Adrift Part Eleven
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 Eleven
It was making odd noises, vibrations were running through the hull, and less than half the schematics were displaying correctly, but John did not care. He was back in his element, in command of a battered, damaged Puddle jumper that was holding position over the small forest clearing.
A scattering of the blips on his life signs detector showed him that the panicked tribesmen were fleeing the area with all the speed they could manage. Two burning trees confirmed that the drones were fully operational - that was a source of relief. John had really not been sure that they would fire until the moment that he felt them leap from their firing tubes.
~SGA~
John Sheppard was a soldier and knowing your weaponry was the very art of staying alive. As a pilot that meant he thoroughly learnt the ins and outs of all the machines that he flew. The Puddle jumpers of Atlantis were no exception. With their ability to fire drones, fly cloaked and go into space, they were formidable weapons and over the last couple of years he had made sure that he sat in with the scientists enough times to understand the craft.
He had recognised the distinctive energy signature immediately, when Rodney's scanner had bleeped at him, and had climbed over mounds of debris in the store room following the trail.
He had eventually reached the sealed doors of one of the side alcoves. Heaving the rusty door open, John was confronted by a pile of twisted junk thickly covered in dust. Beyond that his questing fingers met a solid object parked invisibly at the back of the room. He could hardly contain his excitement, as he felt his way to where the manual door control was located, and felt it yield beneath his fingers.
In moments, with a sense of growing disbelief, he was standing inside a real Puddle jumper, watching the panels leap into life around him. Fate, and some poor unknown prisoner, who had probably hidden this prize long ago, in a futile attempt to escape, had at last given him a chance of getting Beckett home.
But he had very little time and would need every second. The 'jumper's schematics told him that, although it was in a worse state than any 'jumper he had ever seen, it could fly. The alcove in which it was parked ended in doors that he guessed and hoped led to the outside. And then he thought of the drones racked up in the storeroom - they were his.
He spent some precious time fetching and loading the drones into the craft. Another thought struck him suddenly, and he searched the workroom frantically, finally uncovering Carson's backpack. Then came the riskiest moment of all, opening the outside doors, which screeched in protest, John expecting weapons fire at any second.
The feeling when the Puddle jumper rose gently into the air at his command was one of pure exhilaration, and though she swooped with far less than the usual grace into the sky, John knew she would not let him down.
Then things started to go wrong - it took a while to locate the place where he had left Carson from above, even though the trees were so tall that it was possible to fly below the tree canopy. When he finally reached the rock outcrop, John was not sure that he was in the right place. The life signs detector, that should have shown him Carson's position, was blank. Dread and pure fear shook John then - surely that could only mean?
He had landed the 'jumper gently onto the mossy floor of the forest and ran to the makeshift shelter, dreading what he was going to find. The shelter was empty, Beckett had gone. There was no sign of a struggle but the floor was smeared with blood, showing that Carson's injury had bled badly again.
John's hands almost shook as he refocused the scanner, and picked up a group of the hunters heading in the direction of the 'gate, just ahead of them a lone dot moving slowly. Could he get there in time?
~SGA~
And now this second clearing was empty apart from two figures, one collapsed face down on the forest floor, the other standing over him.
John set the 'jumper gently down and excited the rear hatch, Ronon's gun in his hand - set to kill.
The figure on the ground was Carson, not moving. Over him stood Eye-patch, training a gun at Beckett's head. In his other hand, he held a crossbow bolt, blood still dripping from the point.
John's heart went cold and without hesitation he shot the gun out of the big man's hand.
Eye-Patch just shook his wrist a little as though he was shrugging off an itch, a movement that displayed the fact that he had Carson's watch on his wrist. He grinned wolfishly at Sheppard.
“Another damn alien. Good. I've just put this one out of its misery. But you can fly and fire drones.You're going to make me rich, boy.”
