FIC: Blaze
Title: Blaze
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: none
Summary: “Not bad for a first contact.” “Oh, now you’ve jinxed us. I’ve been waiting for something to go wrong since yesterday.”
Author’s Note: Written for the 2007
sga_santa.
2of7 wanted McShep h/c with Rodney getting whumped, and he does, but this ended up being more about John (who insisted it be written from his POV, and that what hurts one of the boys hurts the other).
John wasn’t really sure what was worse: the missions that sucked right from the get-go, or the missions that went smoothly right up until the flying arrows or Wraith attack or - one of his personal favorites - the Genii showing up.
Now make no mistake, the Talirians were nice people. A peaceful agrarian society that traded often with a small number of close allies but didn’t travel much beyond that. They were friends of friends of the Athosians, and therefore somewhat hesitant to open negotiations with these Lanteans they had heard such astonishing tales of for the last several years.
Teyla had assured them that their friends had always spoken well of the Talirians, but Atlantis had been deceived before (see again: the Genii), so John was, understandably, just as cautious as the Talirians.
The initial meet and greet had gone smoothly, Rodney on his best behavior, Ronon managing to look somewhat less menacing than usual, Teyla with her typical grace. And John, for his part, exuded confidence and cordiality, making an instant friend of their guide as well as of several village children playing a game almost exactly like jacks.
That one of the children ended up being the son of the Talirian council leader, Marat, was only in their favor, and Marat was soon inviting John’s team to lunch with him and rest before they began trade negotiations.
By the end of the day it was clear that an agreement could be reached - the Talirian people reassured about the Lanteans honesty and goodwill, and the Lanteans pleased by the quality of Talir’s grains.
John debated returning to Atlantis and resuming negotiations in the morning, but Marat’s offer of lodging for the night had been so sincere and so laden with pride of hospitality that he decided to accept.
He had been waiting all day for the other shoe to drop, for the catch in this so-far perfect mission, and it came as the team was being shown to their rooms.
There were three rooms available in Marat’s home: to Teyla he gave his daughter’s room, as the young woman was “recently married, such a good husband Selir will make her”; to Ronon, the room of his elder son, who would room with his brother; and to Rodney and John, the guest room.
It was as they approached this last that they passed an open doorway, and John suddenly found himself minus one astrophysicist.
John shrugged his shoulders at Marat’s raised eyebrow, hoping to convey that ‘what can you do’ feeling that often helped to diffuse the tensions raised by Rodney’s blunders, and they followed Rodney into the room.
“Is that - ” Rodney cut himself off, eyes gleaming in sudden excitement. “It is. You have Ancient technology.”
At Marat’s evident confusion, he amended, “The technology of the Ancestors…this device over here?”
“Yes,” Marat agreed. “We have much of that.”
“Really?”
Uh-oh, John thought, that was Rodney’s super excited voice. Time to rein the man in before their entire day’s work was for naught.
“I apologize for Dr. McKay, Marat. Such devices are of particular interest to him and sometimes he forgets to ask before…investigating.”
Marat chuckled. “I have a friend who is much the same way, Colonel. In fact, he is our foremost expert on devices like the one with which Dr. McKay is so taken. There was no offence.”
“Well then,” Rodney interjected smoothly, “may I ask what it is that this device does?”
“It is a tool used for farming, as is the majority of the Ancestor’s technology found on Talir.”
“Oh,” said Rodney, enthusiasm slightly dimmed. A thought occurred, and, rallying, he added, “but there is more?”
“Indeed, but that is a discussion for tomorrow, I think. I will ask my friend to show you more of what we have.”
“Yes, that would be…that would be great. I look forward to it. Thank you.”
John added his own thanks, and they were shown to their room.
On the Team Sheppard Disaster Scale, this incident wouldn’t even register. Unless, of course, this somehow led to his scientist being kidnapped and forced to fix broken bits of Ancient tech; mercifully, this seemed unlikely.
*****
Marat was as good as his word, and as soon as breakfast was finished Rodney and Nomi, Marat’s friend, headed off to Nomi’s workshop at the edge of the fields.
The remaining negotiations went smoothly, and John excused himself as they were concluded to check on Rodney and remind him that it was approaching lunchtime.
As he approached the workshop he could hear Rodney’s strident tones tumbling over Nomi’s lower ones, both men seemingly talking a mile a minute. He leaned in the doorway, unable to hide his grin as the each tried to prove his point of view, gesticulating as they went.
“Getting along, I take it?”
Both men looked in his direction, Rodney with a grin to match his own.
“Quite well, Colonel.”
“Dr. McKay is very knowledgeable. He has had a number of ideas for improving our equipment.”
“I’ll bet he does,” John said. “I’ve been sent to remind you that it’s lunchtime.”
Nomi startled. “Already? Very well, I’ll be along in a few minutes.”
“Sure. See you at lunch, then.”
He and Rodney left, taking a meandering path back to the town center.
“So? What’s the verdict?”
“Like Marat said, it’s mainly farming equipment. Apparently the land here is incredibly fertile. Most of the equipment is in good repair - Nomi’s not entirely stupid.”
