SGA FIC: TREADS IN THE SNOW [PG-13]

[x_erikah_x]

Title: Treads in the Snow
Author: x_erikah_x
Rating: PG-13 due to a couple of F* words
Characters: John Sheppard and Rodney McKay friendship
Word count: ~14,000
Genre: Friendship, hurt/comfort
Disclamer: Stargate and its characters belong to their respective owners. I do this for my love of fandom and not to gain profit.
Summary: John and Rodney find themselves in the middle of enemy territory, running away from rebels while there is something very wrong with Sheppard. What else is new?

A/N 1: Thanks so much sherry57 for the beta. Twice.

TREADS IN THE SNOW

By ErikaHK

I

Pounding headache, check. Disorientation, also check. Infirmary smells... no such luck, but the fact that his whole body hurt would already have been a clear indication that the doctor's good drugs weren't in his system. He wanted to groan, but held it back when he heard voices. Many of them, in fact. Gruff, loud and rude. There was something pressing against John's back and a definite weight on his wrists that felt kind of bound behind his back. Great.

John kept his eyes closed and paid attention to what the voices were saying. They seemed to be near him and sounded in a way that made John think of open spaces. The chilly air around him reinforced the idea. He was outside, probably in plain sight, which meant that they would notice he wasn't unconscious as soon as he moved or made any noise. With that in mind, John tried to relax and slow his breathing down to deep slow intakes.

He couldn't figure out exactly what the men were saying. There were a few identifiable words here and there, but mostly they seemed to be talking nonsense. After a few seconds, John figured what the words were. He would huff in indignation if he weren't in the prisoner position.

They were bragging about the capture.

Well, they wouldn't be bragging for long.

John sniffed the air when a sweet smell reached his nostrils. He knew that drink. It was a Pegasus kind of whisky. John held a smirk. Well, that would dull their senses. He hoped that the increasing laughter and shouts were an indication of the amount of alcohol they had ingested. At least for once John appeared to be lucky enough to have been captured by the dumber kind of bad guys.

When a low groan sounded near John's back, he found out what the bump against his spine was.

Rodney.

John shushed him in a low voice, using the loud barks and yells as a cover.

"Quiet, Rodney."

Rodney seemed to notice the situation surprisingly soon. His breathing increased and there was some shifting, which meant that John would have to shush him again.

Another loud outburst from the gang was the opportunity he needed.

"Shhh, Rodney, be quiet."

Finally Rodney seemed to understand their predicament and put his panic under control. Or as close to control as Rodney was capable of achieving in a situation like this.

"You okay?" John whispered.

"What do you think?" Rodney responded in a loud undertone.

John had come to know that the angry and snappy attitude were a clear sign that Rodney was in fact all right. John could have smiled at the normalcy of the situation. He wondered when the exact time in which waking up in a strange unfamiliar place, tied up and beaten had become the norm. These things used to be rather exciting, but now they were nothing more than a nuisance.

Since the men that had them captured seemed to be pretty happy with their conversation, John risked a peek through half open eyelids.

Well, that would explain the chilly air around them. At least they had their parkas. John had known it wouldn't be a bad idea to put them on while he crash landed the jumper. It was never a good thing to wake up from a crash and find out you were freezing to death on some alien mountain.

John saw six men gathered around a campfire at the center of a group of trees that were awfully similar to some type of conifer. Those men were most definitely drunk, but there was another group standing at the edge of the camp, keeping watch and not drunk. John snapped his eyes closed when one of them moved closer. John listened to the scuff of boots on snow until it stopped right next to him. Thankfully, Rodney did the same thing as John and slowed his breathing down.

Another pair of boots joined the first and there was a soft murmur of voices. One of them left again, but soon returned. John felt his heart hammer faster and was caught completely off guard when he was manhandled and turned face down on the snow while a knee dug into his back and kept him braced. John twisted and turned, but a pair of hands held him down while the weight on his back came down heavier. John grunted as his arms were twisted further while Rodney's hysterical yells came from next to him. Next thing he knew, a sharp sting on the back of his neck made his groan die out in his throat and blackness overtook his senses.

oOoOo

Crap.

This waking up in enemy hands thing was beginning to get annoying. It was way past annoying in fact. It hadn't been more than three weeks since the last time they had been captured. Rodney was sure that if he took the numbers and divided by the amount of missions, he wouldn't like the result. But since he was a genius and all it took his brain was having a random thought cross through his mind for the logic and Math to take over, he knew the average before he could even stop himself. He had a ten percent chance of being captured every time he stepped through the gate, which wasn't a very good number. Not a very good number at all. If you add up the number of missions they had, the result would be an astonishing 51 times either one or the other of them had been held by the enemy since the beginning of the expedition.

That couldn't be right. He didn't remember being captured that many times. Or had he?

