Make sure they get to the jumper,” he called to Ronon over the sound of gunfire. They were certainly taking down the enemy in the distance, all while dodging the few arrows that were now being sent as the gap between them closed, but there were just too many of them.  

“Not leaving you, Sheppard,” Ronon called back.

John huffed angrily, “We won’t make it. You know it, too. I’ll slow them down.”

“John, we can’t…,” Teyla began, the normal strength and calm in her voice now replaced with exhaustion and pain. 

“Always with the self-sacrifice…,” McKay added, sweat pouring down his forehead and into his eyes. But John ignored them; they didn’t have time. And besides, he wasn’t trying to sacrifice himself, he was just trying to give them a chance. 

“I’ll fight with you,” Ronon bellowed.

“No!” Sheppard yelled, already beginning to shift his movement toward the approaching enemy. “I have a plan and you know those two can’t fight back effectively if anyone is covering the jumper. Now, go! That’s an order.”

Sheppard saw the anger in his eyes and movements as he accepted that Sheppard was right; Teyla, though an effective fighter even when injured, would likely be unable to protect both herself and an injured Rodney. It had to be this way and, with any luck, John would survive as well. But if nothing else, at least the three of them would stand a chance.

Knowing they were as safe as could be, given the circumstances, John doubled back and took as much cover as he could in the treeline. He got closer, firing his weapon regularly so that the oncoming twenty or so enemy combatants could clearly see him - and only him - as the prime target. 

And it was working. 

As John bobbed and weaved behind trees, avoiding arrows as he drew closer, he realized that all efforts of the asinine militia were now directed his way. That meant his team could finally move in peace, and most likely Ronon could even take on Rodney’s weight, allowing them all to move much quicker. 

Still, as comforting a thought as that was, it didn’t change the fact that he was getting closer and closer to the angry mob that was now firing off arrows left and right, along with slingshot style rocks. It was getting harder to avoid them all, even with using the trees as cover. 

But in order for this Hail Mary plan to work, he had to get close and had to have them grouped together as much as possible. Flash bangs were not nearly as effective outside but he would have to make it work. 

As he darted towards another thick tree and fired off his Beretta, effectively taking down another of his enemies, he misjudged one of the incoming arrows and before he had time to fully dodge it, he felt his outer thigh explode in a fiery mess of pain. 

Once again thankful for the adrenaline that was undoubtedly dulling the pain to a throbbing, but bearable, level, Sheppard pushed the latest injury to the back of his mind and powered through. He was no longer able to move as effectively but he was still moving and that was enough for him. 

They were only approximately a hundred feet away from him now and he knew he couldn’t risk them getting a whole lot closer without being further impaled by their arrows. A quick glance from behind his latest cover tree showed that the majority of the group was as together as they were going to get and not far from the treeline, meaning the flash bang would hopefully reverberate a bit off of the tall, sturdy trees. The setting sun was also at least working slightly in his favor, given that the flash would work a little better than in the bright sunlight.

With them now getting desperately close, their loud battle cries sent chills down his spine as he was reminded of an angry pack of wolves, ready to devour their prey. Glancing down at his two weapons, he swiftly grabbed the stun grenade, armed it and threw it as center of the mass of people as possible before quickly turning away. 

He didn’t fully have time to adequately cover his ears but the cover of the tree, as well as anticipating the flash, allowed him to at least shield his eyes and maintain his vision. The bang, however, immediately shot pain through his already battered head and rendered him largely deaf as a loud, monotone ringing replaced his hearing. 

Thankfully, when he looked back at the group, he saw that the weapon had served its purpose as the angry men were almost entirely now scrambling on the ground, trying to understand what had hit them. He remembered the first time he’d been victim to a stun grenade and almost felt sorry for them. Almost. 

Though disoriented, Sheppard used their current state of sensory loss to pull out the grenade and aim for the best possible location that would take out most, if not all, of his enemy. It felt kind of wrong kicking them when they were down, so-to-speak, but he knew they would show him and his team no mercy. And while the whole eye-for-an-eye thing wasn’t usually his cup of tea, he knew he had to incapacitate them if he wanted any chance to make it back. 

Without further thought, he armed the grenade and heaved it to the center of the wailing group of people and then took off hobbling as best as he could. He knew he was far too close to try to simply take cover behind the trees, so putting distance between him and the grenade was the absolute key to survival.

Knowing the explosion was imminent, he was prepared for the heat and being tossed forward. What he wasn’t prepared for was the feeling of yet another arrow burying itself in his lower left flank. Apparently, one of the yahoos from this planet hadn’t fully lost his vision during the stun grenade and had managed to get a good shot off before the explosion had taken place. And before he could even fully process his newest injury, he felt the force of the explosion toss him through the air as heat wrapped around his worn out body like an unwelcome wet blanket. 

It was lights out before he could even hit the ground.

—---------------------------------

Ronon ran with everything inside of him back towards where he had last seen Sheppard. Teyla and Rodney were safe in the jumper, now hovering and cloaked somewhere above him as he searched desperately for his friend. The man who had saved him and seen something in him years ago that Ronon had assumed was already lost. Beaten out of him from years of fighting and running. And yet Sheppard hadn’t given up on him and had even given him a home. A family. 

Which is what made it that much harder to follow his orders when it involved leaving the man behind. 

Logically, Ronon knew Sheppard had been right but still, he could have stayed and gladly fought alongside him. They hadn’t been far from the jumper and had encountered no other enemies along the way. It only made him run that much faster back towards his friend and CO. 

The first bang that roared in the distance had temporarily slowed him down as he wasn’t expecting it. He recognized it as one of the light grenades that left people temporarily blind and deaf and knew that could have only come from Sheppard. He was at least still alive, but how good would a light grenade do? Probably meant Sheppard was surrounded and desperate. He felt anger well up dangerously inside of him at the thought. 

But as Ronon ran closer, he could make out a lone person running - more like hobbling - his way, and immediately recognized it as Sheppard. Just as quickly, however, the relief at seeing his friend was replaced by searing anger once again at the sight of an arrow meeting its target in the back of his CO. It seemed like slow motion, watching Sheppard stop and jolt as the arrow pierced his skin, but before the man could even fall to the ground, the second explosion came. 

Only this time, Ronon knew it was a real explosion. He watched helplessly as his friend’s body was lifted and thrown a few feet by the blast.

“ Dammit, Sheppard, ” McKay’s voice sounded off in Ronon’s ear, fear and frustration evident in every word. “ This is bad. This is bad, bad, bad. ”

“Shut up,” Ronon growled. He didn’t need to hear how bad it was; he could see it. He was close now and could feel the heat from the fire before him.

“Are there any left standing?” Ronon growled, needing to have an idea if he should expect any immediate danger from the mob and knew Rodney had the advantage of height to physically see the battlefield.  

“ What? Oh, oh, um, ” Rodney answered nervously, likely checking one of the fancy screens in the jumper. “ I… I see Sheppard… you’re only a few meters away. There are other lifesigns but… from what I can see on the ground none of them are standing up and about to fire their stupid little arrows your way. But there’s a lot of smoke so… just be careful. ”

Now scanning the singed, tall grass before every step, knowing Sheppard was near, Ronon radioed his team again, “Land it and get the hatch down, I’ll be moving fast.”

