Rodney staggered forward, dazed.
"Stop, McKay!" came Sheppard's voice. "It's not safe!"
"I have to see! I have to... " Rodney swallowed, a feeling of nausea swept over him. "I have to see if I can fix it," he whispered.
"Let me go first then," said Sheppard, and Rodney, out of habit, waited while Sheppard moved gingerly forward, testing his weight on every step.
Sheppard stopped as near to the shattered edge of rock as he could safely get.
"What do you see?" called Rodney.
Sheppard waved him forward. "No closer than this," he warned.
Rodney crept over the uneven surface, stopped and looked down into the chasm. The DHD was clearly smashed. He could barely see the gate itself; the settling of the rock meant that it was trapped, wedged securely beneath great slabs of stone. What he could see was that at least one chevrons was buckled, twisted out of place by the huge force exerted on it by the planet itself.
"We need to move," he heard Sheppard say, and he allowed himself to be led away, over the shattered clifftop, on to the short turf and away over the heather-clad crest of the headland.
It was not until they were threading their way down the other side, picking a path between the woody stems that reached their waists in places that Rodney came out of his daze, saying, "Wait! Where are we going? Shouldn't we stay near the gate?"
"Need shelter," said Sheppard succinctly. "Sun's going down."
"Oh. But..." Rodney swallowed, realising how alone they were, how far from home. "Oh."
He followed Sheppard, who marched steadily on ahead, the back of his tac vest familiar from many an off-world hike. And yet now there was a barrier between them. It felt like he was following a cardboard cutout of a soldier. Someone who was there to protect, but that was all. An automaton who would march, keep watch, fight if necessary, but who wasn't really there as a person with feelings.
They trudged on, down a steep incline where rocky outcrops broke uncompromisingly through the dark soil, down where there was no longer a chill sea breeze. Sheppard didn't speak.
"Wait!" Rodney broke the silence suddenly. "There are people, aren't there? The UAV showed people?" No response. Rodney continued, his excited words tripping over one another: "There was a hill fort and a settlement on a tiny island off the west coast, primitive, probably about iron age stage of development. They could help us! We could stay with them til the Daedalus comes. Sheppard! It could be months, we need them."
A terse, "No," came from in front.
"Why not? Sheppard? They'll have food! They'll have shelter! They'll have food!" Rodney persisted, his excitement turning to frustration.
Sheppard stopped suddenly and Rodney nearly ran into him. He turned round and glared.
"Why not?" he said, eye-to-eye with Rodney. "You saw the UAV footage, yeah?"
Rodney nodded.
"Got a good look, didn't we, yeah?" He continued to glare. "So that means they saw the UAV. So, primitive people, already spooked? We turn up - what do they do, McKay, worship us or sacrifice us? Which?" He jabbed Rodney in the chest to emphasize his last word.
"I don't know," Rodney said, quietly, stunned at Sheppard's outburst after so long a silence.
"You don't know," Sheppard paused. "So we stay out of an unpredictable situation." He spoke slowly, firmly. "We lie low. We survive. You," emphasized with another jab in the chest,"let me do my job of keeping you alive," and when he turned away and carried on walking, Rodney was almost certain he heard Sheppard continue, "for a change."
They stopped in the lee of an outcrop where the heather grew close up under the overhang of the rock. Sheppard cut some more branches of heather with his knife and wove them in to create more of a shelter. He directed Rodney to cut some fern-like plants to use as bedding.
The light was fading fast at this point and the air growing cold. Rodney suggested a fire, but received a short "No," from Sheppard and wasn't about to argue.
Sheppard said, "Get some sleep," and walked away further up the hill to keep watch.
Rodney sighed and pushed his way into their makeshift shelter. He took some sips of water from his much-depleted canteen, unwrapped a power bar and began to eat. When he had got up this morning, this was not how he'd envisaged his day panning- out. They were stranded, for an indefinite, but probably extended period of time, with few supplies and unknown dangers. Worse still, Rodney thought, they would have to rely on each other at a time when communication seemed impossible and trust had disappeared.
He finished the last of his power bar, took out and unfolded the emergency blanket from his tac vest, then lay down on the bed of ferns, pulling his jacket and blanket tightly round him and tried to sleep.