What was wrong with his brain? Had his captors hit him yet? He didn't remember being beaten. He distinctively remembered a mountain getting increasingly bigger on the viewscreen, and the jumper most probably crashed given their current predicament. Maybe he had hit his head then. God! He hoped nothing was out of place inside his skull. How could he, not to mention the entire galaxy, cope with Rodney McKay, PhD, PhD having brain damage? Memory loss? Maybe permanent disability? Being reduced to a... a Zelenka level!

No, no. He was overreacting. He had to be. E=m.c2 was still as an obvious equation as it had been before. What about string theory? Still made perfect sense. Wormhole physics still seemed easy. The numbers added up. Maybe it was just a temporary memory lapse.

After Rodney was sure his brain hadn't been too badly damaged, he decided to check on the rest. His body was as sore now as it had been when he had woken up. His chest hurt a lot. He took a deep intake of air to re-check the level of inflation. It still seemed normal. Probably there had been no rib fracture. That was good. Other than his chest, his wrists were hurting, but that was because of the barbaric cuffs these grunts decided to put on them.

Yes, them. Because Rodney still hadn't forgotten about Sheppard. He was still unconscious on the ground, all sprawled and out cold. No amount of nudging and kicking could get the man to arouse and it was getting to the point of concern. Had it been, what? Two hours? Anyway, it was way too long.

Rodney kicked the tip of Sheppard's boot again and decided to call out to him, but alas, no success.

"Stupid sleepy head! You had to crash land in the middle of enemy territory, didn't you, Sheppard!" he retorted out loud, regardless of the fact that they were still being watched by bad guys.

Of course Rodney knew Sheppard had tried hard to veer away from the course the ship had been taking, but he clearly had been unsuccessful. Rodney was partly to blame there since he had been the one that failed to fix the power levels and the navigational system, but Sheppard was the pilot. Wasn't he the one that bragged about landing safely in most cases and controlling uncontrollable ships simply using the power of his super gene?

Well, none of that worked.

And there they were. Captured and bound, and Rodney was sure that beaten and tortured weren't far off. It would just be a matter of time before they would be forced to watch each other being dealt with by these barbarians, because that's what they were. They used roughly cut and sewn animal skin for clothes. Most of their jackets and pants were made of rough brown leather, with the occasional furry coat that made them look like polar bears.

God! Rodney hoped this planet didn't have polar bears! That would be very, very bad.

"Ngrrrh..."

The sound had Rodney snapping his head down. "Sheppard?" he called, his voice completely not hysterical. Because he was beyond hysterical. This stupid situation was already routine. And too damn much so.

"R'dny..."

Fluttery eyelids slowly cracked open making Rodney sag in relief.

"Thank God! I was beginning to get worried! What the hell did they give you?" Rodney watched Sheppard closer. "Are you all right?" he asked when Sheppard went a shade of green as he attempted to sit up. "You're not going to throw up, are you?" Rodney backed away just to make sure.

Sheppard sagged back on the floor and closed his eyes, moaning something that could have been a word or two. That was never a good sign.

"Sheppard?" Rodney slowly crawled closer to him.

"M'okay."

Rodney rolled his eyes. Of course he was. "I don't think this color suits my definition of okay, Sheppard."

He opened his eyes again and looked at Rodney. A faint smile crept over Sheppard's lips. Great. Now Rodney had to contend with a brain damaged colonel, if his own problem wasn't enough.

"I guess this means you are fine?" Sheppard eyed Rodney up and down.

Rodney exhaled loudly. "No, I'm not fine! My head hurts, I probably have some kind of brain damage from that banging around the jumper, which by the way also caused some severe bruising on my ribs. Oh yes, did you notice we are tied up and stuck in the middle of enemy camp and up a very cold mountain?"

"Okay. Like I said, fine."

Sheppard attempted to sit up one more time, and this time he succeeded. He dragged himself backwards until his back was leaning on the trunk of the same tree that was behind Rodney. Rodney watched him closely for any sign of whatever they had done to him.

Sheppard shook his head towards the campfire. "Where are the guys that were drinking?"

"Probably passed out somewhere."

Sheppard nodded. "Good."

"How does that help us? There are still five guys watching the camp!" Rodney observed as he tried to wave his hands to demonstrate his point. They ended up clanking behind him and all that moved were his shoulders. "Five guys against two cuffed injured men."

"Five is better than ten."

Rodney saw the way Sheppard's eyes narrowed and that twitch on his jaw that surely meant he was planning to do a very stupid thing.

"Nonononono. Sheppard, we're tied up! With metal chains rather than the good old rope! How do you expect to--"

Sheppard shushed him. "I have a plan."

"Oh, a plan." Rodney rolled his eyes. "And what plan would that be?" he asked in an angry whisper.

"Just follow my lead."

"What?" Rodney asked indignantly. "Would you mind letting the scientist in on the plan?"

"It's easy enough, okay?" he said in a low voice. "I've detected their watch pattern."

Rodney shook his head. "Watch pattern? Oh, that sounds bad, Sheppard," Rodney blurted out the words as soon as he realized what Sheppard was going to do.

