Outnumbered Like the Alamo (AU, John/Rodney, Radek/Elizabeth) [2/2]
Title: Outnumbered Like the Alamo
Author: cinaed
Summary: God, if he survived this and got to go home, he was never, ever buying a present for Jeannie again, not even if his parents threatened to disown him. (Nutcracker AU)
Part One
Part Two
Sure enough, John came looking for him after Rodney “forgot” to ask Radek to tell him when it was an hour before the meal. He leaned against the door of the laboratory, smirking.
When Rodney pointedly ignored him, John raised an eyebrow and drawled, “Am I really going to have to drag you all the way to the training yard?”
Rodney glared. “Yes.” He blinked as John shrugged and took a step towards him. “Oh, fine. But I’m warning you that I have very fair skin, not to mention I bruise easily. Also, I am able and fully willing to complain about each and every bruise I may sustain during this-- this torture session.”
“Right,” was all John said, continuing to smirk, and Rodney sighed as he followed the other man to his doom. John was still wearing the same sleeveless shirt as before, showing off his muscular arms and the smooth, tempting nape of his neck. Rodney was having flashbacks of the boy’s locker room in school, where glimpses of the football goalie’s lean frame had made his cheeks warm and his stomach clench unpleasantly. This wasn’t fair. Not only was he apparently facing a demise at the hands of giant mice in the not-so-distant future, but while he waited for them to get around to killing him, he got to deal with a reawakened sexual identity crisis that he'd thought he'd put to rest three, four years ago. Wonderful. Plus, knowing his luck, bisexuality was an execution-worthy offense here.
Rodney gave into the petty temptation to glower at John’s back. Why was he sleeveless anyway? Did the man have ice in his veins or something? How was he not freezing? The palace was chilly even with the amount of layers Rodney had on, and yet John seemed to be perfectly at ease, no goose-bump in sight or even a hint of a shiver, apparently content to stroll around like some sleeveless Adonis in winter.
“We’ll start with the easy stuff tonight. Stretches, getting your body limber so your reflexes will be quicker,” John said over his shoulder, and Rodney scowled harder, praying that he hadn’t been caught staring. “Once I think we’ve honed your reflexes enough, Teyla will start training you in hand-to-hand combat. And of course, you’ll learn how to use a gun.”
“Oh yes, because I stand a chance against a giant, man-eating mouse,” Rodney muttered, then added in a louder voice, “Did I mention how much I hate you?”
John grinned. “You said you didn’t like me. There was no mention of hate.” He stretched, as casual as a cat, the shirt stretching tight against his chest and torso as he apparently worked the kinks out of his spine.
“I--” Rodney was well aware that he was staring, and after a moment he somehow managed to lift his gaze to meet John’s amused hazel eyes. He licked his lips and got out a, “Yes, hate is definitely involved,” that he hoped wasn’t as breathless as it sounded to his own ears. God, if he survived this and got to go home, he was never, ever buying a present for Jeannie again, not even if his parents threatened to disown him.
Rodney somehow survived the exercises -- probably by the grace of a god he didn’t believe in -- although he was fairly certain he’d stretched a few muscles that were never meant to be stretched. He also suspected that his dignity was slowly but surely slipping out of reach.
Still, John seemed pleased, giving him a pat on the back that dried out Rodney’s mouth yet again. (Maybe it’s just dehydration, an optimistic voice in his head suggested even as the rest of him mentally snorted.) Smiling a little, John offered up a cheerful, “Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?”
“Says you,” Rodney muttered half-heartedly, though he knew tomorrow he’d complain vehemently about the strained muscles as John tried to charm or bully him into another session. “Now, food please, unless you want me to collapse and die before a Mouse can even get near me.” In all actuality, Radek hoarded food like he starved as a child or something, and together they’d snacked constantly the entire day so he wasn't verging on a hypoglycemic reaction or anything, but John didn’t know that.
John raised an eyebrow. “Collapse and die?”
Rodney lifted his chin and glowered at the other man’s disbelieving tone. “Yes, I happen to have a medical condition. If I don’t eat frequently enough, I’ll collapse and with the state of medicine in your world as it is, I’ll most definitely die.”
“Right,” John said, clearly not believing him, and Rodney scowled at him all the way to the dining hall. There, John slid into a chair next to Ronon and across from Teyla with his usual careless grace, immediately slouching and looking ready to slide off the chair. He looked at the steaming bowl in front of him and made a face. “Wonderful, stew. Well, at least it’s warm.”
“We are rationing our food, now that it is Winterfrost,” Radek explained, poking at his soup with a spoon and grimacing as well, and Rodney suddenly understood why Radek hoarded food in his laboratory as the scientist made a despairing noise under his breath and shoved his bowl over to Ronon.
Ronon didn’t seem to have a problem with the meal; he accepted Radek’s bowl with a muttered thank-you and then both men looked toward the front of the room, where Elizabeth sat at a table higher than the rest.
As though sensing their respective eyes on her, Elizabeth smiled and rose to her feet. She looked around the room, meeting various people’s gazes and nodding. The conversations in the room ebbed until there was an expectant sort of silence.
Elizabeth cleared her throat and began. “I am certain you all are ravenous, so I will make this brief,” she assured the group, earning a few smiles. “I want to thank all of you for your hard work today, whether it was patrolling for Mice, tending to the horses, or mending torn uniforms for our soldiers. Without your loyalty and aid during this time of ongoing strife, Lantea would have long-since fallen to the Mice. I am grateful to your dedication each and every day I am queen.” She paused, a warm smile on her face. “Please, eat. You have earned every bit of your meal tonight.”
There was silence for a moment, and then the room filled with the soft sounds of spoons clinking against the bowls and low conversations as Elizabeth sat back down.
Rodney looked at his stew and cautiously sampled a spoonful. It tasted more like water than soup, almost like it was actually water with merely an aftertaste of beef, vegetables, and herbs, but hey, it was food, and so he dug in. After a moment, he looked up. “Does she -- uh, the queen -- always make speeches like that?”
“The speeches boost morale,” Radek informed him, and Rodney mentally snorted at the proud and almost adoring expression on his face. “Her Majesty gives a short speech every night before the evening meal.”
“Her father did something like it, only his speeches were more about sacrifice and less about how valuable we lowly beings are to the Crown,” John added with a slight smirk. Ronon snorted, whether in amusement or agreement or both, Rodney wasn’t quite certain. “Elizabeth thinks more highly of commoners than her father did.”
Rodney pointed his spoon at John; the other man flinched as a few hot droplets from the soup hit his face. Rodney ignored John’s scowl as he wiped at his face in favor of saying, “That’s another thing that I’ve been wondering about. You call the queen by her name, while Radek calls her by her title. Why?”
One corner of John’s mouth twitched, and he glanced at Radek, whose face was slightly pink. “Well, for one thing, Elizabeth and I have been friends since childhood. I was the lowly stable-boy she decided to befriend out of boredom.”
“And the other thing is that Radek’s been pining away for her ever since she let him and his family return to Lantea,” Ronon said in his matter-of-fact way. He ignored Radek’s glare.
“I do not pine,” Radek said, readjusting his glasses and attempting a dignified frown. “I simply have a healthy amount of respect for Her Ma--” He stopped and rolled his eyes in exasperation when everyone grinned at him.
“Let him and his family return to Lantea?” Rodney repeated blankly, and Radek’s frown deepened.
“Ah, yes, I never mentioned my last name, did I?” He smiled, the bitter twist of his lips darkening his face for a moment. “I am Radek Zelenka.”
“Oh.” Rodney blinked, processing that for a moment. Well, it certainly explained Radek’s disdain for the man -- his grandfather, Rodney supposed, or a great-uncle -- that had gotten their entire family exiled from Lantea. “So you lived--”
“With the Genii until Her Majesty came to King Cowen to try and form an alliance against the Mice,” Radek said, and the bitter edge of his smile shifted to one of ruefulness. “Instead, she returned with me in tow, and I have been doing my best to serve the Crown ever since.”
“Doing your best to serve Elizabeth, you mean,” John interjected, and grinned at Radek’s narrowed eyes. “Oh, please, everyone sees how you look at her--”
“Excuse me, sir?” It was the blond woman from before, and Radek’s entire face brightened with relief as she interrupted the conversation. “There seems to be a problem with one of the long-reach cannons and--”
“Of course, of course, I’ll see to it immediately,” Radek said. He almost knocked his chair over in his haste to get to his feet and escape the conversation. “Take me there, if you would?”
