SGA fic: Fury (Nemesis tag scene)
My demon called. He's in Australia and he doesn't know when he'll be back. Little bugger. But at least he gave me this while we were talking.
My thanks to thegrrrl2002 for looking it over.
Fury
Rodney awakes slowly, first becoming aware of sound, then light and movement through his eyelids, and then the cotton-headed sensation that means he's on the really good drugs. Tentatively he cracks an eye open and screws his face up at the brightness. His vision swims, and he just lies there blinking for a moment, waiting for it to clear.
He feels incredibly weak. Tired. Exhausted. His whole body heavy, as though moving would require great effort (although he's not quite ready to test that theory yet). A soft beeping to his left draws his attention and he rolls his head over to look. His hand is inside some kind of machine sitting on a trolley by his bedside, Ancient by the look of it, and that's right, Carson said they could actually re-grow the... where the...
But his brain can't cope with that right now and so he side-steps it, floating away from it easily with the Morphine.
John's still there in the chair on his other side. He's turned it to face the bed and is now leaning on the mattress, head pillowed on his arm, fast asleep. Rodney smiles and just watches him for a while, thinking nothing at all.
He must have fallen asleep again because the next thing he's aware of is voices coming from the foot of his bed. Carson's telling John to go back to his quarters, get some rest, and he'll let him know if Rodney wakes up. John doesn't want to leave but Rodney can see how tired he is. He looks kind of grey, dark rings under his eyes, but he won't be moved. Carson's beginning to get that mulish look that usually precedes an unceremonious dumping out into the corridor, and so Rodney intervenes.
'Carson,' he whispers, and really, it shouldn't be that hard just to get his jaw to move. Both men turn to look at him and he clears his throat, trying again, 'Please- I want the major to stay.'
Carson glances sideways at John and comes to Rodney's side. 'Rodney. How're you feeling?' he asks gently, peering into Rodney's face for a few seconds and then passing his eyes over his readouts on the monitors.
'Kinda fuzzy. Ow-' he complains weakly as Carson adjusts the device covering his hand. He looks to his other side. 'John? Please- stay.' He looks up at Carson and then at John again. 'Don't want to be alone.'
'Of course I'll stay,' John says, and looks pointedly at Carson before re-taking his seat.
Carson sighs. 'Okay, you can stay, but only for a short while. You both need your rest, understand?'
Carson leaves and Rodney smiles over at John. 'You were here, earlier. You fell asleep.'
'Yeah, I guess I did. Sorry.' He leans back in his chair and runs a hand down his face, trying to stifle a yawn.
'S'ok. Must be tiring,' Rodney says, the thought just occurring to him, 'killing all those people.'
John seems to freeze and Rodney thinks he maybe shouldn't have said that, but it's the drugs. Must be the drugs, because he hates the way John looks right now.
Slowly John turns to him and meets his eye. 'I did what I had to do to rescue a member of my team and protect Atlantis.' He says it slowly, carefully, but his face is like a mask, like the one he wore when he burst into that cell guns blazing, and it makes Rodney think of ice and fury, and other things he doesn't want to associate with John.
'Sorry,' he says, turning away because even in his addled state he can't bare to see John so cold, not with him. 'Sorry.'
There's a soft sigh, and movement, and then the bed dips down and John's hand on his cheek, turning his head slightly until their eyes meet again.
'I would do anything,' John says, and his voice is a little rough now, his green eyes dark and shining. 'Anything, Rodney,' and they both know what he means, and that he'd go through worse if he had to. A part of him is comforted -- and gratified and amazed -- to know that John will always do whatever it is he has to, for Rodney. Another part is damn scared, overwhelmingly so, for so many reasons, but again, he lets that slide away for now.
'I would have done the same for you,' Rodney whispers, and this time it isn't the drugs making him hoarse. John smiles slightly, and it's kind of happy and sad at the same time, and then he leans in and presses his lips gently to Rodney's. And right now, Rodney wants to stay like this all night, just feeling the connection and John's body leaning over him, and John's big, warm hand on his cheek. But all too soon the strategic clatter of something being dropped breaks them apart, and then Carson comes back into view.
John doesn't move immediately, though. He just sits there, perching on the edge of the bed, and lays a hand over Rodney's, looking at him, almost into him. And then he smiles again, squeezes Rodney's hand and lets go -- gets up and starts to walk away.
'Good night, Rodney,' he calls as he reaches the door.
''Night,' Rodney replies, and as Carson quietly moves around the infirmary, shutting machines off and turning down the lights, Rodney smiles, and drifts back into sleep.