Before he was able to finish exposing his concerns, Sheppard went up on his knees, backing away and motioning Rodney to follow. Rodney eyed him angrily, totally blaming Sheppard for whatever future problem that would certainly result from this stupid plan. Rodney's knees dug in shallow snow as he went after Sheppard who was now disappearing among a group of trees. Rodney tried to hurry, but there was only so much speed he could gather while crawling with his hands bound behind his back while at the same time trying not to be seen by the big bad guards.

They made it away from the camp and continued on, now standing and jogging down the mountain.

"Do you even have the slightest idea of where we're going?" Rodney demanded.

"Back to the jumper," Sheppard answered right away.

Rodney hurried a few steps to catch up to him. "What? Do you even know where it is?"

"I have an idea."

Rodney rolled his eyes. "An idea. A general idea or a specific one? Sharing, Sheppard! A team shares information with each other. Besides, what the hell are we supposed to do there? It's crashed and broken and that will be the first place those guys are going to look for when they realize we're gone, which will be any moment now."

Instead of slowing down, Sheppard picked up his pace. "Hurry up then! We need to cut these things off," Sheppard said as he lifted his hands. "We need weapons, supplies... and I'd rather not abandon another jumper offworld. If there's any chance of making it fly again, we're taking it."

Rodney was now puffing and his breath could be seen coming out his mouth as he ran. "And who is going to have to fix it, huh?"

Sheppard didn't say anything, but from what Rodney knew of the man, he was probably smirking. They carried on for several minutes and by the time Rodney saw the dark smudge of the jumper, he was dragging his feet and fighting to continue running. Sheppard was still ahead of him, but stopped by a tree, panting so heavily he was barely able to draw breath. Rodney hurried and stopped next to him, watching him closely. Sheppard was pale and sweating and looked like he was going to collapse any second now.

"Sheppard?" Rodney called nervously. "Uh, what, what's wrong? God! It's that thing they injected you with! I told you running was a bad idea!"

Sheppard smiled faintly. "No, you didn't."

"Well, I thought it! But you wouldn't have listened."

"I... I just need a moment," Sheppard said between pants for breath.

Rodney looked ahead and behind anxiously. The fact that Sheppard decided to rest right when the jumper was in front of them wasn't a good thing. How they could expect to escape when Sheppard could just fall down in exhaustion at any moment?

"Okay, let's go." Sheppard pushed away from the tree and continued to puff and jog.

Rodney followed and they were soon at the jumper, examining its condition. The door was halfway down and burnt at the edges while the drivepods remained open. A thin line of smoke came out of one and clearly indicated its useless state. Now he would just have to wait until Sheppard told Rodney to fix it. Just like that.

Sheppard squeezed through to get into the jumper and tried to make the ramp to go the rest of the way down, but had no success. Rodney maneuvered himself to enter the jumper as well, which wasn't easy with tied up hands. When he finally made it in, Sheppard was jumping up and dropping boxes to the floor. Rodney wondered what he was up to.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Sheppard knelt down and opened a container with some difficulty. "I'm looking for the cutters. What does it look like?"

Well, obviously. Rodney noticed Sheppard's hands were no longer behind his back. They had somehow ended up cuffed in front of him. He didn't know Sheppard could stretch so much, but then he had never tried to imagine Sheppard stretching. Rodney shook his head at the mental image.

Sheppard picked up the cutter with both hands and waved the tool at Rodney. "C'mon."

Rodney knelt on the floor and turned around. He held out his arms and closed his eyes, which was a little stupid because it wasn't like Sheppard would hit him with the cutter. There was a clank and soon the weight of the chains left his wrists. Rodney sagged in relief. He turned to take the cutter and do the same to Sheppard. Pretty soon, they had their hands free and were twisting their wrists to get some blood running through them. Rodney was almost sure his circulation had been severely compromised by the tightness of the cuffs.

"Okay, we need to hurry."

In a beat, Sheppard was up and going over the rest of boxes, picking up supplies and stuffing them into a bag. Rodney noticed that Sheppard was still breathing heavily, even though they weren't running anymore and that his brow was covered in sweat which he tried to wipe with his arm. He would tell the man to slow down, but Sheppard was moving so fast Rodney doubted he would listen. Besides, they didn't have the time.

"You don't really expect us to reach the gate, do you?" Rodney asked.

"It's not like we have a choice." Sheppard stuffed several packs of MREs into the bag which really made the point clear.

Rodney circled the dropped containers and stood next to him. "Sheppard, the gate is days away on foot!" He waved an angry arm around.

"I know, but it beats hanging about in a broken jumper waiting to be captured again."

"What about you?" Rodney asked hysterically.

Sheppard stuffed a first aid kit into the bag and grabbed some power bars. "What about me?"

"You're injured! You barely made it to the jumper."

"I'm not injured. I feel fine. Besides, it's not like we have a choice." He added a couple of flashlights and a rope.

Okay, granted. Bad guys were chasing them. "We could-- I don't know... hide."

Sheppard crossed to the other side of the jumper and checked a weapon's cache. "Hide where? These guys know the terrain better than we do!"

