Fanfiction - From the Archive! December 9, 2014
Wow.
So this one. This was the very FIRST whump story I EVER wrote in SGA. ;) I hadn't written whump in over 3 years, as I didn't write whump in LOTR, where I was before SGA. I first wrote whump way back in my Emergency! fandom days.
I was a bit rusty, but it was fun to whump up on a new victim.hehehehe... >:)
Anyway, found this one buried on FF.net. I think that's the only place I ever posted it. I hope you enjoy it! Written in November of 2006.
Story: Some Days Are Like This
Word Count: ~17,500
Genre: Gen, Whump
Characters: John Sheppard, Rodney McKay, Telyla Emmagan, Ronon Dex, Elizabeth Weir, Carson Beckett, Evan Lorne
Warnings: Whump
Summary: It's a routine off-world mission for Sheppard and his team. Some days, that's all you need for something to go wrong.
Some Days Are Like This
“Bet you wished you stayed in bed!”
~Dr. Leonard McCoy; Star Trek
Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard emerged from the Stargate and stopped, taking a moment to inhale the fresh, damp air around him. He walked away from the gate and down two worn, stone stairs before stopping in the short grass, the light dew dampening his pant legs. He looked around as the rest of his team emerged. A large, grassy field greeted his gaze, with tall coniferous trees surrounding them. He couldn’t see the Pegasus equivalent of a bird that made the odd chirping whistle sound that found his ears, but somehow he took comfort from it. The little creature seemed unworried about anything lurking in the bushes, so John followed suit.
John glanced at Ronon who stopped next to him. “Which way?”
Ronon pointed to a narrow trail that led into the woods. “There. Last time I was here I saw a small village not far from here. Didn’t stay long though.”
John nodded absently, recognizing the subtle meaning of Ronon’s words. The Wraith transmitter he’d carried for seven years had prevented him from staying in one place too long. John looked over at Rodney. “Anything?”
Rodney grunted. “Lots of animals… I think.”
John walked forward. “Okay then. I’m on point, Ronon take the six. McKay watch for human life signs.
“I have never been here,” Teyla remarked quietly as she followed behind Rodney.
“I’m not surprised,” Rodney muttered. “Tell me again why we’re here?” He added annoyingly.
John glanced over his shoulder. “Just bein’ neighborly.”
“We’re on the other side of the galaxy from Atlantis. Hardly neighbors!” Rodney retorted.
“It is all irrelevant with the Stargate,” Teyla commented quietly.
“Huh,” Rodney grunted, his tone decidedly disagreeing.
John tuned out Rodney and relished the fresh, clean air. He followed the path as it meandered its way through the trees as his thoughts touched on the imposing Runner that followed at the back of his team. Ronon hadn’t been around long, but already had proven himself as a good choice for John’s team. A gifted fighter and expert marksman, Ronon was a man of few words, but one John was getting used to having at his back. “Did you have any contact with the locals at all, Ronon?” John ventured.
“No.”
John smiled slightly at Ronon’s abrupt answer. At first, he’d never been sure if the big ex- runner was mad or not, but after a while John came to realize that it was just the way he was; and with McKay around, John really didn’t need another chatterbox anyway.
“Just once,” Rodney groused, “I’d like to pick a warm sunshiny planet.”
“Like M26-445?” John smiled mischievously. He could feel Rodney’s icy stare on his back.
“Oh you’re hilarious. Conditions that rival the Sahara Desert aren’t what I had in mind!”
“But, it was warm and sunny,” John replied, still smiling.
“Whatever!” Rodney snapped and then fell silent.
John rounded a bend in the trail and stopped. “Well, that’s a problem.” His gaze fixed on a large landslide that completely blocked the path. His gaze narrowed. “Not sure I want to try climbing over that and risk anyone sinking in it.” He took the positive sounding grunt coming from Ronon’s direction to be an affirmation of his statement as he walked to the edge of the path and peered into the trees. “We could go around I suppose...”
“Great, slogging through wet trees,” Rodney muttered.
“We could leave you here, by yourself, McKay,” Ronon commented quietly, “lots of animals around, probably harmless.”
Rodney sighed loudly. “Right. Lead the way, Colonel.”
John smiled as he pushed aside a heavy bush with his P-90 and ventured into the woods. Wet branches brushed across his face and body as he worked his way through the underbrush. “We shouldn’t have to go far, just circle far enough to get around the landslide...” John’s voice trailed off as took two more steps and the ground under his feet abruptly changed. Gone was the firm feeling dirt, replaced with what he could only call a wobbling surface that creaked ominously. He froze. “Stop!”
“What?”
Rodney’s annoyed voice held a note of concern. Carefully turning his head, John caught a glimpse of his team from the corner of his eye. “I’m not standing on solid ground anymore.” As if in response, the surface under his feet creaked again. John felt it bend under his weight. “This is not good.”
He felt more than heard Ronon edge closer, but although the Satedan was still on solid ground, he felt the wobbling surface under his feet shift in response. “Ronon? Stay back. The ground is way too wet and unstable for you to get any closer.” The creaking stopped as Ronon backed off.
“Sheppard, reach behind and I’ll grab you.”
John licked his lips as he considered Ronon’s suggestion.
“Colonel, you cannot see it but Ronon can pull you back if you reach for him,” Teyla reassured.
John sighed. “Right.” He slowly let go of his P-90 with his left hand and gradually moved his arm behind him and towards Ronon.
“Sheppard,” Ronon urged.
“I’m working on it!” John hissed. After what seemed like forever, he felt Ronon’s strong grip on his wrist.
“I got you,” Ronon commented quietly.
“McKay, Teyla,” John’s voice was hushed, his gut in knots despite the professional air he held onto, “stand back. Ronon’s gonna have to do this fast...” The ominous sound of cracking wood under his feet cut off John’s words. He felt the surface beneath him start to give as his weight proved to ultimately be too much for it to bear. “Crap...”
“Sheppard!” Ronon pulled hard on John’s arm but was a split second too late as the fragile surface under John’s feet gave way.
John felt himself falling and forced himself to let go of Ronon’s arm, determined not to take the Satedan with him, but his action was futile against Ronon’s tightening grip. John felt his fall break for just a moment, before air rushed by him once again and for a split second he realized that Ronon was falling with him. A sharp, breathtaking pain to his leg and a searing pain left arm, broke the bliss of freefall before his head met hard earth and darkness took him.
***************
“Colonel!”
Somewhere, in the recesses of his mind, John heard the call. Teyla. But, numbing blackness enveloped him... held him silent...
“Ronon! Colonel!”
Ronon? Something pulled urgently at him, something important... a duty. John pushed away the darkness and forced his way out through the haze of unconsciousness. A deep voice called from right next to him.
“Here!”
Ronon. John could’ve sworn he’d said the man’s name aloud, but no response came from him. The warm comfort of unconsciousness called to John, but he resisted.
“Are you all right?”
Teyla again. John pushed against the cobwebs the muddled his mind, latching onto her voice like an anchor. She sounded tense... concerned. He didn’t like his team worried...
“I’m okay, but Sheppard’s unconscious,” Ronon responded.
John’s grasp on consciousness was tenuous but somehow he found his voice, managing a small groan. He pulled in a deep breath, the rich oxygen clearing his head, but he instantly regretted the action as pain spiked through his chest. “Argh...” he groaned.
“Sheppard?” Ronon’s voice was deep and quiet.
John forced his eyes open and took in the sight of the big Satedan’s face hovering over his. “Ronon?” He croaked. Broken bits of what happened came back to him. John’s eyes slid shut. “Should’ve let go of me...”
“No.” Ronon disagreed. “Teyla!”
John blinked hard and watched as Ronon stood and walked a few steps away, his arm pressed firmly against his side and a slight limp both revealing he hadn’t come through the fall completely unscathed. Ronon looked up at the large opening better than twenty feet above them. “Sheppard’s coming around.”
“Rodney and I are headed to the gate to get help,” Teyla’s voice drifted down from above. “We will be back as soon as we can.”
“We’ll be here.” Ronon turned back and faced John.
Consciousness took firmer hold on John, chasing away the oblivion and he started to become aware of his surroundings. Experimentally, he shifted his weight…
Nothing could’ve prepared him for the wave of pure agony that shot up from his left leg and tore through his body. He writhed and the torture redoubled as pain from his left arm joined the chorus. A strangled cry escaped him and he was vaguely aware of pounding the fist of his good hand in the mud as the pain consumed him. Spots danced in his vision and it was all John could do to fight off unconsciousness. “Damn!” he finally gasped.
“Leg’s broken. Arm too.” Ronon muttered quietly.
“No kidding,” John gasped, sweat trickling down his forehead. “Femur?” He stared at Ronon’s confused expression for a moment. “Thigh?” He amended.
“Yeah.” Ronon confirmed.
“Great...” John gasped, fighting to control the pain. “I never do things... half ways...” He blinked and pushed away the pain. Slowly, John became aware of a cold wetness soaking through his clothes and chilling his body. He moved his good hand slightly, and was rewarded with a small splash. “Leave it to me to land in a puddle...” He watched Ronon kneel close by, noting the wince and how Ronon’s hand tightened on his side. John’s gaze narrowed. “You okay?”
Ronon’s expression was tinged with a dark amusement. “Better than you.”
Lying in a puddle is not my idea of fun... “Right,” John lifted his head and using his good arm, he tried to sit up, only to meet Ronon’s hand as the ex-runner pushed him back down.
“Don’t move.” Ronon’s gruff reply sounded more an order than anything.
“Ronon,” John swallowed hard and forced his body to relax and be still. “I’m lying in a pool of water,” he tried to sound neutral, but inwardly winced at the slight irritation in his voice. “I don’t suppose there’s any dry ground you can help me move to?” He inhaled carefully, repressing a chilled shudder. John watched Ronon look around for a minute before staring him in the eye and shaking his head.
“No. No high ground. Probably shouldn’t move that leg either.” Ronon vaguely waved at John’s left leg.
John sighed. “True.” He looked around. “Abandoned well or something?”
“Yes.” Ronon agreed.
John swallowed and closed his eyes. “This just gets better and better. Guess we’re waiting for Teyla, Rodney and that help, huh?”
“Yes.” Ronon repeated quietly.
John’s sighed as deep as he could against his painful ribs. Just once, he wished the big Satedan would string together more than five words in one sentence. A chill raced through him again as the cold water and pain ate away at his strength. Pain shot up from his leg and John grunted softly in response. Ronon’s quiet voice grabbed his attention.
“Sheppard?”
“Yeah?” John managed through clenched teeth.
“They’ll be back soon.”
If he hadn’t been in so much pain, John would’ve smiled at Ronon’s attempt at reassurance. “I know.” John hoped his half spoken, half groaned response was understandable. He glanced at Ronon, watching as the Satedan nodded slightly in response. John closed his eyes against the cold that seeped into him and clenched his jaw, determined not to let his teeth chatter. Broken bones, cold water, cracked ribs, probably a concussion…Shock. While not a medic or a doctor, John was career military, and with that he’d received a fair amount of medical training. But, as the reality of his situation and injuries set in, a part of John really wished he were more ignorant of his condition. Hurry up, guys.
*************************
Teyla allowed herself a small smile as she emerged from the trees and caught sight of the Stargate. She looked back at McKay. “Hurry! We are almost there!”
“I’m going as fast as I can!” He panted back.
“Dr. McKay,” Teyla returned her gaze forward, “we have not run that far.”
“Whatever!” McKay snapped, “some of us prefer to use our brains and not race through woods like Amazonian women!”
