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Teyla nodded. “I will cover them if you will find a place.” She lifted her gun, the light flashing over the rocks around them.

“That’s probably fastest.” Heading out alone into the darkness with those creatures wasn’t his idea of fun, but if a giant lizard landed on his back it was probably what he’d deserve. Except that if he took a hit, there’s no way the wounded would get out alone. He’d done that math before, lying behind the rocks, watching three men pass close enough to nearly touch, Charlie Holland immobile behind him. He’d done that math and let them be. But had those minutes of radio silence been the critical ones? The ones that he could never recover?

“John?” Teyla was looking at him as though she’d asked something, but he couldn’t remember what.

“I’m going,” he said, and started off into the night.

Clear. Pleasantly cool after the heat of the day, a very light breeze picking up. Right now was an ideal time for travel. Except they couldn’t. How badly was Teyla’s hip injured? If push came to shove, that might slow them down more than Carson’s arm.

Just leave, she’d say.

No she wouldn’t. That was Holland. That was Charlie Holland. Just leave, Shep. There’s nothing you can do, you stupid son of a bitch.

Behind he heard Dahlia Radim’s voice, Carson answering her, though he couldn’t make out the words. Cliffs. Starlight. He needed to find them a place that was sheltered, where the animals couldn’t sneak up on them, a place with only one exposed side if possible so that one person could cover it. A little further along, maybe. Not too far.

At least they had supplies. He hadn’t before, not many. He hadn’t expected to be down. It was going to be in and out, hardly needing to get out of the helicopter, but groundfire clipped his tail rotor…There. That was better. A little scramble up five or six feet but it was a sheltered overhang, rock on three sides with a long overhang above and a vertical cliff. The only way something could approach it was like he was doing now, straight on.

John turned and looked back. He could see Teyla’s light probing the darkness. It was a little way, maybe a quarter mile, but in the right direction. And deep enough that they’d all fit comfortably. Some of them could even stretch out and get some sleep.

Sleep. That was the tricky part. Sooner or later he had to sleep. And when he did…

John turned around and started back, the light dancing ahead of him on the jumbled stones.

“Did you find anything?” Teyla called as he came closer.

“Good place,” he said. “Pretty much ideal. How’s Carson?”

“Carson’s adorable,” Carson said with what sounded like a muffled giggle.

John looked at him with horror, wondering what that could be a symptom of.

“Endocet,” Carson said. “It hits me this way. Thought I’d best take it before we tried to move me.”

“Good plan.” Carson’s arm was trussed up, and he looked pale beneath a day’s growth of beard. “Dahlia, can you help him up?”

Dahlia nodded, going around to get her arm beneath his shoulder on the left side. “Just lean on me, Carson.”

“Here now, what are you good for?” Carson demanded. “Big, strong fellow like you?”

“I’ve got to have a hand free,” John said. “And I’ve got to help Teyla.”

“I can walk,” Teyla said through gritted teeth, taking a few steps in the right direction, her breath hissing out in a cry cut off. She nearly fell.

“You can’t. You’ll take too long.” He put his left arm around her back, swinging the P90 forward on the right. “I can cover us, and you can hop along. We’ll all make better time.”

“I didn’t know you were hurt,” Carson said, swaying forward with Dahlia. “I should have a look at that.”

“When we reach shelter,” Teyla said. “I am fine, Carson.”

“You are not.”

“We can’t argue here in the open,” John said. “Those things might still be here. Let’s get under cover, and then you can argue.”

Dahlia shot him a grateful glance.

It seemed like it took forever to cover the quarter mile, with Carson giggling and cursing the entire way, and Teyla’s breath coming in gasps whenever her left foot took any weight, her arm over his shoulder and the P90 weighing a ton in his right hand, the light flickering over the path ahead of them. Whatever she said, she’d really screwed that hip up.

His sweat was cold on his face by the time they reached the last little slope up, and he left Teyla to lean on a rock while he got on the other side of Carson to help him up.

Cozy,Carson said. Just like home.

How much Endocet did he take? John asked Dahlia.

She shrugged. I do not even know what it is.

Morphine derivative, John said. It is a painkiller, probably the strongest one in Carson's kit.

Perhaps Emmagan should take some as well, Dahlia said.

I do not need it, Teyla said firmly. He was kind of with her on that one. He needed her clearheaded, not screwed up like Carson.

John let Carson down gently against the wall. There you go.

How we huddle together for warmth, Carson said. Hee hee.

Teyla shot him a look that was absolutely foul.

You are high as a kite, John said. I bet you're not feeling any pain.

John, I'm not sure I have an arm at all, Carson informed him solemnly.

I'm only three years younger than you, Carson, John said. You could cut out the one part. He put his pack down and rummaged around. How about an energy bar on top of all that Endocet?

Surely, Carson said, and reached for it with his good hand.

Teyla slithered down the wall just at the entrance, a muffled gasp escaping her lips as she touched the ground. I am covering, she said, her light flashing out over the approach.

John nodded. I'll get them settled. He rummaged around in his pack. MREs. Here's one for you, Dahlia. And I've got two mylar thermal blankets in here.

There is one in my pack as well, Teyla said.

John tossed the two he had to Dahlia. Get one around Carson. He lost a lot of blood.

Dahlia nodded, sitting down beside Carson with the MRE in her lap. All right, she said, ripping open the package for the thermal blankets. Lets keep you warm.

You can keep me warm anytime, love, Carson said, with what might have been meant to be a Sean Connery leer.

John winced. Dahlia.

I know,she said, cracking a smile. It is the medicine. He's a perfect gentleman otherwise.

I am the perfect model of the Scottish physician, Carson sang somewhere in the vague range of Gilbert and Sullivan. I rely on pure science, not superstition.

That doesn't even scan, Carson.

I'm a doctor, not a poet. Tee hee hee.

John boggled. Right. He pulled out a second MRE and squinted at it. Red beans with rice. One of the better ones. There was no spoon. He edged over and squatted next to Teyla. Share?

She nodded, propping her gun against the rock so that the light pointed at the ceiling, diffusing a dim light over them all. He tore it open with his fingers and folded back the foil like a bowl, offering it to her. She took a pinch between thumb and forefinger as John ripped open the cracker pack, using a cracker as a scoop.

We have been in far worse situations, Teyla said in a low voice.

That's true. They've been in worse. We've been in worse. And we've been the only one to walk out alive.

Try to get some rest, Dahlia said to Carson behind them. You will feel better after you're slept. Possibly not true, but still a good idea. He was hurt when the Endocet wore off, but it would have to for them to start walking.