"It'll be two days until either one of them misses us." He remembered.

A couple of nine millimeters were stuffed in as well. "Exactly."

Then the situation fully dawned on Rodney. Ronon and Teyla were still at the magistrate's council thinking that Rodney and Sheppard were in Felda, the biggest country of the ally planet, while Atlantis thought they were still at the diplomatic mission. They hadn't been able to warn either one of them about the situation before they crashed. The mission was supposed to last four days, which meant it would be two more days until they were late. There would be no check-ins in the meantime due to the possibility of a leak. The rebels could be listening in to the gate transmissions.

That was what Rodney hated about visiting societies that were more advanced than average. From Rodney's experience, there were two kinds of these worlds. The really far ahead ones that had a fair amount of technology and hated sharing it, and the fairly developed ones that thought they knew everything but in fact only made things worse because they were far from it. This planet fitted in to the latter category. They had civil unrest and enough technology to make it really, really bad.

Rodney grumbled. He looked up and realized Sheppard was already outside the jumper. He scrambled through the tiny crack of the ramp and saw Sheppard at the edge of the small clearing made by the crash, pacing and looking from one side to another.

"Do you have any idea where the gate is?" Rodney asked as he approached him.

Sheppard was still panting. "Yeah, that way." He waved a hand up the mountain.

Rodney groaned. "Great."

Before Rodney could say anything else, Sheppard was already moving. Rodney scurried after, half racing to keep up with him. Seriously, one minute ago the man could barely draw breath and now it was like he couldn't stop anymore.

"Could you slow down a bit? I know we're in a hurry, but I'm not a marathon runner," Rodney complained.

"We can't afford to stop right now. We need to gain ground," he said in between puffs of breath.

Rodney panted as they went uphill, following Sheppard's shallow footprints. He was opening his mouth to remind him how stupid it was to keep running like this as they were leaving a trail behind, when Sheppard froze midstride and turned back, going down a few meters. He jumped up and grabbed two branches from a tree and tore them off. He used them to wipe their tracks all the way down then stuffed one in Rodney's hand and kept going without saying a word. Rodney looked at the branch then at Sheppard who was already halfway up the mountain, managing to run and hide the tracks at the same time.

Rodney scuttled behind him. "Seriously? What the hell is wrong with you?" Rodney ran gasping for air, imitating Sheppard until he was alongside him. "I mean... it's not..." He looked up at him and saw Sheppard's pale face, sweat dripping from his forehead and temples, his breathing heaving the same way as Rodney's. "Sheppard, stop!" He held out his hand and grabbed Sheppard's arm.

"What?" he snapped as he obeyed.

"There's something wrong with you!"

Sheppard's breathing didn't slow down. It may in fact have increased. "We don't have time for this." He slipped away from Rodney's grasp and kept racing upwards.

Rodney sprinted behind, lungs burning. "Sheppard!" he called out as he fell behind.

Sheppard stopped and turned back while Rodney used the time to rest, hands on his knees. "Seriously, Sheppard." He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes. "How can you keep this up?" Rodney may not be the fittest person in the galaxy, but this was ridiculous. "Something... something is wrong." He peeked upwards at Sheppard who now appeared beside him.

Sheppard was agitated. His muscles were twitching, limbs never still, looking out of breath the same as Rodney was.

"God, Rodney! Try to keep up!"

"I'm... I'm trying, but..." He waved an arm and hoped that would say the rest. He took a few more deep breaths. "We just came up a few hundred meters in less than a minute." More panting. "And I can't run and clear my trail at the same time!" he snapped.

Rodney took his time to regain his breath. Sheppard didn't stand around for too long and soon hurried to a tree and broke off some more branches. He began tearing some leaves off, peeling the bark off the core, still heaving for air and having a hard time making his hands stop shaking. Rodney watched droplets of sweat drip onto the snow, but Sheppard's face remained as pale as the ground. Sheppard finished and ended up with something that like looked like a broom. He set it aside to work on the other branch.

After a couple of minutes, Rodney's breath had returned to normal. Sheppard's hadn't. His muscles still twitched, head turning from one side to the other, looking around everywhere while he continued to work. After he finished he knelt down and collected all the bark, stuffing it inside the bag.

"Okay, done?" Sheppard asked impatiently as he moved to test the broom on their shallow prints. The snow mixed with dirt and covered their tracks well.

Rodney stared at Sheppard for a few moments, eyes searching for the pulse point in his neck. Sheppard's heartbeat was so strong it could be seen by the naked eye. It was just a tiny flutter barely visible from the position his neck was, but it was unnatural and unsettling. Rodney didn't think extensive exercise was a good idea at the moment.

"We'd better get moving," Sheppard said as he pushed away and started walking.

oOoOo

John knew there was something wrong with him and Rodney knew it too. They had injected something into him. John rubbed the back of his neck and felt the tip of something hard. He narrowed his eyes and felt it again. Round and small, implanted close to the base of his skull. He kept going, but his hand kept moving back to the same spot. He was almost sure he was supposed to be doing something about it, but then what could he do? It was under his skin and he couldn't cut it out. Whatever it was, it was the cause of what he was feeling.

