fic: "Shelter" . PG . 1/1
Title: "Shelter"
Author: renisanz
Prompt: Ronon/Jennifer, rainstorm
Category: Angst, Hurt/Comfort
Rating: PG
Words: 512
Warning/Spoilers: Set after “The Lost Tribe” (Season 5)
Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, just using for fun, not profit.
Notes: Another entry for the Drabble Tag at sg_onesweetlove .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Jennifer wiped the back of her wrist across her face, in poor effort to sooth the sting in her eyes. Damp hair remained plastered to her forehead, but at least the blunt edges of the fringe no longer hindered her vision. The darkness was bad enough.
Taking advantage of the quickly fading light, she checked the wound once again. The inflammation around the sutured edges of the gash had subsided a bit. The antibiotics were doing there job. She replaced the dressing over the wound. She would have liked to change the bandages, but she needed to conserve the supply.
“This is what I was afraid of,” she mumbled in the silence of the cave.
She didn't need him sacrificing himself for her. It was stupid. He was too important. He meant too much to the expedition.
Meant too much to her.
It figured that she'd realize it when it was too late.
“It's not . . .”
Jennifer gasped. “Ronon?” She scrambled on her hands and knees to his side, no longer conscious of getting too close.
He grunted in response, squeezing his eyes against some unseen brightness. “Ronon . . . can you hear me?” Jennifer prodded, wondering if she had heard what she thought or if he was just muttering nonsense in his sleep.
Suddenly, his eyes opened, focusing on her face, and Jennifer was taken aback by the clarity in them, despite his feverish state. “It's not . . . too late.”
She had a bad habit of voicing her thoughts when she was nervous. Jennifer's head wanted to ask him what he meant, but her heart already knew.
At her silence, Ronon continued in a raspy voice, “I promise not to die on you.”
“If you had that much control over yourself we'd be in a very different place right now,” Jennifer replied with a bitter chuckle.
She saw Ronon's brow lift in curiosity, despite his obvious discomfort. “Somewhere, warm, and dry, sans ornery hard-headed patients with stab wounds from poisonous daggers,” she explained.
Ronon rolled his eyes as much as he could manage. “It's not that ba-”
His last word was cut off by a booming crack of thunder that vibrated the walls of the cave where Jennifer had half carried him. Jennifer gasped. The lightning was beautiful but the thunder was always torture for her. She looked down at Ronon his green eyes fixed on hers. She felt a gentle squeezed and saw that his hand had found her fingers, the warmth seeping into her skin.
“You're safe with me, Jennifer,” he said, after the rumbling of the storm down to be replaced the hum of the torrential downpour outside the walls.
Jennifer couldn't find the words to respond. She reached down, gently brushing away the hairs that curled around his forehead before resting her palm against the skin there. He felt cooler now, the fever subsiding. She checked her watch. Only a few more hours and then they'd miss their check-in. A rescue party would be sent. It seemed he would live to be under her care another day.
She couldn't wish for anything better.
-finis-
Author: renisanz
Prompt: Ronon/Jennifer, rainstorm
Category: Angst, Hurt/Comfort
Rating: PG
Words: 512
Warning/Spoilers: Set after “The Lost Tribe” (Season 5)
Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, just using for fun, not profit.
Notes: Another entry for the Drabble Tag at sg_onesweetlove .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Jennifer wiped the back of her wrist across her face, in poor effort to sooth the sting in her eyes. Damp hair remained plastered to her forehead, but at least the blunt edges of the fringe no longer hindered her vision. The darkness was bad enough.
Taking advantage of the quickly fading light, she checked the wound once again. The inflammation around the sutured edges of the gash had subsided a bit. The antibiotics were doing there job. She replaced the dressing over the wound. She would have liked to change the bandages, but she needed to conserve the supply.
“This is what I was afraid of,” she mumbled in the silence of the cave.
She didn't need him sacrificing himself for her. It was stupid. He was too important. He meant too much to the expedition.
Meant too much to her.
It figured that she'd realize it when it was too late.
“It's not . . .”
Jennifer gasped. “Ronon?” She scrambled on her hands and knees to his side, no longer conscious of getting too close.
He grunted in response, squeezing his eyes against some unseen brightness. “Ronon . . . can you hear me?” Jennifer prodded, wondering if she had heard what she thought or if he was just muttering nonsense in his sleep.
Suddenly, his eyes opened, focusing on her face, and Jennifer was taken aback by the clarity in them, despite his feverish state. “It's not . . . too late.”
She had a bad habit of voicing her thoughts when she was nervous. Jennifer's head wanted to ask him what he meant, but her heart already knew.
At her silence, Ronon continued in a raspy voice, “I promise not to die on you.”
“If you had that much control over yourself we'd be in a very different place right now,” Jennifer replied with a bitter chuckle.
She saw Ronon's brow lift in curiosity, despite his obvious discomfort. “Somewhere, warm, and dry, sans ornery hard-headed patients with stab wounds from poisonous daggers,” she explained.
Ronon rolled his eyes as much as he could manage. “It's not that ba-”
His last word was cut off by a booming crack of thunder that vibrated the walls of the cave where Jennifer had half carried him. Jennifer gasped. The lightning was beautiful but the thunder was always torture for her. She looked down at Ronon his green eyes fixed on hers. She felt a gentle squeezed and saw that his hand had found her fingers, the warmth seeping into her skin.
“You're safe with me, Jennifer,” he said, after the rumbling of the storm down to be replaced the hum of the torrential downpour outside the walls.
Jennifer couldn't find the words to respond. She reached down, gently brushing away the hairs that curled around his forehead before resting her palm against the skin there. He felt cooler now, the fever subsiding. She checked her watch. Only a few more hours and then they'd miss their check-in. A rescue party would be sent. It seemed he would live to be under her care another day.
She couldn't wish for anything better.
-finis-