E-mail: Status: Completed 4/02/2009

Word Count: 2,685

Spoilers: Minor ones for Rising and The Storm/The Eye

Author's Notes: Thanks, again, to Annie and Cheryl for betaing.

A loud rustle to his left made John awaken with a start. Sitting straight up, Berretta in hand, he started to scan the area. He spotted McKay just to his left, who gave him a sheepish grin and a half mumbled, "Sorry, I don't really do stealth," before continuing his patrol. Suddenly becoming aware of the shooting pain in his side, John groaned softly and leaned back against the tree.

John glanced at his watch, which read oh-four-forty-five, seriously contemplated going back to sleep, but decided against it. Stifling a yawn, he glanced around their small camp. He was surprised to see Teyla was already awake. From the way she was rubbing her eyes, he guessed she had just woken up. Looking a little more to his left, he saw Ford was also starting to awaken.

Giving them time to get their bearings, John took a few minutes to survey the area as much as his current position would allow. His head was throbbing, his shoulder ached, his abdomen hurt so badly he wanted to cry, and he felt like he was going puke at any time. A hand on his shoulder startled him, causing him to flinch slightly, the small movement elicited more pain.

"Sorry, sir, didn't mean to startle you." John looked up to see Ford kneeling next to him looking concerned. "How do you feel?"

John's first reaction was to lie and say he was fine, or at least feeling better, but he was sure Ford would see right through the ruse. "Not so good." Before Ford could say anything, he conceded, "But there's nothing much we can do about it until we get back to Atlantis." Then, trying to lighten the mood he added, "Beckett is going to have a field day with me this time. Oughta keep him busy for a while." Realizing his half-hearted attempt at a joke fell very flat, he shrugged slightly.

Ford didn't smile. If anything, he looked even more concerned. Sighing, John assured him, "I'm going to be fine, Ford."

The lieutenant looked at him skeptically, but didn't push the issue. "Sir, I think we should split up. Two of us should go to the 'gate for help while one of stays here with you."

"Not gonna happen," John said tersely.

"I believe Lieutenant Ford is correct, Major. Splitting up may be our best option at this time."

John hadn't seen Teyla approach and was startled by the interruption. He really, really wished they'd stop sneaking up on him like that! And, more than that, he hated that he was so weak that they were able to do it so easily. "Not gonna happen," he reiterated more firmly.

"Sir, please, just hear me out."

Sighing and looking not the least bit pleased, John relented. Nodding, he ground out, "Fine."

"We are just about out of medical supplies and your injuries aren't improving. You've developed a fever, which is also getting worse. Teyla took your temperature while you were sleeping, and it's pretty high, one hundred and two point three. If it gets much higher, you may not be able to walk, even with help, which brings me to the fact that every step you take is obviously agony."

John started to protest but Ford help up his hand. "Please don't try to deny it, sir. Give me more credit than that. We can all see how much pain you're in, not that you don't do a bang-up job of trying to hide it. Moving is only aggravating your injuries even more. We aren't much further from the Stargate and two of us alone can move a lot faster than all four of us together. Two of us could get help and be back by lunch. If we all continue on together, it will take twice as long, if not longer."

The conversation was cut short when John, trying to take a deep breath, felt another sharp pain stab through his abdomen. The intensity of the pain had him clutching his side and trying desperately to keep from vomiting. Closing his eyes against it, he tried to will it away. He heard Teyla say something to Ford, but he couldn't concentrate hard enough to make out what she was saying. Gasping, John tried to focus on taking small, slow breaths. He felt a cool, damp cloth on his forehead and realized that Teyla must have pulled her bandana back out. Relieved by the coolness against his hot skin he let his eyes drift closed.

John groaned loudly, unable to hold it back, as he rolled onto his injured side. The intensity of the pain made his stomach clench and he resisted the urge to puke. Puking, he decided, would be a very bad idea at the moment. Empty as his stomach was, all he'd be capable of would be dry heaves, which would just make the pain unimaginably worse. After several minutes, that seemed to stretch on forever, the pain finally eased enough for him to open his eyes. Teyla was crouched beside him, concern deeply etched into her beautiful features.