~fin
My thanks to thegrrrl2002 for looking it over.
Fury
Rodney awakes slowly, first becoming aware of sound, then light and movement through his eyelids, and then the cotton-headed sensation that means he's on the really good drugs. Tentatively he cracks an eye open and screws his face up at the brightness. His vision swims, and he just lies there blinking for a moment, waiting for it to clear.
He feels incredibly weak. Tired. Exhausted. His whole body heavy, as though moving would require great effort (although he's not quite ready to test that theory yet). A soft beeping to his left draws his attention and he rolls his head over to look. His hand is inside some kind of machine sitting on a trolley by his bedside, Ancient by the look of it, and that's right, Carson said they could actually re-grow the... where the...
But his brain can't cope with that right now and so he side-steps it, floating away from it easily with the Morphine.
John's still there in the chair on his other side. He's turned it to face the bed and is now leaning on the mattress, head pillowed on his arm, fast asleep. Rodney smiles and just watches him for a while, thinking nothing at all.
He must have fallen asleep again because the next thing he's aware of is voices coming from the foot of his bed. Carson's telling John to go back to his quarters, get some rest, and he'll let him know if Rodney wakes up. John doesn't want to leave but Rodney can see how tired he is. He looks kind of grey, dark rings under his eyes, but he won't be moved. Carson's beginning to get that mulish look that usually precedes an unceremonious dumping out into the corridor, and so Rodney intervenes.
'Carson,' he whispers, and really, it shouldn't be that hard just to get his jaw to move. Both men turn to look at him and he clears his throat, trying again, 'Please- I want the major to stay.'
Carson glances sideways at John and comes to Rodney's side. 'Rodney. How're you feeling?' he asks gently, peering into Rodney's face for a few seconds and then passing his eyes over his readouts on the monitors.
'Kinda fuzzy. Ow-' he complains weakly as Carson adjusts the device covering his hand. He looks to his other side. 'John? Please- stay.' He looks up at Carson and then at John again. 'Don't want to be alone.'
'Of course I'll stay,' John says, and looks pointedly at Carson before re-taking his seat.
Carson sighs. 'Okay, you can stay, but only for a short while. You both need your rest, understand?'
Carson leaves and Rodney smiles over at John. 'You were here, earlier. You fell asleep.'
'Yeah, I guess I did. Sorry.' He leans back in his chair and runs a hand down his face, trying to stifle a yawn.
'S'ok. Must be tiring,' Rodney says, the thought just occurring to him, 'killing all those people.'
John seems to freeze and Rodney thinks he maybe shouldn't have said that, but it's the drugs. Must be the drugs, because he hates the way John looks right now.
Slowly John turns to him and meets his eye. 'I did what I had to do to rescue a member of my team and protect Atlantis.' He says it slowly, carefully, but his face is like a mask, like the one he wore when he burst into that cell guns blazing, and it makes Rodney think of ice and fury, and other things he doesn't want to associate with John.
'Sorry,' he says, turning away because even in his addled state he can't bare to see John so cold, not with him. 'Sorry.'
There's a soft sigh, and movement, and then the bed dips down and John's hand on his cheek, turning his head slightly until their eyes meet again.
'I would do anything,' John says, and his voice is a little rough now, his green eyes dark and shining. 'Anything, Rodney,' and they both know what he means, and that he'd go through worse if he had to. A part of him is comforted -- and gratified and amazed -- to know that John will always do whatever it is he has to, for Rodney. Another part is damn scared, overwhelmingly so, for so many reasons, but again, he lets that slide away for now.
'I would have done the same for you,' Rodney whispers, and this time it isn't the drugs making him hoarse. John smiles slightly, and it's kind of happy and sad at the same time, and then he leans in and presses his lips gently to Rodney's. And right now, Rodney wants to stay like this all night, just feeling the connection and John's body leaning over him, and John's big, warm hand on his cheek. But all too soon the strategic clatter of something being dropped breaks them apart, and then Carson comes back into view.
John doesn't move immediately, though. He just sits there, perching on the edge of the bed, and lays a hand over Rodney's, looking at him, almost into him. And then he smiles again, squeezes Rodney's hand and lets go -- gets up and starts to walk away.
'Good night, Rodney,' he calls as he reaches the door.
''Night,' Rodney replies, and as Carson quietly moves around the infirmary, shutting machines off and turning down the lights, Rodney smiles, and drifts back into sleep.
~fin