Eye-Patch pulled a formidable looking knife out his jacket. His eyes only flickered slightly when John did the same. John fingered the handle of the blade in his hand. It already seemed like days ago when a grey faced Ronon had pressed the knife into his hand at the edge of the Stargate clearing and wished him good hunting. He holstered his gun and reckoned the odds.
Eye-Patch was taller and heavier than John, he seemed to have crossed the forest without even having drawn breath. John was exhausted, chilled and drained by the events of the last few hours.
But he knew he might still have the advantage. Two eyes against one, and the fact that Eye-Patch would want to take him alive.
They closed on each other. John quickly learnt that sparring lessons with Ronon did not give the ability in a knife fight, that a lifetime of brawling had obviously given to Eye-Patch. The man knew how to deal with body armour too. A vicious slice laid open John's arm, followed by a blaze of fire across his lower ribs.
Eye-Patch grinned as John went on the defensive, aware that the man might not want to kill him but would be all too happy to weaken him by degrees, even maim him if necessary.
They circled each other: Eye-Patch began to taunt Sheppard.
“It's going to be fun taming you. I hope you will be more amusing than the doctor. He had a bad habit of passing out every time that the entertainment got interesting. I didn't think he would last very long - I did him a bit of a mercy really.”
Sheppard felt his rage build and struggled to control it, use it. He waited his time, until he was on the man's blind side, and then struck, first with knee and then knife to the throat. Eye-Patch fell heavily. John didn't bother to check if he was alive or dead.
He crossed the clearing at a run, arriving at Beckett's side to see blood, so much blood, swirling in the puddles surrounding Carson's body. John was not gentle in his haste to check on his friend. He turned him over, fingers frantically feeling for the slow, weak pulse on the Scot's neck.
Carson's jacket was saturated with blood where the crossbow bolt had been torn out. Beckett was bleeding out before his eyes. God dammit!
John picked him up bodily and carried him to the Puddle jumper and laid him on the floor. Grabbing Carson's back pack John began to rifle through it looking for anything that might help. The field bandages that he had pressed against the ripped shoulder were not working.
“Carson - wake up. You've got to help me! You are bleeding out. We are just five minutes from the 'gate, five minutes from getting back to Atlantis and you have got to give yourself that time. I've got your backpack here. What can I do?”
In the end John was shaking Carson roughly, almost shouting at him and hating himself for having to do so, before the blue eyes cracked open and the doctor came to with a moan of pain. John held Beckett's face between his hands, feeling the heat radiating through his palms, willing Carson to focus and carefully repeated everything again.
Beckett made a great effort to talk, John was only just holding him in the here and now.
“Pack the wound ...then pressure bandages, from lower pocket - put both sides of my shoulder.Then IV's, ...if you can. Tubes and valves as marked - there are two bags of solution. Use both full bore ... might work.”
He faded then and collapsed back into a frightening stillness from which John simply could not rouse him.
John had his instructions, and that part of him that could act without emotion under necessity went into action. He was relieved that Carson could not feel his sorry attempts to put in the IV lines. He finished hanging the second of the bags off the 'jumper racks, double checked that the bandages, already soaking through, were firm and that Beckett was wedged so that he could not move.
He then moved to the 'jumper controls, his hands only shaking slightly, aware of the stinging slashes on his own body - they would have to wait.
As he had promised, the Puddle jumper reached the Stargate in five minutes. One well placed drone sent the 'gate guard scrambling for the cover of the woods. A second cleared enough of the stones blocking the gate to leave the portal clear.
He took a moment to toss a bag containing the 'gate crystals at the DHD. He was strongly minded to mine the DHD with C4 as he had threatened, but he did this for Carson. John instinctively knew that Beckett would never want the people here to be left to face the Wraith without some means of escape, despite what they had done to him.
The Puddle jumper made a sudden whine reminding John of its fragile state. With a final glance at the still figure lying on the floor behind him, he quickly dialled the 'gate, sent his IDC and flew into the shimmering blue ring, hoping that he was going to be in time.