He felt somewhat detached as if nothing mattered too much. The only thing driving him further was the pressure of the escape and knowing they were being hunted. He was sure of it. They were right behind, whoever these rebels were, and they had done this to him. Whether to slow him down or to use as a torture device he didn't know. It didn't really matter.

Except that it did matter. Or it was supposed to matter. He should worry, but things were moving too slow around him and his head floated too much for him to care.

Escape. That was what mattered. John could barely breathe anymore and his heart felt like it was going to jump out of his ribcage. It was almost hurting him. His chest burned and begged for air and rest but his legs couldn't stop.

When they did stop, once because Rodney needed another break, it was like they wouldn't work anymore, except they did. John only had to try to make them move and they obeyed. And then there would be no pain, even though John was almost sure he should be feeling it. Even when he was not walking, just waiting, trying not to pace, he was still breathless and his heart was still beating fast and strong. Too fast and strong.

He fidgeted, groaned and turned, his legs bumping up and down, from one side to another until his energy exploded and he simply gave up and started pacing. Rodney complained, said he should be resting instead of wearing himself out, but John didn't care. He wanted to snap and shout and, God help him, he was feeling like punching Rodney in the nose.

So he paced. He closed his fists and turned away and made a huge mess of tracks he would have to clean later. He kicked the snow and the dirt and snapped all the branches he could reach. The damn conifers didn't have that many to spare. He had to hold himself down not to crack his head against the trunk.

They needed to keep moving.

It felt like an eternity. John looked at the watch and the stupid thing kept telling him that barely a minute had passed. He almost tossed it away for lying to him.

John tried to take a deep breath but it only left him gasping and like he was going to jump out of his skin.

"What is the matter with you, John?"

John turned back to look at Rodney, trying to calm himself down. There was something wrong and it was probably freaking Rodney out more than it was freaking him out. Rodney only used his first name when he was really worried.

"I don't know," he answered, restraining himself from growling. "I..." John walked over to Rodney and turned his back. "Look, feel this." He lowered himself a bit to show the back of his neck.

Rodney took a few moments but touched it. "What the hell is that?"

John paced. "I don't know, but... I feel weird." He waved his hands in a Rodney like fashion. "I-I can't keep still and my heart is really fast, I can't get enough air most of the time and I feel like hurting something or someone really really bad."

"Well, looks like what I feel when I have too much coffee."

"It's almost like that. Can we go?"

"Just try not to run, okay. Like I said I'm not a marathon runner."

John swallowed. "I'm sorry. I-I didn't really notice."

"Try to," Rodney said as he started moving.

John decided to stay behind Rodney this time and give him some space. It worked well for a while. It was a true challenge to keep himself in check but he managed. He just had to keep reminding himself. They went all the way up the mountain at a manageable speed, if not annoyingly slow. He restrained himself from complaining and he was glad he did when they reached the top and John figured out his heart couldn't go any faster. He held onto the nearest trunk with white knuckles, lightheadedness taking over him as his whole body shook. He took deep breath after deep breath as if no air was ever enough.

"I'll never... complain... about you... being tired... ever again," John said as he turned his eyes upwards to look at Rodney.

"Yeah, not a walk in the park, is it? May that be a lesson to you." Rodney walked closer, concern in his eyes.

John gripped the tree tighter as a wave of dizziness whited out his sight. He felt himself tilt to the side and didn't have the strength to push himself away, even when Rodney supported him and guided him to the ground. John opened his eyes slowly, not having realized that he had closed them. Rodney was blurry at first but then came back to focus.

"Okay, let's, uh, rest for a while."

John shook his head even though he didn't move. He hated being the one to slow them down. "We can't." He hadn't intended to whisper but that was how it came out.

"Really? All I can see is that you can't take another step. Besides, I'm just as exhausted as you are and my chest is killing me. I hate high altitudes."

John wanted to respond but didn't want to waste energy. They remained in silence as John gathered enough strength to be able to get up again. He could feel it. He could feel the tension coiling under his skin, making him twitch. He controlled himself, took a deep breath and let himself rest. Even though he couldn't feel it, he should be in pain. His heart still hammered and his breathing was in the verge of hyperventilation. All were signs that there was something very wrong and he'd better not take any chances. He had been drugged.

John gritted his teeth and closed his eyes. He banged his head back once then twice and barely felt anything. He did it again, with enough force to hear the trunk behind him and then again, and then once more just so he could see if he would feel anything. He hit something soft then heard a yelp.

"Why the hell are you doing that for?" Rodney shouted as he cradled his hand.

"Why the hell did you have to put your hand there?" John snarled.

"Because you were cracking your stupid head open?"

John breathed hard through his teeth. He snapped his head away and closed his fists. When he felt his energy was going to explode, he snapped up and started walking. It was better than doing something to Rodney that he was later going to regret. He paced, three steps then turned and gave three more steps before he turned again. He didn't even know why he was doing that, all he knew was that it felt good. It wasn't until a few minutes later that he figured he would have to clean all the tracks.

