While Waiting on the Gate by Helen W. (Comfort Challenge)
Title: While Waiting on the Gate
Author: Helen W. (wneleh)
Characters: Team (gen)
Rating: G
Spoilers: The Shrine (5x06)
Word count: ~1,500
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: What happened while the team was, yk, waiting on that gate.
Early in 'The Shrine'…
McKAY: So we're gonna be stuck here all night.
SHEPPARD: In the back of a warm, cosy Jumper, all right? All you need to do is hold on for -- I don't know -- thirty minutes or so.
The air was cool, but not frigid, so Teyla took off her heavy jacket and vest and set them aside so that they wouldn't leach her heat. To her left, John nodded his approval, and removed his garments until his chest was bare, then peered into the darkness. "I think I see land," he said.
Ronon, on the other side of where Rodney huddled, stood and looked in the direction John was staring. "No, but… well, maybe over there," he said after a moment, pointing well to the left of where John was looking.
Teyla shook her head. The diffuse light the stargate cast was a comfort, but made distance vision impossible. "There is nothing there," she said.
"I don't know," said Sheppard. "If I can swim to high ground, I can hike up to the glacier, start the search for Nichols and his team."
"Or die, more likely," said Ronon. "If they're okay, Nichols and everybody can wait another half hour. If they're not, us swimming in ice water won't help."
Teyla suppressed a smile at this exchange. Alone, John or Ronon - and perhaps she herself - might have chanced it. But they were talking each other into sanity.
Rodney sneezed - not for the first time since their arrival - and shifted so that he was completely on his side, his head lying directly on the gate's hard surface. "I hate this," he said. "I could be working!"
This wasn't what Teyla had had in mind for her day, either. The call to check on the other team had come just as she was starting to give Torren a bath; she'd been looking forward to spending her son's most aware hours with him today. But this was her job, and she'd certainly been more uncomfortable doing it.
She wondered who was waiting for Dr. Nichols back on Atlantis, and on Earth. And was glad that, for now at least, she didn't know who was with him.
There was a soft sound - a clicking - from Rodney, and Teyla realized his teeth were chattering. He'd pulled his arms inside his jacket and drawn his knees almost to his chest, and Teyla had to twist a bit to reach his forehead.
She pulled her hand back quickly. His temperature was easily several full measures above normal, higher even than before. "Colonel, we may have a problem," she said.
"I'm right here," said Rodney. "Remember?"
Ignoring him, she shifted her estimate into the system commonly used on Atlantis to quantify moderate temperatures. "He has a fever of between 103 and 104 degrees," she said. "It is rising rapidly."
"We could give him another cold bath," said Ronon, by his tone only half-teasing.
"No!" said Rodney and John together, and Teyla remembered that Earth natives usually preferred chemical means of managing their bodies whenever possible.
And, in this case, chemicals might be a good option. "Colonel, do you have any analgesics?" she asked. She was sure Rodney carried them, but she didn't trust his shaking hands to find them.
"Yeah, sure," John said, picking up his vest and retrieving a small packet and a bottle of water. "They might be a little soggy."
In Rodney's current position, he would not be able to swallow anything. Teyla moved closer and leaned over him. "Sit up slightly, please."
Rodney raised his head a little, then it dropped to the gate's surface again. "I…" he started.
"What's wrong with him?" Ronon was now crouched on his other side.
"He's very sick," said Teyla. "Prop him up so that I can support his head."
Ronon lifted Rodney easily, and Teyla guided his torso down until his head was supported by her arm and stomach, his upper back by her leg.
Rodney blinked several times, as if trying to figure out what had just been done to him. "I'm going to get snot on you," he said.
Teyla smiled. "I have recently become somewhat - inured - to bodily fluids," she said.
"If you don't spit up on her, you're ahead of the game," said Ronon.
"I'll try to give fair warning," said Rodney.
