Close Quarters (SGA)
Title: Close Quarters
Author: Tari_roo
Rating: PG (Gen)
Fandom: SGA
Disclaimer: I own nothing, I profit from nothing. But if SGA was still on, Sheppard would wear t-shirts more often and climb stuff. And we would be starting season 7 now.
Summary: A great prompt resulted in one fic and now another. Sheppard and Lorne, trapped in a small space, waiting for rescue.
Spoilers: SGA none really, post season 5.
A/N: Ah, who am I kidding? This is for saphirablue , because she’s just so darn enthusiastic. Redundant, probably. Fun to write, definitely. Going to get a lot of comments? Hell no J
There was a sharp crackle and squeal in his ear and Lorne winced, trying in vain to lift his arm to the radio.
“Major?”
Sounded like Gibson, maybe Matthews, who cared. Lorne sighed, “Yeah..”.
“Major!”
Apparently he wasn’t loud enough or maybe hadn’t actually said anything, so he coughed and said, “What?”
“Ah, you guys still ok down there?”
Oh, just peachy. No room, no air. But Lorne said instead, “Yes, Sergeant. Just keep on digging.”
“Yell if you know... we hit you or the roof starts coming in or..”
“Oh, you’ll hear from me if that happens,” Lorne deadpanned, resting his head on the uncomfortable tac vest below him.
“Kay ... sir.”
It was hot and stuffy and uncomfortable and miserable and claustrophobic and hot. Lorne tried to find some room to move, failed and only managed to nearly brain himself on the rock above and poke his CO beneath him.
“Lorne?”
Feeling a tad guilty for waking Sheppard up to this situation, but more relieved that he had finally regained consciousness, Lorne hissed, “Sir?”
Sheppard’s voice was muffled and in the dark it felt like he was speaking from much further below, “Are you lying on top of me?”
So far, there was no movement from the Colonel, just a voice with hints of discomfort. Wincing himself, Lorne tried to ‘think light thoughts’ and said, “Yes, sir.”
“Then who I am lying on?”
Ah. The rub in the equation, the definite downside to their situation. “Lieutenant Edwards, sir.”
Lorne felt John move more than heard him, his breathing deepening, halting and hitching. “Is he...?”
Unseen, Lorne could frown and scowl to his heart’s content, having already tried and failed to check for himself, “Don’t know sir, I haven’t been... no, Colonel, stop ... ah...”
Colonel Sheppard was trying to twist, trying to reach around to check on Edwards and there was just no frigging room. Back pressed painfully into the rock above, Sheppard’s knee way to close for comfort and the ability to breathe a little difficult.
“Sorry, Lorne. Edwards, hey Edwards, you with us?” Thankfully Sheppard stopped moving and was moving his head, trying to see in the pitch black if Edwards was ….
With no response, Sheppard moved and Lorne quickly said, “Anything, sir? It’d help if you’d stop ... wiggling... Nothing, huh?” The last puff was tinged with relief as Sheppard stopped moving. His words however was dull and angry.
“No, he’s gone.”
“Damn.” Trying very hard not to think about being trapped in a tiny, tiny, hole with a dead body and a fidgety superior officer, Lorne took a deep breath, felt his own bruises and strains protest that and coughed instead.
Sheppard was still moving, his hands testing the limits of their tomb, something Lorne had explored hours, ok minutes before. The Colonel’s voice was soft, as if subdued by the insight his probing hands were giving him. “So, what happened... something hit the Gate?”
Relaying the information the team topside had already told him, Evan said, “Rockslide, as the worm hole engaged. Apparently knocked the Gate forward, and fortunately the ... ah ...” The technical term momentarily escaped him and then Sheppard helpfully supplied.
“Kawoosh?”
Smiling a little, Lorne nodded, “Yeah... the kawoosh was still going and carved a neat little pocket for us to slam into.”
“And the rocks?” Ah, the proverbial rocks - the very things pinning them in place.
“Hunt’s team was able to call in to Atlantis, tell them not to send anyone else or dial back, then the wormhole disengaged and more rocks fell on top of us.” Murphy was a bastard, to be sure. Working with the SGC and Atlantis somehow meant that the damndest things happened in the weirdest of circumstances.