“Radek, you did not have anything to eat,” Teyla reminded him, frowning a little in concern.
“I will eat later,” Radek said quickly, already backing away from the table. He paused, narrowed his eyes at Ronon and John, and added, “And one final time, I do not pine.” Then he fled before the two grinning men could say a word.
“Does the queen--” Rodney began, and John shook his head, looking amused and almost regretful. The expression made his eyes seem greener, and Rodney ducked his head and studied his bowl of stew.
“Everyone but Elizabeth sees how he looks at her,” Teyla remarked, and then added in a sterner tone, “Ronon, John, must you two torment Radek? You have been teasing him for years. Enough is enough.”
“I’ll stop teasing when he finally gets up the courage to tell her how he feels,” Ronon said, apparently unperturbed at Teyla’s scolding. And also seemingly unaffected by her frown, because he grinned at her and began eating Radek’s serving of stew even as she sighed and shook her head.
Teyla turned a smile upon Rodney. “How was your first lesson?”
He shrugged, feeling John’s gaze on him. “It was fine, although I’m sure I’ll be sore tomorrow. Some parts of my body just aren’t meant to be stretched, and yet John felt the need to stretch them anyway.”
John looked amused. “You’ll thank me later,” he said, and added, “We’ll do the stretching exercises twice a day. Once before breakfast and another before supper, and then Teyla will--”
“Twice a day?” Rodney repeated, incredulous, and pointed his spoon at John again. He was almost disappointed when no droplets hit the other man’s face this time. “No way. I’m not doing two torture sessions a day. I told you already, I can hide in a closet and--”
“You’ll do what I -- what Elizabeth tells you to do,” John said. The smile he wore as he said the words didn’t reach his eyes, which were as hard as stone. “You may be a guest, but she’s still the queen, and you will obey her. Elizabeth doesn’t want you to get killed just because you’re slothful--”
“I am not lazy,” Rodney snapped, throwing down his spoon and folding his arms against his chest. “I just don’t think you understand that I am not athletic in the slightest. Gym was the only class I didn’t pass with flying colors, and even then, I probably should have failed, but the teacher wanted me out of his class because I apparently complained too much, so he passed me. The class was a total waste of time, anyway, with pointless games like Dodgeball and Squirrels in the Tree, which had no redeeming value whatsoever, and-- and don’t look at me like that. I’m not lazy.” He glared as John’s look of apparent disgust shifted to one of annoyance.
“You might not be lazy, but you have got to be one of the most irritating people I’ve ever met,” John informed him through gritted teeth, eyes dark. “Here I am, trying to keep your ungrateful ass safe--”
“I won’t be safe until I’m back home!” Rodney all but yelled, and jumped to his feet. His stomach roiled and his face felt like it was on fire. “Okay, there might be idiotic teenager muggers back home, there are still no giant mice that want to eat me!”
“John--” Teyla began as John’s eyes narrowed.
“I’m trying to teach you how to defend yourself from the Mice, so you don’t end up dead like Aid--“ He paused, a muscle jumping in his jaw, and bit back whatever name he was going to say. “Maybe if you stopped complaining for one second, you’d see--”
“That I can defeat a six-foot tall mouse by becoming flexible? I don’t think so,” Rodney said, well aware that he was sneering and that his voice dripped with sarcasm and disdain. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go see what Radek is doing. Science is what I’m brilliant at, after all, not stretching.”
“Rodney,” Teyla tried again, and Rodney rolled his eyes and walked away, ignoring her calls for him to wait.
***
***
It took him a few dead-ends before he realized that he’d stomped off down a corridor without thinking and gotten himself lost in this labyrinth they called a palace. Perfect. Could this day get any worse?
“This is what I get for trying to be a halfway decent brother. Get Jeannie a present for Christmas? Of course it’d be cursed and send me to this hellhole, because that is just my luck.” Continuing to mutter to himself, he turned around and headed back in the direction he hoped was the dining hall.
Then he flinched and almost tripped over his own feet as a loud, painful ringing rattled his bones and filled his ears. It was a bell, of that he was certain, but one which made his teeth and bones ache. It definitely wasn't the one that announced the hour.
The ringing continued, making his head pound. “What the hell?” he muttered, but couldn’t even hear his own words amid the ringing. He sighed in relief when the bell finally went silent. Still, what had that been about? He decided to ask Radek -- once Rodney figured out how to get to the other man’s laboratory, that is.
He turned the corner and froze, realizing that the bell must have been a warning. It’s really too bad that no one mentioned a warning system to me, he thought bitterly, carefully retreating back behind the corner and praying that the three Mice hadn’t spotted him.
He backed away quietly, only to realize that he was in yet another dead-end corridor and trapped. “Shit,” he breathed to himself, and closed his eyes. Well, at least if the Mice got him, he wouldn’t have to hear John’s I-told-you-so. He opened his eyes a second later when a low snarl reached his ears, and met the red, ravenous eyes of one of the Mice.
Rodney did the only sane thing to do: he backed into the nearest corner and curled up into a ball, made himself smaller, less attractive to a hungry Mouse. (How smart were these creatures, anyway?) Desperate words tumbled from his lips as though the Mice might listen to reason.
“Look, you really don’t want to eat me. I mean, what if you’re allergic to people from Canada? It’s just, it’s just dying by being eaten by rodents wasn’t exactly how I planned to die, much less die at the age of twenty-one-- I haven’t even made a name of myself in the scientific community, and--”
The words died in his throat as the Mouse dragged him upright, claws digging into his shoulder, and god, he really was going to die, and his family wasn't even going to have a body to bury, and everyone in Lantea would just think of him as that Canadian idiot who didn’t listen and got himself killed--
Rodney closed his eyes again as the Mouse’s rank breath washed over him, because yeah, it might be cowardly, but he didn’t want the Mouse’s teeth to be the last thing he saw. His eyes were still squeezed shut when the Mouse’s claws tightened and it let out a low growl. And then the Mouse’s grip was gone; Rodney stumbled backwards as the sounds of revolver-fire and high-pitched screeches rang in his ears.
John grinned at him when he finally opened his eyes. “Hey, Rodney.”
“John,” he breathed, and felt a giddy sort of disbelief as the Mouse twitched in its death throes at his feet.
“You’re welcome,” John drawled, and then hefted his revolver. “Now, how about we get you somewhere safe?”
“Safe would be good,” Rodney said and all but leaped over the Mouse’s corpse and the two other Mice that John had apparently killed as John lead the way. “So, uh, that was really, um, excellent timing. Thank you.”
John glanced sideways at him and just raised an eyebrow.
Rodney felt his face warm. "How did the Mice get into the castle?" he asked, forcing the heat from his cheeks, and rolled his eyes when John gestured for him to be quiet. He was very much aware that there were Mice in the castle that wanted to eat him, which was why he'd whispered.
When Rodney kept staring at him, demanding an answer, John shook his head. "One of the sentries must've been taken by surprise," he whispered, so quietly that Rodney had to lean in to hear him. "Now, shut up and just follow me, and maybe we'll both get out of this alive."
Rodney snorted, very quietly, in disbelief, but followed after John. There were more questions he wanted to ask, such as where John had gotten that revolver and the sword now hanging at his side (Rodney definitely didn't recall them during the stretching exercises), if everyone was all right, how many Mice there were, how they expected to kill all the Mice--
John stopped so suddenly that Rodney bumped into him, cursing. "What the hell--" he began, and then saw what made the other man falter.
Teyla smiled wearily at them. "Rodney. John. It is good to see you two are well," she said, voice low and husky with pain, and John moved towards her to steady her as she swayed. She shook her head at his concerned look. "I am fine. It looks worse than it is."
Staring at her arm, which dangled limp and bloody at her side, Rodney didn't believe her. He wanted to reach out and help her too, but John was supporting her on her good side already and he knew that he would only jostle her injured arm and cause her further pain if he tried to help.
Teyla fumbled with something hanging at her side, agony contorting her face as she offered the two sticks to Rodney. They were the wooden sticks she'd used during her exercises with John, he realized as he stared down at them. "I cannot use them and you are unarmed," she explained when he continued to stare.
Rodney accepted them, holding them awkwardly as Teyla murmured, "We have formed a barricade around the infirmary, dining hall, and armory. I do not know--" She took in a deep breath and Rodney watched the color drain from her face. "I do not know how many had left the dining hall before the alarm sounded."