TBC
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 Eleven
It was making odd noises, vibrations were running through the hull, and less than half the schematics were displaying correctly, but John did not care. He was back in his element, in command of a battered, damaged Puddle jumper that was holding position over the small forest clearing.
A scattering of the blips on his life signs detector showed him that the panicked tribesmen were fleeing the area with all the speed they could manage. Two burning trees confirmed that the drones were fully operational - that was a source of relief. John had really not been sure that they would fire until the moment that he felt them leap from their firing tubes.
~SGA~
John Sheppard was a soldier and knowing your weaponry was the very art of staying alive. As a pilot that meant he thoroughly learnt the ins and outs of all the machines that he flew. The Puddle jumpers of Atlantis were no exception. With their ability to fire drones, fly cloaked and go into space, they were formidable weapons and over the last couple of years he had made sure that he sat in with the scientists enough times to understand the craft.
He had recognised the distinctive energy signature immediately, when Rodney's scanner had bleeped at him, and had climbed over mounds of debris in the store room following the trail.
He had eventually reached the sealed doors of one of the side alcoves. Heaving the rusty door open, John was confronted by a pile of twisted junk thickly covered in dust. Beyond that his questing fingers met a solid object parked invisibly at the back of the room. He could hardly contain his excitement, as he felt his way to where the manual door control was located, and felt it yield beneath his fingers.
In moments, with a sense of growing disbelief, he was standing inside a real Puddle jumper, watching the panels leap into life around him. Fate, and some poor unknown prisoner, who had probably hidden this prize long ago, in a futile attempt to escape, had at last given him a chance of getting Beckett home.
But he had very little time and would need every second. The 'jumper's schematics told him that, although it was in a worse state than any 'jumper he had ever seen, it could fly. The alcove in which it was parked ended in doors that he guessed and hoped led to the outside. And then he thought of the drones racked up in the storeroom - they were his.
He spent some precious time fetching and loading the drones into the craft. Another thought struck him suddenly, and he searched the workroom frantically, finally uncovering Carson's backpack. Then came the riskiest moment of all, opening the outside doors, which screeched in protest, John expecting weapons fire at any second.
The feeling when the Puddle jumper rose gently into the air at his command was one of pure exhilaration, and though she swooped with far less than the usual grace into the sky, John knew she would not let him down.
Then things started to go wrong - it took a while to locate the place where he had left Carson from above, even though the trees were so tall that it was possible to fly below the tree canopy. When he finally reached the rock outcrop, John was not sure that he was in the right place. The life signs detector, that should have shown him Carson's position, was blank. Dread and pure fear shook John then - surely that could only mean?
He had landed the 'jumper gently onto the mossy floor of the forest and ran to the makeshift shelter, dreading what he was going to find. The shelter was empty, Beckett had gone. There was no sign of a struggle but the floor was smeared with blood, showing that Carson's injury had bled badly again.
John's hands almost shook as he refocused the scanner, and picked up a group of the hunters heading in the direction of the 'gate, just ahead of them a lone dot moving slowly. Could he get there in time?
~SGA~
And now this second clearing was empty apart from two figures, one collapsed face down on the forest floor, the other standing over him.
John set the 'jumper gently down and excited the rear hatch, Ronon's gun in his hand - set to kill.
The figure on the ground was Carson, not moving. Over him stood Eye-patch, training a gun at Beckett's head. In his other hand, he held a crossbow bolt, blood still dripping from the point.
John's heart went cold and without hesitation he shot the gun out of the big man's hand.
Eye-Patch just shook his wrist a little as though he was shrugging off an itch, a movement that displayed the fact that he had Carson's watch on his wrist. He grinned wolfishly at Sheppard.
“Another damn alien. Good. I've just put this one out of its misery. But you can fly and fire drones.You're going to make me rich, boy.”