Teyla was unsure who or what Amazonian women were, but she had a fair idea that he did not mean it as a compliment. She shrugged it off in favor of concern as she stopped in front of the DHD and dialed the first two symbols, only to be stopped by McKay’s quiet voice.
“Uhh, Teyla you may want to wait a minute.”
Teyla turned. “Dr. McKay…” her voice trailed off as twenty or more natives emerged from the surrounding woods, crude long bows and crossbows aimed directly at both of them.
“Oh no…” McKay lamented as he raised his hands.
Teyla held her P-90 close, cursing herself for not sensing the trap before it had been sprung. “Please,” she reasoned quietly with one of the natives, a tall dark haired man stopped close to her. “Our friends are injured. Let us contact our people so we can help them.”
“You will not.” The dark haired native responded immediately. “Surrender your weapons.”
Teyla looked around momentarily indecisive. If Colonel Sheppard and Ronon had been there they would have a chance, but with only Dr. McKay and herself… Teyla inhaled deeply before reaching up and unclasping her P-90 from her vest. She slowly bent over and laid it on the ground in front of her.
“Teyla?” McKay questioned quietly.
“Surrender your gun,” Teyla answered, her voice equally quiet. She slowly drew her side arm and laid it next to the P-90 as McKay set his in front of him. “What of our friends?” She asked hesitantly.
“They matter not to me,” the man replied gruffly. “They will die where they are, and it is a just punishment. Come.” He turned and walked away.
Confused, Teyla glanced at McKay, only to see her uncertainty mirrored on his face. Feeling the poke of a crossbow arrow in her back, Teyla slowly followed the leader, McKay right next to her, as they left the Stargate… and help, behind them.
****************************
He couldn’t resist it anymore. The cold water, the shock, they both proved to be too much for him to fight. John’s breath was hitched as his teeth chattered beyond his control and he felt the tension permeate his body, despite his best efforts to quell it. He squeezed his eyes shut, as what had become an even, persistent pain, ramped up in response to his involuntary shivering. “Damn...” he managed. He opened his eyes as he felt a strong grip on his shoulder and looked up at Ronon.
“Sheppard?” Ronon’s voice was quiet.
John stared into Ronon’s eyes, mildly surprised at the compassion he saw there. Inwardly, he chastised himself. Just because the ex-runner hid his feelings well, didn’t mean he didn’t have them. No less than me... “Could use… that help,” John managed through his chattering teeth. He watched as something akin of frustration took over Ronon’s expression an instant before he looked away. “Not... your fault.” John added.
Ronon’s gaze narrowed as he looked back at John. “I don’t like being helpless.”
“Join... the c-club...” John managed a small halfhearted smile and a hint of understanding in his expression as he held gazes with Ronon.
After a moment, Ronon nodded slightly. “What can I do?”
John swallowed hard and fought to think straight. “Sh-short of getting us... out of... here? Not... much. Unless you... can set... bones?” John swore he could hear Ronon grinding is teeth as the big man shook his head.
“No.”
John struggled to talk coherently. “Then... j-just keep me... company with that... charming personality... of yours.” Despite his pain and shivering body, John flashed Ronon a small smile.
After a long moment, the corners of Ronon’s mouth curled up slightly. His chuckle was cut short by a grimace and slight groan.
John’s eyes settled on Ronon’s arm, which he tightened protectively at his side. Forcing himself to concentrate John made eye contact with Ronon again. “W-what’s wrong... with you?” he stammered.
“I’m fine,” Ronon muttered.
“Like hell... you are,” John countered. He found himself in a battle of wills with the big Satedan but in spite of his condition John refused to back down. “We-ll?” his voice hitched but John held onto his no-nonsense gaze. Try again, big guy...
“Hit my ribs when I landed,” Ronon finally replied.
Considering Ronon's words, John stared at him a moment longer, the concentration helping him hold onto his lucidity. When he spoke at all, Ronon had a gift for understatement, which seemed to increase in direct proportion to the seriousness of the situation. The worse things were, the less he talked. John’s gaze narrowed. “Broken?” It was a question, but he was pretty sure he knew the answer.
Ronon stared hard at him for a minute, a slight hint of surprise in his expression. After a minute he nodded. “A couple.”
An exhaled staccato breath was the closest thing to a sigh John could manage. “Take it... easy then.”
Ronon abruptly stood, groaning quietly as he straightened. “May not be able to.”
John watched him look up at the gaping hole above them. He thought for a minute. “Teyla and McKay?” he asked quietly.
Ronon looked down at him. “Yeah. They should’ve been back with help by now.”
“Yeah…” John swallowed hard. Through the persistent, unending pain that flowed through his body, he felt his gut knot, as worry settled in. They weren’t that far from the gate. Even if Atlantis needed time to organize people and equipment, Teyla and McKay would’ve grabbed Beckett and came straight back. He’d expected them to be back in thirty minutes tops. “How… long?”
Ronon’s expression darkened as he looked back up at the gaping hole. “Almost two hours.”
“G-great,” John muttered. His eyelids felt heavy and he surrendered to the weight that pulled at them. His pain ebbed slightly and strangely John felt like he was floating.
“Sheppard!”
John’s eyes snapped open at Ronon’s call and he tensed, earning a bout of searing pain from his leg and arm. “Damn!” He felt the big man’s hand on his shoulder and looked up into Ronon’s serious expression.
“You need to stay awake,” Ronon stated simply.
Realization dawned on John and he exhaled carefully against his broken ribs. Crap! Almost lost it! “R-right,” he stammered. “Th-thanks.”
Ronon nodded once and settled back on his heels next to John, while watching him intently.
---------------------------------
“Please,” Teyla sat up as tall as the small, wood cage would allow her and stared imploringly at the guard nearest to her. “Let me talk to your leader. It is very important.”
“He’s not listening to you,” Rodney muttered. He shifted his weight and grimaced. “Sitting in two inches of mud,” he groused, “just what I’ve always wanted to do.” He grabbed one vertical wood bar next to him and shook it experimentally. “Surprisingly strong. Nothing a knife wouldn’t fix. Where’s Ronon and his endless supply of concealed knives when you need him?” Rodney bowed his head for a moment, before looking at Teyla.
Silently, Teyla nodded once, noting how her concern was mirrored in his eyes. She sat up straighter, sighing quietly as her head met the top of the cage. Barely tall enough for either of them to sit up straight, much less stand, Teyla felt like a caged animal. She inhaled deeply, her expression turning determined. “They must talk to us.” Giving one last silent look to Rodney, she returned her attention to the guard. “We must talk to you leader now.” Teyla stared at his unmoving back, frustration welling within her.
“I am here. What do you want?”
Teyla’s head snapped around at the voice, her gaze finding the tall dark haired leader. “Why do you hold us?” She asked immediately. “We have done nothing to you.”
The man’s short, bark of a laugh was cynical. “Have you not? Your people, with weapons much like these,” he pointed a short distance away where Teyla and Rodney’s weapons and gear lay in a heap, “have visited before. They killed and tortured many of my people, burned our homes, destroyed our village. All because they believed we knew something we did not.” His gaze narrowed in barely concealed anger. “You will pay for what your people have done!”
“We have done nothing to you!” Teyla countered. “You are mistaken!”
He shook his head. “I think not.” He lifted his chin in a haughty and commanding manner. “Your people will not deceive me again.” Without another word, he turned and stalked away.
Teyla sagged back against the side of the cage, her mind racing. Who did this to these people and how could Colonel Sheppard’s team be mistaken for them?
“What the hell is he talking about?” Rodney questioned quietly. “Did the Athosians…”
“No,” Teyla immediately cut Rodney off. “My people would never do this nor do we possess weapons such as yours. I do not know who he speaks of, but it is neither your people or mine.”
“Tell that to him,” Rodney muttered.
“I do not believe he is of a mind to listen,” Teyla shook her head. She looked around for a minute and found that the three guards’ attentions were elsewhere. “We must escape and make our way to the Stargate,” she whispered.
Rodney snorted quietly and looked around his eyes finding armed villagers everywhere. “Right,” his snappy voice was low. “Want to clue me in on how, exactly, we’re going to do that?”
Teyla once again glanced around the village before she looked back at him. “I do not know yet,” her expression turned cunning. “But, I will think of something.”
------------------------------------
The Athosian crop report failed to hold Elizabeth’s attention as she read the opening set of figures for the fourth time. Sighing, she pushed back from her desk and stood, before turning and staring at the inactive gate.
Sheppard’s team was a half hour overdue to check in. Not a significant amount of time, but enough to worry her and given the Colonel’s track record off world, she had every reason to worry. Elizabeth smiled slightly. She was probably overreacting, but…
Her smile faded as she turned and walked out of her office to the control room. She nodded once at Major Lorne who hovered behind Zelenka, seated at ops.
Lorne left Zelenka and joined her. “Colonel Sheppard’s team is overdue, ma’am.”
Elizabeth smiled slightly. “I know. Think there’s trouble?”
“We don’t have any reason to believe it’s more than just a simple delay, but…”
“You don’t think so,” Elizabeth finished for him.
Lorne shook his head. “No, ma’am, I don’t.”
“Intuition, Major?” Elizabeth arched an eyebrow at him.
Lorne’s smile was grim. “Experience, ma’am.”
Elizabeth stared at the Major for another moment before inhaling deeply and looking at Radek. “Dial M99-263.” She turned back to the gate as once again the chevrons lit.
“I could be wrong, ma’am,” Lorne ventured quietly.
Elizabeth smiled at him. “Maybe… maybe not. Let’s be sure.” She watched the wormhole flush into existence before reaching up and tapping the call button on her headset. “Colonel Sheppard, this is Weir. Do you copy?”
-------------------------------------
John floated in a state of half consciousness. His fight to keep his eyes open and stay awake became harder by the second, until Ronon’s prompts became the only thing holding him back from oblivion. The pain in his leg and arm had dulled; something he should’ve felt grateful for. A faint sense of concern over it set off an alarm within him, but his fading grasp on lucidity dulled it. Abruptly, loud static in his ear pierced the darkness in his mind like a knife.
“… Sheppard… Weir… copy?”
John’s eyes snapped open. “Elizabeth,” he muttered. He lifted his good hand sluggishly, but his fingers refused to cooperate and he couldn’t seem to connect with his radio.
“I got it,” Ronon tapped his earpiece. “This is Ronon, we copy.”
“Ronon?… Sheppard… breaking up…”
John blinked hard as he tried to focus on the garbled message from Elizabeth. “Interference,” he mumbled, his voice slightly slurred. “Teyla… Rodney?” He lazily turned his head and started at Ronon.
“Dr. Weir. You’re breaking up,” Ronon answered. “Sheppard’s injured and we don’t know where Teyla and McKay are. We need back up and Sheppard needs Beckett now.” Ronon shook his head at the static that greeted his request.
“Not good.” John fought his drooping eyelids… and lost.
---------------------------------------------
Elizabeth’s concerned gaze found Lorne’s.
“Weir…” Ronon’s broken transmission was barely audible, “Sheppard… injured… backup… Beckett…” Abruptly, the transmission turned to pure static.
“Ronon, do you copy?” Elizabeth shook her head as only static greeted her hail. She looked at Lorne’s expectant gaze and nodded once. “Get a team together to go after them. Take Beckett with you as well.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Lorne turned smartly and stalked from the control room already snapping orders in his headset and assembling his team.
Elizabeth watched him go. Only a few minutes ago she'd wondered if she had been worrying for no reason, but to hear Ronon's words, to know John was injured... She sighed, concern and frustration welling within her. We're coming...
