Story: Redemption Part 3/4

[sgafan]

Three cross streets later, John paused again, his back pressed flat against a wall and his breaths coming fast. They knew there’d be more fighting the closer they got to the gate, but the pursuit by the Wraith and by the worshipers was relentless. Each time they fought their way through a group, another wasn’t far behind, pushing them into a vicious cycle of fight and run. The pace was grueling and taking its toll on all of them. He looked back at his team, each of them using the moment to catch their breath. The only ones that seemed unaffected were Ford and his three men. Without even breaking a sweat, they covered the six.

“We cannot keep up this pace,” Teyla said between breaths, “we will run out of ammunition long before we reach the gate.”

John nodded. “I know.” He looked around. “Looks like we’ve evaded them, at least for now.” His gaze passed over Teyla, Ronon and Rodney. “Catch your breath.”

“Thank god,” Rodney gasped.

John swallowed hard, willing his body to recover as fast as possible.

“Shep---!”

John’s head snapped towards Ford, his warning cut off by a deafening gunshot, followed immediately by one of Ford’s men crumpling to the ground amidst a lethal splatter of blood. “MOVE!” John shouted, stepping away from the wall to cover his team’s retreat. Holding his P-90 tight to his shoulder and cheek, he flipped on the laser sight and switched the weapon to single shot mode. He zeroed in on the first worshipper he saw. Pulling the trigger, he sent two bullets into the man’s forehead, killing him amongst the sounds of his team scrambling past him and around the corner to the next street. Bullets bounced off the wall next to him and he flinched before firing at another worshipper, winging him in the side.

“Sheppard!” Ronon’s voice echoed around him and John immediately backpedaled, knowing that Ronon was there to cover his retreat. He dashed to the opposite side of the road from where his team was, and took cover behind a neighboring building, just across from them. He took a deep breath, exhaled loudly and crouched, before edging around the corner and firing on four worshipers making their way down the street towards him, Ronon’s shots joining his. The worshipers immediately scattered, taking cover behind any debris they could find.

John ducked back behind the wall. “Screw this.” He reached into the side pocket of his TAC vest and pulled out a C4 charge and timer. Setting it for ten seconds he started the timer, turned, and tossed it down the street. “Fire in the hole!” Pulling back behind the wall, he covered his ears, but even that couldn’t completely tune out the deafening explosion. He gave it a three count and then carefully peeked around the corner. Incinerated debris sporadically fell back to the ground, crackling and burning, but there were no other noises. He stood and carefully surveyed the scene for any survivors. After a long moment, he was confident there weren’t any left alive and lowered his gun. “Clear.”

“Hate to disappoint you, but not so much!” Rodney shouted back, his voice on the edge of panic.

John spun towards his team, his gaze focusing on another group of worshipers running down the street towards them. “Shit! Go!” He fired, taking one of the worshipers in the chest and slowing down the rest as they ducked to cover in response. His team ran past him as the worshipers returned fire, taking one of Ford’s men in the back.

Ford staggered to a stop next to John and swiveled around in response to the gunshot. “Nat!” He surged towards his man and John immediately reached out, stopping him.

“You can’t! He’s dead!” John wasn’t entirely sure of his declaration but had seen enough men shot to know he was likely right. Either way, running back down the street was suicide.

“Ford, no!” Derg grabbed Ford’s arm and hauled him around the corner and down the street, John backpedaling to cover their six.

They sprinted back the way they’d just come and John’s mind raced. Backtracking was not a strategy high on his list of good ideas, but right now his main focus was trying to not get them all killed. Gunfire erupted behind them. John dove for cover, looking around and assuring himself that the rest of his team had done the same and were safe, at least for the moment. Rising to a crouch, he sent a volley of gunfire back at the worshipers, hitting at least one. He couldn’t be sure how badly he’d wounded the guy, but for now, he’d take any hit as a win. Again, he ducked behind the rubble and tapped his headset. “McKay! We need another route to the gate!”

“As if mapping that route wasn’t hard enough!” McKay shot back, his irritation clear even over the radio. “Half the streets around here are blocked and you want me to find another route?”

“Yes!” John shouted back, flinching as bullets chewed up the rubble just above his head. “Or we could just sit here and die!” His retort was loud enough that he was pretty sure he didn’t need the radio.

“Not helping!” Rodney snapped. “Stand by!”

John ducked as more of the rubble over him broke lose under relentless gunfire. He heard return shots from Teyla, Ford, and Ronon, and he twisted to the side of his cover to add his own shots to the fray. “McKay!” He shouted, his tone distinctly a warning one.

“Got it!” Rodney answered. “But we have to go back the way we came. Think you can repeat your C4 trick?”

John again took cover. “You’ve got to be kidding me. The buildings around here are unstable at best! I was lucky not to bring them down on our heads the first time!”

“No choice,” Rodney answered. “We have to go that way! There’s no other route to the gate!”

“Do it, Sheppard,” Ronon added his voice to the conversation.