“ Understood, Ronon, ” Teyla responded softly, hopefully signalining that she was patched up as well as possible and was able to keep McKay level headed enough to make this work.

He could hear rustling and screams coming from the burning group of people and knew it was only a matter of time before someone able bodied enough would try to attack again. 

“Where is he?” Ronon growled, half to himself and half to McKay and Teyla.

“ Okay, landed and waiting, ” McKay called out, “ He’s only a meter or so in front of you! ”

Ronon dashed forward and could already see the impression in the tall grass where a body was laying. Sheppard was on his stomach, arms and legs flailed out in awkward angles with his left thigh showcasing an arrow protruding from it. It didn’t seem very deep, but deep enough to stain the surrounding BDU material with dark red blood. Further up his back, just above his hip and below the protective vest, was yet another arrow, this one deeper. 

Dammit , Ronon thought to himself.

As the noise from the group of idiots grew louder, Ronon knew he didn’t have time to further assess his friend and could only hope that moving him wouldn’t make his injuries worse. He quickly bent down and grabbed Sheppard under the arms and heaved him upwards. Carrying the limp man over his shoulders wasn’t his first choice, but it was the only way he knew he wouldn’t mess with the two arrows. 

He ran towards the nearby awaiting jumper and up the ramp.

“Go, go, go!” he barked, pleased when the rear hatch began to rise and the jumper went airborne soon after. With Teyla now at his side and using her good hand, she held Sheppard’s head steady as Ronon lowered him to the ground, carefully placing him on his side. He didn’t move. Not once.

“His heart is beating,” Teyla reported, relief laced in her words. 

“Dear God, are you certain of that?” McKay practically shouted from the pilot’s seat as his wide eyes searched the rescue efforts happening in the back. “He looks dead from here!”

“You should be flying this thing, McKay,” Ronon reminded him, knowing that the last thing they needed was for a distracted and worried Rodney to crash right back into this stupid planet. 

“Yes, Rodney,” Teyla added softly, “He is still alive but you need to focus on safely getting us to the Stargate.”

“You all act like I’m the most incompetent flier in Atlantis but I’ll have you know, even with a bum ankle…”

But Ronon tuned him out as he looked up at Teyla. Sweat and pain lines were unusual for the ever elegant Athosian, and yet here she was, trying to tend to Sheppard while she also had an arrow of her own embedded in her body. 

“Teyla,” Ronon said softly and waited until she looked at him, “I’ll take care of him. Sit down.”

She offered a slight, reassuring smile and shook her head, “I am fine. We need to secure the arrows in place.”

Ronon nodded, “I’ll do it. You only have one working arm.”

Teyla sighed and looked the still unconscious Sheppard up and down, no doubt thinking the same thing as Ronon; it didn’t look good. But Ronon pushed the thought aside and began wrapping bandages around the arrows and securing them in place as best he could. He then did the same for Teyla. There wasn’t much more they could do for him, which was an awful feeling considering how bad he looked. 

“Gently lift his head,” Teyla instructed as she held a rolled up piece of cloth in her hand. When Ronon did, she placed it under his head as a makeshift pillow to help alleviate the harsh angle his neck had been in, given that the more comfortable position of being on his back was currently out of the question. She then handed Ronon a thermal blanket, which he draped over his friend.

“H-How is he?” McKay stammered from the front. “Still alive, right?”

“Yes, Rodney, he is still alive.”

“How much longer?” Ronon grumbled, feeling like it was taking longer to get back than it did to get to the planet earlier that day. 

“Fifteen minutes,” Rodney answered simply. The lack of constant whining or word vomit, as Sheppard had once referred to McKay’s fast and never ending talking, meant that the scientist was worried. Especially considering he had a pretty legitimate injury himself that would normally have the man flailing and nearly crying in the fetal position. Ronon felt a little surge of pride for McKay, knowing that when it came down to it, he was getting the job done and flying them home safely.

“Teyla, take these,” Ronon said, handing her two pain pills and a bottle of water. She nodded and accepted them with a small, “Thank you.”

Next thing he knew, Ronon heard movement behind him and turned to see McKay half hopping, half leaning on the front section seats as he made his way toward them. He craned his neck, trying to get a glimpse of Sheppard. And when he did, the look of shock spread quickly. 

“McKay, who’s flying…”

“Autopilot into Atlantis,” Rodney said automatically, though his mind was clearly on their friend. “Oh my God, he looks even worse up close…”

“He’ll be fine,” Ronon uttered, sensing how distraught McKay was starting to appear.

But the scientist suddenly looked scared as he eyed the blood spreading slightly on the floor as well as the numerous cuts and bruises, likely from being caught in the blast and tossed through the air.

“B-but why hasn’t he woken up?” Rodney fumbled, his eyes wide and searching all three of the other occupants. Ronon glanced at Teyla and immediately knew she was wondering the same thing. Sure, Sheppard was pretty banged up but even so, people usually went in and out of consciousness during times like these, which Sheppard had been known to do other times he’d been injured. But nothing? Not even when he was being carried over Ronon’s shoulders during the sprint back to the jumper?

“His body has been through a great deal of trauma,” Teyla finally said warmly, though Ronon could tell she was worried. “But he is still with us.”

“I just had to trip,” Rodney mumbled angrily as he hopped around, facing the front of the jumper again. Ronon frowned and didn’t quite understand. “Had to slow everyone down…”

Oh. There it was. Was Rodney McKay actually blaming himself, and not Sheppard for being the protector or even the dumb people who lived there and attacked them unprovoked in the first place? And while normally Ronon would have enjoyed the brief and unexpected moment of humility, this didn’t feel right. And Ronon knew Sheppard would not want Rodney wearing that kind of guilt.

But before he or Teyla could say anything, McKay spoke again after dialing the gate and tapping his ear piece, “Atlantis, this is Jumper One. We have a medical emergency, please come in!”

Ronon, now glad that they were finally within comms range with Atlantis, took another look at his CO on the floor and silently hoped that the man would pull through. He had been through worse than a couple of arrows and the outskirts of an explosion and lived to tell the tale; surely this wouldn’t do him in?

“ Dr. McKay, this is Dr. Weir with Dr. Beckett patched in, what’s the nature of your emergency? ”

“Emergencies, Elizabeth,” McKay said back, “Plural. Ronon got slashed pretty good in the chest and who knows where else, Teyla has a freaking arrow sticking out of her shoulder, my ankle is broken and probably hanging on by a thread. And speaking of hanging on by a thread, that leads me to the one and only Lt. Colonel John Sheppard who has not one, but two arrows sticking alarmingly out of his thigh and lower left back, plus probably a concussion and whatever comes with being blown up. Oh, and have I mentioned that he hasn’t moved a muscle or fluttered an eye since we got him back in the jumper?”

Ronon considered correcting him to say Sheppard had shown absolutely no signs of consciousness or response to pain since the explosion, but ultimately thought better of it. It wouldn’t make much of a difference now. 