Not twenty minutes later, Elizabeth hurried down the gate room stairs and walked up to Lorne’s team. She looked left as Beckett, in full off world gear, complete with sidearm, vest and a backpack of medical supplies, entered the gate room. He walked up the side steps and stopped next to her and Lorne.
“We don’t know anything about the Colonel’s condition?” Beckett asked, his voice slightly tense.
Elizabeth shook her head. “No. Ronon’s transmission was garbled. All we could decipher was that Colonel Sheppard was injured.”
“Ach,” Beckett shook his head.
“We don’t know the situation we’re walking into either, Doc, so stay sharp.” Lorne added.
“Oh, this just gets better and better,” Beckett sighed before giving Lorne a stern look. “Are we going or not, lad?”
Lorne smiled slightly and looked at Elizabeth.
Elizabeth stared solemnly back at him before nodding once. “You have a go, Major, be careful. I want routine check-ins no more than an hour in between.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Lorne turned to the six, heavily armed, Marines that milled around in front of the active Stargate. “Okay,” his voice captured all their attentions. “Let’s move out. I’m on point, Simms you take the six. Doc,” Lorne glanced at Beckett, “fall in behind me. Let’s go.” Lorne confidently crossed the event horizon, his team closely behind.
--------------------------------
“Sheppard.”
Dimly, John heard Ronon’s voice, but it sounded distant, as if called across a large field. John’s mind wandered. Field… the warmth of the sunshine on his face…
“Sheppard!”
Ronon’s voice was louder this time, accompanied by a shake of John’s shoulder. John tried to speak but all that he managed was a quiet groan, which earned him another shake to his shoulder.
“Sheppard! Wake up!”
John felt himself grimace at the loud voice that assaulted him, kept him from the warm darkness… the comfortable oblivion he longed for… No! A panicked voice inside him pulled him back from the edge; forced him to face reality. “Ronon…” John slurred.
“Stay awake,” Ronon’s firm voice was commanding.
Slowly, John opened his eyes. “’m here… help?”
Ronon nodded. “Should be on its way now.”
John blinked as he processed Ronon’s words. Somehow, he felt some relief, as his pain lessened even more, no longer aggravated by intense shivering. A small voice inside him knew he should care that help was coming, but it was squashed by a numbing apathy.
“Sheppard!”
John cared less and less about Ronon’s call, but something inside him, something his muddled mind couldn’t identify, grabbed onto Ronon’s voice and held it like a lifeline; one final connection between John and the conscious world. He opened his eyes slightly and even through his blurred vision, he could make out the intensity on Ronon’s face. John opened his mouth, but no sound came from it.
----------------------------------
The instant Lorne emerged from the Stargate he trotted forward, his gun ready for any movement that may greet them. Behind him, his team fanned out immediately securing the area around the Stargate. “Clear?” Lorne asked, his eyes never diverting from his sector. He nodded to himself as each of his team members gave him an affirmative reply.
Lorne reached up and tapped his radio call button. “Colonel Sheppard, Ronon. This is Major Lorne. Do you copy?”
“Lorne… Ronon… where…” Ronon’s broken reply brought a slight smile to Lorne’s face.
“We just came through the gate. Your transmission is breaking up, Ronon. Where are you?” Lorne questioned. He glanced sideways as Beckett walked up next to him.
“Path… hole… injured.”
“In a hole?” Beckett shook his head.
“That’d explain the spotty radio transmissions,” Lorne reasoned. A sense of urgency gripped him. He clicked on his radio. “Sit tight, Ronon, we’re comin’.”
“Sir,” Simms walked up next to Lorne and Beckett. “There’s a trail right through the trees.” He pointed.
Lorne nodded. “Looks like as good a lead as any.” He waved his men over. “Michaels, Johnson, you have gate duty. The rest of you fall in. Let’s go.” Lorne started off towards the narrow path into the trees.
-------------------------------------
Carson could’ve sworn someone was watching him. For the second time in as many minutes, he looked over his shoulder but only saw Simms walking along behind him. Carson sighed and turned his attention forward again.
“Something wrong, Doc?” Simms asked quietly.
“Nay. Just a feeling someone’s watching us,” Carson admitted. He resisted the urge to look back as he heard Simms’ pace quicken and the Marine caught up with him.
“Don’t worry, Doc. We’re all a little jumpy. There’s something about this place…” his voice trailed off as he stepped back behind Carson and resumed his place in line.
Great. Carson shook his head. Even the bloody Marines are jumpy… he stumbled and nearly ran into Lorne as the Major stopped abruptly.
“Okay, that’s a problem.” Lorne looked up and down the impressive landslide that blocked their way.
“Sir,” Simms pointed off to the left. “Tracks.”
Carson followed Lorne as the Major walked to Simms’ position and knelt. He carefully touched a deep boot print. “Looks like standard military issue, but tracking was never my thing. Simms?” He looked up.
Simms knelt opposite Lorne. “Looks that way.” His gaze followed the tracks into the brush. “They lead off this direction.”
Lorne sighed then tapped his radio call button. “Ronon? Do you copy?”
“This… Ronon.”
“He sounds clearer,” Carson observed, finding hope in his words. Static still plagued their communication, but it wasn’t nearly as interfering as before. We have to be closer. He reasoned.
Lorne nodded. “We’re on the path but a landslide is blocking our way. We found some tracks leading off into the woods. Are we in the right place?”
“…right… not far…” Ronon’s broken reply conveyed enough information to make all of them smile slightly.
“Copy that,” Lorne stood. “We’re coming.” Lorne stepped off the path and into the brush.
Carson followed closely behind Lorne. A sense of urgency tightened his gut, but Carson was familiar with it. The feeling came with the territory, and he experienced it every time he worked a trauma case. Those first few minutes, when you don’t know enough to really know the status of your patient, but your gut tells you its bad. Carson hadn’t even seen the Colonel yet, but something inside him was foreboding. His grandmother always told him he had a sixth sense when it came to “doctoring”... Carson was snapped from his thoughts by Lorne’s strong arm pushing him back.
“Watch it!”
Carson’s eyes widened in shock. “Crap,” he muttered. Barely visible through the recently broken brush were the jagged remains of what looked like a lashed wooden grate, with a gaping hole in the center. “Is that…”
Lorne’s call interrupted Carson. “Ronon! Colonel Sheppard!”
“We’re here!” Ronon’s muffled voice replied.
“What about Teyla and McKay?” Lorne questioned.
“They never made it back to the gate?”
Ronon’s question sent a cold chill through Carson. “Oh no…”
“Damn,” Lorne muttered. He looked over his shoulder at his men. “Keep a sharp eye out.” He tapped his radio call button. “Michaels, Johnson. This is Lorne. Teyla and McKay are missing. Keep your eyes peeled and check in if you see anything unusual.”
“Yes, sir.” Johnson immediately responded.
“No, Ronon. They didn’t make it back.” Carson took a step forward and froze, as the wet dirt under his feet shifted slightly, accompanied by a low groan from what was left of the wood grate.
“Hang on, Doc,” Lorne urged quietly.
Carson stood unmoving. “Aye,” he breathed. Slowly, he backed up a step. “I need to see down there, then we need to figure a way for me to get down there. I need to assess Colonel Sheppard’s condition before we do anything.” Carson looked back to the hole. “Ronon! How badly hurt is the Colonel?”
“Broken leg and arm! Keeps losing consciousness!” Ronon replied. “Hurry up!”
“Aye, lad,” Carson placated, “we’re working on it. The ground is pretty unstable. We don’t want to bring this whole thing down on top of you two!”
“I know.” Ronon snapped.
Carson winced at the ex-runner’s tone and looked at Lorne.
“Okay,” Lorne unclipped his P-90 and handed it to Simms. “I’m going to lay down on my stomach and work my way out there so we can see what’s going on. It should hold me, but let’s get that coil of rope and tie me off to be sure.”
“Yes, sir,” Simms nodded. He pulled his backpack off and grabbed a large coil of sturdy rope.
“Wait,” Carson put a restraining hand on Lorne’s chest. “I should do this.”
“No way, Doc. This is what they pay me the big bucks for,” Lorne objected.
Carson shook his head. “I need to see the Colonel to begin assessing his condition. I’ll do it.”
“Doc, you can’t assess much from here and just looking,” Lorne countered.
“Ach! Are ye a doctor now, Major?” Carson raised his voice in frustration. “There’s a lot I can learn from seeing the situation. Besides, it’s a damn sight better than nothing. Now, I’m doing this.” He stared evenly back at Lorne, daring the Major to object.
Lorne sighed and raised a placating hand. “All right, okay. I’ll keep hold of you.”
“Right.” Carson shrugged out of his backpack. He lifted his arms as Lorne quickly wrapped the rope around him and rigged a makeshift harness. As Carson knelt, a quiet voice inside chastised him for insisting on doing this, but his sense of duty to his patient quelled it. Carson slowly lowered onto all fours, then to his stomach. He felt the rope go taunt for a moment before Lorne fed him some slack. Bending his legs and carefully pulling on a few of the remaining fractured timbers, Carson worked his way towards the hole. Reaching it, he grabbed onto the ragged ends of the timbers and peeked over the edge. He immediately made eye contact with Ronon, who was about thirty feet down.
“Doc,” Ronon nodded up at him, “Sheppard’s hurt pretty bad.”
Carson’s gaze drifted from Ronon to Sheppard and it was all Carson could do not to wince. Grandma’s intuition always was right… Carson thought as he realized his sense of urgency wasn’t unwarranted. Even from the distance, he could see the unhealthy pallor of the colonel’s complexion and the unnatural bend of his arm. “Colonel Sheppard?” Carson grimaced at the lack of response. His gaze traveled downward, taking in the slight unnatural bend to his left leg as well. Broken radius and ulna, broken femur… looks shocky…
“It’s been hard to keep him awake, Doc,” Ronon supplied.
“Aye,” Carson nodded. He squinted realizing that he was seeing a faint reflection of himself. “Is he lying in water, Ronon?”
“Yeah,” Ronon kicked absently, making a small splash. He looked up at Carson and held his thumb and forefinger about four inches apart. “About this much standing water. I propped his head up, but there’s no place dry to move him to.”
“Judging by the looks of that leg, I’d be hesitant to move him too much without stabilizing it first,” Carson reassured. “But he’s likely hypothermic. Can you get any response from him at all?”
Ronon knelt and poked Sheppard’s uninjured arm. “Sheppard.”
Carson watched the colonel intently, his gaze narrowing as Sheppard’s head moved slightly. Carson listened hard, and nodded as he heard a quiet moan from Sheppard.
Carson looked over his shoulder at Lorne. “He’s hypothermic and sustained serious injuries. I’m going to need a break away stretcher to get him out, blankets and warmed IV’s. I have a splint for his arm, but I need a traction splint for his leg. Send someone for that stuff, some extra manpower, and whatever we’ll need to lift him out of there.” Carson stared intently at Lorne. “Now.” He watched a new level of seriousness take over Lorne’s expression as the Major read every bit of what Carson didn’t say aloud.
Turning his attention away from Lorne, Carson tuned out the major barking orders at his men. “Colonel? Can ye hear me?” Carson called.
“Carrrssssonn…”
Sheppard’s slurred speech was quiet and really all Carson heard were the “s”, but he took it as a faintly good sign. He smiled grimly. “Aye, lad. I’m here. We’re going to get you out, so hang in there. Stay awake and talk to Ronon.”
“Doc?”
Lorne’s voice demanded Carson’s attention. He looked back. “Major?”
“Coffey is double-timing it for the gate right now.”