John grumbled and pulled out his last charge of C4. Setting the timer to ten seconds, he started it, straightened and lobbed it down the street. “Fire in the hole!” Ducking, he covered his ears and squeezed his eyes shut as the charge detonated. As debris rained down around him, John slowly looked up and then around the rubble and down the street. “McKay?” he looked over at his teammate, “anything on the detector?”

“Negative,” Rodney answered. “Not in the immediate vicinity anyway. But as the ambushes keep painfully proving, there’s some sort of interference making the detector unreliable at best.”

“It must be the Wraith,” Teyla interjected. “They know we have Lantean technology. They must be trying to block it.”

John gripped his P-90 tightly, turned and slowly stood, searching the eerily quiet street for any sign of life. He panned the street three times before he was confident the C4 had taken them all out. “Clear.”

Rodney walked up next to him. “At the next intersection, take a right, then left at the following one.”

John tipped his chin. “Got it. Let’s go.” He led his team back towards the intersection and resisted the urge to groan in frustration. Two more men down with only his team, Ford, and Derg left. Six against who knows how many Wraith and worshippers, and still at least a klick or more from the gate.

At the corner, John paused, peeked around and surveyed the quiet street. He looked back at his team and motioned with his head for them to follow as he warily stepped around the corner and started down the ominously quiet street. Dust and debris blew around his feet as a breeze picked up a little speed and the light debris around them rattled in response. John’s grip on his P-90 was tight, resisting the urge to jump at every sound and to cuss the breeze that was causing the noise in the first place. As he reached the motionless body of Nat, John knelt, his eyes glancing over the massive wound in the man’s back. He pressed his fingers into Nat’s throat, even though he knew it was pointless. He gave it a good ten count before looking up at Ford and shaking his head.

Ford’s face was expressionless, but he did nod once, curtly, in return.

John pushed himself wearily to his feet and continued down the street. He’d only gone a half dozen steps before his headset clicked twice. Stopping, he risked looking back long enough to see Rodney gesture at his detector before flashing all five fingers twice at him, and then pointing left in the direction they had to go to reach the gate. John soundlessly drifted left to a nearby alley, waving his team to follow. When they’d huddled up in the shadows, he looked at Rodney. “Ten?”

Rodney nodded. “Directly in our path to the gate. Can’t tell if they’re Wraith or human, but they’re definitely there.”

John’s lips tightened as he considered their situation. “Any way to circle around and ambush them?”

“Not sure,” Rodney answered, while poking buttons on his detector. “Looking, but I doubt it. Almost every road around here is blocked with debris. We get backed up against a road block and we’re dead.”

Teyla patted her vest pocket. “I have one charge of C4 left. Perhaps we can cause a collapse and eliminate them that way?”

John shook his head. “Too risky. The collapse could block our only way to the gate.”

“Nope,” Rodney piped up. “No other route.” He looked up at John, shaking his head the whole time.

“Damn,” John muttered and dropped his head, sighing heavily.

Ford took a step forward. “We know they’re there. McKay’s detector can pinpoint them. I say we walk in, take ‘em out as they show up.”

John glanced at Ford and mulled over his words. Under normal circumstances, the plan was more than slightly suicidal, but right now, his list of options was pretty short.

“Sheppard.”

John looked over at Ronon, who was staring intently at the partially collapsed building sitting at the next intersection and presumably close to their ambushers. “What?”

Ronon pointed. “The ruins. Look to you like we can get on top of it?”

John’s eyes traveled over the building and a smile slowly spread across his face. “Yeah, it does.” He looked back at the rest of his team. “We get up on the high ground and it’ll be like shooting fish in a barrel.” He gestured at Rodney’s detector. “Pinpoint their location. Are they near that building?”

Rodney nodded. “Yes. They’re about twenty-five yards down the left-hand street towards the gate. You’ll be able to easily spot them from on top of that building.”

“John, those ruins must be unstable,” Teyla reasoned. “Going up on top of them is very dangerous.”

John looked at her and nodded. “I know, but I don’t see where we have much choice.” He focused on Ronon and did a double take at the Satedan’s almost eager expression. Sometimes his teammate gave the term gung-ho a brand new meaning. Frowning, he arched a brow at Ronon who just shrugged in return. John looked back at Teyla. “Ronon and I will handle this. I need you four to take position at the intersection to clean up any stragglers that might get past us.”

“Yes, sir,” Ford responded immediately.

John nodded back. “Okay, let’s do this.” Lifting his P-90 he eased out into the street, Ronon right behind him. Slinking from debris pile to debris pile, John and Ronon made their way down the street towards the ruined building. John’s breaths came quick but even, instinctively tapping into skills and experiences from his past. Memories of street fighting, dodging bullets and Taliban in Kandahar and the bordering villages, flashed through his mind.

He lifted the M-16 to a ready position as he rounded another corner. His held breath quietly escaped him as he cautiously walked down the empty street….