“ Aye, I’ll get more provisions. ”

“ Okay, Rodney, ” Dr. Weir added now, “ We will be ready and waiting for you. ”

Ronon felt the relief fill him as the compartment of the PuddleJumper was suddenly filled with the shimmering blue light of the approaching Stargate. Still, it was short lived when he looked down at Sheppard again. The usually sun tanned skin was now ghostly white - too white - and his body was way too still. In fact, Ronon wasn’t even positive the man was still breathing.

Teyla seemed to be thinking the same thing as her hand gently found his neck, a moment later, her head shot up and her eyes were wide. 

“He does not have a pulse!”

“What? What? We… we can’t even do CPR. What…”

“Beckett will know what to do,” Ronon said quickly. His own heart pounding, knowing there was nothing they could do to help him but forever grateful that the ship was preparing to enter the event horizon.

“Right, right, right,” McKay responded before tapping his ear piece again. “Beckett we are about to come through but he’s stopped breathing and has no heartbeat but with the arrow in his back, we can’t do CPR.”

“ Bloody hell, ” came the thick accent of the doctor, “ Aye, Rodney, we’ll be ready. ”

And as the jumper began disappearing into the shimmering blue, Ronon’s final thought before entering was a prayer that Carson was, indeed, ready for them and better yet, that he would be able to save Sheppard.

------------------------------------------

Deja vu sucked. 

Maybe it was just because Rodney seemed to be unfairly targeted by the universe and had far more negative events shoved down his throat than positive ones, but it always seemed like his experiences with deja vu were of horrible moments from his past that he had absolutely no desire to be reminded of. 

And yet here he was, standing awkwardly at the forward section of the PuddleJumper, watching a horrific scene play out on the ground before him. A part of him couldn’t look away from Carson and his faith healing goons surrounding Sheppard, barking orders and other stats that even Rodney knew didn’t sound good. The other part of him wanted to run but that wasn’t an option anyway, given that the dying - or technically dead - Colonel and his medical entourage completely blocked the exit, holding him captive.

Oh, there was also the issue of his throbbing lower limb. Yeah, there was that little chestnut that would hinder any attempts at running for the foreseeable future. 

And as he watched Carson order someone to “bag” the Colonel - which apparently meant pump air into his body via the mask - Rodney couldn’t help but wonder if he had spent more time running and exercising before this mission, would he have still fallen? Maybe if he wasn’t always the physically weakest link, Sheppard wouldn’t have had to compensate for their slow movement by sacrificing himself in the first damn place.

“Give me the bone saw and prepare the paddles! Kelly, cut his shirt away completely. I need perfect visibility,” Beckett barked methodically, but Rodney felt bile rising in his throat. 

“Bone saw?!” Rodney yelled, unable to contain himself as he saw the instrument of torture being passed to Beckett. “He has enough issues already. He doesn’t need any bones cut!”

But Carson didn’t miss a beat in his movements as he responded simply, “We have to shorten the arrow, Rodney, so we can roll him to his back and shock him.”

With Sheppard now only wearing his BDUs and boots, still laying completely still on his side, Rodney couldn’t help but feel overwhelming guilt increase exponentially. For all the jabs he took at the Colonel and all the clever insults he threw the man’s way, Rodney did respect him. John Sheppard was a skilled soldier, surprisingly intelligent (kind of) and perhaps the most amazing thing: he actually considered McKay a friend. Rodney wasn’t used to that, especially from someone who looked more like the jocks who used to make fun of him in school. John Sheppard was cool and a good man. And he was Rodney’s friend. 

And he was clinically dead. 

The sickening sound of the bone saw filled the enclosed space, sending chills down Rodney’s spine. He watched in horror as the blade was brought close - too close - to John’s skin but within seconds, the arrow in his back was significantly shorter. Thankfully, a small piece of wood was nothing compared to bone. They cut the one in the leg just as quickly.

The medical team then immediately placed rolled up towels along his back on either side of the shortened arrowhead before finally rolling Sheppard over, effectively creating a padding to prevent any additional pressure on the arrow.

“Charge to 200!”

Then came that awful sound of electricity being forced into the human body. A sound that sometimes still haunted his nightmares of the last time he’d been forced to watch Sheppard’s body jolt unnaturally upwards before falling limply back to the ground.

The nurse replaced the mask, pumping air steadily once again while Beckett confirmed the first sickening jolt hadn’t been enough to shock the Colonel back to life.

Rodney suddenly felt a dark cloud of doubt settle over him. How long had John been without oxygen to the brain? He wasn’t an MD but he knew what hypoxia could do to the vital organ. And would any of these godforsaken charges work? Would John Sheppard’s heart ever beat again, or would he just die, half naked on the floor of his beloved PuddleJumper with primitive arrows sticking out of his broken body?

If Sheppard had heard that thought, McKay was certain the military man would scold him and tell him to stop being so dramatic. But Sheppard wasn’t here. Well, his body was but for the moment, that was it.

Three more hits with those paddles is what it took. Three more times Rodney watched helplessly as Sheppard’s lifeless body lifted with the electricity and fell just as quickly. 

“We have sinus rhythm,” Beckett shouted, relief palpable amongst everyone in earshot, Rodney included. Still, was it fast enough? “Let’s get him to the OR, stat. I have a feeling this bloody arrow has caused significant internal bleeding.”

They moved like a well rehearsed dance and even McKay had to admit that what Beckett and his team were able to do was pretty amazing. Hard to watch? Yes. Seemingly barbaric? You betcha. But was his friend breathing again, despite all odds? Also, a resounding yes. 

With Sheppard now carefully loaded onto a backboard, which was then placed on a gurney before being whisked away, Rodney was left standing on his one good foot and feeling entirely shell shocked. He just stared at the jumper floor at the pools of blood still in a state of coagulation.

“Dr. McKay?”

Rodney blinked tired, dry eyes and focused on the man standing before him. He was pretty sure it was one of the military nurses who occasionally worked with Beckett and was brought in when there were multiple injured/sick patients to contend with. 

That’s when Rodney noticed the man had brought a wheelchair directly into the jumper and got as close as possible. 

“Let me help you get in here.”

Rodney wanted to respond, but the words escaped him. Instead, he allowed the man to help him pivot around before being lowered into the chair. He suddenly felt embarrassed and helpless as he was wheeled down the hatch and into the jumper bay where he saw Elizabeth standing there with a similar expression of shock. 

Rodney searched for Ronon and Telya but realized they were probably some of the first transported to the infirmary. Or, more likely, Teyla was while Ronon had waited to escort Sheppard when he was finally stabilized. 

Because that’s how it went so very often; Rodney puts them all in danger, Sheppard willingly sacrifices himself to save the rest of them, and then Ronon and/or Teyla saves Sheppard. And Rodney gets wheeled to the infirmary with a bad ankle. 

He sighed and wondered why he was on any gate team, let alone Colonel’s Sheppard’s team.

“Rodney, what the hell happened out there?” Elizabeth asked as she kept pace with the nurse who was pushing him to the medical bay. “The Maltians were supposed to be a peaceful society.”

“Yeah, well, they may have been in the past but I guess they’ve been hardened into violent maniacs since the database was updated,” McKay shot off, more frustration in his tone than intended. “The moment we made contact, they started shouting out weird battle chants and started fighting. Then came the damn arrows, because we can’t seem to escape societies with arrows. Oh God, what if they are poisoned arrows?!”

