"Or Down Low" by lavvyan, PG (Left Behind challenge)
Title: Or Down Low
Author: lavvyan
Rating: PG
Warning: Character Death
Notes: You can read this as a McShep pre-slash kinda thing, but you don't have to. For the Left Behind challenge.
Or Down Low
The harsh smell of smoke and burnt flesh was probably still heavy in the air, but Rodney's nose was so clogged with his own blood he couldn't be sure. He was crawling his way across the destroyed clearing, obstacles like strewn branches and dead bodies taking ages to overcome. Anxiety had kept him moving at first, deep, nagging fear, the need to be close. Then rage had fuelled him, a constant mental litany of not like this, damn it, it wasn't supposed to go down like this. Now he was going on sheer stubbornness.
The Voraya had died quickly and violently, not a single one of them spared when the Etians had attacked. An age-old blood revenge thing, Rodney's team caught up right in the middle of it. Ronon had fallen first, going down fighting like everybody had always known he would. Teyla had followed only seconds after, beautiful and deadly one moment, an empty shell to be carelessly tossed aside the next.
Another thick branch was in his way, sides blackened from the Etians' energy weapons. It was too hard to climb over it with his strength waning, so Rodney sighed and started the painful crawl around the wood. Looking back, he could see the trail of smeared blood he had left in the dust. It was turning darker towards the end, and he realized he didn't have much time left.
The Etians had come with a strange assortment of weaponry that had included everything from knives and spears to laser guns. The Atlanteans had wasted precious moments evading the former before they discovered the existence of the latter. By then, it had been to late.
By then, there had been screaming and dying and limp bodies hitting the dry earth like broken dolls.
He was almost there now. Only a few more inches.
Rodney summoned the last of his strength and pushed himself forward, allowing himself a brief, pained smile as his hand encountered coarse dark fabric, warmed by the afternoon sun. He pushed again, and again, and then he was there, finally giving in to pain and dizziness and letting go, allowing himself to rest. His right hand was buried in soft, black hair, his left arm flung across the lean body, clutching and twisting the black t-shirt under the now useless vest as he let his head sink down to rest on a slightly cool shoulder.
John had been the last of them still standing, still holding out, still fighting back, when two of the Etians had fired at once, the impact slamming his body against one of the ancient trees the Voraya had been so proud of. Then the soldier had slumped down, unmoving. Rodney had already been stabbed and left for dead by then, still enough sense left amidst his panic to lie still and be quiet. After an eternity of shooting and shouting, the enemy had left, and he had-
He hadn't wanted to die alone.
A new wave of pain had him gasping into John's shoulder. He was feeling even weaker when it was over, tears burning in his eyes.
He wouldn't let them fall.
With an effort, he brought his left hand up to rest it against John's soft cheek, thumb slowly caressing his face. He didn't need to feel for a pulse, the unblinking hazel eyes staring into nothing told him all he needed to know. Strangely enough, he didn't feel sad, just a strange, affectionate companionship.
Rodney inched a littler closer, feeling cold now, searching for the warmth of John's sun-drenched body. He had never been very comfortable with touching another human being, but the unfamiliar peaceful feeling that had settled within him made his personal boundaries seem rather silly. He nuzzled his nose into his friend's neck and closed his eyes.
The last thing he thought before his consciousness faded was, John.
~~~
Author: lavvyan
Rating: PG
Warning: Character Death
Notes: You can read this as a McShep pre-slash kinda thing, but you don't have to. For the Left Behind challenge.
Or Down Low
The harsh smell of smoke and burnt flesh was probably still heavy in the air, but Rodney's nose was so clogged with his own blood he couldn't be sure. He was crawling his way across the destroyed clearing, obstacles like strewn branches and dead bodies taking ages to overcome. Anxiety had kept him moving at first, deep, nagging fear, the need to be close. Then rage had fuelled him, a constant mental litany of not like this, damn it, it wasn't supposed to go down like this. Now he was going on sheer stubbornness.
The Voraya had died quickly and violently, not a single one of them spared when the Etians had attacked. An age-old blood revenge thing, Rodney's team caught up right in the middle of it. Ronon had fallen first, going down fighting like everybody had always known he would. Teyla had followed only seconds after, beautiful and deadly one moment, an empty shell to be carelessly tossed aside the next.
Another thick branch was in his way, sides blackened from the Etians' energy weapons. It was too hard to climb over it with his strength waning, so Rodney sighed and started the painful crawl around the wood. Looking back, he could see the trail of smeared blood he had left in the dust. It was turning darker towards the end, and he realized he didn't have much time left.
The Etians had come with a strange assortment of weaponry that had included everything from knives and spears to laser guns. The Atlanteans had wasted precious moments evading the former before they discovered the existence of the latter. By then, it had been to late.
By then, there had been screaming and dying and limp bodies hitting the dry earth like broken dolls.
He was almost there now. Only a few more inches.
Rodney summoned the last of his strength and pushed himself forward, allowing himself a brief, pained smile as his hand encountered coarse dark fabric, warmed by the afternoon sun. He pushed again, and again, and then he was there, finally giving in to pain and dizziness and letting go, allowing himself to rest. His right hand was buried in soft, black hair, his left arm flung across the lean body, clutching and twisting the black t-shirt under the now useless vest as he let his head sink down to rest on a slightly cool shoulder.
John had been the last of them still standing, still holding out, still fighting back, when two of the Etians had fired at once, the impact slamming his body against one of the ancient trees the Voraya had been so proud of. Then the soldier had slumped down, unmoving. Rodney had already been stabbed and left for dead by then, still enough sense left amidst his panic to lie still and be quiet. After an eternity of shooting and shouting, the enemy had left, and he had-
He hadn't wanted to die alone.
A new wave of pain had him gasping into John's shoulder. He was feeling even weaker when it was over, tears burning in his eyes.
He wouldn't let them fall.
With an effort, he brought his left hand up to rest it against John's soft cheek, thumb slowly caressing his face. He didn't need to feel for a pulse, the unblinking hazel eyes staring into nothing told him all he needed to know. Strangely enough, he didn't feel sad, just a strange, affectionate companionship.
Rodney inched a littler closer, feeling cold now, searching for the warmth of John's sun-drenched body. He had never been very comfortable with touching another human being, but the unfamiliar peaceful feeling that had settled within him made his personal boundaries seem rather silly. He nuzzled his nose into his friend's neck and closed his eyes.
The last thing he thought before his consciousness faded was, John.
~~~