by Arnie
Rodney shook his head. "No."
John sighed, then headed towards the puddlejumper. He guessed he was lucky. If Gall hadn't died in time for Rodney to come racing to the rescue, then John would have, and, after him, Rodney. After all the damage he'd inflicted on that Wraith - thank God the stubborn son of a bitch was finally dead - there was no way the Wraith would have left without 'topping up' its regenerative powers with Rodney's life-force.
Pushing it from his mind, John broke through Rodney's unnatural silence. "You'll have to put the ship back together, provided you can disarm the shield."
"Fine. As long as we get to go home."
John understood that sentiment; he'd had enough of this planet too. "You can drive," he offered.
His attempt at bait failed. "Oh. Thank you."
Giving it up for now, John waited while Rodney disarmed the shield, and started putting everything in order. At least the Wraith hadn't damaged the puddlejumper so much it could no longer fly.
For a moment, John thought Rodney was going to start complaining about the Wraith, and he would have welcomed the tide of impassioned words that would have flooded out, but Rodney folded his lips together and got to work.
After a few minutes, the unnerving silence was broken by the sound of a puddlejumper landing. "I'll be outside," John said.
Rodney nodded, keeping his eyes on the mess of wiring.
Leaving the ship, John headed over to meet Ford and his temporary team. They stopped a few feet from the back of the 'jumper, though Teyla gave John a smile, then kept on going.
"Gall and Abrams?" Ford asked, looking around.
John shook his head. "The Wraith got them." He glanced over his shoulder to where Rodney was still working, Teyla now waiting quietly by his side. "As soon as McKay's finished with the ship, we'll go and fetch them."
Ford nodded. "Yes, sir."
~'~
The ship repaired, they flew over. To John's surprise, Rodney followed him out of the 'jumper and back into the supply ship.
They reached Abrams first, his body still lying where they had left it near the entrance to the hold. Rodney silently moved into position before any of the marines could, one hand reaching out to grasp an unnaturally-aged shoulder, the other, ready to cradle the heavy head.
Quickly, John eased in beside him, throwing a quiet, "Take his feet," over his shoulder as he helped McKay pack his colleague away for the journey back.
The zip slid up, hiding Abrams' aged face, and Rodney stood.
Leaving the two marines to carry Abrams back to their ship, John led his team to where Gall was. He'd expected the same scenario; the same sight. Instead, it took him a few seconds to process the meaning of the blood and brains splattered across the floor.
He heard Teyla's gasp of dismay, but his gaze was fixed on Rodney's face. There was a sheen of tears in the bright blue eyes, and John knew, without a doubt, that if he'd been alone, Rodney would have cried. Turning his gaze away, John knelt and slipped the gun free of Gall's lax grip before handing it over to Teyla.
Rodney went to step forward, then stopped as Ford grasped his arm. "McKay, I have gloves."
Rodney blinked at him for a moment, then held out his hand. Ford glanced over at John, then Rodney finally spoke, "I want to."
John nodded, unzipping and unfolding the body bag with as little fuss as possible, as Rodney worked the thin latex gloves onto his hands. Once it was done, he knelt, his hands reaching out as they did before.
Pulling his gaze away as blood and matter were smeared across the pristine latex protecting Rodney's hands, John helped ease Gall's body into the bag, and hurriedly zipped it up to hide the sight of the shattered head.
It wasn't until they were alone in the puddlejumper, Ford's ship rising from the surface in front of them, that Rodney spoke again. "He knew I wanted to go to you. I heard the explosion - didn't know what was happening. It wasn't that he was afraid." He turned to face John, and John saw the terrible fear in Rodney's eyes that he'd somehow think less of Gall for not hanging in there, for not fighting. "I couldn't leave him; he knew that."
John nodded, reaching out a hand to clasp Rodney's shoulder comfortingly. "It's all right, Rodney. He did what he had to."
Rodney shook his head. "I shouldn't have given him the gun. I thought - if the Wraith came back...." He slumped back into the co-pilot's seat.
"He did what he had to," John repeated, insistently. "No one's going to think worse of him for that."
Rodney nodded, then turned his face away.
Letting it go, for now anyway, John powered up the ship. "Come on. Let's take them home."
The end.
8th October 2008.