The thought sent white, hot terror down McKay’s spine. 

“Wouldn’t Teyla have been showing symptoms?” Dr. Weir countered.

Rodney breathed and nodded, “Yes, yes. Logically, most likely. Unless hers wasn’t poisoned and his was, but if you’re going to poison one, might as well poison them all, right?”

As his heart rate continued to increase, so did the incessant and overwhelming throbbing in the entire lower portion of his leg. McKay knew the adrenaline that had been masking a lot of the pain was likely wearing off now that they were all safely back in Atlantis. Well, was it considered “safely” when one arrives without a pulse? Probably not.

Regardless, the pain was starting to make him feel outright dizzy. He chided himself for, once again, being so weak. Why couldn’t he be more like the rest of his team? All so stoic and physically capable of saving the world while slowly dying…

He didn’t belong on this team. He really didn’t. And he didn’t know how he had made it this long pretending that he could keep up with them. Yes, he was a genius, but his place was here on Atlantis and, at most, accompaning a team out when a scientist was needed. Like Zelenka.

“Alright, sir,” the man pushing him stated as they entered the infirmary and came to stop at one of the beds. “I’m going to help you get into the bed and then we will work on removing your boots and pants so we can get a look at that ankle.”

McKay sighed and let his head fall back, suddenly feeling nauseous as the pain grew steadily. He felt claustrophobic; held down by the crushing pain and complete inability to run from it or help it in any way. Unable to shake the debilitating imagery of Sheppard’s bloody form spasming against the electric currents. 

Somewhere behind him, he heard someone say, “I’ll get the doctor,” but he didn’t care anymore. He finally knew how he was going to get out of this and that was by fully embracing the growing darkness that was now surrounding him. 

He felt himself listing forward in his chair and briefly wondered how badly it would hurt when he hit the ground, but found he didn’t really care and never found out anyway. 

———————————————

Elizabeth massaged the bridge of her nose before letting her hand wipe under her eye and down her cheek. It was one of those days. One of the days that she dreaded every time a team stepped through the Stargate, especially Colonel Sheppard’s team. 

She wasn’t really supposed to have favorites and for all intents and purposes, she didn’t. It’s just that his team had two of Atlantis’ leaders: military and scientific, plus two of their most valuable liaisons to this galaxy. Not to mention, all of them she considered to be personal friends. Even Ronon, who had probably said thirty words in total to her since coming to Atlantis nearly two years ago.

She cared for them on a personal level and in terms of the expedition overall, they were all invaluable. A part of her often wondered if she should be allowing them out at all, but knew they were just as invaluable to Atlantis in the field, furthering their mission.

Being the expedition leader was difficult, that was for sure. And that was especially true when that invaluable team were all currently stuck in the infirmary with varying degrees of injury. 

Ronon was the least injured of them all, which was saying a lot considering he looked like he’d gone ten rounds with some top MMA fighters. Thankfully the slash on his chest had only required stitches in a few areas, but otherwise, he was basically a walking bruise. Not that you would tell it from his ever watchful, rather monotone demeanor. Still, that steadfast nature of his was part of the reason Sheppard had made it home at all.

Then there was Teyla, who managed to look just as elegant and strong while sleeping off the sedation as she did while awake. Dr. Biro had described her surgery as more of a procedure, since it was fairly simple and thankfully did not cause any major damage. Once some of the swelling went down and she underwent targeted physical therapy, she would be back to normal. Elizabeth had no concerns whatsoever about Teyla overcoming this injury and often envied the woman who was a diplomat in her own right, but also a fierce warrior. 

Finally, in the bed closest to Elizabeth, was Dr. Rodney McKay. After making it to the infirmary over an hour ago, the pain had finally caught up to him and caused him to pass out before he could make it to the bed. It was probably for the best, however, given that removing his clothing and boots would have been extremely painful with his broken foot. Thankfully, Dr. Keller had assured them that it was a clean break, which meant no surgery required but he would be in a cast for at least six weeks.

Elizabeth had smiled briefly at that, imagining the rampages Rodney would be going on in his lab while hobbling around. But the moment of levity was lost when she briefly wondered if John would ever be able to observe said rampages as well. 

With the rest of the team all settled, all she could do now was wait. Wait to see if John would live or die. Wait to see if any damage was permanent or would he be able to remain as their fearless Military Commander. 

Teyla had been the first to awaken and asked first about Sheppard, not her own condition. Not that Elizabeth would have expected anything different. Elizabeth had decided to move her chair in between Teyla’s bed and McKay’s bed, while Ronon sat on Teyla’s other side, having been released already. 

Not long after that, Rodney had woken up as well. Clearly still feeling the effects of the drugs, he had stared for quite a while at the now casted limb of his before it really sunk in. Dr. Keller had been nearby and informed him of all the things she’d told Elizabeth earlier. And while she had expected Rodney to complain and protest, he had also immediately asked about Sheppard. 

Dr. Keller bit her lips, her eyes darting towards the surgical suite, and shook her head. “I don’t know but I’ll see if I can get some sort of update, now that you’re all awake.”

Elizabeth smiled and nodded, “Thank you, Dr. Keller.”

“Teyla,” Elizabeth said after several minutes of strained and awkward silence, “did they tell you how long your arm would be in a sling?”

Teyla inclined her head slightly, “Dr. Biro believes three weeks may be sufficient but will check the progress after two weeks. I must admit, I am already growing weary of it.”

Elizabeth chuckled, “Yes, I’m sure you are. And what about you, Rodney? Six weeks in a cast… think you’ll manage?”

Rodney’s eyebrows shifted upwards slightly, but otherwise moved surprisingly little and continued staring at something on the ceiling. “Not like I have a choice, now, do I?”

Elizabeth frowned. It wasn’t that his snappy comment was unexpected, but she could tell it lacked the usual zest of Rodney McKay. This version seemed overly subdued and melancholy. Perhaps it was a side effect of the pain medications.

“Think Sheppard would need one of those?” Ronon asked, his eyes on McKay’s cast. Teyla also seemed curious.

“A cast?” Dr. Weir asked, verifying that’s what he meant. “Oh, no I doubt it. I’m not a doctor but I think casts are really only used to help hold broken bones together so they can heal properly as they regrow. I imagine Colonel Sheppard would probably have to use crutches or maybe a cane for a little while, but shouldn’t need a cast.”

McKay huffed at her response, “Right, I get it. Let’s talk like we know he’s going to make it. And even if he does, will he be a vegetable after all of that time with zero oxygen to the brain? Because it took four rounds with the defibrillator before his heart responded and do we even know how long he was clinically dead before we even realized it back in the jumper? Because…”

“Rodney,” Teyla spoke first, her tone powerful enough to derail McKay’s tirade but soft enough to acknowledge that it was coming from a place of unadulterated fear for his friend. “It will do us no good to focus on the negative possibilities of Colonel Sheppard’s prognosis. He is strong, Dr. Beckett and his team are highly capable and I will choose to remain hopeful that John will make a full recovery. That is the energy that we should maintain until we know more.”

“Aye, what she said.”