"Would you stop it!" Rodney snapped.

John didn't stop. "Would you just get up already!"

Rodney got up and pushed John's arm. John shrugged off and kept pacing. "You're running on fumes! You can't keep going like that!"

John panted through his teeth. "I can."

John felt his heart fluttering in his chest and was breathing hard. He was exhausted but his body didn't know how to stop. He didn't feel any of his muscles complaining so he just kept going. Even when he had been unable to continue he hadn't felt any pain.

He didn't worry. He just wanted to... do something. He wanted to run, he wanted to break something, he wanted to fight. And how he wanted to fight. He wouldn't be able to stop himself if he started and Rodney's whining was overstretching his patience. John closed his hands so hard they shook. He snarled through his clenched mouth as the sensation became overwhelming. It was like an adrenalin rush. A never ending one that made him angry and wired and ready to do anything. Anything at all.

"J-John?" Rodney's small voice filtered through the pounding in his ears. "There must be something we can do!"

John glared. "Like what?"

Rodney stepped forward. "I don't know!"

"Just--" John felt all the muscles in his face twitch as he struggled with self-control. "Just don't come any closer," he warned.

"Or what? You'll hit me?"

John stopped. His labored breathing was all that could be heard for several moments. He felt his whole body shaking, burning with desire for some action, to resume the walking, to do something. He raised his head and looked at the immense blueness above. Dry branches cut it with brown and grey, but the sky was still deep blue without any hint of clouds. It always had a calming effect on him. John was able to take a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. He did it again and again, feeling tight muscles start to soften.

Finally, he went still. His limbs relaxed more than John thought they should and seemed to want to give up all at once. His legs turned to jelly and the blood rushed out of his head so suddenly John almost dropped. He closed his eyes and tried to keep standing just for another moment. Just until he could open his eyes again and look up.

oOoOo

Rodney rushed to Sheppard's side as he collapsed. A huff blew out of his lungs as Sheppard's whole weight crashed on his arms at once, making Rodney become just an obstacle in Sheppard's way to the ground instead of easing him down. Rodney crawled to his side, a shaking hand checking his pulse while the other was placed on his chest to check his breathing. He sagged in relief when he found both still present, even if more than a little too fast.

"God, Sheppard! Why don't you ever listen?"

Rodney was annoyed. He was annoyed because he didn't know what he was supposed to do now. Sheppard was the leader and he was the one that knew where they were going, but now he was also the one that didn't even stir when Rodney shook him. There were bad guys probably just a few meters behind them and Sheppard had chosen this time to collapse and take a nap. Rodney just hoped Sheppard wouldn't take two hours to wake up like had happened when he had been injected with the drug.

Just when Rodney thought about making himself useful and clear all the tracks around, Sheppard's eyelids fluttered and snapped open. He stared above wide eyed then turned his head abruptly to look at Rodney.

"Are you okay?" Rodney asked a little stunned.

Sheppard swallowed. "Yeah." He raised to his elbows and looked around. "What happened?"

Rodney rolled his eyes. "You fainted!" He sat back on his heels and waved a hand around. "I told you to rest, didn't I?"

Sheppard turned back at Rodney. "I-I..." He appeared to be out of words.

Luckily for him, Rodney had plenty. "Before you say or do anything stupid, we should determine exactly what's wrong with you." He raised a pointed finger. "So, let's lay out all the symptoms." Rodney began counting on his fingers. "Irritability, snappy attitude, running laps around without feeling you're going to collapse any moment, fast heart rate and breathing, twitchness... what else?"

Sheppard sighed. "It just feels wrong." He got up with some difficulty but didn't make any sound. "Why don't we just keep going? Bad guys are after us."

"Yes, remind me again."

Rodney got up and followed Sheppard who, on cue, started moving around faster than Rodney could catch up. And just when Rodney had thought the exhaustion would slow Sheppard down.

The way down the mountain wasn't so much easier than the way up. It just gave Sheppard an extra incentive to run ahead and forget that Rodney was supposed to be following. Sheppard promised to slow down, but he seemed to forget just a few moments later and then he was gone again. Rodney caught up to him half way up the next mountain, only to find Sheppard barely able to draw breath, gripping a trunk so tightly Rodney thought that, either the trunk or Sheppard's fingers would snap. Rodney didn't even consider rushing to him and simply crashed down on the snow. By now, both of them had long forgotten about the brooms used to clean the tracks.

Rodney eased his breathing down to manageable levels and felt his own chest hurt when he heard Sheppard still in the same breathless state, barely able to keep standing. Rodney unwrapped a power bar and bit it, realizing he was starving.

"Want one?" Rodney asked with a mouth full while he offered another bar to Sheppard.

Sheppard turned his head slowly then nodded, making a serious effort to just take a few steps to get the candy. Rodney eyed him as Sheppard started eating, wondering why the hell he hadn't sat down. He was still staring after Sheppard devoured the bar in just two bites and reached inside his own pack for two more.

