Fic: Healing (Stargate Atlantis)
TITLE: Healing
AUTHOR: lar_laughs
FANDOM: Stargate Atlantis
CHARACTERS: Ronon, John, Rodney, Amelia
PROMPT: written for the stargateland Little!Bang - also that's a great looking bruise - PURPLE for the VRD Challenge at 5_prompts
RATING: PG-13
WORD COUNT: 1804
SUMMARY: Ronon always gets himself beat up but he does it because Atlantis, and now Earth, is his home. He preferred remembering just what happened but as long as John tells him the truth, he's fine with the not remembering.
WARNINGS: Spoilers for Stargate Atlantis, Season 5
DISCLAIMER: If Stargate Atlantis was allowed another season, I wouldn't feel the need to write in these forgotten voids. I don't get any money for these stories and I don't own any rights for any of the Stargate worlds or characters.
Ronon had a moment of panic as he tried to move his arms. One of them wasn’t working like he expected it to. As he pushed down the panic so he could start to think more clearly, he realized that his eyes were still closed. First things first, he needed to open his eyes so he could assess the damage.
The only problem was that his eyes wouldn’t open either. Something was covering them. In the scant heartbeats before panic gripped him, he took a further inventory of his failing body. Pain throbbed through his head when he moved it from side to side. Legs moved almost freely but were covered by something. Even though his right arm was strapped to his side, his left moved freely.
His findings were enough to stifle the panic. No matter what was wrong, he would still be able to free himself and he would most definitely be able to run. That was always the important thing. If he could run, he could survive. Always had. Always would.
“Hey, Chewy. You’re awake. Better keep still or you’re going to pull out all the tubes and wires that Keller has you decorated with.”
“John?” Ronon hated the way that the word sounded small and shrill. It was the panic, he reminded himself. Taking a deep breath, he calmed his heart rate enough that he could talk without sounding like a weakling. “Where are we, John?”
“You’re on Atlantis. Keller got you patched up but you need to lay still. You know the drill. I think they keep this bed just for you, almost like this is your second home.”
“They’ve got better food.”
“A joke. That was funny. Good job.”
Ronon could hear the worry just under the surface of John’s words. He didn’t like it there. Something was wrong. Something that they weren’t telling him. While it was true that this wasn’t his first time here in the infirmary, he couldn’t remember a time he was this strapped down, though. That and his eyes being covered were really starting to bother him.
He could hear someone walking past the bed. In a heartbeat’s time, he heard the same footsteps going past again. Not Keller. She walked much more quickly, always going from one patient to another with quick efficiency.
“Rodney?”
“Yeah?” His voice came from much further away. The computer terminal. Funny how the guy could come to visit him and still need to have his hands on a keyboard. So he wasn’t the one pacing and Ronon still had no answers.
“So,” he struggled not to growl, “when am I getting out of here?”
There was a silence that he didn’t appreciate after a question like that. It was unanswered, hovering out there, unwelcomed, like a Wraith cruiser just cresting the atmosphere.
Wraith....
“John?”
“Yeah, Chewy?”
“I was captured by the Wraith.”
“Yep. Once again, you got yourself in a scrape and we had to come in, guns blazing, and save the day.”
He remembered being behind those deceptively strong bars now. There had been the ever-present anger laced with fear as he struggled to find the loophole that would keep hope alive in that hopeless place. The difference in this capture over all the others he’d endured was that his prison hadn’t been in a Hive vessel. He’d been locked up in Pasadena. The entire city was under Wraith control and any of the people who lived there were disciples of the horrors or part of the food supply.
“So how many did I kill on our way out?” He tried to laugh. As close as he could get to mirth, it still came out as a groan. Better than a whimper.
The void where the memories should have been pulled at him. Why didn’t he remember getting out? In the past five years, he’d been able to get back to Atlantis on his own nearly every time. He’d bled from nearly every artery, been burned more often than he cared to remember and bruised every muscle to the point that recovery was just a fancy name for buck-up and deal with the pain.
No one was answering him. Yet another question left hanging. “Come on, Sheppard. Don’t try to take credit for all my kills.”
“Tell him.” The whisper was so faint he almost didn’t hear it over the beating of his anxious heart. Female, so... Teyla? No. It wasn’t the right musical lilt. Amelia? But she’d been sent back to Colorado Springs. They’d said their goodbyes and he’d moved on because there was no way she was going to give up the Air Force to be able to stay on Atlantis. To stay with him.
John cleared his throat. Never a good sign. “We had to blow up the nest where you were being held. Problem was that you were still in it. Good news is that the cuts and scrapes have healed pretty quickly. Even Keller has been impressed by how quickly her serum helped you out.”