“Aye, good.” Carson pushed away from the hole and slowly turned a hundred and eighty degrees so his feet dangled over the edge.
“Doc? What are you doing?”
Carson quirked his brows at Lorne’s wary question. “You need to lower me down into the hole.”
“You sure that’s a good idea?”
“No time for arguments!” Carson cut Lorne off. “I need to get down there now. As soon as I’m down, send me my pack.”
Lorne sighed before nodding slightly. “Hang on a second.” He handed Carson’s line to Simms before shrugging out of his vest and coat. Lorne pulled his vest back on over his t-shirt and tossed his coat to Beckett. “Use that to pad the rope so it doesn’t fray against the edges.”
Carson nodded. “Right.” He quickly situated the coat and took a deep breath before scooting to the edge.
“Okay,” Lorne’s voice was calm. “Nice and easy, Doc.”
Carson stared down the hole at Ronon and Sheppard. He swallowed against the butterflies in his stomach. “Aye.” Slowly, Carson scooted off the edge, trusting Lorne and Simms to hold his weight. He held tightly to the rope as he slowly descended into the hole. Not far… bloody hell, why am I doing this? Carson took a deep breath. Because the Colonel needs you, you ninny! His eyes snapped open as he felt a strong hand on his leg followed by a deep voice.
“I got you, Doc,” Ronon muttered.
“Beckett?” Lorne’s voice drifted down from above.
Carson’s feet passed through the standing water and contacted firm ground. He hissed quietly as cold water instantly seeped through his shoes before looking up. “I’m down. Hold on a minute.” Carson quickly stepped out of the harness. “Take the rope and send me my pack!” Wasting no time, Carson sloshed through the water and crouched by the colonel. He pressed his fingers into the colonel’s neck, wincing at the cold feel of Sheppard’s skin. “Colonel? Can ye hear me?” He pursed his lips as Sheppard moaned quietly and weakly moved his head. “Open your eyes, Colonel,” Carson urged. “Come on, lad, open your eyes for me.” Carson shook his head slightly at the slow rate of Sheppard’s pulse, mentally noting each symptom and trying to estimate Sheppard’s core temperature. Wavering between stupor and delirium, decreased heart rate, extended exposure time compounded with shock, absence of shivering… Carson sighed. “Moderate hypothermia,” he muttered to himself, “probably low thirties…”
“How is he?” Ronon knelt on the other side of Sheppard and held Carson’s pack up, keeping it out of the water.
Carson looked up, noting the big man’s stiff movement and winces. “He’s gone and made a mess of himself,” Carson sighed. “Oh, and when I’m done here, I want to take a look at those ribs, son.”
“I’m fine, Doc,” Ronon grumbled.
“I’ll be the judge of that, thank you,” Carson returned his attention to Sheppard, but he could feel Ronon’s icy stare. “Colonel,” Carson urged. “You need to open your eyes now.” Carson found a slight smile as Sheppard’s eyelids slowly parted. His stare was distant, but Carson found some relief in that small achievement. “I need you to stay awake, Colonel. We’re going to get you out of here but you have to stay awake, understand?”
“D…dad…” Sheppard slurred, his unfocused gaze passing right through Carson.
“Doc?” Ronon questioned.
“He’s delirious. It’s the hypothermia. We need to get him out of here as soon as possible.” Carson looked up. “Lorne! Where’s that help?”
“Comin’, Doc!” The distance muted Lorne’s voice but it was clear. “We can’t raise Michaels and Johnson at the gate, some sort of interference, but Coffey just radioed that he’s almost there.”
“Tell him to get a move on it,” Carson insisted, knowing full well that everyone involved knew the urgency of Sheppard’s condition. Carson sighed, stifling his frustration. He stared at the hole above him for a moment as silence lingered.
“He knows, Doc,” Lorne finally replied, his tone understanding.
----------------------------
“Dad?” John looked around, his gaze only finding darkness. “Dad?”
“Son.”
The echo of his father’s voice surrounded John. He looked frantically. “Dad? Where are you?”
“Here.”
Again, the voice was impossible for John to pinpoint. “Dad, please!”
“John.”
In spite of the echo, John felt warmth and reassurance from his father’s voice. His reaction was reflexive; the tone of his father’s voice bringing him comfort. He stopped looking, his panic fading. Content, John stood motionless… waiting.
“Be strong, John. You must be strong.”
John turned his head one way, then another. “I am Dad, I mean I try.”
“I know, son, but you must try harder. Now more than ever. Be strong. Help yourself.”
“I don’t…” John’s question trailed off as another, insistent voice demanded his attention.
“Colonel…”
--------------------------------------
“Colonel,” Carson insisted, as he quickly pulled a collapsible splint from his pack, along with two rolls of wrap to secure it. “Colonel?” Carson repeated.
“Carssson?”
John’s voice was heavily slurred, but his moment of lucidity wasn’t lost on Carson. “Aye,” he couldn’t quite keep the surprise from his voice, “’tis me. Keep talking to me, lad.” Carefully, Carson positioned the splint around John’s arm and set to securing it.
“You’re not setting the bone?” Ronon asked quietly.
Mildly surprised, Carson looked up at the ex-runner. I always knew there was more thinking going on in that head of his, then he let on… “No. He’s too cold. Any jarring, including trying to set the bone could likely bring on a heart arrhythmia or even cardiac arrest. Can’t risk it. Once we get his core temperature stabilized, we’ll set the bones.” Carson finished immobilizing the colonel’s arm, all the while forcing down his frustration. There was little he could do for the injured colonel until they got him out of this hole and in a position for proper medical care. Carson sighed. “Hurry,” he whispered. Looking up at Ronon, Carson knew the Satedan felt the same.
-------------------------------------
Lorne fought the urge to fidget, as he stood helpless in front of the hole. He knew Coffey was moving as fast as he could, but that did nothing to calm Lorne’s impatience. Static in his headset grabbed Lorne’s attention.
“Major!” Coffey’s voice was strained, “I’ve encountered hostile natives! They’re firing arrows at me. Michaels and Johnson are dead and I’m making a break for the gate!”
Lorne slapped the call button on his radio. “Coffey, this is Lorne. Do what you have to do to defend yourself and get to the gate for help! That’s an order!” On the heels of his command, Lorne winced as P-90 fire blared in his ear. “Coffey? Do you copy?” Lorne resisted the urge to kick the nearest rock as his question was met only with static. “Damn it!” He pushed aside his anger at the loss of two good men and maybe a third. Before Coffey’s volley, they hadn’t heard any gunfire, which made Lorne conclude Michaels and Johnson had been ambushed. He looked at Simms for a moment before the Marine flipped the safety off his P-90 and turned away. Lorne’s gaze quickly passed over the other two Marines. “Stay sharp.”
Lorne turned back to the hole. “Doc, we have a problem.”
“Ach, what now?” Carson’s voice drifted back up.
“Sounds like Coffey ran into the natives and they were less than friendly. Michaels and Johnson are dead and I’m not sure if Coffey made it to the gate or not.” Lorne could’ve sworn he heard Carson’s sigh even from a distance.
“Oh, that’s lovely! Now what?”
“Workin’ on it, Doc.” Lorne turned and waved at two of the Marines. “Masters, Walker, you two head for the gate, but go quietly. See if you can figure out what’s going on and get back to Atlantis if you can. The Colonel needs help, and we all need reinforcements ASAP.” Lorne looked back and forth between them for a moment. “Go.”
Lorne glanced at Simms, as Walker and Masters headed off through the woods. “Well, it’s just you and I.”
Simms smiled grimly. “Yes, sir.”
-------------------------------
“That’s it, I’m not waiting any longer.” Carson stood up and stepped around behind Sheppard’s back.
“What are you doing?” Ronon watched Carson intently.
“He needs to be warmed and he needs it now. We can’t wait for help to get here.” Carson knelt behind Sheppard and lifted his upper body out of the water. “Take one of your knives and cut the vest’s binding straps under the splint so you can take it off without jarring that arm any.” Carson stared at Ronon for a second longer. “Now, son,” he insisted.
Ronon pulled a small knife from the vambrace that covered his left forearm, stepped over Sheppard and knelt. He quickly cut the vest’s bindings, the sharp knife passing easily through the narrow webbing.
Sheppard moaned quietly and tried to speak, his voice thick and slurred. “D-dad-d…”
“Easy, lad,” Carson whispered. He nodded at Ronon. “Pull it off him, carefully. Don’t jar him too much.”
Ronon complied. “What are we doing, Doc?” Ronon set the vest next to him and looked back at Carson.
“We’re getting him out of some of these wet clothes. Carefully now, cut the coat sleeve just above the splint and down under his arm. Then pull the coat off in the same manner.”
Ronon set to work on the coat. “Why? He’s just going to lay in the cold water again.”
“No, he’s not. When we get his shirt off, I want you to hold him while I take off mine. Skin to skin contact may help stabilize his body temperature, at least around his vital organs. ‘Tis not as good as medical treatment, but its all we have right now, and he can’t wait any longer.”
Ronon unzipped Sheppard’s coat and carefully pulled it off him. He cut the shirt in a similar manner as the coat and before long, Sheppard’s torso was bare.
“C-cold-d…” Sheppard muttered his eyes never opening.
“I know, John,” Carson answered by habit, knowing full well Sheppard probably couldn’t hear him. “Just hold on. We’ll get ye warm.” Carson looked back to Ronon. “Good. Hold him.” He relinquished Sheppard’s weight to Ronon and quickly shrugged out of his vest and coat. He threw the coat over Ronon’s shoulder, being careful to keep it as dry as possible, before pulling his shirt over his head. Scooting closer to Sheppard, Carson nodded at Ronon. “Lean him back against me. Gently now.” Carson grimaced as Ronon settled the colonel against his chest.
“What is it?” Ronon asked, noting Carson’s expression.
“He’s really cold.” Carson wrapped his arms around Sheppard, ignoring his own cold. “Put the coat around my shoulders and tuck it in where you can. Then tell Lorne to send his and Simm’s coats down as well.” Carson looked down as Sheppard moaned quietly. “Easy, son,” he responded, “we’ll get ye through this.” Carson's brow furrowed as he tightened his grip on the colonel. "What I wouldn't give for a warm IV and dry ground." He muttered. Before long, Carson looked up at Ronon who stood before him with two coats in his hands.
“Doc?”
Carson nodded. “Lay one over the Colonel’s body and try to keep it out of the water. Put the other one on yourself.”
“Doc, I have a coat…” Ronon protested.
“No arguments!” Carson interrupted. “Your coat is soaked. Get out of it and put that dry one on. I have one hypothermia patient! I don’t need another.” Carson stared hard at Ronon’s defiant gaze.
After a moment, Ronon sighed and threw one coat over his shoulder. He then knelt and draped the other one over Sheppard and tucked it in where he could. Standing up straight, Ronon shrugged out of his duster and into the remaining coat.
In spite of the serious situation, Carson had to stifle a smile. The coat wouldn’t close in front, looked like it was going to rip across the shoulders if Ronon even moved, and the sleeves only reached half way down the big man’s arms.
Ronon glowered. “Not a word, Doc.”
“Sorry,” Carson managed. He worked his hand up under the coat and pressed his fingers into Sheppard’s neck. “Still too bloody slow. We got to get him out of this water.”
“What about you?” Ronon asked quietly.
Carson stifled a shiver. “I’ll be fine, as long as we don’t have to stay here too long.” He looked up, his eyes catching on Ronon’s expression.
Respect filled Ronon’s face, and his eyes crinkled as his mouth turned up in a small smile.
