Adrift Part Ten
Title: Adrift
Author: Westdean
Pairing: Carson/John
Rating: PG13
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Slash.
Spoilers: Set after The Tower but with spoilers of the "blink and you will miss them variety" up to The Return: part 1.
Prompt: Written for cosmonaut_elf as part of the icaw ficathon.
She requested a John/Carson pairing. Serious hurt/comfort. Serious, serious Carson whumping. The two of them getting stranded. Lots of blood and rain. John realising that he loves Carson (sort of first time). Written at speed (for me) and therefore probably incorrect in all sorts of canon facts but I don't care because writing this almost broke my brain.
Authors Note: Written unapologetically in British English and betaed to match by my lovely Dons, Geeks and Medics.
All music tracks are from the album Ringleader of the Tormentors by Morrissey
SGA
Part Ten
John covered the ground back to the compound with a swift urgency. Even the rain, that battered at his face and body with stinging drops, he welcomed as an ally. It was keeping his enemies pinned down, hiding his movements, and giving him time to carry out his plan.
He slipped unseen back into the network of buildings, the life signs scanner helping him to stay invisible. That was not an easy task, as the escape of Beckett meant that most of the gang members were involved in an intensive search.
He was soon in the main workshop, and it did not take long to make the adjustments that he had in mind - and then he went hunting.
It was quite easy. The solitary guard had his mind on other things and John easily took him down, so that the man suddenly found himself on the ground, his arm pinned behind him, the nozzle of a gun pressed firmly against his neck, and Sheppard whispering in his ear.
“Here's the deal - in return for the grief you have given my friend, you are getting some of your own. I've turned the Shield off and activated a Wraith beacon that was conveniently stored among the other stuff. A Wraith Hive ship is probably on its way already.
“If you let me get to the “Ring” unmolested, just maybe I won't set it to blow after I go through. You don't think I can do that? Well I've got a pocketful of C4 - word of that seems to have got about, especially among people like you.”
The body beneath him had stiffened suddenly betraying the man's understanding of the threat.
“Now tell me how to call off your hunting dogs - send up a flare or whatever it is you do.”
Once he was allowed, the guard became frantic to speak.
“We can't do that! Once the hunt is on we've never been able to call them off - they won't listen to us. Please, I beg of you - don't blow the Ring because we can't stop them.”
John believed him, the man's fear was not faked, he could feel his rapid heart rate and panicked breathing.
Damn! Looked like he still had the “Pointies” to tackle.
John got the guard to reveal to him the storage place of Carson's medical bag, and then stunned him and concealed his body. He returned to the store in search of the weaponry he was going to need to fight his way to the Stargate, his face clenched with determination. He did not hold out much hope - the Ancients were not hot on personal weapons, and this was one thing that the thieves had not left lying about.
One of the scanners in his jacket suddenly bleeped and John quickly pulled it out, not sure if it was picking up life signs or Wraith approach.
It was neither - it was Rodney's scanner registering a new energy signature probably activated by Johns proximity to the Ancient technology.
It couldn't be, could it? For the first time in what seemed like days, John's face cracked with a grin of genuine delight.
~SGA~
Carson Beckett woke to find himself alone. The dampness of the the rough forest shelter had finally penetrated his clothes and they now felt chill to his fevered skin. He blinked up at the fronds above him, unable to remember how he had come to be there. He was only aware of a feeling of incredible weakness in his limbs, chills running across his body, and that he was only just holding onto consciousness through a grey haze.
His first attempt to weakly move brought back all his memories in a rush, as agony radiated from his shoulder, sending him gasping back into stillness.
“John...?” The words were a croak - where was he?
Carson felt carefully around him, trying not to jar his shoulder. His hand encountered a water bottle from which he took a grateful and careful sip, a 9ml pistol wrapped in cloth against the damp, and finally, he explored the odd lump in his jacket pocket - which turned out to be the 'gate crystals.
Beckett looked at them appalled - this could only mean one thing. John must have gone to the compound, surrendered himself to give Carson a chance to get to the 'gate. Beckett struggled then with a sense of loss so deep that it brought tears to his eyes, and then decided what he must do.
There seemed to be only one course of action that he could take. To get himself to the Stargate and try to return to Atlantis to get help - perhaps they could return in time to stop John being harmed, he certainly hoped so.
It took an immense effort for Carson to stand upright, the pain in his shoulder so intense, when he was unable to avoid jarring the bolt, that he nearly greyed out.
The wound was bleeding again with his movements. He could adjust the padding at the front, which he did to the best of his ability one handed, but he was unable to reach the back, only being aware of a spreading warmth across his chill uniform. It hardly mattered anyway - he knew that the bolt had to come out soon to tackle the damage that it might have caused.