Bile rose in Rodney's throat at that and he swallowed it back. Radek, that blond woman-- had they been caught by surprise when the Mice invaded? Were they already dead somewhere? God, he wanted to be home, where there wasn't a war going on in his city.
"Where's Elizabeth?" John asked softly, and at Teyla's answer that the queen was in the infirmary, said, "We'll go there." Silent now, they headed towards where the others had barricaded themselves against the Mice, listening for sounds of fighting and cries for help.
It was a scream they heard first, a cry of mingled fear and fury, followed by the snarl of a Mouse. John nudged Teyla gently toward Rodney and took up his revolver. Rodney stared at the dark, dangerous look on John's face and wondered if he would have an expression like that if he'd lived in Lantea instead of Canada.
John turned the corner and a second later the sound of revolver-fire and the dying screams of Mice rang out. He returned with a woman who had blond hair and furious blue eyes. She clutched a blood-stained sword. "Five on one, or else I would have had them," she whispered furiously, apparently oblivious to the long scratch on her face that oozed blood.
"I'm sure you would have, Laura," Teyla said, gently but sincerely, and the two women exchanged weak smiles before they continued towards the infirmary.
***
***
This time, it was the sound of rifles and revolvers that reached their ears. The sticks in Rodney's hands were slippery with sweat, and he almost dropped one as Teyla whispered, "The Mice must be at the barricade. We have to--"
"I know," John said, just as soft, and handed his revolver to her. She held it awkwardly with her good hand as he drew his sword.
The woman named Laura said nothing, but her eyes blazed and she tightened her grip on her sword and stepped ahead of the group, back straight and shoulders back, as regal as Elizabeth. Had it really been only hours since Elizabeth had swept into the infirmary and Radek had explained that this was the land of Lantea?
“Um,” Rodney said, looking down at the sticks and wondering what on earth they expected him to do. And what the group’s actual plan was. Were they really just going to go around the corner and attack the Mice from behind--
Apparently, that was exactly what they were planning, because Laura took one step forward, and then another, and then she was around the corner and gone, Teyla and John following quickly after.
Rodney stood still for a moment, listening to the sound of vicious fighting and people dying just beyond his sight, and wished with all of his heart to be home, getting punched in the arm by Jeannie for his crappy present. Then he took a deep breath and plunged around the corner and into battle.
Two blood-streaked swords gleamed in the flickering light of the torches as John and Laura twirled and dodged the Mice’s claws, feinted and then stabbed.
Teyla stood a little further back, obvious strain on her ashen face but determination in the way she held the revolver in her good hand and fired again and again. Each time she fired, a Mouse staggered and fell, and did not rise again.
But there were so many Mice, a full dozen turning to snarl and move toward Teyla and John and Laura, others trying to destroy the barricade of chairs and tables that blocked the infirmary, and it all seemed so very hopeless, like this was some grand last stand in which they all died.
Rodney could feel his throat closing up with panic as he clutched the sticks. He wondered if he would help or hinder the three by being here, unskilled, untaught. But he couldn’t go back, and he couldn’t leave them, and so he stayed, helplessly clutching the sticks and watching the Mice approach.
Laura fell first, with a quiet, choked sound of pain that was almost lost amid the yells and snarls. Rodney saw her fall, saw her lie still and silent on the ground, face tilted away from him so that he couldn’t see her expression. Fear, sharp and bitter, was on his tongue, or maybe that was bile, as he willed her to get up again. She didn’t.
John bent down, snatched the sword from Laura’s unresisting hand, and then everything was blur as he launched himself at the nearest Mouse, both swords flashing in his grip as he hacked away at the creature.
Another Mouse moved toward Laura’s unmoving form, and Rodney found himself leaping forward on pure instinct, an angry snarl escaping his lips. She was down, she wasn’t fighting, why couldn’t the Mouse just leave her alone-- One of the sticks struck the Mouse’s neck, and the Mouse growled, the sound more of annoyance than pain. For once, Rodney didn’t care, lashing out with the other stick.
Then he was falling, ears ringing, and met blackness as his head hit the stone floor.
He struggled out of unconsciousness, head aching, wondering if maybe this would do the trick, if he’d just needed to lose consciousness again to get back to Canada. But no, he could hear the sounds of fighting still, though the sounds seemed far away.
Rodney opened his eyes and lifted his head, wincing as his head pounded and his gaze blurred. When his gaze cleared, he could see Laura, still lying silently on the ground, and John and Teyla, still on their feet, fighting. And he could see Ronon and a group of men and women holding makeshift weapons and standing between the Mice and the barricade.
There were bodies, both of Mice and soldiers, sprawled unmoving throughout the corridor. Rodney tried not to stare at them.
He sat up instead, looking around for the sticks. They were gone. For a moment, his hands actually ached for them, because he needed something, anything, to protect himself from the Mice. Then he clenched his hands into fists and the sensation passed. He thought that maybe one of Ronon’s army was using the sticks, but his sight was still a little blurry around the edges and he couldn’t tell.
Teyla spared him a glance that was warm with relief, and shouted, “Get to the barricade if you can, Rodney.”
Without a weapon, what else could Rodney do but obey? He scrambled to his feet, then hesitated, gaze lingering on Laura. She could still be alive, still breathing. The blood staining her shirt made it impossible to tell, though, not unless Rodney got in close and felt for a pulse.
When he crouched down next to her, fingers pressed against her throat, it took a moment for him to realize that there was an actual heartbeat and it wasn’t just his hand trembling. The heartbeat was faint and unsteady, but it was there.
Rodney was careful when he took her by the shoulders, half-dragging her across the floor toward the barricade. He kept his head low, his eyes focused on Laura’s bloody back. If a Mouse attacked, he didn’t want to see his death coming.
He bumped against something hard and unyielding. When he looked over his shoulder, he saw it was a leg of a chair. He’d reached the barricade. Through the cluster of chairs and tables, he could see the door of the infirmary, so close and yet so far away.
He tried to speak, realized his throat was too dry from terror, tried again. “T-throw something out here. A bandage, anything. I’ve got Laura and she’s bleeding, and some bandages would be really good right now, so….”
Then it was only his voice, weak and hoarse, speaking into silence and fumbling to a stop. He knew that he shouldn’t turn, shouldn’t see what had stunned everyone into silence, but then Laura moaned very softly beneath his hands, and he turned to look at her, and then past her, at the new Mouse that had appeared.
It was definitely a new Mouse. Most of them looked the same, but not this one, not when it seemed double the size of the other Mice and wore a garnished crown that had once been gold atop its head. Apparently the Mice had a king or queen.
The mass of Mice and soldiers parted like the Red Sea, until it was only John and the crowned Mouse, staring at each other. There was a cut on John’s forehead; Rodney watched the blood trickle down John’s face, mingle with the sweat shining on his skin.
Then John grinned, a quick flash of white teeth, and saluted the Mouse with a hand that shook from exhaustion. He was down to one sword now, the other probably in a corpse littering the floor. “So this is the real thing,” he said, almost conversationally, as though he weren’t breathless and bleeding. “I mean, if His Majesty, Lord of the Mice, decides to grace our palace with his presence--”
The Mouse King snarled.
John’s grin turned cold, the smile more of a baring of teeth than anything else. “Was that a challenge? If so, I accept.” He took a small step forward and lifted the sword so that it pointed directly at the Mouse King’s chest. “I wonder what your friends will do, once they see you dead.”
As though to answer, the Mouse King lunged, claws reaching for John’s face, John’s eyes, and a cry of warning and alarm choked Rodney into silence as he watched the duel unfold.
John wasn’t casual now, intent in each weary, purposeful movement he made. The only vestige of his earlier relaxed attitude remained in the hint of a smirk that lingered at the corner of his mouth.
The sword flashed in the torchlight, and the Mouse King roared and reeled back, clutching its injured arm. The other Mice made a noise-a quiet, angry moan that swelled as blood splattered the floor-but they stayed still, watching the fight with bright, glittering eyes.
John struck once more, grimly silent, and the Mouse King roared again.
Torchlight reflected off the crown, temporarily blinding Rodney. As he blinked away spots, he heard someone stifle a cry. When he could see again, John was pale with pain, blood staining his left shoulder where the Mouse King’s claws had grazed him. His steps were more weary than purposeful now, almost a stagger as he fought to keep out of the Mouse King’s reach.