On To Part 2!
So this one. This was the very FIRST whump story I EVER wrote in SGA. ;) I hadn't written whump in over 3 years, as I didn't write whump in LOTR, where I was before SGA. I first wrote whump way back in my Emergency! fandom days.
I was a bit rusty, but it was fun to whump up on a new victim.hehehehe... >:)
Anyway, found this one buried on FF.net. I think that's the only place I ever posted it. I hope you enjoy it! Written in November of 2006.
Story: Some Days Are Like This
Word Count: ~17,500
Genre: Gen, Whump
Characters: John Sheppard, Rodney McKay, Telyla Emmagan, Ronon Dex, Elizabeth Weir, Carson Beckett, Evan Lorne
Warnings: Whump
Summary: It's a routine off-world mission for Sheppard and his team. Some days, that's all you need for something to go wrong.
Some Days Are Like This
“Bet you wished you stayed in bed!”
~Dr. Leonard McCoy; Star Trek
Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard emerged from the Stargate and stopped, taking a moment to inhale the fresh, damp air around him. He walked away from the gate and down two worn, stone stairs before stopping in the short grass, the light dew dampening his pant legs. He looked around as the rest of his team emerged. A large, grassy field greeted his gaze, with tall coniferous trees surrounding them. He couldn’t see the Pegasus equivalent of a bird that made the odd chirping whistle sound that found his ears, but somehow he took comfort from it. The little creature seemed unworried about anything lurking in the bushes, so John followed suit.
John glanced at Ronon who stopped next to him. “Which way?”
Ronon pointed to a narrow trail that led into the woods. “There. Last time I was here I saw a small village not far from here. Didn’t stay long though.”
John nodded absently, recognizing the subtle meaning of Ronon’s words. The Wraith transmitter he’d carried for seven years had prevented him from staying in one place too long. John looked over at Rodney. “Anything?”
Rodney grunted. “Lots of animals… I think.”
John walked forward. “Okay then. I’m on point, Ronon take the six. McKay watch for human life signs.
“I have never been here,” Teyla remarked quietly as she followed behind Rodney.
“I’m not surprised,” Rodney muttered. “Tell me again why we’re here?” He added annoyingly.
John glanced over his shoulder. “Just bein’ neighborly.”
“We’re on the other side of the galaxy from Atlantis. Hardly neighbors!” Rodney retorted.
“It is all irrelevant with the Stargate,” Teyla commented quietly.
“Huh,” Rodney grunted, his tone decidedly disagreeing.
John tuned out Rodney and relished the fresh, clean air. He followed the path as it meandered its way through the trees as his thoughts touched on the imposing Runner that followed at the back of his team. Ronon hadn’t been around long, but already had proven himself as a good choice for John’s team. A gifted fighter and expert marksman, Ronon was a man of few words, but one John was getting used to having at his back. “Did you have any contact with the locals at all, Ronon?” John ventured.
“No.”
John smiled slightly at Ronon’s abrupt answer. At first, he’d never been sure if the big ex- runner was mad or not, but after a while John came to realize that it was just the way he was; and with McKay around, John really didn’t need another chatterbox anyway.
“Just once,” Rodney groused, “I’d like to pick a warm sunshiny planet.”
“Like M26-445?” John smiled mischievously. He could feel Rodney’s icy stare on his back.
“Oh you’re hilarious. Conditions that rival the Sahara Desert aren’t what I had in mind!”
“But, it was warm and sunny,” John replied, still smiling.
“Whatever!” Rodney snapped and then fell silent.
John rounded a bend in the trail and stopped. “Well, that’s a problem.” His gaze fixed on a large landslide that completely blocked the path. His gaze narrowed. “Not sure I want to try climbing over that and risk anyone sinking in it.” He took the positive sounding grunt coming from Ronon’s direction to be an affirmation of his statement as he walked to the edge of the path and peered into the trees. “We could go around I suppose...”
“Great, slogging through wet trees,” Rodney muttered.
“We could leave you here, by yourself, McKay,” Ronon commented quietly, “lots of animals around, probably harmless.”
Rodney sighed loudly. “Right. Lead the way, Colonel.”
John smiled as he pushed aside a heavy bush with his P-90 and ventured into the woods. Wet branches brushed across his face and body as he worked his way through the underbrush. “We shouldn’t have to go far, just circle far enough to get around the landslide...” John’s voice trailed off as took two more steps and the ground under his feet abruptly changed. Gone was the firm feeling dirt, replaced with what he could only call a wobbling surface that creaked ominously. He froze. “Stop!”
“What?”
Rodney’s annoyed voice held a note of concern. Carefully turning his head, John caught a glimpse of his team from the corner of his eye. “I’m not standing on solid ground anymore.” As if in response, the surface under his feet creaked again. John felt it bend under his weight. “This is not good.”
He felt more than heard Ronon edge closer, but although the Satedan was still on solid ground, he felt the wobbling surface under his feet shift in response. “Ronon? Stay back. The ground is way too wet and unstable for you to get any closer.” The creaking stopped as Ronon backed off.
“Sheppard, reach behind and I’ll grab you.”
John licked his lips as he considered Ronon’s suggestion.
“Colonel, you cannot see it but Ronon can pull you back if you reach for him,” Teyla reassured.
John sighed. “Right.” He slowly let go of his P-90 with his left hand and gradually moved his arm behind him and towards Ronon.
“Sheppard,” Ronon urged.
“I’m working on it!” John hissed. After what seemed like forever, he felt Ronon’s strong grip on his wrist.
“I got you,” Ronon commented quietly.
“McKay, Teyla,” John’s voice was hushed, his gut in knots despite the professional air he held onto, “stand back. Ronon’s gonna have to do this fast...” The ominous sound of cracking wood under his feet cut off John’s words. He felt the surface beneath him start to give as his weight proved to ultimately be too much for it to bear. “Crap...”
“Sheppard!” Ronon pulled hard on John’s arm but was a split second too late as the fragile surface under John’s feet gave way.
John felt himself falling and forced himself to let go of Ronon’s arm, determined not to take the Satedan with him, but his action was futile against Ronon’s tightening grip. John felt his fall break for just a moment, before air rushed by him once again and for a split second he realized that Ronon was falling with him. A sharp, breathtaking pain to his leg and a searing pain left arm, broke the bliss of freefall before his head met hard earth and darkness took him.
***************
“Colonel!”
Somewhere, in the recesses of his mind, John heard the call. Teyla. But, numbing blackness enveloped him... held him silent...
“Ronon! Colonel!”
Ronon? Something pulled urgently at him, something important... a duty. John pushed away the darkness and forced his way out through the haze of unconsciousness. A deep voice called from right next to him.
“Here!”
Ronon. John could’ve sworn he’d said the man’s name aloud, but no response came from him. The warm comfort of unconsciousness called to John, but he resisted.
“Are you all right?”
Teyla again. John pushed against the cobwebs the muddled his mind, latching onto her voice like an anchor. She sounded tense... concerned. He didn’t like his team worried...
“I’m okay, but Sheppard’s unconscious,” Ronon responded.
John’s grasp on consciousness was tenuous but somehow he found his voice, managing a small groan. He pulled in a deep breath, the rich oxygen clearing his head, but he instantly regretted the action as pain spiked through his chest. “Argh...” he groaned.
“Sheppard?” Ronon’s voice was deep and quiet.
John forced his eyes open and took in the sight of the big Satedan’s face hovering over his. “Ronon?” He croaked. Broken bits of what happened came back to him. John’s eyes slid shut. “Should’ve let go of me...”
“No.” Ronon disagreed. “Teyla!”
John blinked hard and watched as Ronon stood and walked a few steps away, his arm pressed firmly against his side and a slight limp both revealing he hadn’t come through the fall completely unscathed. Ronon looked up at the large opening better than twenty feet above them. “Sheppard’s coming around.”
“Rodney and I are headed to the gate to get help,” Teyla’s voice drifted down from above. “We will be back as soon as we can.”
“We’ll be here.” Ronon turned back and faced John.
Consciousness took firmer hold on John, chasing away the oblivion and he started to become aware of his surroundings. Experimentally, he shifted his weight…
Nothing could’ve prepared him for the wave of pure agony that shot up from his left leg and tore through his body. He writhed and the torture redoubled as pain from his left arm joined the chorus. A strangled cry escaped him and he was vaguely aware of pounding the fist of his good hand in the mud as the pain consumed him. Spots danced in his vision and it was all John could do to fight off unconsciousness. “Damn!” he finally gasped.
“Leg’s broken. Arm too.” Ronon muttered quietly.
“No kidding,” John gasped, sweat trickling down his forehead. “Femur?” He stared at Ronon’s confused expression for a moment. “Thigh?” He amended.
“Yeah.” Ronon confirmed.
“Great...” John gasped, fighting to control the pain. “I never do things... half ways...” He blinked and pushed away the pain. Slowly, John became aware of a cold wetness soaking through his clothes and chilling his body. He moved his good hand slightly, and was rewarded with a small splash. “Leave it to me to land in a puddle...” He watched Ronon kneel close by, noting the wince and how Ronon’s hand tightened on his side. John’s gaze narrowed. “You okay?”
Ronon’s expression was tinged with a dark amusement. “Better than you.”
Lying in a puddle is not my idea of fun... “Right,” John lifted his head and using his good arm, he tried to sit up, only to meet Ronon’s hand as the ex-runner pushed him back down.
“Don’t move.” Ronon’s gruff reply sounded more an order than anything.
“Ronon,” John swallowed hard and forced his body to relax and be still. “I’m lying in a pool of water,” he tried to sound neutral, but inwardly winced at the slight irritation in his voice. “I don’t suppose there’s any dry ground you can help me move to?” He inhaled carefully, repressing a chilled shudder. John watched Ronon look around for a minute before staring him in the eye and shaking his head.
“No. No high ground. Probably shouldn’t move that leg either.” Ronon vaguely waved at John’s left leg.
John sighed. “True.” He looked around. “Abandoned well or something?”
“Yes.” Ronon agreed.
John swallowed and closed his eyes. “This just gets better and better. Guess we’re waiting for Teyla, Rodney and that help, huh?”
“Yes.” Ronon repeated quietly.
John’s sighed as deep as he could against his painful ribs. Just once, he wished the big Satedan would string together more than five words in one sentence. A chill raced through him again as the cold water and pain ate away at his strength. Pain shot up from his leg and John grunted softly in response. Ronon’s quiet voice grabbed his attention.
“Sheppard?”
“Yeah?” John managed through clenched teeth.
“They’ll be back soon.”
If he hadn’t been in so much pain, John would’ve smiled at Ronon’s attempt at reassurance. “I know.” John hoped his half spoken, half groaned response was understandable. He glanced at Ronon, watching as the Satedan nodded slightly in response. John closed his eyes against the cold that seeped into him and clenched his jaw, determined not to let his teeth chatter. Broken bones, cold water, cracked ribs, probably a concussion…Shock. While not a medic or a doctor, John was career military, and with that he’d received a fair amount of medical training. But, as the reality of his situation and injuries set in, a part of John really wished he were more ignorant of his condition. Hurry up, guys.
*************************
Teyla allowed herself a small smile as she emerged from the trees and caught sight of the Stargate. She looked back at McKay. “Hurry! We are almost there!”
“I’m going as fast as I can!” He panted back.
“Dr. McKay,” Teyla returned her gaze forward, “we have not run that far.”
“Whatever!” McKay snapped, “some of us prefer to use our brains and not race through woods like Amazonian women!”