Rodney realised he felt like Bambi, hidden by his mother in the long grass. He pondered that thought for a moment, drowsily: Bambi's mother. Rodney's heart gave a sudden lurch. He pushed himself to his feet, thrust his head through the covering of heather, a wide-eyed look on his face that was indeed like a startled fawn.
Sheppard was still there, a dark shape a little further up the hill, silhouetted against the starry sky. Still there. Not pursued by black-hearted hunters with guns.
Rodney subsided back into the heather, pulling the loose branches around himself, tucking his knees up and folding his arms tight to conserve warmth. His heart rate slowed; he slept.
oOo
Rodney woke, shivering, to the silver-bright light of a full moon. He looked at his watch and realized he'd been asleep for over half the night. He sat up, trembling with cold; he could see his breath pluming out into the air. It must be even colder where Sheppard sat on the hillside.
He shuffled out of the shelter backwards and stood up. The moonlight was incredibly bright and the sky a dazzling glitter of asteroids, filling the black in swirls and spirals like frost on a window pane.
He looked up the hillside but there was no familiar silhouette.
"Sheppard?"
"I'm here." The voice, low, rough with cold, came from behind him.
He turned. Sheppard's face was deeply shadowed and Rodney thought its pallor was not just the effect of the moonlight.
"It's my turn to watch. You should have woken me."
"'M fine." But he headed toward the shelter and crawled in.
Rodney perched himself on the rocks above the shelter wearing his space blanket like a cape. It was too cold to sit still so he got up again to stand, hunched over, hands tucked under his armpits, head trying to sink down as far as it could into his upturned collar. He tried to distract himself by gazing at the awe-inspiring sky. Usually he regarded the night sky dispassionately, naming and describing the various heavenly bodies with scientific detachment. Whether it was because he knew himself to be stranded on this planet Rodney wasn't sure, but for some reason this night sky made him feel like a tiny, insignificant speck, dwarfed by the immensity of the universe. Rodney shivered both from cold and his uncomfortable thoughts.
Suddenly a scream rent the night air, a maddened, howling sound of tortured anguish. Rodney froze, hand on his holstered Beretta, expecting at any moment to feel the sharp bite of teeth or the cruel scratch of the claws of some dreadful beast.
The scream came again. Sheppard. Rodney plunged down the hill and blundered his way into the shelter. Sheppard was writhing and moaning as if in agony, muttered curses coming from between gritted teeth, sweat rolling down his face and mixing with, surely they weren't tears squeezing out of the corners of his eyes?
Rodney felt sick. Was this the result of the torture Sheppard had been subjected to? Was he still suffering through his ordeal each night in his dreams?
Rodney set aside his confusion over his feelings, set aside his rancour and blame and did what anyone would do for a fellow human being in extreme distress. He reached forward, put his arms around his friend and held him close, telling him again and again: "It's over, you're safe." Sheppard struggled at first, then grew still, then relaxed into deep sleep. Rodney sat for a while longer, shaken, his thoughts in turmoil yet knowing he'd done the right thing. Then he slowly set Sheppard down on the bed of ferns, crawled back out of the shelter and resumed his watch.
Through the long night Rodney sat, paced, stood flapping his arms to keep warm and all the while his thoughts turned to Sheppard. He thought back over the day; when the earthquake had begun, Sheppard had run toward Rodney, to protect him. When it was over Sheppard had taken the lead in checking the gate and Rodney had let him go first, trusting him to check the way was safe. He had led Rodney away and Rodney, even in a shocked daze, had followed, automatically.
Rodney thought about Alison, the dreadful day on PX8-584 and gave a deep, shuddering sigh. He had turned all his grief into anger and directed it at his friend. At Sheppard, who would do anything to protect his team, who was eaten up with guilt whenever anyone under his protection gave their lives in the line of duty. He had heard that muttered "For a change," earlier and knew that Sheppard was referring not only to Alison and the six marines lost on the recent disastrous mission, but to all the other lives lost on his watch over the years. It was no wonder he had nightmares.
Well, here they were, stranded together, and unlike earlier, now Rodney felt grateful for the opportunity. It was time to repair the damage. Rodney smirked to himself; he had carried out a thorough diagnostic and now he was going to fix the situation. And he was good at fixing things.