John shook off the memories, focusing on the task in front of him as he reached the bombed out ruins of the building in question. He looked up, eyeballing the ruins, and quickly identified rough edges and piles of debris that would give him a path to what was left of the roof. From there, he was pretty sure they could make their way over to the ambushers’ position. He glanced back, briefly making eye contact with Ronon before the big Satedan turned, covering his six as John lowered his P-90 and let it hang from his vest. Reaching up, he found a hand hold and then a foot hold, as he started his ascent. Moving from one rough edge to another, using piles of debris here and there as stepping stones, John made his way to the top of the building. Once there, he found good footing, picked up his P-90 and motioned to Ronon to begin his ascent.

If John’s ascent had been quick, Ronon’s was quicker, but that fact didn’t bother John in the least. The sooner they managed to get to the gate, the better their chances were at escape. Once Ronon was with him, John turned and started maneuvering across the unstable remains of the rooftop. He roughly calculated their position in his head before reaching up and tapping his headset. “McKay, how close are we?” he whispered.

“Two meters,” Rodney instantly responded. “Move to the edge of the building. You should be able to spot them.”

“Copy that.” John looked back at Ronon and motioned his head towards the edge of the building, before proceeding that direction. But, the instant he took his next step, he knew something was wrong. His arms flailed wide as his foot sunk, breaking through the ruins and into dead air. His hands groped for something to grab onto but nothing offered him any purchase. Convinced he was going to fall, a surprised breath exploded from his lungs as something snagged the back of his TAC vest and hauled him back to safety.

Seated on stable roofing, John gasped quietly, inhaling deeply before he looked back at Ronon, who still had a strong hold on his vest. “Thanks,” his hushed voice wavered slightly.

Ronon’s eyes crinkled in what could’ve been the start of a smile as he let go of John’s vest and patted his shoulder twice before standing up straight.

John slowly stood. “We’d be foolish to think they didn’t hear that,” he whispered. “Hopefully they think it’s from inside the building and not from someone crazy enough to be up here.”

“Maybe,” he whispered back. The smile that had touched Ronon’s eyes spread to his mouth in a somewhat maniacal grin.

John arched a brow at his teammate. “You’re having too much fun with this insanity,” he groused.

Ronon held on to his grin. “Yep.”

John flashed Ronon a mock glare before he carefully moved around the unstable part of the building and made his way to the edge. Slowly, he peeked over the side and couldn’t help smiling just a little. The ambushers were concentrating their attention on the interior of the building, never bothering to look up.

He leaned back, away from the ledge and looked down at his P-90, mentally tallying his ammo and not liking the number he came up with. He exchanged worried glances with Ronon, before he flipped the weapon to full automatic. “You work left to right,” he whispered, “I’ll work right to left.”

Ronon nodded and crept up next to John. As one they crouched, easing forward. Dropping to a prone position, they scooted right up to the edge and leaned slightly over it. In position, they immediately opened fire.

The cold and calculated mindset of combat instantly set over John as he methodically picked off each of his targets, his thoughts barely registering their deaths. His training, deeply ingrained in him and almost reflexive, had only been reinforced by more combat and covert ops than he could count. Kill or be killed. Survive. At this point in his life, it was an automatic switch, turning on when needed, off when not. He never thought about it, and to be honest, he never wanted to.

Dispatching another target, movement caught John’s eye and he shifted slightly, sending a volley at one more worshipper, who managed to duck into the remains of a nearby building just as John fired at him. “Damn it.” He slapped his headset. “One got away. Southwest, next building over. Headed your way.”

“On it,” Ford immediately replied.

“We will get him, John,” Teyla added.

His gun still held ready, John scanned the bodies below them, looking for any sign of life. He scanned twice more, for good measure, before pushing himself up. “Clear. Let’s move.” He ejected the empty clip and loaded his last full one. He turned, covering as much ground as he could towards their exit, wary of unstable sections of the roof. Reaching the edge, John quickly made his way down, before covering Ronon’s descent.

As Ronon jumped from the last bit of rubble to the ground, a lone gunshot grabbed John’s attention. He spun towards it, looking for a target.

“Got him,” Ford’s triumphant voice came over the radio. “Target neutralized.”

John tapped his headset. “Copy that. McKay, anything on the detector?”

“Nothing at the moment,” Rodney answered.

John nodded to himself. “Okay. Everyone rendezvous at the intersection. Sheppard out.” He looked back at Ronon and jerked his head towards the road before moving off at a brisk walk, his gun held ready. At the intersection, his gaze passed over each approaching member of his team, and a moment of relief washed through him. They still had a ways to go to get to the gate, but they all were healthy and unwounded. In his book, that counted for a lot.

The moment was short lived.

“Move!” Rodney shouted as he waved frantically. “Wraith!”

John looked past him, his gaze focusing on two males and four drones headed their direction from one of the cross streets. “Shit! Run!” He lifted his gun, waiting for the Wraith to come into range as McKay, Ford, Derg and Teyla sprinted towards them. “Move!” he shouted. He braced one foot behind him, switched his gun to single shot mode and sent two shots into the head of one of the drones, who dropped like a stone. Backpedaling, he covered his team’s six, firing again, his shots joined by red arcs of blaster fire coming from Ronon’s gun.