Teyla was unsure who or what Amazonian women were, but she had a fair idea that he did not mean it as a compliment. She shrugged it off in favor of concern as she stopped in front of the DHD and dialed the first two symbols, only to be stopped by McKay’s quiet voice.
“Uhh, Teyla you may want to wait a minute.”
Teyla turned. “Dr. McKay…” her voice trailed off as twenty or more natives emerged from the surrounding woods, crude long bows and crossbows aimed directly at both of them.
“Oh no…” McKay lamented as he raised his hands.
Teyla held her P-90 close, cursing herself for not sensing the trap before it had been sprung. “Please,” she reasoned quietly with one of the natives, a tall dark haired man stopped close to her. “Our friends are injured. Let us contact our people so we can help them.”
“You will not.” The dark haired native responded immediately. “Surrender your weapons.”
Teyla looked around momentarily indecisive. If Colonel Sheppard and Ronon had been there they would have a chance, but with only Dr. McKay and herself… Teyla inhaled deeply before reaching up and unclasping her P-90 from her vest. She slowly bent over and laid it on the ground in front of her.
“Teyla?” McKay questioned quietly.
“Surrender your gun,” Teyla answered, her voice equally quiet. She slowly drew her side arm and laid it next to the P-90 as McKay set his in front of him. “What of our friends?” She asked hesitantly.
“They matter not to me,” the man replied gruffly. “They will die where they are, and it is a just punishment. Come.” He turned and walked away.
Confused, Teyla glanced at McKay, only to see her uncertainty mirrored on his face. Feeling the poke of a crossbow arrow in her back, Teyla slowly followed the leader, McKay right next to her, as they left the Stargate… and help, behind them.
****************************
He couldn’t resist it anymore. The cold water, the shock, they both proved to be too much for him to fight. John’s breath was hitched as his teeth chattered beyond his control and he felt the tension permeate his body, despite his best efforts to quell it. He squeezed his eyes shut, as what had become an even, persistent pain, ramped up in response to his involuntary shivering. “Damn...” he managed. He opened his eyes as he felt a strong grip on his shoulder and looked up at Ronon.
“Sheppard?” Ronon’s voice was quiet.
John stared into Ronon’s eyes, mildly surprised at the compassion he saw there. Inwardly, he chastised himself. Just because the ex-runner hid his feelings well, didn’t mean he didn’t have them. No less than me... “Could use… that help,” John managed through his chattering teeth. He watched as something akin of frustration took over Ronon’s expression an instant before he looked away. “Not... your fault.” John added.
Ronon’s gaze narrowed as he looked back at John. “I don’t like being helpless.”
“Join... the c-club...” John managed a small halfhearted smile and a hint of understanding in his expression as he held gazes with Ronon.
After a moment, Ronon nodded slightly. “What can I do?”
John swallowed hard and fought to think straight. “Sh-short of getting us... out of... here? Not... much. Unless you... can set... bones?” John swore he could hear Ronon grinding is teeth as the big man shook his head.
“No.”
John struggled to talk coherently. “Then... j-just keep me... company with that... charming personality... of yours.” Despite his pain and shivering body, John flashed Ronon a small smile.
After a long moment, the corners of Ronon’s mouth curled up slightly. His chuckle was cut short by a grimace and slight groan.
John’s eyes settled on Ronon’s arm, which he tightened protectively at his side. Forcing himself to concentrate John made eye contact with Ronon again. “W-what’s wrong... with you?” he stammered.
“I’m fine,” Ronon muttered.
“Like hell... you are,” John countered. He found himself in a battle of wills with the big Satedan but in spite of his condition John refused to back down. “We-ll?” his voice hitched but John held onto his no-nonsense gaze. Try again, big guy...
“Hit my ribs when I landed,” Ronon finally replied.
Considering Ronon's words, John stared at him a moment longer, the concentration helping him hold onto his lucidity. When he spoke at all, Ronon had a gift for understatement, which seemed to increase in direct proportion to the seriousness of the situation. The worse things were, the less he talked. John’s gaze narrowed. “Broken?” It was a question, but he was pretty sure he knew the answer.
Ronon stared hard at him for a minute, a slight hint of surprise in his expression. After a minute he nodded. “A couple.”
An exhaled staccato breath was the closest thing to a sigh John could manage. “Take it... easy then.”
Ronon abruptly stood, groaning quietly as he straightened. “May not be able to.”
John watched him look up at the gaping hole above them. He thought for a minute. “Teyla and McKay?” he asked quietly.
Ronon looked down at him. “Yeah. They should’ve been back with help by now.”
“Yeah…” John swallowed hard. Through the persistent, unending pain that flowed through his body, he felt his gut knot, as worry settled in. They weren’t that far from the gate. Even if Atlantis needed time to organize people and equipment, Teyla and McKay would’ve grabbed Beckett and came straight back. He’d expected them to be back in thirty minutes tops. “How… long?”
Ronon’s expression darkened as he looked back up at the gaping hole. “Almost two hours.”
“G-great,” John muttered. His eyelids felt heavy and he surrendered to the weight that pulled at them. His pain ebbed slightly and strangely John felt like he was floating.
“Sheppard!”
John’s eyes snapped open at Ronon’s call and he tensed, earning a bout of searing pain from his leg and arm. “Damn!” He felt the big man’s hand on his shoulder and looked up into Ronon’s serious expression.
“You need to stay awake,” Ronon stated simply.
Realization dawned on John and he exhaled carefully against his broken ribs. Crap! Almost lost it! “R-right,” he stammered. “Th-thanks.”
Ronon nodded once and settled back on his heels next to John, while watching him intently.
---------------------------------
“Please,” Teyla sat up as tall as the small, wood cage would allow her and stared imploringly at the guard nearest to her. “Let me talk to your leader. It is very important.”
“He’s not listening to you,” Rodney muttered. He shifted his weight and grimaced. “Sitting in two inches of mud,” he groused, “just what I’ve always wanted to do.” He grabbed one vertical wood bar next to him and shook it experimentally. “Surprisingly strong. Nothing a knife wouldn’t fix. Where’s Ronon and his endless supply of concealed knives when you need him?” Rodney bowed his head for a moment, before looking at Teyla.
Silently, Teyla nodded once, noting how her concern was mirrored in his eyes. She sat up straighter, sighing quietly as her head met the top of the cage. Barely tall enough for either of them to sit up straight, much less stand, Teyla felt like a caged animal. She inhaled deeply, her expression turning determined. “They must talk to us.” Giving one last silent look to Rodney, she returned her attention to the guard. “We must talk to you leader now.” Teyla stared at his unmoving back, frustration welling within her.
“I am here. What do you want?”
Teyla’s head snapped around at the voice, her gaze finding the tall dark haired leader. “Why do you hold us?” She asked immediately. “We have done nothing to you.”
The man’s short, bark of a laugh was cynical. “Have you not? Your people, with weapons much like these,” he pointed a short distance away where Teyla and Rodney’s weapons and gear lay in a heap, “have visited before. They killed and tortured many of my people, burned our homes, destroyed our village. All because they believed we knew something we did not.” His gaze narrowed in barely concealed anger. “You will pay for what your people have done!”
“We have done nothing to you!” Teyla countered. “You are mistaken!”
He shook his head. “I think not.” He lifted his chin in a haughty and commanding manner. “Your people will not deceive me again.” Without another word, he turned and stalked away.
Teyla sagged back against the side of the cage, her mind racing. Who did this to these people and how could Colonel Sheppard’s team be mistaken for them?
“What the hell is he talking about?” Rodney questioned quietly. “Did the Athosians…”
“No,” Teyla immediately cut Rodney off. “My people would never do this nor do we possess weapons such as yours. I do not know who he speaks of, but it is neither your people or mine.”
“Tell that to him,” Rodney muttered.
“I do not believe he is of a mind to listen,” Teyla shook her head. She looked around for a minute and found that the three guards’ attentions were elsewhere. “We must escape and make our way to the Stargate,” she whispered.
Rodney snorted quietly and looked around his eyes finding armed villagers everywhere. “Right,” his snappy voice was low. “Want to clue me in on how, exactly, we’re going to do that?”
Teyla once again glanced around the village before she looked back at him. “I do not know yet,” her expression turned cunning. “But, I will think of something.”
------------------------------------
The Athosian crop report failed to hold Elizabeth’s attention as she read the opening set of figures for the fourth time. Sighing, she pushed back from her desk and stood, before turning and staring at the inactive gate.
Sheppard’s team was a half hour overdue to check in. Not a significant amount of time, but enough to worry her and given the Colonel’s track record off world, she had every reason to worry. Elizabeth smiled slightly. She was probably overreacting, but…
Her smile faded as she turned and walked out of her office to the control room. She nodded once at Major Lorne who hovered behind Zelenka, seated at ops.
Lorne left Zelenka and joined her. “Colonel Sheppard’s team is overdue, ma’am.”
Elizabeth smiled slightly. “I know. Think there’s trouble?”
“We don’t have any reason to believe it’s more than just a simple delay, but…”
“You don’t think so,” Elizabeth finished for him.
Lorne shook his head. “No, ma’am, I don’t.”
“Intuition, Major?” Elizabeth arched an eyebrow at him.
Lorne’s smile was grim. “Experience, ma’am.”
Elizabeth stared at the Major for another moment before inhaling deeply and looking at Radek. “Dial M99-263.” She turned back to the gate as once again the chevrons lit.
“I could be wrong, ma’am,” Lorne ventured quietly.
Elizabeth smiled at him. “Maybe… maybe not. Let’s be sure.” She watched the wormhole flush into existence before reaching up and tapping the call button on her headset. “Colonel Sheppard, this is Weir. Do you copy?”
-------------------------------------
John floated in a state of half consciousness. His fight to keep his eyes open and stay awake became harder by the second, until Ronon’s prompts became the only thing holding him back from oblivion. The pain in his leg and arm had dulled; something he should’ve felt grateful for. A faint sense of concern over it set off an alarm within him, but his fading grasp on lucidity dulled it. Abruptly, loud static in his ear pierced the darkness in his mind like a knife.
“… Sheppard… Weir… copy?”
John’s eyes snapped open. “Elizabeth,” he muttered. He lifted his good hand sluggishly, but his fingers refused to cooperate and he couldn’t seem to connect with his radio.
“I got it,” Ronon tapped his earpiece. “This is Ronon, we copy.”
“Ronon?… Sheppard… breaking up…”
John blinked hard as he tried to focus on the garbled message from Elizabeth. “Interference,” he mumbled, his voice slightly slurred. “Teyla… Rodney?” He lazily turned his head and started at Ronon.
“Dr. Weir. You’re breaking up,” Ronon answered. “Sheppard’s injured and we don’t know where Teyla and McKay are. We need back up and Sheppard needs Beckett now.” Ronon shook his head at the static that greeted his request.
“Not good.” John fought his drooping eyelids… and lost.
---------------------------------------------
Elizabeth’s concerned gaze found Lorne’s.
“Weir…” Ronon’s broken transmission was barely audible, “Sheppard… injured… backup… Beckett…” Abruptly, the transmission turned to pure static.
“Ronon, do you copy?” Elizabeth shook her head as only static greeted her hail. She looked at Lorne’s expectant gaze and nodded once. “Get a team together to go after them. Take Beckett with you as well.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Lorne turned smartly and stalked from the control room already snapping orders in his headset and assembling his team.
Elizabeth watched him go. Only a few minutes ago she'd wondered if she had been worrying for no reason, but to hear Ronon's words, to know John was injured... She sighed, concern and frustration welling within her. We're coming...