Rodney stared at the blood on the Mouse King’s claws. It wasn’t fair. John had been fighting all this time, and now the Mouse King was going to take advantage of his weariness and-- and-- kill--
John stumbled, and the Mouse King leapt, and then Rodney was up and running full-tilt at the Mouse King, throwing himself at it, fists flailing wildly in an attempt to strike the Mouse King’s snout. Rodney was vaguely aware that he was shouting, calling the Mouse King a coward who only fought exhausted and injured enemies, but he couldn’t hear it over the rushing of blood in his ears.
One of his fists connected, and the Mouse King screeched.
Then there was pain, bright, sharp agony that turned his vision white and then black around the edges, the type of pain that was like a punch to the gut even as it radiated from his chest. The Mouse King must have clawed him.
He was on his knees, he realized. When had his legs given out? Rodney stared up at the Mouse King, a little defiant, but mostly terrified, hoping that at least this would give John the chance to run--
He watched the sword pierce the Mouse King’s chest without comprehension. It was only when the Mouse King staggered and fell, half-crushing him beneath its terrible weight, that Rodney realized John had taken the opportunity to stab the Mouse King through the heart.
Well, that was a better option than running, he supposed, and then hoped that John would drag the Mouse King’s corpse off him before he suffocated.
Someone pulled the corpse away, and Rodney smiled weakly at Ronon, who grinned back for a second and then frowned. “Better get you to the infirmary,” he said, master of the obvious, and Rodney laughed until the white-hot agony in his chest convinced him that was a very, very bad idea.
“Yes, let’s just tear down the barricade,” he began, breathless from the pain, and then realized that there was no more fighting. When he looked around, there were no living Mice to be found, just the still bodies on the floor. “What--?”
Ronon shrugged. “We killed their king. We won.”
“That seems--” Rodney said, and stopped. No, it didn’t seem too easy, not when Laura was so close to death, and they had been at war for over sixty years. He swallowed, and then marveled that relief could taste so bitter. “Good. That’s…really good.”
Then he closed his eyes and gave himself over to the darkness that had been lingering at the corners of his vision.
***
***
When Rodney woke up, he was in the infirmary again, only this time it was filled to capacity. The pain in his chest was muted but there, a dull ache that promised lightning bolts of agony if he tried to move too quickly.
He sat up, carefully, and looked around for anyone familiar. There was Laura, paler than snow in a bed the next row over, and that bored soldier who had been testing the gun with Radek and the other scientist, just two beds away from Rodney.
Teyla stood next to a bed, her head bowed and her arm in a sling. It looked like she was praying. Ronon stood next to her, face grave and intent.
And then there was John, shirtless and heavily bandaged, sitting next to a bed in a corner of the room, his good arm around Elizabeth’s shoulders. His face was pale, and Rodney wondered why he didn’t look happy. He’d defeated the Mouse King, after all, and won the war.
“Rodney.”
Rodney met Carson’s red-rimmed eyes and realized why. “How many?” he asked, hating himself for asking but needing to know, all the same.
Carson didn’t need ask what he meant. “Forty-three. Thirty-nine injured, and two…two who won’t make it.” There were shadows in Carson’s eyes, his grief and regret shining clear, and Rodney looked away.
Then he looked back. “Two who can’t be helped by your technology, you mean. If they came back to Canada, they might-- they might--”
Carson stared back, expression going lax with shock, and then he turned and called, hoarse and just a bit too loud, “Your Majesty. Your Majesty, we can, we can open the portal-- Laura and Radek--”
Elizabeth started to her feet, turning to Carson with wide eyes, looking suddenly much younger even as Rodney’s stomach clenched at Radek as one of the dying. For an instant, all the lines of strain and worry were smoothed from Elizabeth’s face.
“Do it,” she said, voice ringing with command and something else too-- joy, perhaps. “We will send those who need the advanced technology, maybe even save Evan’s hand--”
“I’ll get the portal ready,” John said, and Rodney watched him get to his feet with a wince, the muscles in his back flexing as his shoulders came up in a reflexive shudder of pain. Then his expression smoothed out and his clear voice carried through the room. “Ronon, could you round up anyone who can help you get the injured onto the stretchers and to the portal room?”
Ronon nodded.
“I will help as well,” Teyla said, and ignored John’s pointed glance at her injured arm.
And then John was gone, and Teyla and Ronon as well, and finally Elizabeth, excusing herself to find the surviving members of the Council and make the decision to send the injured to Canada official.
Carson watched them all go, his expression one of mingled worry and hope, and then patted Rodney on the shoulder and said, “Tell me if the pain gets unbearable.” After that, he moved onto the next person, bending over their bed and smiling reassuringly at them.
Rodney stayed in bed until he was certain Carson was sufficiently distracted by the other patients. Then he dragged himself out of bed, ignoring the tightness in his chest, the black spots in his vision, the way the floor rippled a little under his feet. He needed to find Radek, see for himself the extent of Radek’s injuries.
Radek was in the bed furthest from the door, probably placed there during the worst of the fighting. It was the bed Elizabeth and John had been sitting next to, which Rodney should have guessed.
Radek’s face was colorless beneath the bandages that covered most of his head and his forehead, and his breaths were shallow, the blanket barely moving as his chest rose and fell. His glasses were nowhere to be found, and it made him look younger, almost naked.
“He saved Her Majesty’s life,” someone said. When Rodney glanced up to see who’d spoken, a pretty brunette smiled sadly back. “He threw himself between the queen and a Mouse, and it threw him aside and his head--” She stopped, swallowing hard. Rodney could see the sheen of unshed tears. “It’s the sort of coma you don’t wake up from.”
Rodney looked at Radek’s still face and wondered if modern medicine would be able to help him. After all, brain injuries were…. He firmly banished the thought. Radek would be fine. Rodney wasn’t the type to believe in happily ever after, but in a world where giant Mice existed, he thought that Radek should get the storybook ending, win the queen’s heart and build her that airplane.
“He’ll be okay,” he said, forcing himself to sound confident. It earned him a small smile and a nod. “I’ll just-- I’ll stay with him until they get the portal ready.”
The woman’s smile was wider then, more sincere. “If he needs anything, just call for me or Carson.” She turned to go, and then paused. “And my name’s Jennifer. Just call for Jennifer or Carson.”
“Thank you,” he said, and watched Jennifer cross to another row. Then he turned back to Radek and waited for John and Elizabeth to return.
***
***
Twelve people were coming with Rodney to Canada. Rodney wasn’t quite sure how he was going to explain their injuries to the hospital, but he didn’t really care.
He studied the portal. It was a large, circular thing, with symbols he couldn’t hope to decipher. They weren’t like any language he knew. He supposed it did look a little like a portal to another world, though. “Do you know what the symbols say?” he asked John, who stood next to him.
John shrugged and then winced. Apparently it was going to take a while for him to realize that shrugging with an injured shoulder was a bad idea. “Nobody knows. Scholars guess that it’s a language, but it’s not like any we have in Lantea.”
“Huh,” Rodney said, squinting at the symbols for another second. Maybe it was an old language of Earth. He didn’t really know much about languages beside English anyway.
John cleared his throat. When Rodney glanced at him, John’s expression was unreadable. “I don’t think I ever actually said thank-you for, uh, saving my life.” Before Rodney could react, John grinned. “Though I guess now we’re even.”
Rodney snorted, and then had to catch his breath as his chest protested. “Please. You saved my life from three Mice by shooting them in the back. I, meanwhile, attacked a Mouse with my bare hands. We are so not even.”
John shook his head, looking torn between amusement and disbelief. “You really are something.” He nudged Rodney with his good elbow, leaned in close so that Rodney could feel the soft words spoken into his ear and had to suppress a shiver. “But hey, I guess that prophecy was right. You helped end the war.”
Rodney preened a little at that. It was pretty nice to know you were a hero from legend. “Yes, I did. And I expect a statue in my honor when I come back.”
“Come back?”
Rodney raised an eyebrow and ignored the way his stomach dropped to the floor at the blank surprise in John’s voice. “The portal’s open now,” he reminded him. “That means I can visit, help Radek build that airplane for the queen once he gets better--”
“Train with me so Teyla can teach you how to use the bantos rods,” John interjected helpfully. His grin turned slightly wicked at Rodney’s expression. “What? Just because the war is over doesn’t mean you should forget learning self-defense.”
Rodney thought of more training sessions with John, all sleeveless shirts and mocking smirks, and shook his head. “I really don’t like you,” he said.
John grinned. “Yes, you do,” he said confidently, and there was a look in his eyes that made Rodney’s throat close up and something like hope flutter in his chest.