“My arm?”
This time it was Rodney who cleared his throat. That was scary for a whole other reason. It usually meant he was going to start on one of his rambling speeches that had something to do with science and his stunning intellect. Pity he couldn’t run away this time.
“Is your arm hurting at all? Any tenderness in the shoulder joint? Do the muscles feel intact?” Ronon tried to follow the questions so he could give the answers he was being asked for. Instead he stayed silent, waiting for the storm to pass. “When you’re up for it, I’d like to check it for bruising. Does it feel bruised? No, never mind. Of course it feels bruised. Most of your body probably feels bruised. Maybe it doesn’t feel bruised. Does it not feel bruised? That’s a horrible question. I can reword it. Give me a second while I finish this calculation and I’ll find another-”
“Stop it!” That was definitely Amelia’s voice. She was as angry as he’d ever heard her. “Before he answers your questions, Rodney, why don’t you tell him why you have to ask them in the first place? Tell him what your wonderful new bomb did to him!”
“New bomb?” he asked, his voice stronger with the mirth of hearing one of his teammates getting berated for a change. “Is that why you’ve been holed up in your lab lately?”
“It’s a doozy. Three charges set up to go off at different times.” John laughed as if remembering a funny story. “We didn’t know for sure if it was going to work but-”
“Tell him!” There were tears in that shriek.
“What’s got Amelia all worked up? You better tell me before she goes off the deep end and starts shooting.” Her name hurt as it crossed his lips. He licked them, suddenly aware how dry his mouth was.
John cleared his throat again. “You were closer to the bomb than we thought you would be.”
“Did the room fall down on me again? How many times have I been buried since coming to Atlantis?”
“Not exactly. It sort of... blew parts of you away from your body.”
He would have blinked if he could have but there was still the covering over his eyes he had to contend with. That would be the next conversation they had after this one. “You blew me up?”
“Technically-” Rodney started but stopped talking when Amelia shrieked wordlessly at him.
“Yes.” John’s blunt reply was as comforting as it was maddening. At least he had some of the answers he needed.
“And I’m recovering because Rodney did something to me with all his... science?”
“Jennifer helped,” the scientist squeaked before falling into his scared silence once again.
“But I’ll recover?”
“It should be a complete recovery. That is a great bruise you’ve got.”
There was only a dismissive sniff from Amelia. She was his own personal lie-detector, telling him what she knew of the story without words. It was better that she was saying little. The one thing he’d asked of her when she left was silence. He hadn’t wanted the pretense of a long-distance relationship with the occasional letter taking the place of personal contact. Not from her. Better to end it quick and be done with it. It amazed him that she was still keeping her word.
“My eyes?”
“Rodney’s still running tests.” Irritated sniff. “Keller thinks she can save most of your sight.” Low growl. “We don’t really know, buddy.” Nothing from Amelia.
“Well, if this isn’t the worst day of my life.” It was strange that he wasn’t panicking. The information had calmed him and, as he sunk back into the familiar cushions of the bed, he let out a sigh of relief. All the stress he’d been under since waking up had tired him out, leaving his overtaxed body feeling like the blanket covering him was made out of lead.
“That’s all you have to say? It’s the worst day of your life?”
He turned his head in the direction of the angry woman. “Aren’t you glad it took the top place away from the day you left?”
“You could have died, Ronon.”
“No, I heal. It’s my thing. Rodney is good at all the thinking. Sheppard can fly any ship out there. I heal, no matter what. Give me some time and I’ll be out of this bed.” Before she could answer back, he turned away. Even though she couldn’t see his eyes, he didn’t want the rest of his face giving his emotions away. “I think I’m going to sleep now.”
“Come on, guys. Let’s leave him alone so he can get some sleep. Keller will be in soon enough to start poking and prodding at him.” A firm hand patted his arm. It nearly made him jump but he was able to stop the movement before his tired muscles spasmed uncontrollably. “We’ll stop by tomorrow, Chewy. Maybe bring you some of that pudding you like so much. Sleep well.”
“Sure,” he muttered, listening intently for the sounds of their footsteps leaving the infirmary. The first one, John’s march. Second was Rodney’s more reluctant move away from the computers. Third....
“Amelia.”
“Screw you,” she whispered. “You could be blind. Don’t you care?”
“I should have died a hundred times before today. I’m breathing. It’s enough.” She let out an irritated sigh but he knew what he was saying was true. Or nearly true. “It’s enough,” he reasserted. This time he wasn’t lying about being tired. It swamped him until he could barely control his impulses but before he could do anything he might regret, he discovered blessed unconsciousness once again.