Not twenty minutes later, Elizabeth hurried down the gate room stairs and walked up to Lorne’s team. She looked left as Beckett, in full off world gear, complete with sidearm, vest and a backpack of medical supplies, entered the gate room. He walked up the side steps and stopped next to her and Lorne.
“We don’t know anything about the Colonel’s condition?” Beckett asked, his voice slightly tense.
Elizabeth shook her head. “No. Ronon’s transmission was garbled. All we could decipher was that Colonel Sheppard was injured.”
“Ach,” Beckett shook his head.
“We don’t know the situation we’re walking into either, Doc, so stay sharp.” Lorne added.
“Oh, this just gets better and better,” Beckett sighed before giving Lorne a stern look. “Are we going or not, lad?”
Lorne smiled slightly and looked at Elizabeth.
Elizabeth stared solemnly back at him before nodding once. “You have a go, Major, be careful. I want routine check-ins no more than an hour in between.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Lorne turned to the six, heavily armed, Marines that milled around in front of the active Stargate. “Okay,” his voice captured all their attentions. “Let’s move out. I’m on point, Simms you take the six. Doc,” Lorne glanced at Beckett, “fall in behind me. Let’s go.” Lorne confidently crossed the event horizon, his team closely behind.
--------------------------------
“Sheppard.”
Dimly, John heard Ronon’s voice, but it sounded distant, as if called across a large field. John’s mind wandered. Field… the warmth of the sunshine on his face…
“Sheppard!”
Ronon’s voice was louder this time, accompanied by a shake of John’s shoulder. John tried to speak but all that he managed was a quiet groan, which earned him another shake to his shoulder.
“Sheppard! Wake up!”
John felt himself grimace at the loud voice that assaulted him, kept him from the warm darkness… the comfortable oblivion he longed for… No! A panicked voice inside him pulled him back from the edge; forced him to face reality. “Ronon…” John slurred.
“Stay awake,” Ronon’s firm voice was commanding.
Slowly, John opened his eyes. “’m here… help?”
Ronon nodded. “Should be on its way now.”
John blinked as he processed Ronon’s words. Somehow, he felt some relief, as his pain lessened even more, no longer aggravated by intense shivering. A small voice inside him knew he should care that help was coming, but it was squashed by a numbing apathy.
“Sheppard!”
John cared less and less about Ronon’s call, but something inside him, something his muddled mind couldn’t identify, grabbed onto Ronon’s voice and held it like a lifeline; one final connection between John and the conscious world. He opened his eyes slightly and even through his blurred vision, he could make out the intensity on Ronon’s face. John opened his mouth, but no sound came from it.
----------------------------------
The instant Lorne emerged from the Stargate he trotted forward, his gun ready for any movement that may greet them. Behind him, his team fanned out immediately securing the area around the Stargate. “Clear?” Lorne asked, his eyes never diverting from his sector. He nodded to himself as each of his team members gave him an affirmative reply.
Lorne reached up and tapped his radio call button. “Colonel Sheppard, Ronon. This is Major Lorne. Do you copy?”
“Lorne… Ronon… where…” Ronon’s broken reply brought a slight smile to Lorne’s face.
“We just came through the gate. Your transmission is breaking up, Ronon. Where are you?” Lorne questioned. He glanced sideways as Beckett walked up next to him.
“Path… hole… injured.”
“In a hole?” Beckett shook his head.
“That’d explain the spotty radio transmissions,” Lorne reasoned. A sense of urgency gripped him. He clicked on his radio. “Sit tight, Ronon, we’re comin’.”
“Sir,” Simms walked up next to Lorne and Beckett. “There’s a trail right through the trees.” He pointed.
Lorne nodded. “Looks like as good a lead as any.” He waved his men over. “Michaels, Johnson, you have gate duty. The rest of you fall in. Let’s go.” Lorne started off towards the narrow path into the trees.
-------------------------------------
Carson could’ve sworn someone was watching him. For the second time in as many minutes, he looked over his shoulder but only saw Simms walking along behind him. Carson sighed and turned his attention forward again.
“Something wrong, Doc?” Simms asked quietly.
“Nay. Just a feeling someone’s watching us,” Carson admitted. He resisted the urge to look back as he heard Simms’ pace quicken and the Marine caught up with him.
“Don’t worry, Doc. We’re all a little jumpy. There’s something about this place…” his voice trailed off as he stepped back behind Carson and resumed his place in line.
Great. Carson shook his head. Even the bloody Marines are jumpy… he stumbled and nearly ran into Lorne as the Major stopped abruptly.
“Okay, that’s a problem.” Lorne looked up and down the impressive landslide that blocked their way.
“Sir,” Simms pointed off to the left. “Tracks.”
Carson followed Lorne as the Major walked to Simms’ position and knelt. He carefully touched a deep boot print. “Looks like standard military issue, but tracking was never my thing. Simms?” He looked up.
Simms knelt opposite Lorne. “Looks that way.” His gaze followed the tracks into the brush. “They lead off this direction.”
Lorne sighed then tapped his radio call button. “Ronon? Do you copy?”
“This… Ronon.”
“He sounds clearer,” Carson observed, finding hope in his words. Static still plagued their communication, but it wasn’t nearly as interfering as before. We have to be closer. He reasoned.
Lorne nodded. “We’re on the path but a landslide is blocking our way. We found some tracks leading off into the woods. Are we in the right place?”
“…right… not far…” Ronon’s broken reply conveyed enough information to make all of them smile slightly.
“Copy that,” Lorne stood. “We’re coming.” Lorne stepped off the path and into the brush.
Carson followed closely behind Lorne. A sense of urgency tightened his gut, but Carson was familiar with it. The feeling came with the territory, and he experienced it every time he worked a trauma case. Those first few minutes, when you don’t know enough to really know the status of your patient, but your gut tells you its bad. Carson hadn’t even seen the Colonel yet, but something inside him was foreboding. His grandmother always told him he had a sixth sense when it came to “doctoring”... Carson was snapped from his thoughts by Lorne’s strong arm pushing him back.
“Watch it!”
Carson’s eyes widened in shock. “Crap,” he muttered. Barely visible through the recently broken brush were the jagged remains of what looked like a lashed wooden grate, with a gaping hole in the center. “Is that…”
Lorne’s call interrupted Carson. “Ronon! Colonel Sheppard!”
“We’re here!” Ronon’s muffled voice replied.
“What about Teyla and McKay?” Lorne questioned.
“They never made it back to the gate?”
Ronon’s question sent a cold chill through Carson. “Oh no…”
“Damn,” Lorne muttered. He looked over his shoulder at his men. “Keep a sharp eye out.” He tapped his radio call button. “Michaels, Johnson. This is Lorne. Teyla and McKay are missing. Keep your eyes peeled and check in if you see anything unusual.”
“Yes, sir.” Johnson immediately responded.
“No, Ronon. They didn’t make it back.” Carson took a step forward and froze, as the wet dirt under his feet shifted slightly, accompanied by a low groan from what was left of the wood grate.
“Hang on, Doc,” Lorne urged quietly.
Carson stood unmoving. “Aye,” he breathed. Slowly, he backed up a step. “I need to see down there, then we need to figure a way for me to get down there. I need to assess Colonel Sheppard’s condition before we do anything.” Carson looked back to the hole. “Ronon! How badly hurt is the Colonel?”
“Broken leg and arm! Keeps losing consciousness!” Ronon replied. “Hurry up!”
“Aye, lad,” Carson placated, “we’re working on it. The ground is pretty unstable. We don’t want to bring this whole thing down on top of you two!”
“I know.” Ronon snapped.
Carson winced at the ex-runner’s tone and looked at Lorne.
“Okay,” Lorne unclipped his P-90 and handed it to Simms. “I’m going to lay down on my stomach and work my way out there so we can see what’s going on. It should hold me, but let’s get that coil of rope and tie me off to be sure.”
“Yes, sir,” Simms nodded. He pulled his backpack off and grabbed a large coil of sturdy rope.
“Wait,” Carson put a restraining hand on Lorne’s chest. “I should do this.”
“No way, Doc. This is what they pay me the big bucks for,” Lorne objected.
Carson shook his head. “I need to see the Colonel to begin assessing his condition. I’ll do it.”
“Doc, you can’t assess much from here and just looking,” Lorne countered.
“Ach! Are ye a doctor now, Major?” Carson raised his voice in frustration. “There’s a lot I can learn from seeing the situation. Besides, it’s a damn sight better than nothing. Now, I’m doing this.” He stared evenly back at Lorne, daring the Major to object.
Lorne sighed and raised a placating hand. “All right, okay. I’ll keep hold of you.”
“Right.” Carson shrugged out of his backpack. He lifted his arms as Lorne quickly wrapped the rope around him and rigged a makeshift harness. As Carson knelt, a quiet voice inside chastised him for insisting on doing this, but his sense of duty to his patient quelled it. Carson slowly lowered onto all fours, then to his stomach. He felt the rope go taunt for a moment before Lorne fed him some slack. Bending his legs and carefully pulling on a few of the remaining fractured timbers, Carson worked his way towards the hole. Reaching it, he grabbed onto the ragged ends of the timbers and peeked over the edge. He immediately made eye contact with Ronon, who was about thirty feet down.
“Doc,” Ronon nodded up at him, “Sheppard’s hurt pretty bad.”
Carson’s gaze drifted from Ronon to Sheppard and it was all Carson could do not to wince. Grandma’s intuition always was right… Carson thought as he realized his sense of urgency wasn’t unwarranted. Even from the distance, he could see the unhealthy pallor of the colonel’s complexion and the unnatural bend of his arm. “Colonel Sheppard?” Carson grimaced at the lack of response. His gaze traveled downward, taking in the slight unnatural bend to his left leg as well. Broken radius and ulna, broken femur… looks shocky…
“It’s been hard to keep him awake, Doc,” Ronon supplied.
“Aye,” Carson nodded. He squinted realizing that he was seeing a faint reflection of himself. “Is he lying in water, Ronon?”
“Yeah,” Ronon kicked absently, making a small splash. He looked up at Carson and held his thumb and forefinger about four inches apart. “About this much standing water. I propped his head up, but there’s no place dry to move him to.”
“Judging by the looks of that leg, I’d be hesitant to move him too much without stabilizing it first,” Carson reassured. “But he’s likely hypothermic. Can you get any response from him at all?”
Ronon knelt and poked Sheppard’s uninjured arm. “Sheppard.”
Carson watched the colonel intently, his gaze narrowing as Sheppard’s head moved slightly. Carson listened hard, and nodded as he heard a quiet moan from Sheppard.
Carson looked over his shoulder at Lorne. “He’s hypothermic and sustained serious injuries. I’m going to need a break away stretcher to get him out, blankets and warmed IV’s. I have a splint for his arm, but I need a traction splint for his leg. Send someone for that stuff, some extra manpower, and whatever we’ll need to lift him out of there.” Carson stared intently at Lorne. “Now.” He watched a new level of seriousness take over Lorne’s expression as the Major read every bit of what Carson didn’t say aloud.
Turning his attention away from Lorne, Carson tuned out the major barking orders at his men. “Colonel? Can ye hear me?” Carson called.
“Carrrssssonn…”
Sheppard’s slurred speech was quiet and really all Carson heard were the “s”, but he took it as a faintly good sign. He smiled grimly. “Aye, lad. I’m here. We’re going to get you out, so hang in there. Stay awake and talk to Ronon.”
“Doc?”
Lorne’s voice demanded Carson’s attention. He looked back. “Major?”
“Coffey is double-timing it for the gate right now.”