All heads snapped around now to see a very disheveled looking Carson standing before them. 

“Carson,” Elizabeth greeted and she stood and nervously ran her hands down her pants legs a time or two. “How is he?”

“Alive,” Beckett answered with a nod of his head. “I don’t imagine I need to tell the lot of you how close it was this time, but just know, we all had to fight to get him to this point. But, I think he should be out of the woods.”

Elizabeth allowed her eyes to close as she took in the information. John Sheppard was going to live. 

“He has a mild concussion, thankfully nothing to write home about. The most concerning injury was the arrow in his back. It damaged his kidney but also put a small knick on his spleen, which caused massive internal bleeding between the two. We were able to control the bleeding and repair the damage. I think we even managed to salvage his kidney, but we will be monitoring renal output to verify. The good news is that you really only need one kidney to live, so worst case scenario…”

“And his brain?” McKay asked pointedly. “Will it be mush when he wakes up?”

“Rodney…,” Teyla admonished softly. Elizabeth agreed the scientist could use some lessons in tact but alas, she had known Dr. Rodney McKay long enough to know that likely would never happen.

“Hypoxia can be tricky but from all accounts, I believe approximately six minutes passed with no oxygen to the brain,” Carson answered, arms gently crossed against his chest. “If that is correct, he shouldn’t have any lasting effects from the lack of oxygen. Of course we won’t know for sure until he wakes up.”

Another win, albeit not the most certain one. Still, after what she had seen upon their arrival, Dr. Weir would take it happily. 

 “What about his leg?” Ronon asked, and Elizabeth nodded. Of course Ronon would think to ask about his leg. That was something he and Sheppard had in common: they couldn’t sit still. 

Carson nodded as he rubbed his forehead tiredly. “Another stroke of luck. Not even two millimeters to the left and the arrow would have severed his femoral artery. You would have never made it back to Atlantis. As it were, the Colonel will likely be limping around with a cane for the next several weeks, but his leg will be fine. Assuming he performs the recommended physical therapy.”

Elizabeth took a steadying breath and offered a classic, diplomatic smile. “Thank you, Carson. Good work today.”

“Aye, my team really had their work cut out of them today with you lot,” he stated with narrowed eyes amongst the remaining members of Sheppard’s team. 

“When can he have visitors?” Ronon asked, his feet propped against the foot of Teyla’s bed.

“He’ll be out for a while but probably in thirty minutes or so. Long enough for the nurses to get him patched up, covered and settled. Granted, Teyla and Rodney will need to be officially released first, themselves.”

Dr. Weir nodded then and looked at them as she spoke, “Well, I am going to use this time to get some of the day’s paperwork going and will stop by this evening to check on all of you. Get some rest and, Dr. Beckett, please keep me updated.”

Following nods of understanding from her audience, Elizabeth turned and steadied herself to put the “Expedition Leader Hat” back on before reaching the Control Room. A task made far easier with the knowledge that John Sheppard and his team would likely all live to fight another day.

———————————-

Huh.

He was alive. Didn’t expect that one.

It was always the sounds that returned first when waking up in the infirmary and, despite the high pitched ringing that still drowned out more of the sounds around him than he liked, he could still make out the tell tale sounds of incessant beeping. Plus the antiseptic smell of Beckett’s ultra clean medical bay.

Oh, how could he forget about the fact that his body ached all over or the feeling of intrusive needles - or worse, catheters - in some of the worst possible places?

Yep, definitely the infirmary. 

Which also meant definitely alive. 

John remembered everything. At least, he thought he did. The Maltians, the running, the grenades and the arrows. He had kind of figured that last arrow and the blast would have done him in, so as awful as waking up in the infirmary was, it was still better than being dead.

But wait, he didn’t remember the outcome of his team. Surely if he was alive, they were, too, right? But that was no guarantee, especially if only some had made it out alive…

The muffled beeping was increasing in rhythm, no doubt a reflection of his own heart pumping faster and faster. Damn, he hated how long it always took to get his body to listen after waking up from sedation. It seemed cruel to have the ability to hear but nothing else during moments like this. But then again, the world could be a cruel place. 

“John,” came the smooth, calming voice of Teyla. An angel in the Pegasus Galaxy, albeit one who could take down most men. Then again, weren’t many angels warriors…? Regardless, it at least meant that Teyla was okay. 

“John, can you hear me?” She tried again, her voice a little stronger and he could now feel her smaller hands wrapped around his. “If you can hear me, you are in the infirmary and we would very much love for you to open your eyes.”

Yeah, well he would very much love to oblige, but alas, the damn things just weren’t cooperating. Come on, John, he chided himself. He needed to make sure Ronon and Rodney were okay, too. Because quite frankly, there was no possible way that he would have made it to the jumper on his own, nor would there have been enough time for a search party to come through and retrieve him, which likely meant Ronon had come back to get him. 

Sheppard sighed, wondering if his people would ever follow his orders. Then again, he probably would have done the same thing if the roles were reversed. 

“Time to wake up now, son,” came the thick Scottish accent. “Unless you want me to get my trusted penlight out…? Ah, there we go!”

John blinked lazily against the burning sensation and bright lights of the infirmary until they cleared enough to hold open for longer than a second or two. He was greeted by the beautiful smiling face of Teyla on one side of him and Dr. Beckett looked satisfied on the other side.

“Ronon?” John croaked when he finally managed to gather enough energy to speak, his eyes drifting until they landed on the large Satedan standing at the foot of the bed. He lifted his head slightly, painfully in order to get a good look.

The large Satedan smiled slightly, “Here.”

Sheppard lowered his head with a sigh, knowing that of all his team members, if anyone had been seriously hurt or killed during that mission, Ronon made the most sense. Seeing him standing there, looking beat the hell up but very much alive, sent a wave of relief coursing through his body. Still, he hadn’t seen Rodney.

“How are you feeling, Colonel?” Teyla asked softly, her small, warm hand now lying gently on his forearm. Truthfully, he didn’t feel wonderful. He was achy and just felt heavy, but again, he was alive. That was good enough for him.

“M’ fine,” he responded offhandedly, ignoring their rolling eyes and unconvinced looks as he continued to scan his surroundings to the best of his ability. He felt the tension in him continue to rise. “Where’s McKay?”

“He’s fine,” Ronon grumbled, and Sheppard didn’t miss the strong hint of annoyance in Ronon’s response. What was that about?

Dr. Beckett nodded, “That’s right. He’ll be extra ornery for the next several weeks in that cast, but he’s just fine.”

Sheppard nodded slowly, wondering where the usually present and babbling scientist was and why the topic of his absence seemed to spark some odd, unspoken vibes between Ronon and Teyla. But ultimately, John found himself too exhausted to ponder it for long; everyone was safe and for now, that would have to do.

“Do you remember what happened?” Carson asked now, clearly trying to do a mental assessment on him.

“Yeah,” Sheppard answered truthfully, knowing that the doctor would like him to elaborate but Sheppard had questions of his own and not much time before his exhaustion won the battle. “How long have I been out?”

“Two days.”

John winced. It seemed like his recovery times had gotten longer and longer with each injury. He’d have to work on that.

“My leg?”