“He seemed to be holding his own in there.”
“Yes, well, he is, admittedly, an expert within a narrow scope, but these people don’t really care for much beyond farming, so his knowledge is limited. They have a firm grasp of this technology but don’t use it for any broader applications.”
“Like communications.”
“Exactly. They haven’t developed any other technology beyond basic electricity. Apparently, all of their fabric is still spun and sewn by hand. Stuff like that.”
“Can we help them?”
“Nomi wanted me to see their irrigation system after lunch. I’ll take a look, and if I think we can improve it we can offer to trade our knowledge and assistance.” Rodney looked over at John. “How’s the trading going, anyway?”
“All finished. I think if we can help with their tech, we can get ourselves a nice little bonus.”
Rodney grinned. “Not bad for a first contact.”
“Oh, now you’ve jinxed us. I’ve been waiting for something to go wrong since yesterday.”
“Everything has gone smoothly, hasn’t it?”
“Rodney!”
“Sorry, sorry,” he soothed. “Would you feel better if I promised to offend someone at lunch?”
“Not particularly, but now it’s all but inevitable.”
*****
It was not, in fact, inevitable. Lunch passed quite pleasantly, and while with formal negotiations concluded it seemed they should head home, Nomi pleaded that the Lanteans stay long enough for Dr. McKay to look at the irrigation system.
“Efficiency has been dropping, steadily, for the last two months, but the other workers and I are at a loss to explain how. We have had to shut the entire system down several times to search for answers.”
“If Dr. McKay and your team would like to stay,” Marat said, “we would be glad of the assistance.”
John replied, “Sure, I think we can swing that. We just have to dial home and tell our people we’ll be staying a bit longer.”
“Of course. Please, take a rest after you have done so, enjoy yourselves. I have other matters to attend to, but feel free to ask anyone here for assistance should you need it.”
“Thank you.”
They discussed their plans, Teyla deciding to join some of the villagers in their meditation. Rodney left with Nomi soon after, John watching Rodney’s retreating back a bit wistfully. It would have been fun to tag along, watch his scientist in action, but instead he and Ronon dutifully headed back to the gate to update Atlantis.
*****
Colonel Carter was pleased with their progress and told them that, since everything was fine on Atlantis, the extra time on Talir would be well spent.
Duty dispatched, John and Ronon began a…discussion…about whether their rest time should be spent sparring.
“Haven’t kicked your ass in nearly a week, Sheppard.”
“I happen to like it that way, and we’re supposed to be on our best behavior here. Besides, I thought I’d go out to the fields, check on McKay.”
“He can handle himself.”
“I’m sure he can, it’s just -”
Ronon halted abruptly. “You smell that?”
John’s eyes widened. “Smoke.”
And there, above one of the far fields, they saw a rising column of thick, black smoke.
“The silenna’s on fire.”
“Shit. Rodney.”
John caught Ronon’s eyes for a brief second, then they both took off running. At first they ran perpendicular to the planting, intent only on reaching the irrigation plant that they knew was all too close to the burning grain; after several minutes of fighting their way through the 8-foot silenna, however, Ronon grabbed John by the back of his tac vest and shoved him towards the end of the row.
They turned the corner and ran, full out, faster than they’d ever run in Atlantis, John unclipping his p-90 and tossing it aside without a thought.
The stench of burning filled their nostrils now, and John fumbled in his vest for a cloth to cover his face.
“This way!” Ronon called, and they turned down another row, both men breathing heavily from the sudden exertion and the smoke-laden air.
Soon they were close, and then they were too close, having to back-track suddenly when the path in front of them became a wall of flames. They had to outrun the fire, outrun the choking smoke and blistering heat, and please, please let us not be too late, John thought. Please let Rodney and Nomi have noticed the flames in time.
Two more turns, another close call, and then they could see it - the vague outline of what could only be the irrigation plant just a couple hundred feet away, almost entirely surrounded by flames.
“Rodney!” John shouted, uncertain he could even be heard above the flames. “Rodney!”
He heard Ronon join in, and they shouted as they ran, voices already hoarse from smoke. Ronon reached the small facility first, vaulting himself up the stairs and disappearing inside the enclosed section which would have offered little protection to the scientists; by the time John got to the stairs, Ronon was back, shaking his head.
“Not here.”
“Okay,” John said, gasping for breath. “Okay, which way would they go?”
He and Ronon turned, surveying all directions. Most of the field around them was burning now, but depending on when the other men had left…
John answered his own question. “Towards the village, right? We came from the south…everything else is just fields?”
“The lake, but that’s still towards the village.”
“Yeah. Let’s go.”
John wanted almost nothing more than a deep breath, but the smoke hanging in the air made that impossible. As Ronon turned into the next silenna row John looked back - the ground they had stood on just moments ago was now burning. He ran faster.
They had to turn more often now to avoid the fires, and if it were anyone but Ronon leading John would have resigned himself to getting lost in the burning labyrinth. Hopefully, the way had been clear when Rodney had passed by.
Ronon still called for him with almost every breath, bellowing out the scientist’s name, but John was finding it harder to force the words from his throat. He concentrated on running, on scanning for flames and Rodney, on breathing what oxygen he could force into his protesting lungs.