John handed Rodney several pills, one at a time, and helped him sip from the bottle of water. Rodney then rotated slightly so that he could draw his legs up and curl back in on himself, but made no move to separate himself from her. Teyla moved her other arm around his stomach, completing her embrace.
"For the record, I still hate this," he said.
"Yes, of course," said Teyla, squeezing slightly.
Rodney gradually grew heavier in her arms; by the time the gate closed, then reopened to allow a shuttle to transit from Atlantis, Rodney was almost asleep, as was her left leg.
As soon as the shuttle was in position, Ronon lifted Rodney and carried him inside. John extended a hand down to her, which she took gratefully, grabbing her discarded jacket and vest as she rose.
She quickly changed into the warm, dry spares she'd long since tucked into storage on every shuttle, then turned to where John, still in his wet uniform pants, was trying to undress Rodney as he lay on one of the craft's narrow benches. Obviously, John had had very little experience manipulating the noncooperative; Teyla gently moved him aside and got Rodney's jacket and vest off. Rodney's temperature had come down, and it seemed wise to guard against hypothermia. And, he would at least look more comfortable in dry clothing, even if he seemed beyond caring, his eyes half-closed, expression passive.
Getting Rodney's shirt off was a two-person job, and Teyla and John working together to peel the clinging fabric from his body. As Teyla maneuvered Rodney's right arm out of its sleeve, John hissed, and Teyla found him staring at a large patch of pink skin, still hairless, where Rodney taken the blast from the energy weapon several months prior. Teyla glanced up at John; he was biting his lower lip, but stopped when he noticed her attention. "He doesn't need this," John said. "He just - doesn't need this."
Her hands were occupied still with Rodney's t-shirt, so Teyla used her chin to gesture towards John's stomach and side. "You have also been recently injured," she said.
"I'm not the one with pneumonia," said John.
"I don't think that's what he's fighting," said Teyla. "His lungs seem clear."
"With - whatever."
Ronon appeared on the other side of John. "I'm all set, Sheppard," he said. "Go get yourself changed."
"I'm fine here," said John.
"Didn't say you weren't," said Ronon. "Sooner you get changed, though, the sooner we can start up the valley and find Nichols."
Since the shuttle had a crew already, this didn't precisely make sense, but it was enough to get John to take care of his own needs. With Ronon's surprisingly more competent help, it only took a few moments to finish stripping the wet clothing off of Rodney and slide him into a dry t-shirt and loose pants and socks.
And then they were done. Ronon lifted the low rail that made the benches useful cots, tucked a blanket around Rodney, then sat on the floor with his back to him, as if to protect him from the relative strangers who had come to their rescue.
Teyla's legs and back were still stiff, so she knit her hands together and raised them high over her head, stretching until she felt her vertebrae align themselves more favorably, then rolled her head from shoulder to shoulder. When she'd finished, she noticed John staring at her. "Better," she said, thinking John wanted an explanation.
John shook his head a little. "You've changed," he said, and it took Teyla several heartbeats to realize he wasn't referring to her clothing. "You've gotten… excellent at this stuff."
"I don't understand."
"You've always been a people person - everyone knows that," said John. "So that's not it. Just, you've changed. Torren's changed you." And he smiled, like he'd just figured out something important. "It's a good change," he said.
He turned and headed toward the cockpit, leaving her with Ronon and the now-sleeping Rodney. "Do you know what he means?" she asked.
Ronon shrugged. "I think we've all changed," said Ronon. "I think it's a good thing."
Teyla sat next to him, a little apart at first but then shifting closer for warmth. Conductive heat was always the best sort. Suddenly she felt very tired; Ronon's shoulder would make an excellent pillow, and in case the marines decided to poke Rodney with bantos rods they might as well both sit guard.
* * * THE END * * *
Feedback of any sort will be appreciated, here or to helenw@murphnet.org.
More fic at http://www.murphnet.org/fanfic; also, I'm doing the fic-an-episode challenge this season at sga_episodefic, tag a:wneleh.