Beckett inclined his head in a half shrug. “It’ll be fine, assuming you do as you’re told.”

Yeah, yeah, yeah. He knew the drill; annoying and painful physical therapy but if he wanted to return to his off-world missions eventually, the therapy was a must.

“Your arm?” 

Teyla smiled warmly again and nodded, “It would seem as though, with time and adequate therapy, we will all eventually return to full physical capabilities.”

Teyla’s elegant and verbose way of saying “full recovery” for all of them. Cool. 

Sheppard nodded and relaxed further into his pillows, finally feeling the small rush of adrenaline beginning to die down. 

“Alright, you two,” Carson announced, his eyes on Ronon and Teyla. “I’ve got a few things to check out before the Colonel drifts back off and I imagine he’d like some privacy for that.”

Sheppard groaned and closed his eyes, pressing his head further into the pillow and wishing he could bolt. Anything that required privacy was nothing he wanted a part of. He would take the blasted penlight any day over some of the other things Beckett would have to do…

“Have fun with that,” Ronon offered with a devious smile, having been a patient enough times to know what was coming.. 

“Mmhmm, just wait until I can break outta here and get back on the mat. Reckoning for not obeying a direct order…”

Ronon chuckled at this one, “You’ll still lose and I did make sure they got back to the jumper. You never said I couldn’t come back.”

Teyla rolled her eyes but beamed all the same. That was just the way he and Ronon communicated and she knew it. Now, Rodney would likely be a harder nut to crack…

“Well, I am thankful for you drawing away the enemy fire and I am also thankful for Ronon’s actions. It’s good to have you back with us, Colonel,” Teyla added warmly as she gave his arm a light squeeze.

Sheppard smiled and sometimes wished people would not call him by his title so much. It felt so formal; so distant. And he didn’t think of himself as a Colonel first, especially not with them. Still, he rarely corrected anyone. He figured whatever they felt comfortable with was good enough for him. As long as the people he cared about knew they could call him by his first name if they wanted, that’s all that mattered. 

“Please mind Dr. Beckett’s orders and then get some rest,” she finished before turning to leave.

“We’ll be back,” Rinon grumbled with a satisfied grin.

Sheppard nodded and sighed again, knowing that a likely uncomfortable examination stood between him and the sleep he so desperately wanted to return to. More than that, he already felt the absence of his team. He never wanted them to feel obligated to stay with him, but he almost always preferred to have at least one of them nearby while stuck in the infirmary.

But he knew they would be back. Well, at least Ronon and Teyla. Sheppard was beginning to think McKay was going to stay away for a bit, but again, he would have to worry about that particular conundrum later.

For now, he had to focus on staying awake long enough for Carson to get whatever reassurances he needed to convince him of what John already knew: he was fine. Or, at least he would be. 

——————————-

Rodney huffed and slammed his fist down on the table, the resulting thud echoing through the largely empty lab. It was later in the day but there would normally have been others in there, finishing up the day’s work. Alas, they were all being extra sensitive as of late, unable to hear the honest admonitions from their boss. 

So instead, most of them had either taken their work elsewhere or else chosen to work on different projects in neighboring labs. 

All the better, McKay thought to himself. They needed to toughen up; this was the Pegasus Galaxy, after all, and if they couldn’t handle the unbridled truth, then they needed to rethink some things anyway. Besides, this gave him the peace and quiet needed to really focus on his highly important work. 

Because if he was being honest, the art of focusing had been a slightly elusive one for him since their return from M3X-435. Yet another planet that nearly killed them all and had ultimately led McKay to accept some life-altering truths. Not to mention had him largely confined to the less-then-comfortable-but-way-better-than-crutches rolly chair that had become his second home for the last four days.

Four days.

Had he not just checked his emails and subsequently noticed the date, he would have sworn they’d only been back for a day, maybe two at the most. The shock of seeing that four whole days - working on five now - had already passed jarred him a bit, but then again, who could blame him?

Rodney McKay was a busy man and with his pressing work and the near constant throbbing in his limb, time could relatively pass quicker than one would normally expect.

Then again, that probably explained why so many people had decided to visit him lately. To hover and ask odd, touchy-feely questions. Teyla had been perfectly patient, Dr. Weir was as much a diplomat as ever and Ronon had mostly just sneered. Even Radek had gotten in on the rotation with his incessant ramblings and opinions.

But the overall theme of every visit had been the same: He needed rest, he needed to get out of the lab, he needed to talk to Dr. Heightmeyer, he needed to visit Sheppard.

Rodney sighed and slammed his fist again. Since when did everyone else know what he needed better than his own damn self? What he needed was to finish this equation, which would, in theory, be able to increase output energy from the Chair without needing to increase input, thus allowing them to be far more effective during the many crisis events they seemed to find themselves in. That’s what he needed and everyone else could stay out of his way until he got it figured out.

As he heard the door to the laboratory slide open, he suddenly decided he needed to make a large and impossible to miss “DO NOT DISTURB” sign to hang at eye level outside of his lab. 

“Once again, Radek,” Rodney sneered without turning around, knowing that Zelenka was the only one who still tried to enter his lab anymore. “If I happen to require your help, which is already a highly laughable notion to begin with, but in the overwhelmingly rare event that I do, I will be sure to seek you out myself. Until then, you can help me best by kindly staying away.”

There was a moment of silence and the most fleeting microsecond of guilt at his words, both of which didn’t last long.

“Damn, McKay.”

Rodney frozen. That was not Zelenka at all. 

“That was a little harsh, even for you.”

Rodney, who had already been feeling jittery (days of nonstop coffee would do that to the body), suddenly felt his hands outright shaking at the knowledge that Sheppard was now standing behind him. He still hadn’t turned around to confirm it, and for some reason, he didn’t want to turn around. Didn’t want to see him. And didn’t know how or why those feelings blared at him so vehemently. It was John, after all.

But, as usual, McKay’s go-to response for unknown emotions and social situations was annoyance and anger. Letting those drive him, he turned angrily in his rolly chair to face the Colonel now standing - clearly uncomfortably - just inside his lab.

“I don’t think I asked your opinion on how I address my staff,” he rounded haughtily, trying to maintain his facade of strength despite how positively pitiful the normally strong Military Commander appeared. “Besides, as much as I question the abilities and judgment of dear Dr. Beckett, I happen to know there’s no way he would allow you to hobble this far with a cane and a prayer so soon after nearly keeling over.”  

With that, Rodney turned away as quickly as possible, no longer able to stomach Sheppard’s dire appearance any longer anyway. He was so pale, sweat dripping down his forehead as he leaned heavily on the cane at his side. Rodney was grateful his injuries were all hidden by the loosely fitting Air Force sweats that he only ever wore when injured or very sick. 

“Oh,” Sheppard said then from behind him, the sound of pained grunts and thump, thump of the cane hitting the lab floor signifying that he was hobbling closer to Rodney. “And how can you be so sure, given that I haven’t seen you in four damn days?” 

Rodney swallowed hard, but still didn’t turn around. He waved his hand absently over his shoulder and responded, “People keep barging in and have offered updates on your condition. Besides, in case you forgot, as Head Scientist of this entire expedition, I happen to be a little busy, Colonel.”