John dove behind a pile of rubble, the tingling of a stun beam signaling how near a miss it was. He rolled into a crouch at the edge of the rubble and opened fire again. This time more gunfire sounded around him as his team found strategic spots and joined his effort. John’s mind briefly registered the distinct sound of automatic fire from both Teyla and Rodney’s P-90’s. At this rate, they’d run out of ammo fast, but they had no choice. Faced with this many Wraith, they’d be overwhelmed if they restricted themselves to single shot mode. The overwhelming fire made quick work of the Wraith and suddenly, it was silent again. John slowly stood and cautiously walked towards the Wraith bodies. Three of them were moving weakly, including the two males, but a few shots from his .45 ended it. He holstered the weapon and looked around. “McKay. Scanner.”

“Nothing at the moment,” Rodney answered before squinting and glancing around at the side streets. “Don’t expect that to last.”

“These Wraith did not die easily,” Teyla observed.

John nodded. “Just what I was thinking.” He turned a grim gaze on Ford. “They’ve fed recently. My guess is your skirmish teams.”

Ford’s face was expressionless as he looked away.

“We haven’t run into any of them,” John added quietly.

Ford looked back at him and nodded.

“Time to go,” Rodney tapped his detector screen rapidly. “More coming.”

“These guys just don’t stop,” John groused before taking point and leading his team down the street. As he rounded a corner onto the next street, he staggered, the diving blue arc of a stun beam striking the ground just in front of him throwing him off balance. Surprised, John scrambled, trying to mount some sort of defense and stay on his feet at the same time.

“Sheppard!”

Ford’s voice cut through the roaring in John’s ears as he staggered backwards. He looked up, his eyes widening as a Wraith male, holding a stun rifle took aim at him. He struggled to keep his footing and still raise his P-90, but in the back of his head, he was pretty sure he couldn’t shoot in time.

The deafening sound of a gunshot from his left immediately preceded the male lurching backwards and falling. John felt a steady set of hands on his side and he looked over, meeting gazes with Ford who yanked him back around the corner and to cover.

John staggered hard, his back slamming against the wall, but he took a deep breath and nodded once at Ford. “Thanks.”

Ford flashed him the briefest of smiles. “Got your six, boss.”

“Touching!” Rodney snapped. “But do I need to remind you that we’re being pursued?”

John pushed away from the wall. “How many in front of us?” he demanded.

“None,” Rodney’s voice was puzzled. “I don’t see anything on the detector.”

“Snipers?” Ronon asked.

“Maybe,” John said, his own confidence rattled.

“Not good.” Rodney met grim gazes with John. “Either it was just the one or the interference is masking other signals.”

John pulled in a deep breath. They couldn’t stay there long, but needed to know what was in front of them. He raised the nose of his P-90, settling on the only choice they had. “Only one way to find out.” Slowly, he turned, easing himself around the corner, his gun held ready as he scanned the quiet street. Behind him, he could feel the large, strong presence of Ronon and drew confidence from it. If anyone could smell an ambush, Ronon could.

John took a step, the sound of his boot crunching in the debris deceptively loud as he strained to hear anything else. A light breeze lifted the hair on the back of his head as he took another step, his concentration focused forward looking for any movement ahead of them. He let his instincts surface as he tried to detect any attack hoping instinct and training together would warn him that much faster than either would alone, give him an extra split second to react… a split second that would likely make a difference in life or death. He halted, panning his gun first left and then right. Only silence and motionless debris stared back at him. He angled his head slightly to look at Ronon, who scowled back at him and shook his head slightly.

John sighed. “Sniper,” he said quietly. He looked back over his shoulder. “Clear.” He shifted his attention forward again as his team plus Derg and Ford gathered around him. “We’re going to have to keep our eyes open with snipers around.”

“As if we weren’t paying attention before,” Rodney muttered.

“It’s going to slow us down,” Ford added.

John nodded. “I know. I think that’s the idea. Slow us down so they can overpower us.” He started forward, gun raised. “We’ve been able to move pretty quickly so far, even with the skirmishes. They haven’t been able to corner us.” He forced himself to move out at a brisk walk, resisting the urge to break into a jog. “That just changed. Sooner we get to the gate, the better, but watch yourselves.”

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

At the next intersection he stopped, pressing his back to the building behind him and lowering his gun. The gate was close, just down this street and in a large plaza. He peeked around the corner of the building and pursed his lips in frustration. At least twenty Wraith milled around the gate. He pulled back, and rested his head against the wall, exhaling quietly, before looking at Ronon, who loomed next to him. John shook his head. Slowly, he scooted away from the edge of the building and waved his hand for his team to circle up.

“Bad?” Ronon whispered.

“Yeah. At least twenty. Males and drones. With how open the area is, there’s no way they won’t see us coming.”

“There are five of us,” Teyla interjected, “perhaps we can attack quickly and surprise them?”

John shrugged. “Maybe. How are you all set on ammo?”

Teyla looked down at her gun for a moment, and then back at him. “I have only a half clip for my P-90. My sidearm clip is full and I have one spare.”