“Yes,” Rodney said after a moment, as the symbols on the portal began to glow with a shimmering blue light. “I suppose I do.”
Author: cinaed
Summary: God, if he survived this and got to go home, he was never, ever buying a present for Jeannie again, not even if his parents threatened to disown him. (Nutcracker AU)
Part One
Part Two
Sure enough, John came looking for him after Rodney “forgot” to ask Radek to tell him when it was an hour before the meal. He leaned against the door of the laboratory, smirking.
When Rodney pointedly ignored him, John raised an eyebrow and drawled, “Am I really going to have to drag you all the way to the training yard?”
Rodney glared. “Yes.” He blinked as John shrugged and took a step towards him. “Oh, fine. But I’m warning you that I have very fair skin, not to mention I bruise easily. Also, I am able and fully willing to complain about each and every bruise I may sustain during this-- this torture session.”
“Right,” was all John said, continuing to smirk, and Rodney sighed as he followed the other man to his doom. John was still wearing the same sleeveless shirt as before, showing off his muscular arms and the smooth, tempting nape of his neck. Rodney was having flashbacks of the boy’s locker room in school, where glimpses of the football goalie’s lean frame had made his cheeks warm and his stomach clench unpleasantly. This wasn’t fair. Not only was he apparently facing a demise at the hands of giant mice in the not-so-distant future, but while he waited for them to get around to killing him, he got to deal with a reawakened sexual identity crisis that he'd thought he'd put to rest three, four years ago. Wonderful. Plus, knowing his luck, bisexuality was an execution-worthy offense here.
Rodney gave into the petty temptation to glower at John’s back. Why was he sleeveless anyway? Did the man have ice in his veins or something? How was he not freezing? The palace was chilly even with the amount of layers Rodney had on, and yet John seemed to be perfectly at ease, no goose-bump in sight or even a hint of a shiver, apparently content to stroll around like some sleeveless Adonis in winter.
“We’ll start with the easy stuff tonight. Stretches, getting your body limber so your reflexes will be quicker,” John said over his shoulder, and Rodney scowled harder, praying that he hadn’t been caught staring. “Once I think we’ve honed your reflexes enough, Teyla will start training you in hand-to-hand combat. And of course, you’ll learn how to use a gun.”
“Oh yes, because I stand a chance against a giant, man-eating mouse,” Rodney muttered, then added in a louder voice, “Did I mention how much I hate you?”
John grinned. “You said you didn’t like me. There was no mention of hate.” He stretched, as casual as a cat, the shirt stretching tight against his chest and torso as he apparently worked the kinks out of his spine.
“I--” Rodney was well aware that he was staring, and after a moment he somehow managed to lift his gaze to meet John’s amused hazel eyes. He licked his lips and got out a, “Yes, hate is definitely involved,” that he hoped wasn’t as breathless as it sounded to his own ears. God, if he survived this and got to go home, he was never, ever buying a present for Jeannie again, not even if his parents threatened to disown him.
Rodney somehow survived the exercises -- probably by the grace of a god he didn’t believe in -- although he was fairly certain he’d stretched a few muscles that were never meant to be stretched. He also suspected that his dignity was slowly but surely slipping out of reach.
Still, John seemed pleased, giving him a pat on the back that dried out Rodney’s mouth yet again. (Maybe it’s just dehydration, an optimistic voice in his head suggested even as the rest of him mentally snorted.) Smiling a little, John offered up a cheerful, “Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?”
“Says you,” Rodney muttered half-heartedly, though he knew tomorrow he’d complain vehemently about the strained muscles as John tried to charm or bully him into another session. “Now, food please, unless you want me to collapse and die before a Mouse can even get near me.” In all actuality, Radek hoarded food like he starved as a child or something, and together they’d snacked constantly the entire day so he wasn't verging on a hypoglycemic reaction or anything, but John didn’t know that.
John raised an eyebrow. “Collapse and die?”
Rodney lifted his chin and glowered at the other man’s disbelieving tone. “Yes, I happen to have a medical condition. If I don’t eat frequently enough, I’ll collapse and with the state of medicine in your world as it is, I’ll most definitely die.”
“Right,” John said, clearly not believing him, and Rodney scowled at him all the way to the dining hall. There, John slid into a chair next to Ronon and across from Teyla with his usual careless grace, immediately slouching and looking ready to slide off the chair. He looked at the steaming bowl in front of him and made a face. “Wonderful, stew. Well, at least it’s warm.”
“We are rationing our food, now that it is Winterfrost,” Radek explained, poking at his soup with a spoon and grimacing as well, and Rodney suddenly understood why Radek hoarded food in his laboratory as the scientist made a despairing noise under his breath and shoved his bowl over to Ronon.
Ronon didn’t seem to have a problem with the meal; he accepted Radek’s bowl with a muttered thank-you and then both men looked toward the front of the room, where Elizabeth sat at a table higher than the rest.
As though sensing their respective eyes on her, Elizabeth smiled and rose to her feet. She looked around the room, meeting various people’s gazes and nodding. The conversations in the room ebbed until there was an expectant sort of silence.
Elizabeth cleared her throat and began. “I am certain you all are ravenous, so I will make this brief,” she assured the group, earning a few smiles. “I want to thank all of you for your hard work today, whether it was patrolling for Mice, tending to the horses, or mending torn uniforms for our soldiers. Without your loyalty and aid during this time of ongoing strife, Lantea would have long-since fallen to the Mice. I am grateful to your dedication each and every day I am queen.” She paused, a warm smile on her face. “Please, eat. You have earned every bit of your meal tonight.”
There was silence for a moment, and then the room filled with the soft sounds of spoons clinking against the bowls and low conversations as Elizabeth sat back down.
Rodney looked at his stew and cautiously sampled a spoonful. It tasted more like water than soup, almost like it was actually water with merely an aftertaste of beef, vegetables, and herbs, but hey, it was food, and so he dug in. After a moment, he looked up. “Does she -- uh, the queen -- always make speeches like that?”
“The speeches boost morale,” Radek informed him, and Rodney mentally snorted at the proud and almost adoring expression on his face. “Her Majesty gives a short speech every night before the evening meal.”
“Her father did something like it, only his speeches were more about sacrifice and less about how valuable we lowly beings are to the Crown,” John added with a slight smirk. Ronon snorted, whether in amusement or agreement or both, Rodney wasn’t quite certain. “Elizabeth thinks more highly of commoners than her father did.”
Rodney pointed his spoon at John; the other man flinched as a few hot droplets from the soup hit his face. Rodney ignored John’s scowl as he wiped at his face in favor of saying, “That’s another thing that I’ve been wondering about. You call the queen by her name, while Radek calls her by her title. Why?”
One corner of John’s mouth twitched, and he glanced at Radek, whose face was slightly pink. “Well, for one thing, Elizabeth and I have been friends since childhood. I was the lowly stable-boy she decided to befriend out of boredom.”
“And the other thing is that Radek’s been pining away for her ever since she let him and his family return to Lantea,” Ronon said in his matter-of-fact way. He ignored Radek’s glare.
“I do not pine,” Radek said, readjusting his glasses and attempting a dignified frown. “I simply have a healthy amount of respect for Her Ma--” He stopped and rolled his eyes in exasperation when everyone grinned at him.
“Let him and his family return to Lantea?” Rodney repeated blankly, and Radek’s frown deepened.
“Ah, yes, I never mentioned my last name, did I?” He smiled, the bitter twist of his lips darkening his face for a moment. “I am Radek Zelenka.”
“Oh.” Rodney blinked, processing that for a moment. Well, it certainly explained Radek’s disdain for the man -- his grandfather, Rodney supposed, or a great-uncle -- that had gotten their entire family exiled from Lantea. “So you lived--”
“With the Genii until Her Majesty came to King Cowen to try and form an alliance against the Mice,” Radek said, and the bitter edge of his smile shifted to one of ruefulness. “Instead, she returned with me in tow, and I have been doing my best to serve the Crown ever since.”
“Doing your best to serve Elizabeth, you mean,” John interjected, and grinned at Radek’s narrowed eyes. “Oh, please, everyone sees how you look at her--”
“Excuse me, sir?” It was the blond woman from before, and Radek’s entire face brightened with relief as she interrupted the conversation. “There seems to be a problem with one of the long-reach cannons and--”
“Of course, of course, I’ll see to it immediately,” Radek said. He almost knocked his chair over in his haste to get to his feet and escape the conversation. “Take me there, if you would?”
“Radek, you did not have anything to eat,” Teyla reminded him, frowning a little in concern.
