Fic: No I in Team by lavvyan (Wordless Challenge)
Title: No I in Team
Author: lavvyan
Summary: When the medics arrived, his team-mates were advised to stay away from him.
Notes: Gen, though I suppose you could also read it as Team OT4.
~~~
The room was small with a grey floor, rust-coloured walls decorated with the strange Ancient ornaments that could be found all over the city. Rodney hated it already, as much as he hated the thought that instead of dying to save children, he was going to be killed by a little girl. The irony had been choking him all the way back from the planet.
He could still see her, so dirty, blonde hair a mess as she'd thrown herself at him with a wail. Rodney had caught her reflexively, awkwardly patting her back, his team sniggering, none of them anticipating the horror just beyond the path's next turn.
It had been one of the few still-living adults who told them that the sickness was contagious only by touch.
The transparent doors closed behind them, locking with a hydraulic hiss. Rodney was left standing in the middle of the room while his team lined the walls. There were speakers, microphones, enabling them to communicate with the outside world. Rodney didn't feel like communicating. He didn't even feel like pacing. He just felt numb, fighting the compulsion to check his arms for the first sickly purplish blisters.
A whole world, eradicated. Sadly not uncommon, except this time the Wraith weren't to blame. There had been bodies inside the open huts, swollen instead of dried-out, lying motionless on their beds. People sitting slumped in front of feebly smoking fires, watching the travellers with fever-glazed eyes. And a little kid, throwing herself at the first person that came her way.
He didn't want to die. He really, really didn't want to die; and how unfair was it that now he'd do it so horribly, so painfully, rotting away from the inside unless Keller came up with a miracle. Rodney balled his hands into fists, blinking rapidly.
No one touching him on the way back to the city. Of course not; he'd been careful to keep to himself. Sheppard had landed the jumper in the designated external dock instead of the jumper bay and they'd walked the few metres to this room, stocked with supplies and remote, the only quarantine zone Atlantis had.
When the medics arrived, his team-mates were advised to stay away from him. Just a precaution, until they knew what they were dealing with. If only Rodney had been infected. If there even was a cure.
Sheppard looked blandly at Keller as she told them. Then he took a few steps back, turning to meet Rodney's gaze as he reached out and deliberately squeezed his shoulder. A rustle of fabric told Rodney of Teyla's presence behind him before a small hand was pressed low between his shoulder blades, at the same time as Ronon heavily patted his back. They all stood around him in silence, touching him, letting their actions say what words would only cheapen.
Rodney closed his eyes and swallowed, getting the message loud and clear.
Nobody left behind.
~~~
Author: lavvyan
Summary: When the medics arrived, his team-mates were advised to stay away from him.
Notes: Gen, though I suppose you could also read it as Team OT4.
~~~
The room was small with a grey floor, rust-coloured walls decorated with the strange Ancient ornaments that could be found all over the city. Rodney hated it already, as much as he hated the thought that instead of dying to save children, he was going to be killed by a little girl. The irony had been choking him all the way back from the planet.
He could still see her, so dirty, blonde hair a mess as she'd thrown herself at him with a wail. Rodney had caught her reflexively, awkwardly patting her back, his team sniggering, none of them anticipating the horror just beyond the path's next turn.
It had been one of the few still-living adults who told them that the sickness was contagious only by touch.
The transparent doors closed behind them, locking with a hydraulic hiss. Rodney was left standing in the middle of the room while his team lined the walls. There were speakers, microphones, enabling them to communicate with the outside world. Rodney didn't feel like communicating. He didn't even feel like pacing. He just felt numb, fighting the compulsion to check his arms for the first sickly purplish blisters.
A whole world, eradicated. Sadly not uncommon, except this time the Wraith weren't to blame. There had been bodies inside the open huts, swollen instead of dried-out, lying motionless on their beds. People sitting slumped in front of feebly smoking fires, watching the travellers with fever-glazed eyes. And a little kid, throwing herself at the first person that came her way.
He didn't want to die. He really, really didn't want to die; and how unfair was it that now he'd do it so horribly, so painfully, rotting away from the inside unless Keller came up with a miracle. Rodney balled his hands into fists, blinking rapidly.
No one touching him on the way back to the city. Of course not; he'd been careful to keep to himself. Sheppard had landed the jumper in the designated external dock instead of the jumper bay and they'd walked the few metres to this room, stocked with supplies and remote, the only quarantine zone Atlantis had.
When the medics arrived, his team-mates were advised to stay away from him. Just a precaution, until they knew what they were dealing with. If only Rodney had been infected. If there even was a cure.
Sheppard looked blandly at Keller as she told them. Then he took a few steps back, turning to meet Rodney's gaze as he reached out and deliberately squeezed his shoulder. A rustle of fabric told Rodney of Teyla's presence behind him before a small hand was pressed low between his shoulder blades, at the same time as Ronon heavily patted his back. They all stood around him in silence, touching him, letting their actions say what words would only cheapen.
Rodney closed his eyes and swallowed, getting the message loud and clear.
Nobody left behind.
~~~