The Colonel sounded relieved but uncertain, “Why are we alive, then?”
Snorting with laugher, Lorne shrugged, knowing Sheppard would feel the motion. “Dumb luck?”
His CO sounded tired, but the usual sarcasm was present, “I’ll take Providence instead, if you don’t mind.”
“Sure thing, sir.”
It took a moment but eventually Sheppard asked, “And they’re digging us out?” He sounded a little breathless, well more breathless than before. But maybe it was Lorne’s imagination.
“Yep, just checked in...”
“I hate being trapped in small, dark places, Lorne.” Ah, yes. The feeling was mutual, their own past experiences easy to recall. At least he didn’t have a broken leg this time.
“Yes, sir. Feelings mutual.”
Sheppard shifted a little, still sounding breathless and even though the movement was brief, it jolted Lorne. Ignoring it though, Evan listened closely as Sheppard sighed, “Its right below Bugs and Wraith Queens on my ‘Pegasus Hates Us’ shit list.”
Lorne nodded, “Understandable.” He couldn’t tell if the Colonel was struggling to breath, or just in pain.
“Little above pheromone peddling shysters and the Genii.”
“Kay.” The last bit had been more an exhale than actual words, but he didn’t seem to have difficulty in drawing in more air.
Sheppard’s voice cracked a little, small cough and then, “Remind me to actually make that list, Lorne. Stick it up somewhere in your office.”
Unable to stop himself, Lorne smiled and said, “Isn’t that like ... tempting fate, daring the Universe, Pegasus to top that... change your mind?”
The answering snort of laughter was dry, and Sheppard reached past Lorne slowly, feeling the nearness of the rock above. “I’m in the middle of an aggressive letter writing campaign addressing that anyway.”
Ignoring the tentative touches that reached his head, Lorne quipped, “How’s that going, sir?”
“No response yet, but I keep getting stuck in bullshit situations like this so I think someone’s reading ‘em.” John sounded tired, a little put out - so nothing not warranted by the situation.
“Maybe you should stop writing then?” Lorne continued, willing to play along, disheartened that so far they had heard nothing from the rescue operations above.
John sighed dramatically, “And cave to the pressure? Not a chance. Andy Dufresne all the way.”
The name rang a bell… Anthro? Xenolinguistics? Botany. “Sir?”
“Shawshank Redemption.”
The penny dropped and Lorne muttered, “Oh yeah... good movie.”
“Eh... only saw it a few times.”
Evan tried to ease up on the pressure on his ribs, moving minutely but futilely. Pushing past the pain, he said, “First time I saw it was on base... it was raining, the guys were bored, CO was bored, they stuck it on. Most of the guys left before the end, but the last half hour... those of us who stuck it out.... you could have dropped a pin and heard it in Kentucky.” For a moment Lorne was back in the old Airforce base, eyes glued to the screen, the sharp tang of cigarette smoke in his lungs.
“Went and found Zihuatanejo... good surfing.” Sheppard also sounded lost in thought, finally still, apparently done in his touch exploration.
Impressed, Lorne chuffed, “Yeah?”
“Lousy tequila, but that might have been the concussion.”
A smile, lost in the darkness, “Probably, sir.”
They were silent for a while, each lost in their own thoughts, trying not to think about the massive weight of rock above them, the dead body of Edwards beneath. Sheppard’s breathing was starting to sound laboured and he eventually said, “Lorne, can you give me... ah, move up a little?”
Sheppard was already moving with purpose, pushing up and away, and right into Lorne’s ribs which loudly protested the pressure. His errant knee twitched, once again way too close for comfort to Lorne’s groin. Banging his head, needing to push back but afraid to, Lorne hissed, “Not really ... oh, shit sir, what the ...”
The Colonel was all legs and arms now, and Lorne felt just how close he came to getting an elbow in the face, as Sheppard fought for room, audibly struggling to breath. “Really gotta move, sorry... ahhh....”
Lorne had slipped to the side a little, and was probably face to face with Sheppard, his hot breath brushing his neck. Sheppard was shaking, trembling even and Lorne bit out, ”Don’t, Colonel - just stop frigging moving... there’s no space, Colonel? Colonel?”