Author: Helen W. (wneleh)
Characters: Team (gen)
Rating: G
Spoilers: The Shrine (5x06)
Word count: ~1,500
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: What happened while the team was, yk, waiting on that gate.
Early in 'The Shrine'…
McKAY: So we're gonna be stuck here all night.
SHEPPARD: In the back of a warm, cosy Jumper, all right? All you need to do is hold on for -- I don't know -- thirty minutes or so.
The air was cool, but not frigid, so Teyla took off her heavy jacket and vest and set them aside so that they wouldn't leach her heat. To her left, John nodded his approval, and removed his garments until his chest was bare, then peered into the darkness. "I think I see land," he said.
Ronon, on the other side of where Rodney huddled, stood and looked in the direction John was staring. "No, but… well, maybe over there," he said after a moment, pointing well to the left of where John was looking.
Teyla shook her head. The diffuse light the stargate cast was a comfort, but made distance vision impossible. "There is nothing there," she said.
"I don't know," said Sheppard. "If I can swim to high ground, I can hike up to the glacier, start the search for Nichols and his team."
"Or die, more likely," said Ronon. "If they're okay, Nichols and everybody can wait another half hour. If they're not, us swimming in ice water won't help."
Teyla suppressed a smile at this exchange. Alone, John or Ronon - and perhaps she herself - might have chanced it. But they were talking each other into sanity.
Rodney sneezed - not for the first time since their arrival - and shifted so that he was completely on his side, his head lying directly on the gate's hard surface. "I hate this," he said. "I could be working!"
This wasn't what Teyla had had in mind for her day, either. The call to check on the other team had come just as she was starting to give Torren a bath; she'd been looking forward to spending her son's most aware hours with him today. But this was her job, and she'd certainly been more uncomfortable doing it.
She wondered who was waiting for Dr. Nichols back on Atlantis, and on Earth. And was glad that, for now at least, she didn't know who was with him.
There was a soft sound - a clicking - from Rodney, and Teyla realized his teeth were chattering. He'd pulled his arms inside his jacket and drawn his knees almost to his chest, and Teyla had to twist a bit to reach his forehead.
She pulled her hand back quickly. His temperature was easily several full measures above normal, higher even than before. "Colonel, we may have a problem," she said.
"I'm right here," said Rodney. "Remember?"
Ignoring him, she shifted her estimate into the system commonly used on Atlantis to quantify moderate temperatures. "He has a fever of between 103 and 104 degrees," she said. "It is rising rapidly."
"We could give him another cold bath," said Ronon, by his tone only half-teasing.
"No!" said Rodney and John together, and Teyla remembered that Earth natives usually preferred chemical means of managing their bodies whenever possible.
And, in this case, chemicals might be a good option. "Colonel, do you have any analgesics?" she asked. She was sure Rodney carried them, but she didn't trust his shaking hands to find them.
"Yeah, sure," John said, picking up his vest and retrieving a small packet and a bottle of water. "They might be a little soggy."
In Rodney's current position, he would not be able to swallow anything. Teyla moved closer and leaned over him. "Sit up slightly, please."
Rodney raised his head a little, then it dropped to the gate's surface again. "I…" he started.
"What's wrong with him?" Ronon was now crouched on his other side.
"He's very sick," said Teyla. "Prop him up so that I can support his head."
Ronon lifted Rodney easily, and Teyla guided his torso down until his head was supported by her arm and stomach, his upper back by her leg.
Rodney blinked several times, as if trying to figure out what had just been done to him. "I'm going to get snot on you," he said.
Teyla smiled. "I have recently become somewhat - inured - to bodily fluids," she said.
"If you don't spit up on her, you're ahead of the game," said Ronon.
"I'll try to give fair warning," said Rodney.