AUTHOR: lar_laughs
FANDOM: Stargate Atlantis
CHARACTERS: Ronon, John, Rodney, Amelia
PROMPT: written for the stargateland Little!Bang - also that's a great looking bruise - PURPLE for the VRD Challenge at 5_prompts
RATING: PG-13
WORD COUNT: 1804
SUMMARY: Ronon always gets himself beat up but he does it because Atlantis, and now Earth, is his home. He preferred remembering just what happened but as long as John tells him the truth, he's fine with the not remembering.
WARNINGS: Spoilers for Stargate Atlantis, Season 5
DISCLAIMER: If Stargate Atlantis was allowed another season, I wouldn't feel the need to write in these forgotten voids. I don't get any money for these stories and I don't own any rights for any of the Stargate worlds or characters.
Ronon had a moment of panic as he tried to move his arms. One of them wasn’t working like he expected it to. As he pushed down the panic so he could start to think more clearly, he realized that his eyes were still closed. First things first, he needed to open his eyes so he could assess the damage.
The only problem was that his eyes wouldn’t open either. Something was covering them. In the scant heartbeats before panic gripped him, he took a further inventory of his failing body. Pain throbbed through his head when he moved it from side to side. Legs moved almost freely but were covered by something. Even though his right arm was strapped to his side, his left moved freely.
His findings were enough to stifle the panic. No matter what was wrong, he would still be able to free himself and he would most definitely be able to run. That was always the important thing. If he could run, he could survive. Always had. Always would.
“Hey, Chewy. You’re awake. Better keep still or you’re going to pull out all the tubes and wires that Keller has you decorated with.”
“John?” Ronon hated the way that the word sounded small and shrill. It was the panic, he reminded himself. Taking a deep breath, he calmed his heart rate enough that he could talk without sounding like a weakling. “Where are we, John?”
“You’re on Atlantis. Keller got you patched up but you need to lay still. You know the drill. I think they keep this bed just for you, almost like this is your second home.”
“They’ve got better food.”
“A joke. That was funny. Good job.”
Ronon could hear the worry just under the surface of John’s words. He didn’t like it there. Something was wrong. Something that they weren’t telling him. While it was true that this wasn’t his first time here in the infirmary, he couldn’t remember a time he was this strapped down, though. That and his eyes being covered were really starting to bother him.
He could hear someone walking past the bed. In a heartbeat’s time, he heard the same footsteps going past again. Not Keller. She walked much more quickly, always going from one patient to another with quick efficiency.
“Rodney?”
“Yeah?” His voice came from much further away. The computer terminal. Funny how the guy could come to visit him and still need to have his hands on a keyboard. So he wasn’t the one pacing and Ronon still had no answers.
“So,” he struggled not to growl, “when am I getting out of here?”
There was a silence that he didn’t appreciate after a question like that. It was unanswered, hovering out there, unwelcomed, like a Wraith cruiser just cresting the atmosphere.
Wraith....
“John?”
“Yeah, Chewy?”
“I was captured by the Wraith.”
“Yep. Once again, you got yourself in a scrape and we had to come in, guns blazing, and save the day.”
He remembered being behind those deceptively strong bars now. There had been the ever-present anger laced with fear as he struggled to find the loophole that would keep hope alive in that hopeless place. The difference in this capture over all the others he’d endured was that his prison hadn’t been in a Hive vessel. He’d been locked up in Pasadena. The entire city was under Wraith control and any of the people who lived there were disciples of the horrors or part of the food supply.
“So how many did I kill on our way out?” He tried to laugh. As close as he could get to mirth, it still came out as a groan. Better than a whimper.
The void where the memories should have been pulled at him. Why didn’t he remember getting out? In the past five years, he’d been able to get back to Atlantis on his own nearly every time. He’d bled from nearly every artery, been burned more often than he cared to remember and bruised every muscle to the point that recovery was just a fancy name for buck-up and deal with the pain.
No one was answering him. Yet another question left hanging. “Come on, Sheppard. Don’t try to take credit for all my kills.”
“Tell him.” The whisper was so faint he almost didn’t hear it over the beating of his anxious heart. Female, so... Teyla? No. It wasn’t the right musical lilt. Amelia? But she’d been sent back to Colorado Springs. They’d said their goodbyes and he’d moved on because there was no way she was going to give up the Air Force to be able to stay on Atlantis. To stay with him.
John cleared his throat. Never a good sign. “We had to blow up the nest where you were being held. Problem was that you were still in it. Good news is that the cuts and scrapes have healed pretty quickly. Even Keller has been impressed by how quickly her serum helped you out.”