"Help me . . . sit up."

For a split second, John thought she might refuse. After a moment, she reached out and helped him sit up straight, leaning against the tree again. Gasping in pain, John feared he had done some serious damage to his abdomen. Moving just shouldn't hurt that much. At a hand on his shoulder, John looked up to see Teyla kneeling on his other side with an open MRE and two more antibiotic pills. How she'd come up with them so quickly was a mystery.

Eating was not something John was looking forward to and his stomach gave a sickening lurch at the smell of the open MRE. Knowing he needed to at least try to eat, if for no other reason than to take the antibiotics to help fight the infection, John accepted the offering. He took a few small bites then swallowed the pills, washing them down with a mouthful of water from his canteen. A few bites later he couldn't eat anymore, so he set his barely touched meal aside.

John looked up to see Teyla staring at his discarded meal. A look of displeasure on her face told him how unhappy she was with his effort. Tough,he thought. His stomach was already beginning to protest. With just enough warning for him to avoid puking all over himself, his stomach rebelled violently and there was nothing he could do about it. All he could do was clutch his stomach and try to ride out the pain. What little food he'd consumed, along with the pills, was quickly brought up. It didn't take long for the fluids to come up and within seconds there was nothing but dry heaves. That was the worst part of getting sick, when the stomach tried to expel contents that were no longer there.

When the retching finally stopped, John rolled onto his back and opened his eyes slowly. Teyla and McKay were kneeling next to him looking worried. Ford, John noted with a touch of pride, although he kept glancing over with concern, had continued on with his patrol of their camp. Teyla was wiping a cool, damp bandana across his forehead. McKay, who'd apparently been rubbing his back, had quickly snatched his hand back and now looked as if he was trying to figure out what to do with his hands. His face was an odd mix of nervousness and concern. Knowing how badly it would hurt, John resisted the urge to laugh. Gratefully, he accepted an open canteen from McKay and took several slow, small sips.

"I'm fine," John assured them handing the canteen back to McKay. McKay looked at him skeptically for a moment then silently stood and went back to where he'd been sitting earlier. Teyla wet the bandana again and placed it back on John's forehead. "Really," he assured her. "I'm fine. Go get something to eat."

"I have already eaten," Teyla replied. "I shall relieve Aiden so that he may eat."

John nodded and watched with interest as Teyla walked over and replaced Ford on the perimeter. The lieutenant retrieved an MRE then sat next to McKay and began to eat.

Something had been bugging John since he'd woken up. Now that he was done puking up what little food he'd just eaten, he could try to figure out what it was. How come he could remember everything up to last night, but nothing of his watch? He couldn't remember waking up Teyla either. And why did Ford seem to be avoiding eye contact with him. The lieutenant was acting guilty. Had he done something stupid? Or was he covering for someone else. Realization hit him and he looked up at Teyla with accusing eyes.

"You drugged me."

"I did not," Teyla replied, her voice even.

Ford, who'd obviously overheard John's accusation, walked over and stopped in front of him.

"No, she didn't, sir." Ford took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and said, "I did."

"What?" John bellowed. "I told you no morphine, Lieutenant."

"Yes, sir. I know, but-"

John cut Ford off before he could say more. "But nothing! I gave you a direct order and you disobeyed it. Again! Do you realize just how much shit you are in right now?"

To his credit, Ford barely flinched. With a determined look, he replied, "Yes, sir. I do. With respect, sir, I don't care. You were in severe pain. You're no good to us or yourself if you become incapacitated because of the pain or lack of sleep. You have hardly slept at all since this mess started. You're not Superman, sir. You needed to get a decent night's sleep or we'll be carrying you out of here." John was sure Ford knew he was playing the guilt card as he added, "And that would put us all in a lot more danger." Almost as an afterthought, he added, "Sir."

John sighed, deflated as his anger left him. Ford was right. He was being stubborn and pigheaded. Yelling at Ford for doing the right thing wouldn't do any of them any good. Angry as he was with Ford's actions, John was willing to admit that it had been the right thing to do.

"Yeah, yeah, you're right. Sorry I snapped at you."

Ford nodded, the tension seemingly draining from him, then turned to walk away.