Rodney tapped the P-90 hanging from his vest. “Out. Just my sidearm plus an extra clip.”

“Derg and I have one clip each, boss,” Ford answered.

“I’m about par with Teyla.” John shook his head. “We don’t have the ordinance to take out twenty, healthy Wraith,” he concluded. He scratched the back of his head absently, his mind racing as he searched for an alternative.

“Well, we can’t just stay here.” Rodney’s whisper was emphatic. “What now?”

John considered their options. They’d managed to elude a large group of Wraith a few blocks back, but if they stood around too long, those guys would catch up, and they’d end up caught in a crossfire.

Teyla’s voice was determined. “If there are more on patrol, then we must seize the gate before they return, and before those behind us catch up.”

John slowly viewed the group. He didn’t like the odds, but liked the alternatives even less. If they had a hope in hell of getting to the gate and escaping, they had to act now. His scanning gaze settled on Teyla and he reluctantly nodded in agreement.

“No,” Ford abruptly spoke. He glanced at Derg and both men raised their guns. “We need a diversion. Derg and I will draw a bunch of them away, you take care of the rest.”

John shook his head. “No. We need to stick together, pool our resources.” His gaze narrowed as both Ford and Derg walked past him.

“We got this sir,” Ford answered and broke into a run, Derg beside him.

“Ford… Damnit!” John hissed as he lunged for Ford’s arm, but was a half second too late. Gritting his teeth, he was left to watch the two men run at an overwhelmingly large group of Wraith, guns blazing.

Before they reached the plaza, Derg and Ford ducked down a side street and as Ford had predicted, roughly half the group guarding the gate immediately took up the pursuit.

John did a quick head count. Eleven Wraith, a mix of drones and large males, remained.

“He was right,” Teyla said softly.

“That wasn’t the point,” John shot back and then sighed apologetically. “Come on, let’s take care of these guys and get his reckless ass back!” John dashed out from behind the building, immediately opening fire and taking the first male squarely in the chest with several rounds, dropping him. Around him, John felt the concussion of shots from his people as they methodically fired on the Wraith, dodging stunner fire and taking cover where they could find it. He focused on his own hide and keeping from getting shot, trusting his teammates’ skills to do the same for them.

Turning away from the remaining Wraith for just a second, John’s eyes widened at the sight of three worshippers running down the street towards them. “On the six!” he shouted as he fired, but a broken cry to his left told him his warning was too late. His gaze narrowed and he dropped one of the worshippers before diving for cover. “Ronon, McKay!” He yelled into his radio, “Stay on the Wraith!” His gaze settled on Teyla, hunched over and grasping her left shoulder. Even from a distance, he could see the pain etched on her face.

John’s jaw clenched in determination and he stood, opening fire on the remaining two worshippers. Bullets pinged off rubble around him, but he paid it no attention. Cold, ruthless determination settled over him and his gaze narrowed in on his targets. Dark clarity backed his skills and he dropped both of them with no hesitation before spinning and adding his fire to McKay and Ronon’s shots. Even a wounded Teyla made use of her one good hand and a fully loaded sidearm. It was over quickly, the Wraith dead and dying in the dirt surrounding the gate.

John lowered his nearly empty P-90 and waved at Ronon. “Finish them.” He jogged over to Teyla and knelt next to her. “How bad?” he asked, his tone softening.

“Bad enough,” she managed through gasps, “but I will be fine.”

John’s gaze settled on her wounded shoulder. Blood seeped through her clenched fingers as she tried to stem the flow. He looked up at Rodney as the scientist trotted over to them and tuned out the sound of shots from Ronon’s gun as the Satedan carried out his order. John pointed at Teyla’s shoulder. “Bandage it.” He gazed past Rodney to an approaching Ronon and made the only decision his core values could allow. He’d lost Ford once, left him behind, faced his cousin… faced himself. He wouldn’t do it again. In his own mind, John had a list of beliefs he’d give his life for and this one sat, uncontested, on the top of that list.

He fixed Ronon with a commanding stare. “Stay here. Take care of them,” his voice was clipped and short. “Any more Wraith or worshippers come this way, you dial that gate and get them back to Atlantis.” He watched Rodney bandage Teyla’s shoulder. “Don’t wait for me.” His voice was quiet but filled with every ounce of resolve he felt.

“John….” Teyla started.

“Not open for discussion.” John cut her off sternly. He looked at Ronon. “Take care of them and get back to Atlantis safely. That’s an order.”

Ronon narrowed his eyes, and for a moment, John was sure he was going to have to argue the order with his strong-minded friend, but after a moment, Ronon nodded once. “You better come back,” he rumbled quietly.

John wasn’t sure what to say. He certainly couldn’t guarantee it, but then again he was pretty sure Ronon knew that, so he just settled for a grim nod. Without another word, he ran down the street where he’d last seen Ford.

-----------------------
Gunfire alerted John that he’d found his friend, long before he saw him. John staggered to a stop and wheeled around, trying to pinpoint the echoing shots. Another shot and his head snapped to the right, following the sound to a dark side street. Without hesitation, he dashed down it following the street to where it ended in a large empty lot, bordered by tall remains of buildings and scattered with random chunks of rubble. He skidded to a stop, his feet sinking in deep, yellow sand as he opened fire purely out of reflex, his P-90 shots dropping a large drone.