Silence again, and Rodney suddenly felt sick. He hated himself; he didn’t want to be talking to Sheppard this way, and yet he didn’t know what else to do. He couldn't even bring himself to look at the man, let alone begin to address the intensity of complicated feelings swirling inside of him. Feelings were difficult, science was not.

“I see, Doctor,” Sheppard replied, and Rodney could tell the man was a little rattled now. God, Rodney hated himself.

With more grunts and thumping happening somewhere behind him, McKay realized that Sheppard wasn’t leaving, which is exactly what everyone else did anytime Rodney got to this level of anxiety fueled verbal attacks. Damn you, Sheppard. Why don’t you ever just give the hell up?

“Let’s cut the crap, McKay,” Sheppard said finally, exhaustion mingling with the strong ‘Colonel’ voice he usually reserved for his military underlings. “What’s the real reason for all of this?” 

Rodney sighed dramatically loud and glanced back towards him quickly, still not turning to face him. Still feeling sick at the idea of doing so. “Well apart from the fact that I am practically confined to a rolly chair with this throbbing, useless leg of mine, I don’t see why everyone has a problem with a scientist working on scientific research.” 

Sheppard sighed loudly behind him and the scraping sound of stool legs against the floor indicated that he was unable to stand any longer. It only served to further engorge the guilt already gnawing at Rodney’s conscience.

“Alright then, Mr. Genius, let me break this way down for you,” the Colonel stated, breathing heavily as he did so. “What’s the real reason you’ve been avoiding me since we got back? What’s the real reason Elizabeth came to me today with your written resignation from my team? And what’s the real reason you won’t even look me in the damn eyes?”

Rodney winced at both the directness of his questions as well as the way his voice got increasingly louder as the questions went on. But it only served to rattle Rodney further, doubling his reliance on the shield that was his flustered anger. He finally decided there was nowhere else he’d rather direct it at than straight to Sheppard’s pale and pain-filled face. He flung his chair back around and met weary green eyes with his own flaming ones.

“Maybe because every time I look at you, I see you dead and bloody on the jumper floor!” Rodney yelled, days worth of pent up emotions and lack of sleep now spilling unfairly out at the very man who was at the center of his problems. But Sheppard’s gaze was strong, unfazed; as though this is exactly what he wanted. 

“No heartbeat, no breath sounds. And of course, that wasn’t the first time but - but this time you weren’t just some random fly boy I had met only weeks before. This time… this time…”

This time you were my dying friend, he didn’t say. But he didn’t think he needed to. 

“Sheppard, we were doing just fine in our escape attempts before clumsy Dr. McKay tripped and fell. Teyla was still fighting with an arrow in her, Ronon got hacked up and you were already concussed and yet you guys were doing fine. We could have made it but then I slowed us down, like I always do, and then you had to save the day! And that almost killed you, John.”

Rodney huffed and wished he could be standing. Wished he could run his hands over the desk, knocking everything to the floor. He didn’t know why he wanted those things, but he did.

“I have no business being on any gate team, especially yours. I’ve gone over the other teams and they are almost entirely military, or else civilians who can physically keep up with them. Us scientists, we should only go out there when it’s necessary. That’s it. So while you may have had to go back to keep us safe, I have to resign to keep you guys safe.”

He finally finished, hearing the words escape from his lips and finally realizing that was always the issue at hand. He was tired of being the weakest link. Tired of needing to be saved. Tired of the guilt that came with knowing his friends got hurt because of him. Did he want to stop going off-world? No; somehow, Rodney had come to enjoy going on missions. But it was his sacrifice to make.

With his eyes now on the ground, he didn’t see Sheppard’s reaction to the truth. Couldn’t bring himself to meet the man’s eyes again now that the truth was out in the open. 

“Why don’t we go play some chess?”

Rodney frowned, and snapped his head up now, thoroughly confused at the sudden change in conversational direction. “What? Chess? Oh God, you’re still delusional from the concussion, aren’t you? Let me call Carson…”

“Oh come on, McKay. You’re just afraid you’ll lose. Because, you know, you lose every single time.”

Rodney huffed and rolled his eyes, spinning his chair around to face his computer again. After finally letting his emotions free, Sheppard was going to just ignore it all and propose game play and taunt him instead. He didn’t have time for this.

“Yeah yeah, Colonel, you win every time. Just a stroke of…”

“A stroke of what, McKay? Luck?” Sheppard continued to taunt after Rodney trailed off. “You’re a smart man, Rodney. You know chess isn’t a game of chance. And even if it were, the chances of me winning every single time are statistically impossible.”

Now getting annoyed at whatever point Sheppard thought he was making, Rodney angrily pivoted his chair back around and briefly considered how silly these two tired, broken men must look as they argued about chess while unable to even stand up. 

“What’s your point, Sheppard?”

The Colonel took a deep breath, and Rodney could tell he was in pain but was determined. “My point is that you, Rodney McKay, are a genius in every measurable sense of the word. But when it comes to strategy; when it comes to knowing the pieces that you have on the board and knowing how to most effectively use them to reach a goal… Well, I’m pretty damn good at that.”

Rodney could feel his stance softening as he caught on to what Sheppard was trying to say.

“Rodney,” he continued, seeming to wilt before his very eyes, pain and exhaustion reaching a fever pitch. “Look, when it comes to my team, I know each of your capabilities and I know your limitations. And I know there are a lot of great people on this base but I wouldn’t trade any of them for any one of you. Not if it’s my choice. Because for every time you’ve slowed us down or messed up on one mission, you’ve saved our asses on two others.”

The words flowed through him as though he’d rehearsed them a million times. This kind of conversation was certainly not easy to take in for Rodney and he knew damn well it was a challenge for Sheppard, too. And yet, like always, he soldiered through it. 

“And no, I don’t just see you guys as pawns, either. You’re my friends. Hell, you’re more my family than anybody left back on Earth. So if you actually want off the team, I’ll respect your decision. But if it’s because you think that’s what I want or what I need… if you think it’ll save me or Ronon or Teyla… well, that would be a pretty dumb move for a pretty smart guy.”

John paused and looked at him pointedly, eye to eye. Rodney didn’t often see this side of him but through the slightly glossy eyes and pained creases in his forehead that weren’t normally there, McKay could only see sincerity. Maybe even sadness. 

“But either way, I think I’ve at least earned the right to hear that kind of decision directly from you. Not Elizabeth or anyone else.”

Silence settled over them as Sheppard now looked down, his breathing heavier than before and Rodney knew the man had pushed himself past his limits for the day. 

“I…,” Rodney stammered, realizing that he had already caused the recovering man - his friend - more anguish than he ever deserved, most of which was not due to the actual injuries, as Rodney previously assumed, but more so due to how McKay handled everything since.

“You’re right,” he finally said simply, quietly. He watched as Sheppard wearily raised his head and locked eyes with Rodney again. And thankfully, he no longer felt that foreign need to avoid the Colonel, or even eye contact. Instead, he wanted nothing more than to just be there for him as a friend, which is what he deserved right now more than anything.

“It… it may not happen often,” McKay continued, warranting the slightest uptick of the corners of Sheppard’s mouth. “But I may have overreacted just a little.”