He swept aside the fronds with his right hand and found himself standing in a forest clearing, rock outcrop at his back, moss and ferns sparkling with a million tiny drops of water lit by a weak sun. It had stopped raining, the “Pointies” would be coming back.
Fired by urgency, Carson used the sun to orient himself and set off in the direction of the 'gate. His footsteps heavy, holding his shoulder with his good hand to keep it still.
The journey seemed endless - he had to keep stopping to lean against the trunks of the trees when the darkness and dizziness threatened to take him again, and each footstep sent a jolt of pain from his shoulder through his body.
It would be so easy to just fall to his knees and lie in the soft moss - to stop inflicting this pain on himself, but it was John who had given him this chance of freedom at the cost of his own. The thought of how the thugs who had held him captive would try and break that stubborn soldier spirit sent him onwards.
But he was too weak and the Stargate was too far away. He stumbled once too many times and fell full length across the forest floor, unable to prevent his wounded shoulder striking against a stone.
The pain was so great that he cried out in agony and then, as he drew in panting breaths, failing miserably to gather himself to his knees, he suddenly knew that he was no longer alone.
Out of the shadows of the trees the pale men who had hunted him and John now appeared.
They were fierce with joy at having successfully caught their prey. And among them was Eye Patch. They approached Carson, who simply could not defend himself. He was roughly sat up, only capable of looking numbly into their cruel faces.
Laughing, Eye-Patch reached down and took hold of the end of the crossbow bolt and yanked it out in one violent movement. The wave of pain was so fierce that Beckett could only gasp, feeling the blood gushing from the wound, feeling himself fading with every pulse.
Carson had encountered many perils in the Pegasus Galaxy. Frequently enough to have rationally considered what his last thoughts might be if a “Hail Mary” did not turn up.
He had imagined that he would think of his family, his mum an unimaginable distance away, his home town with people going about their everyday business, utterly oblivious to the wonders and dangers that he had seen.
Or perhaps the people he had come to know over the past couple of years on Atlantis. Bonds born of shared adventure, hopes, fears and threat of death. They were as dear as family to him now and in one case much more so.
But what he actually thought was, “What a stupid way to die.”
As the final blackness took him, he was aware of the forest suddenly lighting up. Fire erupting in the trees, the cries of the men around him and, at the very last, an impossible sight shimmering into the air.
Next
Author: Westdean
Pairing: Carson/John
Rating: PG13
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Slash.
Spoilers: Set after The Tower but with spoilers of the "blink and you will miss them variety" up to The Return: part 1.
Prompt: Written for cosmonaut_elf as part of the icaw ficathon.
She requested a John/Carson pairing. Serious hurt/comfort. Serious, serious Carson whumping. The two of them getting stranded. Lots of blood and rain. John realising that he loves Carson (sort of first time). Written at speed (for me) and therefore probably incorrect in all sorts of canon facts but I don't care because writing this almost broke my brain.
Authors Note: Written unapologetically in British English and betaed to match by my lovely Dons, Geeks and Medics.
All music tracks are from the album Ringleader of the Tormentors by Morrissey
SGA
Part Ten
John covered the ground back to the compound with a swift urgency. Even the rain, that battered at his face and body with stinging drops, he welcomed as an ally. It was keeping his enemies pinned down, hiding his movements, and giving him time to carry out his plan.
He slipped unseen back into the network of buildings, the life signs scanner helping him to stay invisible. That was not an easy task, as the escape of Beckett meant that most of the gang members were involved in an intensive search.
He was soon in the main workshop, and it did not take long to make the adjustments that he had in mind - and then he went hunting.
It was quite easy. The solitary guard had his mind on other things and John easily took him down, so that the man suddenly found himself on the ground, his arm pinned behind him, the nozzle of a gun pressed firmly against his neck, and Sheppard whispering in his ear.
“Here's the deal - in return for the grief you have given my friend, you are getting some of your own. I've turned the Shield off and activated a Wraith beacon that was conveniently stored among the other stuff. A Wraith Hive ship is probably on its way already.
“If you let me get to the “Ring” unmolested, just maybe I won't set it to blow after I go through. You don't think I can do that? Well I've got a pocketful of C4 - word of that seems to have got about, especially among people like you.”
The body beneath him had stiffened suddenly betraying the man's understanding of the threat.
“Now tell me how to call off your hunting dogs - send up a flare or whatever it is you do.”
Once he was allowed, the guard became frantic to speak.
“We can't do that! Once the hunt is on we've never been able to call them off - they won't listen to us. Please, I beg of you - don't blow the Ring because we can't stop them.”
John believed him, the man's fear was not faked, he could feel his rapid heart rate and panicked breathing.