"At this rate we won't have any left for the end of our trip." Rodney had meant to sound sarcastic but the worry in his voice ruined the effect.

Sheppard didn't respond and was soon back to his marathon race with Rodney struggling to get up and resume the chase.

It didn't last as long this time. By the time they finished the descent again, they had stopped so many times Rodney didn't worry about being behind anymore. Very often Rodney would try to encourage the stupid flyboy to slow down, but always encountered the same response. A glare, some unending silence and then Rodney would stare at Sheppard's back as he went back to running. Sometimes, Rodney didn't think that getting close to him would be a good idea if he wanted to preserve his nose. Sheppard was getting angrier and angrier by the minute and the more furious he got, the more he ran and the more he stopped in exhaustion. Sheppard of course denied that he was tired. That is, if a growl and snarl could be considered as a no.

Sunset was approaching and Rodney was beyond worried. No way they would both be able to keep this rhythm for two or three days. No way Sheppard could. Rodney was barely breathing hard by the time he found Sheppard doubled with hands on his knees, struggling to take another step. Rodney snapped right then and there and grabbed Sheppard by the arm with the strongest grip he could manage.

"Just stop it!" Rodney put himself in front of Sheppard and tried to sound brave and commanding.

The glare he got made him wonder if it had been a good idea, but Rodney stood his ground.

"You're exhausted, I'm exhausted, it's almost night, we're both hungry and we should gather our strength because it's not wise to pass out in the middle of this cold weather. We could be getting frostbite right now without knowing."

Sheppard's lungs worked overtime for a few moments. "Buddy checking."

"Buddy checking, huh? How can we buddy check each other if I'm constantly trying to catch up with you and you're constantly too busy not passing out to actually think about checking my face?"

"S-sorry." Even speaking that word sounded like too much effort to Sheppard.

They ended up making a fairly good fire, after Rodney was properly chagrined about picking the wood that made the most smoke, then piled enough branches to make for a nice wall that blocked the wind. Sheppard tied the branches together and covered them with snow while Rodney put out the sleeping bags and prepared the MREs.

"Maybe they're not looking for us anymore," Rodney said as he chewed his food. "I mean, we saw no sign that they were after us."

"Regardless, I'll take the first watch."

Under the pale light of the fire, Sheppard looked a little like a maniac with the shadows on his face and his breathing still too fast for the situation.

"No way," Rodney wouldn't put his sleep under the watch of a person that could collapse any moment from exhaustion. "I'll take the first watch. I'll wake you up when I'm tired." Besides, Rodney was used to not sleeping much.

"You walked the same length I have," Sheppard partially snarled as he ate.

"Yeah, but I'm not the one on an adrenalin rush."

Sheppard put his food down and stared. "Rodney."

Rodney tossed his empty package and stood, pointing at the sleeping bag. "End of discussion. You're going to rest even if I have to tie you up to that bag and glue your eyes closed."

Sheppard tossed his package with enough strength to make Rodney wonder what the poor thing had done to deserve that treatment. He glared at Rodney for a moment then stomped to his corner of the camp after Rodney crossed his arms and made himself look imposing. Rodney sighed in relief that it didn't provoke Sheppard into finally hitting him.

It took Sheppard almost an eternity to fall asleep, but when he finally did it was the rest of the weary. That is, if the weary slept breathing deeply, but still fast and so loud it was almost like snoring. It was very unsettling and made Rodney's stomach coil in sympathy. Rodney ended up resisting sleep for as long as possible just to give Sheppard a few more moments of rest.

In the end, Rodney woke up with Sheppard kicking his boot and the sun of early morning shining in his eyes.

"Why didn't you wake me up?" Sheppard asked.

Rodney snapped his spine that was without any doubt permanently damaged from sleeping sitting against a tree trunk that had more knots than his rigid neck and shoulders.

"I intended to, okay? But I wanted to give you plenty of rest so you don't collapse today and... and I ended up falling asleep." Rodney looked at the ground then raised his head again. "Sorry."

Sheppard grunted and turned around to catch a couple of power bars. He tossed one to Rodney and began eating the other. Rodney looked at Sheppard for a few moments wondering when had been the moment that Sheppard had gone to Ronon's school of communication. Rodney shrugged it off and started eating.

oOoOo

A full night's sleep had helped. Way more than John would ever admit. But help it had and he fully intended to use that as an advantage. He ate the rest of his powerbar and would have eaten another but refrained from doing it remembering they'd need to conserve it. But damn, he was starving. They both dismantled camp as fast as possible, but John had to constantly push Rodney into being faster. Why did Rodney have to be so goddamn slow?

John was sick and tired of constantly having to tune out the whining and bitching and was beginning to consider leaving Rodney behind, a thought that really should have freaked John out. But the fact was that John wasn't freaked out but still, for some reason, didn't leave Rodney.