The response was slow to come, Sheppard still shaking, maybe trying to get himself under control. “Yeah, just give me a minute.” But the bastard was just gathering momentum and the Colonel suddenly shoved Lorne up and pushed himself back and damn, damn, that hurt.
“Stop moving, sir!”
“Kinda have to, Major... damn...” The pain was audible now, even his voice shaking and as abruptly as he started, Sheppard stopped and suddenly there was more room, fractionally, but they were no longer cheek to jowl, and Lorne felt his own hands shaking as he stammered, “What, what?”
“Lorne?” The tone was tentative, cautious - not hurt. More … worried?
“Yeah... oh ... it’s my sidearm, sir. I swear.” Lorne blushed none the less, finally grateful for the blackness, trying to shift away, tuck his sidearm away. It was difficult and he didn’t really succeed. More on his side now, with Sheppard facing him, inches between them, Lorne tried to calm down.
“... er… good to know but you got any ah ... bandages?” Right, back to business, embarrassing moment with your CO forgotten. Lorne patted his tac vest down, already listing through the items he knew were missing. Flashlight, gone. Radio, there. First aid kit, present.
“Yes, sir. What’s wrong, where are you bleeding?”
Sheppard was not sounding better, his legs twitching in concert his hands. Signs of blood loss? “Uh, wish I knew... just hurts like hell and I can’t ... get it..”
Scanning through the list of possible injuries the Colonel could have received and coming to a scary blank, Lorne gasped, “If something’s impaling you sir, or...”
Rife with sarcasm and an all too familiar snort, Sheppard laughed, “I know what being impaled feels like, Lorne and this isn’t it. Just gotta… find…”
“Leave it, Colonel, just leave it - here’s a pressure bandage, no idea how clean... but, ow... “
“Sorry.”
Sheppard’s hands were wet, he was definitely bleeding and in the dark and with so many other hurts and bruises it was probably difficult to pin point. Trusting the Colonel knew the general area, Lorne said calmly and firmly, packing away his own panic, “Pack it tight, quit moving and stay still!”
“Yes, sir.”
Blushing for the second time in a matter of minutes, Lorne mumbled, “Sorry, sir.”
“Don’t worry, court martial you later... when we get out of here.” Sheppard patted him absently on the nearest arm, sounding in pain, definitely miserable.
“Thanks, sir.”
“No problem.”
Quiet descended again, with only the close echoes of their breathing, Lorne’s calmer and Sheppard’s ragged. Slowly catching up, Lorne asked quietly, “Did you, ah, move Edwards?”
“Yeah, kid don’t care that he’s breathing dirt. Was a small space for … him on the side.”
“Kay.”
John accidently kicked Lorne’s boot but said, “I don’t hear digging… call ‘em up. Find out their progress.”
“Yes, sir.”
Lorne tapped his radio, wondering if his canteen had made it, and then wondered if he really wanted a full bladder in such close quarters. “Sergeant, status report.”
“Major Lorne?”
“Who else, Sergeant?”
“Oh, ah… kinda slow going, sir. They’re all sinking in as fast as we pull them out and Lieutenant Hunt is worried we are going to crush you.”
A different, older, calmer voice came on line, Lieutenant Hunt. “Major Lorne. What’s your air situation? How long …”
Lorne shot a useless look in Sheppard’s direction and said quietly, knowing it would be heard, “The Colonel is awake, but hurt, bleeding somewhere. The air is … stuffy. Not much … not good at all. You need to hurry.”
“Understood, sir. We are also trying to get the Gate working, get more help.”
“Fine, Lieutenant. Just … hurry.”
“Yes, sir.”
Lorne rubbed his forehead, realising he was getting a headache, or rather more of a headache and heard the Colonel sigh, “So, less talking. Shallow breaths.”
“That about sums it up, sir.”
It spoke volumes that Sheppard didn’t say anything, but his silence screamed, Frigging Crap on a crap stick and many more colourful Marine flavoured curses. Lorne equally did not respond, but lay back, and thought of open fields and clear blue skies. This, this right here, was why he missed flying so much. Being trapped in a grave, running out of air on an alien world a billion light years from home. Man, he missed flying.