Eye-Patch pulled a formidable looking knife out his jacket. His eyes only flickered slightly when John did the same. John fingered the handle of the blade in his hand. It already seemed like days ago when a grey faced Ronon had pressed the knife into his hand at the edge of the Stargate clearing and wished him good hunting. He holstered his gun and reckoned the odds.
Eye-Patch was taller and heavier than John, he seemed to have crossed the forest without even having drawn breath. John was exhausted, chilled and drained by the events of the last few hours.
But he knew he might still have the advantage. Two eyes against one, and the fact that Eye-Patch would want to take him alive.
They closed on each other. John quickly learnt that sparring lessons with Ronon did not give the ability in a knife fight, that a lifetime of brawling had obviously given to Eye-Patch. The man knew how to deal with body armour too. A vicious slice laid open John's arm, followed by a blaze of fire across his lower ribs.
Eye-Patch grinned as John went on the defensive, aware that the man might not want to kill him but would be all too happy to weaken him by degrees, even maim him if necessary.
They circled each other: Eye-Patch began to taunt Sheppard.
“It's going to be fun taming you. I hope you will be more amusing than the doctor. He had a bad habit of passing out every time that the entertainment got interesting. I didn't think he would last very long - I did him a bit of a mercy really.”
Sheppard felt his rage build and struggled to control it, use it. He waited his time, until he was on the man's blind side, and then struck, first with knee and then knife to the throat. Eye-Patch fell heavily. John didn't bother to check if he was alive or dead.
He crossed the clearing at a run, arriving at Beckett's side to see blood, so much blood, swirling in the puddles surrounding Carson's body. John was not gentle in his haste to check on his friend. He turned him over, fingers frantically feeling for the slow, weak pulse on the Scot's neck.
Carson's jacket was saturated with blood where the crossbow bolt had been torn out. Beckett was bleeding out before his eyes. God dammit!
John picked him up bodily and carried him to the Puddle jumper and laid him on the floor. Grabbing Carson's back pack John began to rifle through it looking for anything that might help. The field bandages that he had pressed against the ripped shoulder were not working.
“Carson - wake up. You've got to help me! You are bleeding out. We are just five minutes from the 'gate, five minutes from getting back to Atlantis and you have got to give yourself that time. I've got your backpack here. What can I do?”
In the end John was shaking Carson roughly, almost shouting at him and hating himself for having to do so, before the blue eyes cracked open and the doctor came to with a moan of pain. John held Beckett's face between his hands, feeling the heat radiating through his palms, willing Carson to focus and carefully repeated everything again.
Beckett made a great effort to talk, John was only just holding him in the here and now.
“Pack the wound ...then pressure bandages, from lower pocket - put both sides of my shoulder.Then IV's, ...if you can. Tubes and valves as marked - there are two bags of solution. Use both full bore ... might work.”
He faded then and collapsed back into a frightening stillness from which John simply could not rouse him.
John had his instructions, and that part of him that could act without emotion under necessity went into action. He was relieved that Carson could not feel his sorry attempts to put in the IV lines. He finished hanging the second of the bags off the 'jumper racks, double checked that the bandages, already soaking through, were firm and that Beckett was wedged so that he could not move.
He then moved to the 'jumper controls, his hands only shaking slightly, aware of the stinging slashes on his own body - they would have to wait.
As he had promised, the Puddle jumper reached the Stargate in five minutes. One well placed drone sent the 'gate guard scrambling for the cover of the woods. A second cleared enough of the stones blocking the gate to leave the portal clear.
He took a moment to toss a bag containing the 'gate crystals at the DHD. He was strongly minded to mine the DHD with C4 as he had threatened, but he did this for Carson. John instinctively knew that Beckett would never want the people here to be left to face the Wraith without some means of escape, despite what they had done to him.
The Puddle jumper made a sudden whine reminding John of its fragile state. With a final glance at the still figure lying on the floor behind him, he quickly dialled the 'gate, sent his IDC and flew into the shimmering blue ring, hoping that he was going to be in time.
TBC