When Ronon stopped running John ran straight into him.
“MCKAY!”
And there, just barely, John could hear someone shout back.
Ronon pointed to his left. “Over here.”
They crashed through a row of silenna, and another, and…the next was on fire.
“Rodney!” John shouted, voice mostly drowned out by the crackling flames.
“MCKAY!” Ronon roared.
“Here! Over here! I can’t…”
Ronon backed up a few steps, then jumped through the burning grain, leaving behind a gaping John.
A second later, Ronon shouted back to come through and John leapt without hesitation.
Rodney had his shirt pulled over his mouth and nose, barely standing, supporting a sooty, singed looking Nomi with a leg that was likely broken.
Ronon took one look at Nomi and scooped the man up in a position that couldn’t be comfortable, but was surely better than walking.
John, meanwhile, couldn’t help himself, grabbing Rodney into a tight hug and saying, “Dammit, Rodney.”
Obviously startled, the other man stumbled his words over his choking cough. “’m sorry…I couldn’t…I had to…”
“Time to go,” Ronon announced, and yeah, John knew they should have left already, but he’d just been so relieved.
Ronon didn’t seem slowed much by the weight of his burden, but overall they moved at a pace more loping than running, prolonged smoke inhalation barely allowing Rodney to breathe, let alone run.
Just a few minutes later he collapsed, stumbling against John who couldn’t grab him before he fell.
John’s own lungs burned, his legs trembled with exhaustion, but he stooped to Rodney and manhandled him into a fireman’s carry, weaving slightly as he got his legs under him before blindly following Ronon’s back.
The fire seemed everywhere now, their progress dangerously slow, but Ronon shouted back that he heard people up ahead even as John lost his fight with the smoke and flames and his legs buckled, dropping to his knees and sending Rodney tumbling to the ground.
He had to pick Rodney back, had to move away from the flames that now licked at his heels, but John couldn’t fight anymore, couldn’t breathe, slipping into unconsciousness as he whispered, “I’m sorry.”
*****
Several days passed before John was awake and could stay that way, grateful to have missed most of the oxygen therapy and that he no longer needed the endotracheal tube, but unfortunately now all too aware of the burns he had sustained in his mad run to save Rodney.
The new skin on his shoulder pulled and stretched as he sat, that injury the largest but, thankfully, least severe of his burns. He took a few breaths, still unable to breathe deeply, and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.
John stopped first at Ronon’s bed, smiling in the face of the other man’s glare. Ronon wanted desperately to be released but, wary of infection and patients who consistently ignored her discharge instructions, Dr. Keller had so far been able to keep him in the infirmary. Probably had something to do with the doc enlisting Teyla’s assistance…
John spent a few minutes with Ronon, answering questions about the movie Ronon had watched that morning, before moving on.
He passed by the bed where Nomi slept, nodding to the man’s sister who had been embarrassingly effusive in her thanks each time John stopped to chat.
A nurse was just finishing giving Rodney his medication as he approached, smiling shyly at John as he greeted her and pulling the privacy screen back in place as she left.
“She’s pretty,” John commented as he sat on the edge of Rodney’s bed. “Scoot your legs over a bit.”
Rodney grumbled, but did as instructed. “She’s dating Sgt. Woodley.”
“I know.” John grinned. “Doesn’t mean she’s not pretty.”
Rodney rolled his eyes but didn’t comment further.
“How’re you feeling today?”
“Better. My arm’s starting to blister, though.”
“I can see that. Guess we’ll all be off rotation for a while.”
“I know I’ve said it before, Colonel, but, um, thank you. I wouldn’t have made it much further.”
“Rodney,” John interrupted, feeling embarrassed in the face of Rodney’s obvious sincerity. “Of course I came.”
“I know, I know. I knew you’d come, but. I wasn’t sure if it would be in time.”
They were quiet for several moments, both men recalling the heat of the flames, the billowing, choking smoke. Without thought, John reached for Rodney’s hand, tangling their fingers together, head bowed, staring as he rubbed his thumb lightly across the other man’s skin.
“John?”
“I’ve never run so fast in my life.”
At his whispered confession, Rodney pulled his hand from John’s, which was just wrong, but he didn’t want to look up, to see that Rodney had understood what he meant and that he didn’t feel the same.
He felt Rodney shift on the bed, heard his small gasp of pain, and forced himself to look.
Rodney had levered himself into a sitting position, startlingly close. “John?” he asked again, but the words stuck in John’s throat.
The edge of Rodney’s mouth quirked upwards and the man looking so endearingly uncertain that John just had to lean in, to press his mouth softly against Rodney’s and quell the other man’s questions.
He pulled back but Rodney followed, holding tightly onto John’s arm for support as he returned a kiss for John’s kiss, then added more, each as sweet and soft as the last.
John closed his eyes then, leaning into Rodney as the kissing deepened, the pull of his shoulder easy to ignore as warmth bloomed inside him.
Several minutes later, resting their foreheads against one another, John whispered, “Guess that mission turned out near-perfect after all.”
Rodney laughed.