“I will eat later,” Radek said quickly, already backing away from the table. He paused, narrowed his eyes at Ronon and John, and added, “And one final time, I do not pine.” Then he fled before the two grinning men could say a word.
“Does the queen--” Rodney began, and John shook his head, looking amused and almost regretful. The expression made his eyes seem greener, and Rodney ducked his head and studied his bowl of stew.
“Everyone but Elizabeth sees how he looks at her,” Teyla remarked, and then added in a sterner tone, “Ronon, John, must you two torment Radek? You have been teasing him for years. Enough is enough.”
“I’ll stop teasing when he finally gets up the courage to tell her how he feels,” Ronon said, apparently unperturbed at Teyla’s scolding. And also seemingly unaffected by her frown, because he grinned at her and began eating Radek’s serving of stew even as she sighed and shook her head.
Teyla turned a smile upon Rodney. “How was your first lesson?”
He shrugged, feeling John’s gaze on him. “It was fine, although I’m sure I’ll be sore tomorrow. Some parts of my body just aren’t meant to be stretched, and yet John felt the need to stretch them anyway.”
John looked amused. “You’ll thank me later,” he said, and added, “We’ll do the stretching exercises twice a day. Once before breakfast and another before supper, and then Teyla will--”
“Twice a day?” Rodney repeated, incredulous, and pointed his spoon at John again. He was almost disappointed when no droplets hit the other man’s face this time. “No way. I’m not doing two torture sessions a day. I told you already, I can hide in a closet and--”
“You’ll do what I -- what Elizabeth tells you to do,” John said. The smile he wore as he said the words didn’t reach his eyes, which were as hard as stone. “You may be a guest, but she’s still the queen, and you will obey her. Elizabeth doesn’t want you to get killed just because you’re slothful--”
“I am not lazy,” Rodney snapped, throwing down his spoon and folding his arms against his chest. “I just don’t think you understand that I am not athletic in the slightest. Gym was the only class I didn’t pass with flying colors, and even then, I probably should have failed, but the teacher wanted me out of his class because I apparently complained too much, so he passed me. The class was a total waste of time, anyway, with pointless games like Dodgeball and Squirrels in the Tree, which had no redeeming value whatsoever, and-- and don’t look at me like that. I’m not lazy.” He glared as John’s look of apparent disgust shifted to one of annoyance.
“You might not be lazy, but you have got to be one of the most irritating people I’ve ever met,” John informed him through gritted teeth, eyes dark. “Here I am, trying to keep your ungrateful ass safe--”
“I won’t be safe until I’m back home!” Rodney all but yelled, and jumped to his feet. His stomach roiled and his face felt like it was on fire. “Okay, there might be idiotic teenager muggers back home, there are still no giant mice that want to eat me!”
“John--” Teyla began as John’s eyes narrowed.
“I’m trying to teach you how to defend yourself from the Mice, so you don’t end up dead like Aid--“ He paused, a muscle jumping in his jaw, and bit back whatever name he was going to say. “Maybe if you stopped complaining for one second, you’d see--”
“That I can defeat a six-foot tall mouse by becoming flexible? I don’t think so,” Rodney said, well aware that he was sneering and that his voice dripped with sarcasm and disdain. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go see what Radek is doing. Science is what I’m brilliant at, after all, not stretching.”
“Rodney,” Teyla tried again, and Rodney rolled his eyes and walked away, ignoring her calls for him to wait.
***
***
It took him a few dead-ends before he realized that he’d stomped off down a corridor without thinking and gotten himself lost in this labyrinth they called a palace. Perfect. Could this day get any worse?
“This is what I get for trying to be a halfway decent brother. Get Jeannie a present for Christmas? Of course it’d be cursed and send me to this hellhole, because that is just my luck.” Continuing to mutter to himself, he turned around and headed back in the direction he hoped was the dining hall.
Then he flinched and almost tripped over his own feet as a loud, painful ringing rattled his bones and filled his ears. It was a bell, of that he was certain, but one which made his teeth and bones ache. It definitely wasn't the one that announced the hour.
The ringing continued, making his head pound. “What the hell?” he muttered, but couldn’t even hear his own words amid the ringing. He sighed in relief when the bell finally went silent. Still, what had that been about? He decided to ask Radek -- once Rodney figured out how to get to the other man’s laboratory, that is.
He turned the corner and froze, realizing that the bell must have been a warning. It’s really too bad that no one mentioned a warning system to me, he thought bitterly, carefully retreating back behind the corner and praying that the three Mice hadn’t spotted him.
He backed away quietly, only to realize that he was in yet another dead-end corridor and trapped. “Shit,” he breathed to himself, and closed his eyes. Well, at least if the Mice got him, he wouldn’t have to hear John’s I-told-you-so. He opened his eyes a second later when a low snarl reached his ears, and met the red, ravenous eyes of one of the Mice.
Rodney did the only sane thing to do: he backed into the nearest corner and curled up into a ball, made himself smaller, less attractive to a hungry Mouse. (How smart were these creatures, anyway?) Desperate words tumbled from his lips as though the Mice might listen to reason.
“Look, you really don’t want to eat me. I mean, what if you’re allergic to people from Canada? It’s just, it’s just dying by being eaten by rodents wasn’t exactly how I planned to die, much less die at the age of twenty-one-- I haven’t even made a name of myself in the scientific community, and--”
The words died in his throat as the Mouse dragged him upright, claws digging into his shoulder, and god, he really was going to die, and his family wasn't even going to have a body to bury, and everyone in Lantea would just think of him as that Canadian idiot who didn’t listen and got himself killed--
Rodney closed his eyes again as the Mouse’s rank breath washed over him, because yeah, it might be cowardly, but he didn’t want the Mouse’s teeth to be the last thing he saw. His eyes were still squeezed shut when the Mouse’s claws tightened and it let out a low growl. And then the Mouse’s grip was gone; Rodney stumbled backwards as the sounds of revolver-fire and high-pitched screeches rang in his ears.
John grinned at him when he finally opened his eyes. “Hey, Rodney.”
“John,” he breathed, and felt a giddy sort of disbelief as the Mouse twitched in its death throes at his feet.
“You’re welcome,” John drawled, and then hefted his revolver. “Now, how about we get you somewhere safe?”
“Safe would be good,” Rodney said and all but leaped over the Mouse’s corpse and the two other Mice that John had apparently killed as John lead the way. “So, uh, that was really, um, excellent timing. Thank you.”
John glanced sideways at him and just raised an eyebrow.
Rodney felt his face warm. "How did the Mice get into the castle?" he asked, forcing the heat from his cheeks, and rolled his eyes when John gestured for him to be quiet. He was very much aware that there were Mice in the castle that wanted to eat him, which was why he'd whispered.
When Rodney kept staring at him, demanding an answer, John shook his head. "One of the sentries must've been taken by surprise," he whispered, so quietly that Rodney had to lean in to hear him. "Now, shut up and just follow me, and maybe we'll both get out of this alive."
Rodney snorted, very quietly, in disbelief, but followed after John. There were more questions he wanted to ask, such as where John had gotten that revolver and the sword now hanging at his side (Rodney definitely didn't recall them during the stretching exercises), if everyone was all right, how many Mice there were, how they expected to kill all the Mice--
John stopped so suddenly that Rodney bumped into him, cursing. "What the hell--" he began, and then saw what made the other man falter.
Teyla smiled wearily at them. "Rodney. John. It is good to see you two are well," she said, voice low and husky with pain, and John moved towards her to steady her as she swayed. She shook her head at his concerned look. "I am fine. It looks worse than it is."
Staring at her arm, which dangled limp and bloody at her side, Rodney didn't believe her. He wanted to reach out and help her too, but John was supporting her on her good side already and he knew that he would only jostle her injured arm and cause her further pain if he tried to help.
Teyla fumbled with something hanging at her side, agony contorting her face as she offered the two sticks to Rodney. They were the wooden sticks she'd used during her exercises with John, he realized as he stared down at them. "I cannot use them and you are unarmed," she explained when he continued to stare.
Rodney accepted them, holding them awkwardly as Teyla murmured, "We have formed a barricade around the infirmary, dining hall, and armory. I do not know--" She took in a deep breath and Rodney watched the color drain from her face. "I do not know how many had left the dining hall before the alarm sounded."
Bile rose in Rodney's throat at that and he swallowed it back. Radek, that blond woman-- had they been caught by surprise when the Mice invaded? Were they already dead somewhere? God, he wanted to be home, where there wasn't a war going on in his city.