“My arm?”
This time it was Rodney who cleared his throat. That was scary for a whole other reason. It usually meant he was going to start on one of his rambling speeches that had something to do with science and his stunning intellect. Pity he couldn’t run away this time.
“Is your arm hurting at all? Any tenderness in the shoulder joint? Do the muscles feel intact?” Ronon tried to follow the questions so he could give the answers he was being asked for. Instead he stayed silent, waiting for the storm to pass. “When you’re up for it, I’d like to check it for bruising. Does it feel bruised? No, never mind. Of course it feels bruised. Most of your body probably feels bruised. Maybe it doesn’t feel bruised. Does it not feel bruised? That’s a horrible question. I can reword it. Give me a second while I finish this calculation and I’ll find another-”
“Stop it!” That was definitely Amelia’s voice. She was as angry as he’d ever heard her. “Before he answers your questions, Rodney, why don’t you tell him why you have to ask them in the first place? Tell him what your wonderful new bomb did to him!”
“New bomb?” he asked, his voice stronger with the mirth of hearing one of his teammates getting berated for a change. “Is that why you’ve been holed up in your lab lately?”
“It’s a doozy. Three charges set up to go off at different times.” John laughed as if remembering a funny story. “We didn’t know for sure if it was going to work but-”
“Tell him!” There were tears in that shriek.
“What’s got Amelia all worked up? You better tell me before she goes off the deep end and starts shooting.” Her name hurt as it crossed his lips. He licked them, suddenly aware how dry his mouth was.
John cleared his throat again. “You were closer to the bomb than we thought you would be.”
“Did the room fall down on me again? How many times have I been buried since coming to Atlantis?”
“Not exactly. It sort of... blew parts of you away from your body.”
He would have blinked if he could have but there was still the covering over his eyes he had to contend with. That would be the next conversation they had after this one. “You blew me up?”
“Technically-” Rodney started but stopped talking when Amelia shrieked wordlessly at him.
“Yes.” John’s blunt reply was as comforting as it was maddening. At least he had some of the answers he needed.
“And I’m recovering because Rodney did something to me with all his... science?”
“Jennifer helped,” the scientist squeaked before falling into his scared silence once again.
“But I’ll recover?”
“It should be a complete recovery. That is a great bruise you’ve got.”
There was only a dismissive sniff from Amelia. She was his own personal lie-detector, telling him what she knew of the story without words. It was better that she was saying little. The one thing he’d asked of her when she left was silence. He hadn’t wanted the pretense of a long-distance relationship with the occasional letter taking the place of personal contact. Not from her. Better to end it quick and be done with it. It amazed him that she was still keeping her word.
“My eyes?”
“Rodney’s still running tests.” Irritated sniff. “Keller thinks she can save most of your sight.” Low growl. “We don’t really know, buddy.” Nothing from Amelia.
“Well, if this isn’t the worst day of my life.” It was strange that he wasn’t panicking. The information had calmed him and, as he sunk back into the familiar cushions of the bed, he let out a sigh of relief. All the stress he’d been under since waking up had tired him out, leaving his overtaxed body feeling like the blanket covering him was made out of lead.
“That’s all you have to say? It’s the worst day of your life?”
He turned his head in the direction of the angry woman. “Aren’t you glad it took the top place away from the day you left?”
“You could have died, Ronon.”
“No, I heal. It’s my thing. Rodney is good at all the thinking. Sheppard can fly any ship out there. I heal, no matter what. Give me some time and I’ll be out of this bed.” Before she could answer back, he turned away. Even though she couldn’t see his eyes, he didn’t want the rest of his face giving his emotions away. “I think I’m going to sleep now.”
“Come on, guys. Let’s leave him alone so he can get some sleep. Keller will be in soon enough to start poking and prodding at him.” A firm hand patted his arm. It nearly made him jump but he was able to stop the movement before his tired muscles spasmed uncontrollably. “We’ll stop by tomorrow, Chewy. Maybe bring you some of that pudding you like so much. Sleep well.”
“Sure,” he muttered, listening intently for the sounds of their footsteps leaving the infirmary. The first one, John’s march. Second was Rodney’s more reluctant move away from the computers. Third....
“Amelia.”
“Screw you,” she whispered. “You could be blind. Don’t you care?”
“I should have died a hundred times before today. I’m breathing. It’s enough.” She let out an irritated sigh but he knew what he was saying was true. Or nearly true. “It’s enough,” he reasserted. This time he wasn’t lying about being tired. It swamped him until he could barely control his impulses but before he could do anything he might regret, he discovered blessed unconsciousness once again.