And for all truly fucked up reasons it was because of the way Rodney was looking at him. Rodney wasn't angry. He wasn't mad. He was seriously concerned. He had those eyes that a person would never imagine Rodney being able to show towards someone and this made John even madder. He wished Rodney were angry. It would be a lot easier to deal with it. At least if Rodney were shouting and yelling and mad then John would have an excuse to just hit him and leave him there in the freezing cold.

Why did it have to be so hard? Why did he have to keep these thoughts away? Why did John have to fight so hard? It'd be so much better if John simply gave up, sent it all to hell and stopped caring. But there was something inside him that kept shouting for him to just keep struggling and not let it win. But God! Was that making John want to hit his own head on some stupid rock just to make his frustrations slip away.

He felt like yelling at the top of his lungs to let the world know just how mad and miserable he was feeling at the moment. But he couldn't do that. Somehow, a nudging thought of keep running, keep quiet constantly reminded John that they were being followed. That the rebels were right on their heels.

Sometimes John thought he heard footsteps behind and snapped around ready for a flight or fight response only to see Rodney struggling to climb up the mountain. Alone. Without anyone following him.

John barked ferociously at Rodney, snapping about speed, agility, covert action and exercise. John sometimes became aware that Rodney was taking the brunt of his boiled anger but pretty much didn't care. It was about damn time Rodney heard these things. John wondered how he had been able to put up with him until now. It seemed impossible at the moment.

In between stops for breath, some more barking and snarling, bitching and moaning, John still felt too winded. It didn't matter how many times he stopped, he was always exhausted but he could always keep going. Sometimes it seemed his legs would betray him only to have them ready and running tracks within a second.

So John just kept going.

He quit making any stops and didn't care if Rodney was behind or not anymore. If he was too slow to follow, then it was not John's problem. He could lag behind. If he really was such a genius, then he'd be able to find the way to the gate on his own.

oOoOo

Rodney really felt like insulting Sheppard at the moment. He looked ahead and saw no trace of him except for his mess of tracks and puffed loudly, both in complaint and in exhaustion. The sun was already above his head, sweat tricking down from his temples even though it was still freezing cold. Rodney could barely take another step, but just had to keep going. If he stopped he wouldn't be able to continue and would probably collapse without being able to stand again for hours.

Sheppard had given up waiting for him several minutes ago, running far ahead and Rodney couldn't lag behind. For all he knew Sheppard's fumes could run out at any moment and the longer Rodney took to catch up with his unconscious form, the worse it would be for the both of them.

And boy, would Sheppard listen when he finally recovered from this madness! Rodney just wished he could do it now, except his self-preservation instinct told him it would be a very bad idea to piss Sheppard off while he had that thing in his neck. It was a true miracle Sheppard hadn't beaten Rodney up yet. Maybe there was still a drop of sanity inside that hard skull of his.

The longer Rodney walked to catch up, the more his stomach knotted knowing Sheppard had gone that whole way already and hadn't stopped. The more tired Rodney felt, the worse that feeling got because it wasn't even a hint to what Sheppard must be going through. Rodney had no idea what must be like to be running so much, to be this tired but unable to stop or even notice it. He wondered how much Sheppard would feel once he did stop. Once he recovered. Because they were totally going to make it out there alive. Rodney just had to keep telling himself that because Sheppard would.

Sheppard believed that so much to the core of his being that even now in his obvious disoriented state, his only automatic response was to keep going. Of course, that could be the drugs talking, but those stupid grunts had given him that thing for a reason. They probably though it would make their escape more difficult. Instead, it had made the opposite. Not the response they would have expected.

Or maybe that was their plan all along. Maybe they wanted them both to escape. It could be a plan to get Atlantis’s address, intercept messages and plan some kind of attack. The rebels were, after all, the reason radio communications with Atlantis had been cut off.

There was still the issue of figuring out what that device under Sheppard's skin was. Its location strongly suggested that it was doing something to his brain. Maybe it was releasing some kind of chemical or some electrical impulse that messed up with his hormone production. It had to be hormonal. Rodney wasn't a doctor, but he knew more than just basic biology. Sheppard's symptoms indicated adrenalin was somehow involved. It would account for everything. Agitation, anxiety, tenseness, restlessness, nervousness and even the tremors.

If that was the case, then it was bad. If he kept on being pumped full of adrenalin like that, he could very soon suffer a heart attack. His heart wouldn't be able to keep up like that for long.

Rodney would have to analyze the device and dammit, he should have done it when Sheppard had been sleeping. How stupid of him not to think of that. If that thing was simply pumping drugs into his system, then removing it would do the trick. That is, if its location meant that the removal would be easy. It was almost in the same place Ronon's subspace tracking device had been implanted and Carson had been able to remove that easily.

Now, if Sheppard's implant was messing with his brain, Rodney would first have to figure out exactly how it was doing it and then Carson or Jennifer would have to be the ones to say if removing it would be safe.

Knowing their luck, and knowing Sheppard's luck specifically, then it would probably be the hard way.

Rodney resumed his walking, only now noticing he had stopped.

Just another day of this. Then they would be home.

oOoOo


Continues in Part ii