"Ford," John called, stopping the other man. "Don't do it again."

A curt nod was Ford's only reply.

John watched Ford for several minutes. He really was sorry he'd snapped at the lieutenant. The kid's instincts were sound. Making a mental note to speak to him privately when they got home -and it still amazed him just how quickly he'd come to think of Atlantis and the Pegasus Galaxy as home- John turned his attention to watching McKay. He still wasn't acting like himself and that concerned him. After several minutes of watching his wayward scientist, John glanced at his watch -it was oh-six-ten, they should have been on the move ten minutes ago - then called his team to him.

"Change in plans," John began as his team gathered around him. "Teyla can't keep carrying my weight and trying to cover our six. It's getting harder for me to walk," John paused to catch his breath. He hated to admit to being so weak, but protecting and helping his team were more important than his damaged male pride at the moment. Besides, they all knew how badly injured and how sick he was. Trying to hide it would not only be stupid, but could also put his team into even more danger than they were already in. He wouldn't do that to them.

"McKay, I need you to help me so Teyla can concentrate on covering our sixes properly." John held up his hand to stall the arguments he knew were coming. They wanted him to rest, to let two of them go to the 'gate alone and bring back help. That was an option he wasn't willing to consider. It was too risky. While he was sure McKay was correct and the Wraith-creatures were targeting him specifically because of his DNA, that didn't mean they wouldn't attack one of the others if they caught him, or her, alone. It was a gamble he refused to take. "No arguments. We don't have a choice. Splitting up is not an option. Period. Waiting for help isn't either. We're not due to check in for another . . ." he glanced at his watch, "twenty hours. That could be too late. We move out in five minutes, people, so get a move on."

No one said a word as they each went to pack up their gear, John hating that he could do nothing to help them. While what he'd told them was true, he did need Teyla to be able to concentrate on protecting their rear -which she couldn't do dragging his six around- he was also concerned about McKay. The usually chatty and annoyingly argumentative scientist had been unusually quiet and agreeable for the past two days. He decided that, maybe, being responsible for helping him get around might help pull the geek out of his funk. John thought that, perhaps because he was such a lousy shot and definitely not a fighter, McKay might have been feeling a bit useless. After all, they didn't have much use for science when they were doing nothing more than running for their lives. Teyla, Ford, and himself had done all of the shooting, and Teyla and Ford had split up all of John's supplies into their own packs. While McKay did take John's pack, it really didn't weigh much on its own. While John appreciated that small gesture immensely, he was sure McKay wouldn't allow himself to believe it even if John had told him as much.

Plus, while he was still getting to know the other members of his team, he knew McKay well enough to know when the guy was feeling guilty. Right now, McKay was seriously guilt tripping. While he would like to take the time to explain to McKay the thousand reasons why none of this was his fault, they didn't have the time and John knew he didn't have the breath for it. The little bit of talking he'd just done had left him feeling winded.

Within minutes his team was ready to move out, leaving not a trace that they'd been there.

Taking as deep a breath as his battered ribs would allow, John braced himself for the pain he knew was coming. When he looked up again, McKay was standing next to him, his hand extended. John accepted it and grunted as McKay hauled him to his feet with a grunt of his own. With McKay's help, John made it to his feet quickly. Even though he was ready for it, the pain still hit him with breath-taking force and left him gasping for air. Biting his lip hard enough to draw blood, John fought the overwhelming desire to scream.

McKay started to walk, but John stopped him. "Wait . . . please. Just . . . a . . . just give . . . me . . . a sec."

McKay remained silent and unmoving as John struggled to breath. It impressed John that McKay waited so patiently. He leaned heavily on McKay for several seconds before finally standing up straight and carefully putting his wounded arm around the other man's neck then un-holstered his weapon with the other. His Berretta in hand, John put as much authority as he could muster into his voice and ordered, "Move out."

John noticed with some satisfaction, that the look of desolation had left McKay's face; in its place was one of determination. He knew McKay had nothing to prove. As far as John was concerned, McKay had proven himself in those first few days on Atlantis, and again more recently when Kolya and his men had attacked Atlantis. All he had to do now was convince the scientist of that.

TBC

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