In the dark, with only the belaboured breathing of his CO to keep him company, Lorne felt the walls pressing in, the sudden ‘space’ from before shrinking and sucking him in. And as much as he tried not to think about Edwards, smashed up against the rocks, cold dead eyes staring into the black depths, already entombed, already dead and ... woah... was he hyperventilating?
“Major!”
“Sir?”
“Calm down.”
“Yes, sir.” Yeah right, easier said than done, and Lorne felt the situation, his control of his borderline, never bothered him before, claustrophobia running away, slipping through his fingers. Hell, Sheppard had had his own panic attack, ok, so he was bleeding and in pain and had actually created some room and was slowly smothering Edwards, pressing his face into the rock, breathing dirt, breathing nothing, sucking and gasping and fighting and just trying to breathe but nothing coming, dead, dead, dead ...
“Evan.”
The touch on his face was tentative, hesitant, and Lorne instantly stilled, and nearly flinched when he felt Sheppard touch his cheek and then hair, offer a reassuring squeeze, grounding him.
“You kick me one more time, Major and I am going to shoot you.”
“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”
“Kay. Now tell me everything you’ve ever flown, order of preference...”
“Sir, Colonel...”
“Now, Major.”
Fighting his fear, taking a deep breath, Evan nodded, Sheppard’s hand still on his head, a physical reminder - not alone, not alone. “Ah, worst was the crate my nephews built and figured would glide for a few feet. Thing didn’t even have a tail and well ... “
“You flew it?”
Lorne nodded, smiling at the memory, his nephews bouncing up and down on the barn roof, their faces bright and in oh so much trouble. “Lost a bet, Officer and all... had to honour it.”
“And what... it actually flew?”
“Nah, crashed straight off the roof, pile of hay saved my neck. It was only a few feet, but scary as hell.”
“No, shit.”
“Then it’s probably the piece of crap at the Academy....”
It was easy talking planes, flying, and even though he knew they should be conserving air, he’d rather their last few minutes, his minutes, were not spent freaking out and bashing himself against a wall. Sheppard was quiet, only adding the occasional ‘hmmm’ and ‘uh huh,’ as Lorne rambled on, no longer in the narrow confines of the rocks, but in the much more comforting confines of a cockpit.
“Guess Jumpers are number one, nothing quite like that control, right, Boss?”
Sheppard’s reply was a distant ‘hmmm,’ and Lorne reached up and squeezed the hand still resting on his head. “Colonel? Sheppard?”
“Yeah, still here... just... tired.”
It was getting hard to think, and Lorne could feel the lethargy sweeping over him, and without prompting, he tapped on the radio and hissed, “Lieutenant?”
Hunt was swift to respond. “Sir?”
“Move faster. Getting hard to think, breathe.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Colonel, sir?”
There was no response, and Lorne felt for a pulse on the wrist he was still holding and was relieved to still feel a thready beat, faint but there. “Colonel?”
Lorne may have imagined it, but he felt a slight squeeze in response, before the blackness grew more oppressive, and then there was a massive crack, a flash of light and an in rush of fresh air. Blinking, a sliver of light illuminating the stygian gloom, Lorne instinctively tapped his radio and said, “Lieutenant?”
“You ok, sir? We kinda ... ah... pulled one out of Matthew’s ass.”
“Huh?”
’Geological survey laser amped up by our resident McGyver. We’re still trying to get you out, but we think you should be getting some air, right?”
Lorne was staring up at the neat slice in the rock, inches from his head and before he could say anything, he heard Sheppard say, “Did those morons aim a laser at us? A jimmied laser?”
“Yes, sir.”
Sheppard starting laughing and in the now discernible gloom, Lorne could see just how pale he was, his flank dark and wet. “We better put Inventive, Over Amped Marines on the list too, Major.”
“Yes, sir.”
Over the Colonel’s laughter, Lorne heard the Gate engage and said quietly to himself, “Guess the rescue team just arrived, sir.”
“I’m telling you, Rodney’s timing is impeccable. We nearly get sliced in half by Marines and only then does he arrive.”
Lorne smiled, enjoying the fresh air, breathing deeply and sighed, “Shut up, sir. Lay back and apply pressure.”
“Yes, Major.”
Fin.