“Aye, good.” Carson pushed away from the hole and slowly turned a hundred and eighty degrees so his feet dangled over the edge.
“Doc? What are you doing?”
Carson quirked his brows at Lorne’s wary question. “You need to lower me down into the hole.”
“You sure that’s a good idea?”
“No time for arguments!” Carson cut Lorne off. “I need to get down there now. As soon as I’m down, send me my pack.”
Lorne sighed before nodding slightly. “Hang on a second.” He handed Carson’s line to Simms before shrugging out of his vest and coat. Lorne pulled his vest back on over his t-shirt and tossed his coat to Beckett. “Use that to pad the rope so it doesn’t fray against the edges.”
Carson nodded. “Right.” He quickly situated the coat and took a deep breath before scooting to the edge.
“Okay,” Lorne’s voice was calm. “Nice and easy, Doc.”
Carson stared down the hole at Ronon and Sheppard. He swallowed against the butterflies in his stomach. “Aye.” Slowly, Carson scooted off the edge, trusting Lorne and Simms to hold his weight. He held tightly to the rope as he slowly descended into the hole. Not far… bloody hell, why am I doing this? Carson took a deep breath. Because the Colonel needs you, you ninny! His eyes snapped open as he felt a strong hand on his leg followed by a deep voice.
“I got you, Doc,” Ronon muttered.
“Beckett?” Lorne’s voice drifted down from above.
Carson’s feet passed through the standing water and contacted firm ground. He hissed quietly as cold water instantly seeped through his shoes before looking up. “I’m down. Hold on a minute.” Carson quickly stepped out of the harness. “Take the rope and send me my pack!” Wasting no time, Carson sloshed through the water and crouched by the colonel. He pressed his fingers into the colonel’s neck, wincing at the cold feel of Sheppard’s skin. “Colonel? Can ye hear me?” He pursed his lips as Sheppard moaned quietly and weakly moved his head. “Open your eyes, Colonel,” Carson urged. “Come on, lad, open your eyes for me.” Carson shook his head slightly at the slow rate of Sheppard’s pulse, mentally noting each symptom and trying to estimate Sheppard’s core temperature. Wavering between stupor and delirium, decreased heart rate, extended exposure time compounded with shock, absence of shivering… Carson sighed. “Moderate hypothermia,” he muttered to himself, “probably low thirties…”
“How is he?” Ronon knelt on the other side of Sheppard and held Carson’s pack up, keeping it out of the water.
Carson looked up, noting the big man’s stiff movement and winces. “He’s gone and made a mess of himself,” Carson sighed. “Oh, and when I’m done here, I want to take a look at those ribs, son.”
“I’m fine, Doc,” Ronon grumbled.
“I’ll be the judge of that, thank you,” Carson returned his attention to Sheppard, but he could feel Ronon’s icy stare. “Colonel,” Carson urged. “You need to open your eyes now.” Carson found a slight smile as Sheppard’s eyelids slowly parted. His stare was distant, but Carson found some relief in that small achievement. “I need you to stay awake, Colonel. We’re going to get you out of here but you have to stay awake, understand?”
“D…dad…” Sheppard slurred, his unfocused gaze passing right through Carson.
“Doc?” Ronon questioned.
“He’s delirious. It’s the hypothermia. We need to get him out of here as soon as possible.” Carson looked up. “Lorne! Where’s that help?”
“Comin’, Doc!” The distance muted Lorne’s voice but it was clear. “We can’t raise Michaels and Johnson at the gate, some sort of interference, but Coffey just radioed that he’s almost there.”
“Tell him to get a move on it,” Carson insisted, knowing full well that everyone involved knew the urgency of Sheppard’s condition. Carson sighed, stifling his frustration. He stared at the hole above him for a moment as silence lingered.
“He knows, Doc,” Lorne finally replied, his tone understanding.
----------------------------
“Dad?” John looked around, his gaze only finding darkness. “Dad?”
“Son.”
The echo of his father’s voice surrounded John. He looked frantically. “Dad? Where are you?”
“Here.”
Again, the voice was impossible for John to pinpoint. “Dad, please!”
“John.”
In spite of the echo, John felt warmth and reassurance from his father’s voice. His reaction was reflexive; the tone of his father’s voice bringing him comfort. He stopped looking, his panic fading. Content, John stood motionless… waiting.
“Be strong, John. You must be strong.”
John turned his head one way, then another. “I am Dad, I mean I try.”
“I know, son, but you must try harder. Now more than ever. Be strong. Help yourself.”
“I don’t…” John’s question trailed off as another, insistent voice demanded his attention.
“Colonel…”
--------------------------------------
“Colonel,” Carson insisted, as he quickly pulled a collapsible splint from his pack, along with two rolls of wrap to secure it. “Colonel?” Carson repeated.
“Carssson?”
John’s voice was heavily slurred, but his moment of lucidity wasn’t lost on Carson. “Aye,” he couldn’t quite keep the surprise from his voice, “’tis me. Keep talking to me, lad.” Carefully, Carson positioned the splint around John’s arm and set to securing it.
“You’re not setting the bone?” Ronon asked quietly.
Mildly surprised, Carson looked up at the ex-runner. I always knew there was more thinking going on in that head of his, then he let on… “No. He’s too cold. Any jarring, including trying to set the bone could likely bring on a heart arrhythmia or even cardiac arrest. Can’t risk it. Once we get his core temperature stabilized, we’ll set the bones.” Carson finished immobilizing the colonel’s arm, all the while forcing down his frustration. There was little he could do for the injured colonel until they got him out of this hole and in a position for proper medical care. Carson sighed. “Hurry,” he whispered. Looking up at Ronon, Carson knew the Satedan felt the same.
-------------------------------------
Lorne fought the urge to fidget, as he stood helpless in front of the hole. He knew Coffey was moving as fast as he could, but that did nothing to calm Lorne’s impatience. Static in his headset grabbed Lorne’s attention.
“Major!” Coffey’s voice was strained, “I’ve encountered hostile natives! They’re firing arrows at me. Michaels and Johnson are dead and I’m making a break for the gate!”
Lorne slapped the call button on his radio. “Coffey, this is Lorne. Do what you have to do to defend yourself and get to the gate for help! That’s an order!” On the heels of his command, Lorne winced as P-90 fire blared in his ear. “Coffey? Do you copy?” Lorne resisted the urge to kick the nearest rock as his question was met only with static. “Damn it!” He pushed aside his anger at the loss of two good men and maybe a third. Before Coffey’s volley, they hadn’t heard any gunfire, which made Lorne conclude Michaels and Johnson had been ambushed. He looked at Simms for a moment before the Marine flipped the safety off his P-90 and turned away. Lorne’s gaze quickly passed over the other two Marines. “Stay sharp.”
Lorne turned back to the hole. “Doc, we have a problem.”
“Ach, what now?” Carson’s voice drifted back up.
“Sounds like Coffey ran into the natives and they were less than friendly. Michaels and Johnson are dead and I’m not sure if Coffey made it to the gate or not.” Lorne could’ve sworn he heard Carson’s sigh even from a distance.
“Oh, that’s lovely! Now what?”
“Workin’ on it, Doc.” Lorne turned and waved at two of the Marines. “Masters, Walker, you two head for the gate, but go quietly. See if you can figure out what’s going on and get back to Atlantis if you can. The Colonel needs help, and we all need reinforcements ASAP.” Lorne looked back and forth between them for a moment. “Go.”
Lorne glanced at Simms, as Walker and Masters headed off through the woods. “Well, it’s just you and I.”
Simms smiled grimly. “Yes, sir.”
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“That’s it, I’m not waiting any longer.” Carson stood up and stepped around behind Sheppard’s back.
“What are you doing?” Ronon watched Carson intently.
“He needs to be warmed and he needs it now. We can’t wait for help to get here.” Carson knelt behind Sheppard and lifted his upper body out of the water. “Take one of your knives and cut the vest’s binding straps under the splint so you can take it off without jarring that arm any.” Carson stared at Ronon for a second longer. “Now, son,” he insisted.
Ronon pulled a small knife from the vambrace that covered his left forearm, stepped over Sheppard and knelt. He quickly cut the vest’s bindings, the sharp knife passing easily through the narrow webbing.
Sheppard moaned quietly and tried to speak, his voice thick and slurred. “D-dad-d…”
“Easy, lad,” Carson whispered. He nodded at Ronon. “Pull it off him, carefully. Don’t jar him too much.”
Ronon complied. “What are we doing, Doc?” Ronon set the vest next to him and looked back at Carson.
“We’re getting him out of some of these wet clothes. Carefully now, cut the coat sleeve just above the splint and down under his arm. Then pull the coat off in the same manner.”
Ronon set to work on the coat. “Why? He’s just going to lay in the cold water again.”
“No, he’s not. When we get his shirt off, I want you to hold him while I take off mine. Skin to skin contact may help stabilize his body temperature, at least around his vital organs. ‘Tis not as good as medical treatment, but its all we have right now, and he can’t wait any longer.”
Ronon unzipped Sheppard’s coat and carefully pulled it off him. He cut the shirt in a similar manner as the coat and before long, Sheppard’s torso was bare.
“C-cold-d…” Sheppard muttered his eyes never opening.
“I know, John,” Carson answered by habit, knowing full well Sheppard probably couldn’t hear him. “Just hold on. We’ll get ye warm.” Carson looked back to Ronon. “Good. Hold him.” He relinquished Sheppard’s weight to Ronon and quickly shrugged out of his vest and coat. He threw the coat over Ronon’s shoulder, being careful to keep it as dry as possible, before pulling his shirt over his head. Scooting closer to Sheppard, Carson nodded at Ronon. “Lean him back against me. Gently now.” Carson grimaced as Ronon settled the colonel against his chest.
“What is it?” Ronon asked, noting Carson’s expression.
“He’s really cold.” Carson wrapped his arms around Sheppard, ignoring his own cold. “Put the coat around my shoulders and tuck it in where you can. Then tell Lorne to send his and Simm’s coats down as well.” Carson looked down as Sheppard moaned quietly. “Easy, son,” he responded, “we’ll get ye through this.” Carson's brow furrowed as he tightened his grip on the colonel. "What I wouldn't give for a warm IV and dry ground." He muttered. Before long, Carson looked up at Ronon who stood before him with two coats in his hands.
“Doc?”
Carson nodded. “Lay one over the Colonel’s body and try to keep it out of the water. Put the other one on yourself.”
“Doc, I have a coat…” Ronon protested.
“No arguments!” Carson interrupted. “Your coat is soaked. Get out of it and put that dry one on. I have one hypothermia patient! I don’t need another.” Carson stared hard at Ronon’s defiant gaze.
After a moment, Ronon sighed and threw one coat over his shoulder. He then knelt and draped the other one over Sheppard and tucked it in where he could. Standing up straight, Ronon shrugged out of his duster and into the remaining coat.
In spite of the serious situation, Carson had to stifle a smile. The coat wouldn’t close in front, looked like it was going to rip across the shoulders if Ronon even moved, and the sleeves only reached half way down the big man’s arms.
Ronon glowered. “Not a word, Doc.”
“Sorry,” Carson managed. He worked his hand up under the coat and pressed his fingers into Sheppard’s neck. “Still too bloody slow. We got to get him out of this water.”
“What about you?” Ronon asked quietly.
Carson stifled a shiver. “I’ll be fine, as long as we don’t have to stay here too long.” He looked up, his eyes catching on Ronon’s expression.
Respect filled Ronon’s face, and his eyes crinkled as his mouth turned up in a small smile.
On To Part 2!