"Where's Elizabeth?" John asked softly, and at Teyla's answer that the queen was in the infirmary, said, "We'll go there." Silent now, they headed towards where the others had barricaded themselves against the Mice, listening for sounds of fighting and cries for help.
It was a scream they heard first, a cry of mingled fear and fury, followed by the snarl of a Mouse. John nudged Teyla gently toward Rodney and took up his revolver. Rodney stared at the dark, dangerous look on John's face and wondered if he would have an expression like that if he'd lived in Lantea instead of Canada.
John turned the corner and a second later the sound of revolver-fire and the dying screams of Mice rang out. He returned with a woman who had blond hair and furious blue eyes. She clutched a blood-stained sword. "Five on one, or else I would have had them," she whispered furiously, apparently oblivious to the long scratch on her face that oozed blood.
"I'm sure you would have, Laura," Teyla said, gently but sincerely, and the two women exchanged weak smiles before they continued towards the infirmary.
***
***
This time, it was the sound of rifles and revolvers that reached their ears. The sticks in Rodney's hands were slippery with sweat, and he almost dropped one as Teyla whispered, "The Mice must be at the barricade. We have to--"
"I know," John said, just as soft, and handed his revolver to her. She held it awkwardly with her good hand as he drew his sword.
The woman named Laura said nothing, but her eyes blazed and she tightened her grip on her sword and stepped ahead of the group, back straight and shoulders back, as regal as Elizabeth. Had it really been only hours since Elizabeth had swept into the infirmary and Radek had explained that this was the land of Lantea?
“Um,” Rodney said, looking down at the sticks and wondering what on earth they expected him to do. And what the group’s actual plan was. Were they really just going to go around the corner and attack the Mice from behind--
Apparently, that was exactly what they were planning, because Laura took one step forward, and then another, and then she was around the corner and gone, Teyla and John following quickly after.
Rodney stood still for a moment, listening to the sound of vicious fighting and people dying just beyond his sight, and wished with all of his heart to be home, getting punched in the arm by Jeannie for his crappy present. Then he took a deep breath and plunged around the corner and into battle.
Two blood-streaked swords gleamed in the flickering light of the torches as John and Laura twirled and dodged the Mice’s claws, feinted and then stabbed.
Teyla stood a little further back, obvious strain on her ashen face but determination in the way she held the revolver in her good hand and fired again and again. Each time she fired, a Mouse staggered and fell, and did not rise again.
But there were so many Mice, a full dozen turning to snarl and move toward Teyla and John and Laura, others trying to destroy the barricade of chairs and tables that blocked the infirmary, and it all seemed so very hopeless, like this was some grand last stand in which they all died.
Rodney could feel his throat closing up with panic as he clutched the sticks. He wondered if he would help or hinder the three by being here, unskilled, untaught. But he couldn’t go back, and he couldn’t leave them, and so he stayed, helplessly clutching the sticks and watching the Mice approach.
Laura fell first, with a quiet, choked sound of pain that was almost lost amid the yells and snarls. Rodney saw her fall, saw her lie still and silent on the ground, face tilted away from him so that he couldn’t see her expression. Fear, sharp and bitter, was on his tongue, or maybe that was bile, as he willed her to get up again. She didn’t.
John bent down, snatched the sword from Laura’s unresisting hand, and then everything was blur as he launched himself at the nearest Mouse, both swords flashing in his grip as he hacked away at the creature.
Another Mouse moved toward Laura’s unmoving form, and Rodney found himself leaping forward on pure instinct, an angry snarl escaping his lips. She was down, she wasn’t fighting, why couldn’t the Mouse just leave her alone-- One of the sticks struck the Mouse’s neck, and the Mouse growled, the sound more of annoyance than pain. For once, Rodney didn’t care, lashing out with the other stick.
Then he was falling, ears ringing, and met blackness as his head hit the stone floor.
He struggled out of unconsciousness, head aching, wondering if maybe this would do the trick, if he’d just needed to lose consciousness again to get back to Canada. But no, he could hear the sounds of fighting still, though the sounds seemed far away.
Rodney opened his eyes and lifted his head, wincing as his head pounded and his gaze blurred. When his gaze cleared, he could see Laura, still lying silently on the ground, and John and Teyla, still on their feet, fighting. And he could see Ronon and a group of men and women holding makeshift weapons and standing between the Mice and the barricade.
There were bodies, both of Mice and soldiers, sprawled unmoving throughout the corridor. Rodney tried not to stare at them.
He sat up instead, looking around for the sticks. They were gone. For a moment, his hands actually ached for them, because he needed something, anything, to protect himself from the Mice. Then he clenched his hands into fists and the sensation passed. He thought that maybe one of Ronon’s army was using the sticks, but his sight was still a little blurry around the edges and he couldn’t tell.
Teyla spared him a glance that was warm with relief, and shouted, “Get to the barricade if you can, Rodney.”
Without a weapon, what else could Rodney do but obey? He scrambled to his feet, then hesitated, gaze lingering on Laura. She could still be alive, still breathing. The blood staining her shirt made it impossible to tell, though, not unless Rodney got in close and felt for a pulse.
When he crouched down next to her, fingers pressed against her throat, it took a moment for him to realize that there was an actual heartbeat and it wasn’t just his hand trembling. The heartbeat was faint and unsteady, but it was there.
Rodney was careful when he took her by the shoulders, half-dragging her across the floor toward the barricade. He kept his head low, his eyes focused on Laura’s bloody back. If a Mouse attacked, he didn’t want to see his death coming.
He bumped against something hard and unyielding. When he looked over his shoulder, he saw it was a leg of a chair. He’d reached the barricade. Through the cluster of chairs and tables, he could see the door of the infirmary, so close and yet so far away.
He tried to speak, realized his throat was too dry from terror, tried again. “T-throw something out here. A bandage, anything. I’ve got Laura and she’s bleeding, and some bandages would be really good right now, so….”
Then it was only his voice, weak and hoarse, speaking into silence and fumbling to a stop. He knew that he shouldn’t turn, shouldn’t see what had stunned everyone into silence, but then Laura moaned very softly beneath his hands, and he turned to look at her, and then past her, at the new Mouse that had appeared.
It was definitely a new Mouse. Most of them looked the same, but not this one, not when it seemed double the size of the other Mice and wore a garnished crown that had once been gold atop its head. Apparently the Mice had a king or queen.
The mass of Mice and soldiers parted like the Red Sea, until it was only John and the crowned Mouse, staring at each other. There was a cut on John’s forehead; Rodney watched the blood trickle down John’s face, mingle with the sweat shining on his skin.
Then John grinned, a quick flash of white teeth, and saluted the Mouse with a hand that shook from exhaustion. He was down to one sword now, the other probably in a corpse littering the floor. “So this is the real thing,” he said, almost conversationally, as though he weren’t breathless and bleeding. “I mean, if His Majesty, Lord of the Mice, decides to grace our palace with his presence--”
The Mouse King snarled.
John’s grin turned cold, the smile more of a baring of teeth than anything else. “Was that a challenge? If so, I accept.” He took a small step forward and lifted the sword so that it pointed directly at the Mouse King’s chest. “I wonder what your friends will do, once they see you dead.”
As though to answer, the Mouse King lunged, claws reaching for John’s face, John’s eyes, and a cry of warning and alarm choked Rodney into silence as he watched the duel unfold.
John wasn’t casual now, intent in each weary, purposeful movement he made. The only vestige of his earlier relaxed attitude remained in the hint of a smirk that lingered at the corner of his mouth.
The sword flashed in the torchlight, and the Mouse King roared and reeled back, clutching its injured arm. The other Mice made a noise-a quiet, angry moan that swelled as blood splattered the floor-but they stayed still, watching the fight with bright, glittering eyes.
John struck once more, grimly silent, and the Mouse King roared again.
Torchlight reflected off the crown, temporarily blinding Rodney. As he blinked away spots, he heard someone stifle a cry. When he could see again, John was pale with pain, blood staining his left shoulder where the Mouse King’s claws had grazed him. His steps were more weary than purposeful now, almost a stagger as he fought to keep out of the Mouse King’s reach.
Rodney stared at the blood on the Mouse King’s claws. It wasn’t fair. John had been fighting all this time, and now the Mouse King was going to take advantage of his weariness and-- and-- kill--
John stumbled, and the Mouse King leapt, and then Rodney was up and running full-tilt at the Mouse King, throwing himself at it, fists flailing wildly in an attempt to strike the Mouse King’s snout. Rodney was vaguely aware that he was shouting, calling the Mouse King a coward who only fought exhausted and injured enemies, but he couldn’t hear it over the rushing of blood in his ears.