Damn! Looked like he still had the “Pointies” to tackle.
John got the guard to reveal to him the storage place of Carson's medical bag, and then stunned him and concealed his body. He returned to the store in search of the weaponry he was going to need to fight his way to the Stargate, his face clenched with determination. He did not hold out much hope - the Ancients were not hot on personal weapons, and this was one thing that the thieves had not left lying about.
One of the scanners in his jacket suddenly bleeped and John quickly pulled it out, not sure if it was picking up life signs or Wraith approach.
It was neither - it was Rodney's scanner registering a new energy signature probably activated by Johns proximity to the Ancient technology.
It couldn't be, could it? For the first time in what seemed like days, John's face cracked with a grin of genuine delight.
~SGA~
Carson Beckett woke to find himself alone. The dampness of the the rough forest shelter had finally penetrated his clothes and they now felt chill to his fevered skin. He blinked up at the fronds above him, unable to remember how he had come to be there. He was only aware of a feeling of incredible weakness in his limbs, chills running across his body, and that he was only just holding onto consciousness through a grey haze.
His first attempt to weakly move brought back all his memories in a rush, as agony radiated from his shoulder, sending him gasping back into stillness.
“John...?” The words were a croak - where was he?
Carson felt carefully around him, trying not to jar his shoulder. His hand encountered a water bottle from which he took a grateful and careful sip, a 9ml pistol wrapped in cloth against the damp, and finally, he explored the odd lump in his jacket pocket - which turned out to be the 'gate crystals.
Beckett looked at them appalled - this could only mean one thing. John must have gone to the compound, surrendered himself to give Carson a chance to get to the 'gate. Beckett struggled then with a sense of loss so deep that it brought tears to his eyes, and then decided what he must do.
There seemed to be only one course of action that he could take. To get himself to the Stargate and try to return to Atlantis to get help - perhaps they could return in time to stop John being harmed, he certainly hoped so.
It took an immense effort for Carson to stand upright, the pain in his shoulder so intense, when he was unable to avoid jarring the bolt, that he nearly greyed out.
The wound was bleeding again with his movements. He could adjust the padding at the front, which he did to the best of his ability one handed, but he was unable to reach the back, only being aware of a spreading warmth across his chill uniform. It hardly mattered anyway - he knew that the bolt had to come out soon to tackle the damage that it might have caused.
He swept aside the fronds with his right hand and found himself standing in a forest clearing, rock outcrop at his back, moss and ferns sparkling with a million tiny drops of water lit by a weak sun. It had stopped raining, the “Pointies” would be coming back.
Fired by urgency, Carson used the sun to orient himself and set off in the direction of the 'gate. His footsteps heavy, holding his shoulder with his good hand to keep it still.
The journey seemed endless - he had to keep stopping to lean against the trunks of the trees when the darkness and dizziness threatened to take him again, and each footstep sent a jolt of pain from his shoulder through his body.
It would be so easy to just fall to his knees and lie in the soft moss - to stop inflicting this pain on himself, but it was John who had given him this chance of freedom at the cost of his own. The thought of how the thugs who had held him captive would try and break that stubborn soldier spirit sent him onwards.
But he was too weak and the Stargate was too far away. He stumbled once too many times and fell full length across the forest floor, unable to prevent his wounded shoulder striking against a stone.
The pain was so great that he cried out in agony and then, as he drew in panting breaths, failing miserably to gather himself to his knees, he suddenly knew that he was no longer alone.
Out of the shadows of the trees the pale men who had hunted him and John now appeared.
They were fierce with joy at having successfully caught their prey. And among them was Eye Patch. They approached Carson, who simply could not defend himself. He was roughly sat up, only capable of looking numbly into their cruel faces.
Laughing, Eye-Patch reached down and took hold of the end of the crossbow bolt and yanked it out in one violent movement. The wave of pain was so fierce that Beckett could only gasp, feeling the blood gushing from the wound, feeling himself fading with every pulse.
Carson had encountered many perils in the Pegasus Galaxy. Frequently enough to have rationally considered what his last thoughts might be if a “Hail Mary” did not turn up.
He had imagined that he would think of his family, his mum an unimaginable distance away, his home town with people going about their everyday business, utterly oblivious to the wonders and dangers that he had seen.
Or perhaps the people he had come to know over the past couple of years on Atlantis. Bonds born of shared adventure, hopes, fears and threat of death. They were as dear as family to him now and in one case much more so.
But what he actually thought was, “What a stupid way to die.”
As the final blackness took him, he was aware of the forest suddenly lighting up. Fire erupting in the trees, the cries of the men around him and, at the very last, an impossible sight shimmering into the air.
Next