Sheppard raised his eyebrows playfully and tilted his head.

“Okay, okay,” Rodney added quickly, shaking his head dismissively. “Maybe more than a little. Just… it’s hard. It’s usually you hurt or dying and yeah, maybe you guys are more than just teammates or pawns to me, too. So… so it’s hard.” 

John sighed and nodded, “Yeah. But I’m alive. We all are. So all’s well that ends well.”

“For now,” Rodney snapped then, “but you look like you’re about to fall out on my lab floor.”

“Have you seen yourself lately?” Sheppard countered, crossing his arms over his chest. “You look like you haven’t slept in days and been living off coffee and energy bars.”

McKay was quiet. That was almost to the T a valid description of the last four days.

“McKay…” he admonished.

“Colonel Sheppard - or anyone with a visual on Colonel Sheppard - please contact Dr. Beckett immediately.”

Rodney stopped suddenly as the voice of Dr. Weir echoed through his ear. He looked at Sheppard with an “oh shit” face, but Sheppard looked utterly confused.

“What?”

“Do… did you not bring a comm set?”

Sheppard shrugged, “Everyone refused to give me one. What’s going on?”

“Unbelievable!” Rodney erupted. “You mean to tell me that you hobbled your broken, half-dead self this far and did so without a way to contact someone if you fell or passed out?”

Sheppard shrugged again and replied, “Wouldn’t have helped if I was passed out. Besides, I knew I could make it and let’s remember that I only had to come down here because you were avoiding your infirmary-bound friend.”

McKay rolled his eyes at the famous Colonel Sheppard puppy dog eyes that made their way out towards the end of his sentence. Just as he was about to contact Beckett himself and tattle his heart out that he had nothing to do with a Sheppard’s AWOL status, his door slid open again to reveal Teyla and Ronon, the latter of whom was pushing an empty wheelchair.

“Doctors Weir and Beckett,” Teyla spoke calmly into her earpiece. “We have the Colonel and will be bringing him to the infirmary shortly.”

Rodney watched as Sheppard smiled slightly as he sighed.

“Copy that. Will a medical team be needed?”

“No, Dr. Weir. That will not be necessary.”

“How did you know to come here?” Rodney asked them once the radio conversation was over.

“Only place that made sense,” Ronon answered simply as he pushed the chair over to John. 

“As your people commonly say, we do not leave a man behind,” Teyla added with a calming expression. “And no one else has been able to reason with you.”

Sheppard glanced lazily over at McKay, the slightest grin on his face. Yes, that was it. Sheppard was a master chess player and he knew his people like he knew the game board. Rodney had lived an entire lifetime behind a wall of intelligence and cautionary anger; a well formed bubble designed to keep the world and all of its tricky, unpredictable emotions at arm’s length distance at all times. Lonely? Sure. Effective at maintaining as much control as humanly possible? Yes. Well, pretty much.

But then Lt. Colonel John Sheppard came barreling into his life unannounced and, frankly, unwelcomed. But he had managed to see through the wall and get past the bubble. He had the patience to handle Rodney’s outbursts and the kind of mind that could always find a way to get through to him. 

Now life was messy and complicated, filled with risks and incertitudes. But with it came friends. With it came family… acceptance. And yes, if giving all that up meant he could keep them all safe, he would. Because he now understood what it meant to care for people other than himself and his immediate family.

But to have Sheppard limp his way down to the labs, risking further injury and the impending wrath of one Dr. Carson Beckett, and admit that he wanted Rodney on the team… That was something he would happily accept a risky and complicated existence for. And as Teyla and Ronon stood there, too, he felt that warm feeling of acceptance wrapping itself around him once more.

“You know,” McKay said as he gathered his crutches and started hobbling to where Ronon was helping to lower Sheppard into the wheelchair (the fact that the man didn’t even protest the chair spoke volumes). “You two could have brought one for me.”

Teyla raised a questioning eyebrow, all while also sporting a slight grin. “Oh? Does that mean that you will be taking a reprieve from your very important work?”

Rodney shrugged as best he could while crutching alongside them, now slowly making their way towards the nearest transporter. “Well, I think I missed an appointment with Beckett earlier but thankfully I think he’s way too enraged with Colonel Rambo right now to have even noticed. But I might as well get checked out all the same. I’ll need to be back to normal if I want to be cleared for off-world missions again.”

He glanced down at Sheppard who looked back up at him. John smiled and nodded before looking back down. Rodney knew that was all that needed to be said on the matter and he’d inform Elizabeth of his decision after the infirmary.

“So, why were you yelling about chess?” Ronon asked a moment later as they slowly made their way down the hall; a ragtag team of battered people but a team all the same.

Sheppard chuckled, “You heard that?”

Teyla smiled and inclined her head, “We arrived a few minutes before Dr. Weir called but decided it best to give you two a few moments. We did not hear much, only some shouting about chess.”

McKay now joined Sheppard in laughing a bit. Yes, to most people the analogy wouldn’t have made a whole lot of sense. But to Rodney, it now made perfect sense and also made all the difference.

“Just a pep talk,” the Colonel replied with a yawn.

McKay smirked when a thought came to him. “You know, if we are all a game of chess, I bet Ronon would be the Knight: comes out of nowhere and seems sporadic, but when you really look at it, there’s a method to the madness.”

Ronon seemed a little lost but also didn’t seem to mind the comparison. He shrugged and nodded in agreement. 

“Teyla, you would be the Bishop. More elegant and stealthy in your movements. Harder to see it coming but deadly business when it does.”

A smile spread across her face and she inclined her head proudly. Rodney knew they had tried to teach her the game enough that she understood the reference fairly well. 

“And you, Rodney?”

“I’m the King, obviously.”

Ronon outright laughed at this, while Teyla seemed to consider it questioningly. But Sheppard just nodded in agreement.

“Wouldn’t that be Sheppard?” Ronon asked after he finished laughing. 

“No, see the King physically can’t do much and the others try to protect him because, you know, he’s the King.”

“A very smart King,” Sheppard added, somewhat quietly but no doubt directed at Rodney in relation to their previous conversation.

“Whatever,” Ronon chuckled, seemingly brushing off the ridiculousness of it all, even though it made perfect sense to those who knew the game and knew their team. “Then who is Sheppard?”

Sheppard sighed because he knew what Rodney was going to say.

“The Queen.”

Ronon now roared with laughter and even Teyla joined in. Rodney, seeing the huge grin on Sheppard’s face as he shook his head while looking down at the passing tiles, also had to chuckle. 

“Queen Sheppard,” Ronon barked, his deep, rumbling laughter now dying down. “Earth people have weird games.”

Rodney wanted to interject and explain it; wanted to tell Ronon that the Queen was the scariest player on the board. The Queen was the fiercest warrior and the one opponents would only dream to eliminate as soon as possible. 

But when he looked at Sheppard, he saw tired but smiling green eyes looking his way, and with a shake of the head and a dismissive wave of the hand, he effectively told Rodney to just let it go. Let Ronon have his good hearty laugh. 

Because John knew that was what everyone needed right now more than anything. 

John Sheppard knew that finally, after a pretty rotten and tumultuous handful of days, he finally got his checkmate.