Six Wraith, dead or mortally wounded, lay scattered around the lot along with a motionless Derg, the grip of a large knife protruding from his chest and reflecting the sun. Even from several feet away, John could tell that Derg’s open eyes were lifeless. John ducked behind some rubble and zeroed in on Ford. The Lieutenant was slowly moving backwards, a knife held confidently in his hand, his own, presumably empty, weapon at his feet. Facing him, two Wraith males hissed and cautiously approached, both holding their own knives. One flexed his feeding hand and hissed again.

A stun blast sent chunks of debris into the side of John’s head and he flinched, before twisting and firing on a drone, running towards him.

“Son of a bitch,” John grumbled, concentrating his shots on the drone and using the last of his P-90 ammo to drop him. John stepped out from behind the rubble, and turned his attention back to Ford, who still faced off against the two remaining males. Letting his P-90 drop to hang from his vest, John smoothly drew his .45 and put half a clip into the side of the nearest male.

John cursed as Ford immediately engaged the other, robbing him of a clean shot. He resisted the urge to shout to Ford to get clear, not wanting to cause a potentially lethal distraction to his friend. Ford had always been an expert at hand to hand combat, and at this moment, strengthened by enzyme, he was giving the large male a run for his money. John stepped completely out of the rubble and slowly circled them, his weapon poised, looking for an opening, but the fight was fast, irregular and at close quarters. He didn’t dare fire off a shot.

Abruptly, his internal alarm went off, his instincts screaming as he suddenly was aware of something… a presence… danger to his right. John twisted, trying to bring his weapon to bear, but he was just barely too late. A large male, larger than any he’d seen so far, leapt at him, crossing an inhuman distance at an inhuman speed. The world abruptly tilted as the male backhanded him, sending him flying helplessly through the air.

Air exploded from John’s lungs and his weapon flew from his hand, as his body slammed into the hard ground. He grunted, fighting to pull in a breath, darkness edging in on his vision. Reeling, his thoughts scrambled, John struggled to muster up some sort of defense against the Wraith he knew was descending in for the kill. His hand flailed in the rough sand, grasping and searching for his gun as he fought to get his wind back. Through the roaring in his ears, he could hear the male’s hissing voice.

“You stole our Queen, human. My mate. By my hands, you will die.”

John opened his mouth, but void of any breath, all he could manage were strangled sounds. He fought, willing his lungs to obey, willing himself to breathe.

“Sheppard!”

John blinked hard, the sound of Ford’s urgent voice driving him. He shook his head and finally pulled in a deep breath of air, its effects flushing through his body. He looked up, his vision focusing on Ford dashing across the space between him and the Wraith, leaving the motionless bodies of two males behind him. Recklessly, Ford plowed into the Wraith sending them both to the ground in a mad scramble.

“Ford!” Adrenaline, along with urgent concern for his teammate, immediately cleared John’s head. He pushed himself to his knees, his gaze zeroing in on his .45. Tucking his shoulder, he rolled, grabbed the gun and came up to one knee, his aim trained on the scuffling bodies a dozen yards away. Again, he found himself in a situation where he didn’t have a clean shot and was forced to wait, motionless, almost helpless, searching for a way to help his friend. His eyes widened and he watched, seemingly in slow motion, as the male overpowered Ford’s defenses and lunged at him. “No!” John surged to his feet as a strangled cry from Ford reached his ears. John braced his feet and took aim as Ford folded to the ground, leaving him with a clear shot. He opened fire, emptying his clip in the male’s torso.

Without hesitation, John ejected the clip and loaded another as the Wraith fell to his knees. He squeezed the trigger, putting several more shots into the male, who toppled over on his side. John kept his aim, forcing himself to focus on the feebly moving male and not his wounded teammate. Cautiously he walked towards the Wraith, a cold, ruthless determination settling in his gut. He stared down at him.

“Human,” the male hissed.

John tightened his grip on the gun. “Bastard.” Wasting no time, he put three shots in the Wraith’s head, not flinching as flecks of hot, black blood splattered on his face.

John holstered the gun, only then wiping a sleeve across his face. He spun and took two giant steps to kneel by Ford, who was curled on his left side in almost a fetal position.

“Ford?” John gently grabbed his shoulder and rolled him onto his back. His gaze settled on a rapidly spreading blood stain on Ford’s left abdomen, and John fought to keep his expression neutral. The dark blood seeping around Ford’s clenched fingers told John all he needed to know, though he wished the verdict was different. Reaching in his TAC vest, he hastily ripped a pressure bandage from his pocket, shook it open and laid it over the wound before pressing hard, evoking another pained cry from Ford. The gut wound was serious. In his years of CSAR missions he’d seen wounds like that on guys who, more often than not, died in the back of his Pave.

John pushed the thoughts away and plastered a reassuring expression on his face. “Easy, buddy. You’re gonna be okay.”