John handed Rodney several pills, one at a time, and helped him sip from the bottle of water. Rodney then rotated slightly so that he could draw his legs up and curl back in on himself, but made no move to separate himself from her. Teyla moved her other arm around his stomach, completing her embrace.
"For the record, I still hate this," he said.
"Yes, of course," said Teyla, squeezing slightly.
Rodney gradually grew heavier in her arms; by the time the gate closed, then reopened to allow a shuttle to transit from Atlantis, Rodney was almost asleep, as was her left leg.
As soon as the shuttle was in position, Ronon lifted Rodney and carried him inside. John extended a hand down to her, which she took gratefully, grabbing her discarded jacket and vest as she rose.
She quickly changed into the warm, dry spares she'd long since tucked into storage on every shuttle, then turned to where John, still in his wet uniform pants, was trying to undress Rodney as he lay on one of the craft's narrow benches. Obviously, John had had very little experience manipulating the noncooperative; Teyla gently moved him aside and got Rodney's jacket and vest off. Rodney's temperature had come down, and it seemed wise to guard against hypothermia. And, he would at least look more comfortable in dry clothing, even if he seemed beyond caring, his eyes half-closed, expression passive.
Getting Rodney's shirt off was a two-person job, and Teyla and John working together to peel the clinging fabric from his body. As Teyla maneuvered Rodney's right arm out of its sleeve, John hissed, and Teyla found him staring at a large patch of pink skin, still hairless, where Rodney taken the blast from the energy weapon several months prior. Teyla glanced up at John; he was biting his lower lip, but stopped when he noticed her attention. "He doesn't need this," John said. "He just - doesn't need this."
Her hands were occupied still with Rodney's t-shirt, so Teyla used her chin to gesture towards John's stomach and side. "You have also been recently injured," she said.
"I'm not the one with pneumonia," said John.
"I don't think that's what he's fighting," said Teyla. "His lungs seem clear."
"With - whatever."
Ronon appeared on the other side of John. "I'm all set, Sheppard," he said. "Go get yourself changed."
"I'm fine here," said John.
"Didn't say you weren't," said Ronon. "Sooner you get changed, though, the sooner we can start up the valley and find Nichols."
Since the shuttle had a crew already, this didn't precisely make sense, but it was enough to get John to take care of his own needs. With Ronon's surprisingly more competent help, it only took a few moments to finish stripping the wet clothing off of Rodney and slide him into a dry t-shirt and loose pants and socks.
And then they were done. Ronon lifted the low rail that made the benches useful cots, tucked a blanket around Rodney, then sat on the floor with his back to him, as if to protect him from the relative strangers who had come to their rescue.
Teyla's legs and back were still stiff, so she knit her hands together and raised them high over her head, stretching until she felt her vertebrae align themselves more favorably, then rolled her head from shoulder to shoulder. When she'd finished, she noticed John staring at her. "Better," she said, thinking John wanted an explanation.
John shook his head a little. "You've changed," he said, and it took Teyla several heartbeats to realize he wasn't referring to her clothing. "You've gotten… excellent at this stuff."
"I don't understand."
"You've always been a people person - everyone knows that," said John. "So that's not it. Just, you've changed. Torren's changed you." And he smiled, like he'd just figured out something important. "It's a good change," he said.
He turned and headed toward the cockpit, leaving her with Ronon and the now-sleeping Rodney. "Do you know what he means?" she asked.
Ronon shrugged. "I think we've all changed," said Ronon. "I think it's a good thing."
Teyla sat next to him, a little apart at first but then shifting closer for warmth. Conductive heat was always the best sort. Suddenly she felt very tired; Ronon's shoulder would make an excellent pillow, and in case the marines decided to poke Rodney with bantos rods they might as well both sit guard.
* * * THE END * * *
Feedback of any sort will be appreciated, here or to helenw@murphnet.org.
More fic at http://www.murphnet.org/fanfic; also, I'm doing the fic-an-episode challenge this season at sga_episodefic, tag a:wneleh.