One of his fists connected, and the Mouse King screeched.
Then there was pain, bright, sharp agony that turned his vision white and then black around the edges, the type of pain that was like a punch to the gut even as it radiated from his chest. The Mouse King must have clawed him.
He was on his knees, he realized. When had his legs given out? Rodney stared up at the Mouse King, a little defiant, but mostly terrified, hoping that at least this would give John the chance to run--
He watched the sword pierce the Mouse King’s chest without comprehension. It was only when the Mouse King staggered and fell, half-crushing him beneath its terrible weight, that Rodney realized John had taken the opportunity to stab the Mouse King through the heart.
Well, that was a better option than running, he supposed, and then hoped that John would drag the Mouse King’s corpse off him before he suffocated.
Someone pulled the corpse away, and Rodney smiled weakly at Ronon, who grinned back for a second and then frowned. “Better get you to the infirmary,” he said, master of the obvious, and Rodney laughed until the white-hot agony in his chest convinced him that was a very, very bad idea.
“Yes, let’s just tear down the barricade,” he began, breathless from the pain, and then realized that there was no more fighting. When he looked around, there were no living Mice to be found, just the still bodies on the floor. “What--?”
Ronon shrugged. “We killed their king. We won.”
“That seems--” Rodney said, and stopped. No, it didn’t seem too easy, not when Laura was so close to death, and they had been at war for over sixty years. He swallowed, and then marveled that relief could taste so bitter. “Good. That’s…really good.”
Then he closed his eyes and gave himself over to the darkness that had been lingering at the corners of his vision.
***
***
When Rodney woke up, he was in the infirmary again, only this time it was filled to capacity. The pain in his chest was muted but there, a dull ache that promised lightning bolts of agony if he tried to move too quickly.
He sat up, carefully, and looked around for anyone familiar. There was Laura, paler than snow in a bed the next row over, and that bored soldier who had been testing the gun with Radek and the other scientist, just two beds away from Rodney.
Teyla stood next to a bed, her head bowed and her arm in a sling. It looked like she was praying. Ronon stood next to her, face grave and intent.
And then there was John, shirtless and heavily bandaged, sitting next to a bed in a corner of the room, his good arm around Elizabeth’s shoulders. His face was pale, and Rodney wondered why he didn’t look happy. He’d defeated the Mouse King, after all, and won the war.
“Rodney.”
Rodney met Carson’s red-rimmed eyes and realized why. “How many?” he asked, hating himself for asking but needing to know, all the same.
Carson didn’t need ask what he meant. “Forty-three. Thirty-nine injured, and two…two who won’t make it.” There were shadows in Carson’s eyes, his grief and regret shining clear, and Rodney looked away.
Then he looked back. “Two who can’t be helped by your technology, you mean. If they came back to Canada, they might-- they might--”
Carson stared back, expression going lax with shock, and then he turned and called, hoarse and just a bit too loud, “Your Majesty. Your Majesty, we can, we can open the portal-- Laura and Radek--”
Elizabeth started to her feet, turning to Carson with wide eyes, looking suddenly much younger even as Rodney’s stomach clenched at Radek as one of the dying. For an instant, all the lines of strain and worry were smoothed from Elizabeth’s face.
“Do it,” she said, voice ringing with command and something else too-- joy, perhaps. “We will send those who need the advanced technology, maybe even save Evan’s hand--”
“I’ll get the portal ready,” John said, and Rodney watched him get to his feet with a wince, the muscles in his back flexing as his shoulders came up in a reflexive shudder of pain. Then his expression smoothed out and his clear voice carried through the room. “Ronon, could you round up anyone who can help you get the injured onto the stretchers and to the portal room?”
Ronon nodded.
“I will help as well,” Teyla said, and ignored John’s pointed glance at her injured arm.
And then John was gone, and Teyla and Ronon as well, and finally Elizabeth, excusing herself to find the surviving members of the Council and make the decision to send the injured to Canada official.
Carson watched them all go, his expression one of mingled worry and hope, and then patted Rodney on the shoulder and said, “Tell me if the pain gets unbearable.” After that, he moved onto the next person, bending over their bed and smiling reassuringly at them.
Rodney stayed in bed until he was certain Carson was sufficiently distracted by the other patients. Then he dragged himself out of bed, ignoring the tightness in his chest, the black spots in his vision, the way the floor rippled a little under his feet. He needed to find Radek, see for himself the extent of Radek’s injuries.
Radek was in the bed furthest from the door, probably placed there during the worst of the fighting. It was the bed Elizabeth and John had been sitting next to, which Rodney should have guessed.
Radek’s face was colorless beneath the bandages that covered most of his head and his forehead, and his breaths were shallow, the blanket barely moving as his chest rose and fell. His glasses were nowhere to be found, and it made him look younger, almost naked.
“He saved Her Majesty’s life,” someone said. When Rodney glanced up to see who’d spoken, a pretty brunette smiled sadly back. “He threw himself between the queen and a Mouse, and it threw him aside and his head--” She stopped, swallowing hard. Rodney could see the sheen of unshed tears. “It’s the sort of coma you don’t wake up from.”
Rodney looked at Radek’s still face and wondered if modern medicine would be able to help him. After all, brain injuries were…. He firmly banished the thought. Radek would be fine. Rodney wasn’t the type to believe in happily ever after, but in a world where giant Mice existed, he thought that Radek should get the storybook ending, win the queen’s heart and build her that airplane.
“He’ll be okay,” he said, forcing himself to sound confident. It earned him a small smile and a nod. “I’ll just-- I’ll stay with him until they get the portal ready.”
The woman’s smile was wider then, more sincere. “If he needs anything, just call for me or Carson.” She turned to go, and then paused. “And my name’s Jennifer. Just call for Jennifer or Carson.”
“Thank you,” he said, and watched Jennifer cross to another row. Then he turned back to Radek and waited for John and Elizabeth to return.
***
***
Twelve people were coming with Rodney to Canada. Rodney wasn’t quite sure how he was going to explain their injuries to the hospital, but he didn’t really care.
He studied the portal. It was a large, circular thing, with symbols he couldn’t hope to decipher. They weren’t like any language he knew. He supposed it did look a little like a portal to another world, though. “Do you know what the symbols say?” he asked John, who stood next to him.
John shrugged and then winced. Apparently it was going to take a while for him to realize that shrugging with an injured shoulder was a bad idea. “Nobody knows. Scholars guess that it’s a language, but it’s not like any we have in Lantea.”
“Huh,” Rodney said, squinting at the symbols for another second. Maybe it was an old language of Earth. He didn’t really know much about languages beside English anyway.
John cleared his throat. When Rodney glanced at him, John’s expression was unreadable. “I don’t think I ever actually said thank-you for, uh, saving my life.” Before Rodney could react, John grinned. “Though I guess now we’re even.”
Rodney snorted, and then had to catch his breath as his chest protested. “Please. You saved my life from three Mice by shooting them in the back. I, meanwhile, attacked a Mouse with my bare hands. We are so not even.”
John shook his head, looking torn between amusement and disbelief. “You really are something.” He nudged Rodney with his good elbow, leaned in close so that Rodney could feel the soft words spoken into his ear and had to suppress a shiver. “But hey, I guess that prophecy was right. You helped end the war.”
Rodney preened a little at that. It was pretty nice to know you were a hero from legend. “Yes, I did. And I expect a statue in my honor when I come back.”
“Come back?”
Rodney raised an eyebrow and ignored the way his stomach dropped to the floor at the blank surprise in John’s voice. “The portal’s open now,” he reminded him. “That means I can visit, help Radek build that airplane for the queen once he gets better--”
“Train with me so Teyla can teach you how to use the bantos rods,” John interjected helpfully. His grin turned slightly wicked at Rodney’s expression. “What? Just because the war is over doesn’t mean you should forget learning self-defense.”
Rodney thought of more training sessions with John, all sleeveless shirts and mocking smirks, and shook his head. “I really don’t like you,” he said.
John grinned. “Yes, you do,” he said confidently, and there was a look in his eyes that made Rodney’s throat close up and something like hope flutter in his chest.
“Yes,” Rodney said after a moment, as the symbols on the portal began to glow with a shimmering blue light. “I suppose I do.”