“Sir,” Ford gasped.

John looked down, and even through the twisting grimace of pain, he could see the knowing expression on Ford’s face.

Breathing heavily, Ford shook his head just a little.

John gritted his teeth in determination. “None of that, Lieutenant,” he snapped, his tone commanding. He waited a moment, before softening his voice. “You’re going to get through this, Aiden. I’ll get you back to Atlantis. Beckett will fix you up as good as new.”

“Sir,” Ford put his hand over the bandage, nudging away John’s hand, and with his other, weakly pushed at John’s shoulder. “You need to… get away. Wraith… worshippers… gotta… go.”

John grabbed Ford’s pushing hand and squeezed it hard. “I am not leaving you behind. Not this time.” He held strong to Ford’s hand and wormed his free hand under Ford’s shoulder blade. He lifted against dead weight. “Sit up,” he ordered. “Now.”

Ford stared at him for a moment, before lifting his head and struggling to raise his torso. “Yes, sir,” he gasped.

Once sitting up, John took Ford’s hand and planted it on the front of his vest. “Hold on to my TAC vest while I secure the bandage.” He hastily wrapped the long strands of the bandage around Ford’s midsection and secured them tightly before pivoting on his kneeling foot and throwing Ford’s arm over his shoulders. He wrapped his other arm around Ford’s waist. “Easy now. On three. One, two, three.” John lifted, straightening and hauling Ford to his feet. For his part, Ford tried to take as much weight as he could, but in the end, John bore most of it.

Holding fast, John walked and Ford staggered as they slowly made their way back down the street. But as they reached the intersection, John stumbled as Ford turned to dead weight. He looked down, his lips tightening at the dark, blood soaked bandage. It hadn’t taken long and that, more than anything, told John how seriously Ford was wounded.

“I can’t… sir…” Ford gasped as his legs folded under him.

John grunted but held strong, easing Ford to the ground and kneeling next to him.

“Sir… I’m sorry…” Ford’s voice was just as weak as his body.

John mustered as much confidence as he could, even though the cold voice of reason whispered facts at him that he didn’t want to hear. “It’s okay, buddy.” He pulled out another bandage and pressed it over the first one. This time, Ford barely reacted to the pressure. He looked down at his friend’s closed eyes. “Aiden? Open your eyes. Stay with me here.”

Ford’s eyes cracked open just a little. “Yes… sir.” He coughed weakly, blood tinged spittle trickling from the side of his mouth. “I’m sorry… for everything.”

Ford’s words held John’s gaze, and in that moment, he saw regret, sadness, and even a touch of the carefree innocence he’d come to know in the Lieutenant during their first year on Atlantis. “Nothing to be sorry for,” he answered quietly as he forced his hand under Ford’s back, working the bandage strap through.

“Yes,” Ford insisted. “Almost got you… killed. On the… hive.” Ford blinked heavily, his breathing shallow. “Bad… plan.”

In spite of the pain and injury, there was clarity in Ford’s eyes that John hadn’t seen in a long time. He shook his head. “Enzyme, buddy. Enzyme. Not you.”

Ford smiled just a little. “I know… now. It’s…s’clear…” Weakly, he reached up, his hand settling on John’s forearm. “Best CO I’ve ever… had, sir. Best… duty… Atlantis.”

John swallowed hard, pushing back a lump that threatened to strangle his voice. “Lieutenant,” he answered softly, holding tightly to some shred of professionalism, something to keep it all together. “You’re the best officer it’s been my pleasure to command.” He inhaled deeply, holding his emotions in check in the face of a reality he no longer could deny. There would be no homecoming for Ford and that fact threatened to break down the pillars of control he worked so hard to hold onto. His mind spinning, he groped for the right words, finally settling on the only ones he could think of. He squeezed Ford’s shoulder. “Been a pleasure,” he managed quietly.

In a moment of strength, Ford smiled a weak, but so familiar, toothy grin. “Yes… sir,” he managed. The smile faded and, with it, the light in Ford’s eyes as they slowly closed. Under his grip, John could feel the muscles in Ford’s shoulder go limp as his entire body quietly sagged into the ground.

John closed his eyes for a minute, the danger of this planet and the peril to his own life momentarily forgotten. He opened his eyes and slowly reached out, his fingers shakily settling on Ford’s neck, searching for a pulse he knew wasn’t there. His touch lingered longer than needed before he slowly pulled away. A flash of a familiar metal chain around Ford’s neck caught his eye and he grabbed it, gently pulling it out from under the tunic. Dangling at the end of the chain were Ford’s dog tags, and again John found himself fighting to keep composure. Through thick and thin, through all the haze of the enzyme, Ford had never given them up. Somehow, he’d managed to hold on to who he was, even though the enzyme had taken so much from him. The strength they symbolized nurtured the already deep respect John carried for him… a respect he hoped Ford understood.

Wrapping his hand tightly around the chain, John pulled hard, yanking both loose. With the threat of combat still very real, retrieval of Ford’s body was impossible, but in the tags, John had something to bring back to Ford’s family.

He held the tags tightly in his hand, their hard edges pinching his palm, but the discomfort was lost on him. He took one more moment to look down at Ford’s closed eyes. After a year of torment by the enzyme, hardship and pain running alone through the galaxy, Ford was finally at rest. Barely twenty six, he should’ve had so much more life ahead of him, but John had learned long ago that focusing on that injustice led nowhere. So with more practice than any person should ever have, he pushed it away, soundly silencing the injustice and replacing it with a strong memory that fueled his determination. The Wraith would pay for everything on his growing list of atonements, but for nothing more than what they’d stolen from Ford.

Reaching down, John silently squeezed Ford’s shoulder one last time and stood. Slipping the tags in his vest pocket he drew his .45 and headed for the gate.

---------------------------------
Once again, the sound of gunfire put John on point as he neared the gate. Stopping at the last intersection, he pressed his back into a building wall before cautiously peeking around the corner. His two handed grip tightened on his lowered .45 as he took in the scene before him.

Ronon, Teyla and Rodney had taken cover behind rubble close to the gate, their sporadic appearances as they traded shots with a small band of worshippers, revealing their position to John. He did a quick headcount on their attackers, identifying six worshippers, spread out across the plaza and working their way closer to his people, who solidly held their ground in front of the gate.

John gritted his teeth, frustrated that they hadn’t escaped but pushed the feelings aside, focusing on the immediate situation. He took a calculated breath, slid along the wall and rolled around the corner before sprinting to a close by chunk of rubble. Crouching behind it, he tapped his headset. “This is Sheppard, do you read me?”

“Sheppard?” Rodney’s surprised voice immediately answered. “Where the hell are you?”

“About fifty yards out on your two o’clock,” John answered. “Low on ammo, but I think I can help flush these guys out.”

“Copy that,” Rodney answered. There was a pause before he continued. “Ready when you are.”

“Stand by.” John leaned his head back against the rubble for a moment, ramping himself up for the fight, and a surge of adrenaline flowed through him in response. He shot to his feet, spun and leveled his aim at the first target the saw, opening fire. He dropped the man among surprised shouts by the other worshippers and the distraction was all his team needed. Amidst blasts from Ronon’s gun and staccato shots from both Teyla and Rodney’s .45’s, John sprinted towards the fallen worshipper, diving behind the rubble as bullets pinged around him. He snatched the handgun from the dead man’s grip and crouched, steadying the weapon on the rubble as he fired back at the remaining worshippers. They were helplessly caught in a crossfire and it was over quickly, a final shot from Ronon’s gun dropping the last man.

John exhaled loudly a couple times, the tension in his body fading as he slowly stood before jogging over to his team. His gaze passed over Ronon and McKay, a moment of relief washing over him at the absence of any wounds. He looked down at Teyla, seated on the ground and leaning against a large chunk of rubble. His brows furrowed in concern at her pale face and the bloodstained bandage. “Teyla?”

She smiled faintly at him. “I have… been better.”

John’s head snapped towards Rodney. “Dial the gate.”

“Aiden?”

Teyla’s voice was soft, and when John turned his attention back to her, he saw her gaze fixed on his bloody hands, before her eyes slowly moved up to meet his. John pressed his lips firmly together, holding tight to his control and said nothing, as he pulled Ford’s tags out of his vest pocket. Her gaze shifted to the tags and tears welled up in her eyes before she looked away.

“Oh God,” Rodney muttered, rooted in place, John’s order momentarily forgotten.

John swallowed hard and grimly looked at Rodney. “Now, McKay,” he insisted, his quite voice still firm.

Rodney stiffened and nodded. “Right.” He jogged to the DHD.

John pinned Ronon with a stern look, the sound of the gate chevrons locking in place behind him, doing nothing to soften his mood. “I ordered you to get through the gate.”

Ronon stared right back at him, his expression unapologetic. “Not without you.”

John inhaled deeply, ready to respond, but Teyla’s soft tone cut off any reply he had.

“We would not…” Her voice broke and she drew in a stuttering breath. “You are not the only one who will not… leave a team member… behind.”

John closed his eyes, the tacky feeling of drying blood on his hands pushing Ford back to the front of his mind, no matter how hard he tried to deflect those feelings in favor of the current situation. His head dropped and he grimaced, squeezing his eyes closed even tighter as he inhaled noisily through his nose, before letting his breath out equally as loudly through his mouth. In the background, he could hear Rodney over the radio contacting Atlantis and a confirmation that the shield was down, but the voices were quiet and distant in his roaring ears. Taking another breath, he opened his eyes and looked at Teyla, knowing full well she could see the pain in his expression in spite of the stoic mask he clung to, trying to cover it.

He looked over at Ronon and nodded once, curtly as he shoved Ford’s tags back in his vest pocket. “Move out.”

He knelt next to Teyla and helped her to her feet. Turning, he supported her weight as he stared hard at the gate, his emotions churning, but breaking against his strong wall of professionalism. Wordlessly, he led his team through the gate, and home.

On to Part 4!