Action/Adventure, Week 2: Figurative Hell and Literal High Water (4/5)

[sholio]

Title: Figurative Hell And Literal High Water (4/5)
Author: tipper_green
Prompt: Weather or Elements
Word Count: 36,000
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Missing (this takes place after Missing but before This Mortal Coil).
Characters: Keller, Rodney, Teyla, Sheppard, Ronon
Summary: Rodney's desperate to save his team, and Keller's just trying to keep up, on a planet where hurricanes can last for days.



[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Part Five]

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CHAPTER SEVEN: PULLING OUT FROM UNDER

Pulling Rodney out from under the tree was actually not that hard, even though he was dead-weight in her arms. The downward slope combined with the mud-slick ground gave her enough of an advantage that she managed to get all the way to the stream nearby without too much trouble.

But, God, he was heavy. She was pulling him with her arms under his shoulders, dragging him with his butt still on the ground, and, after only about ten feet, she was already breathing hard, her back spiking in pain. It didn't help that she couldn't really watch where she was going, so intent was she on keeping an eye on the three sticks sticking out of him like needles in a voodoo doll. Worse yet, her hands were sticky from sap, which really didn't bode well for the wounds not getting infected. She needed to get him to that hovel as fast as possible.

With a final tug, she got him to a soft patch of moss and, as gently as she could manage, lowered his upper body down to the ground. He was unconscious—which wasn't surprising. But, based on what she'd seen of his left leg, she was pretty certain he could take weight on it. Which meant he could walk. If she could wake him up enough to get him to try.

Out from under the shelter of the fallen pine, the rain was once again drumming on her back and shoulders relentlessly. As soon as he hands were free, she wiped the water from her face and nose, and blew pooled water off her lips, then knelt by his side to do a quick survey of his legs in the brighter light.

She'd gone into a sort of zone under that tree, especially once McKay passed out, cutting the branches and bandaging his legs. The light hadn't been the best, but she'd worked with stab wounds enough times to feel like she could have worked on his in the dark if need be. Studying what she had done now in the gray light, she had to admit—she really was good. She huffed a laugh, smiling a little, wondering what McKay would say if she'd said that out loud in his presence. He'd probably sneer and then try to one up her. Her smile grew, and she looked up at his pale face, feeling so much affection for him now, it was almost overwhelming.

He was going to be okay, she promised herself. She wouldn't lose him. She wasn't going to lose any of them.

Shakily, she wiped a warm tear from her face and knelt up closer to his head.

Gently, she tapped his cheek. "Rodney?"

He didn't react, so she tapped his shoulder more forcefully than she had tapped his cheek. "Rodney, wake up."

Still nothing. Shaking her head slightly, she moved to grab the smelling salts from her bag. A moment later, she was by his side again, holding her breath as she unstoppered the bottle. Quickly, she ran it under his nose, pulling back as soon as he jerked. His expression wrinkled then released, his eyes blinking open then closing again as the rain got to him.

He reached a hand up, covering his eyes and groaning.

"Rodney," Jennifer called. "Can you hear me?"

He groaned again, and lifted his hand up. He looked at her, exhaustion lining every feature of his face. "Obviously," he said. "You're sitting right next to me." He turned away, blinking some more, then lifted his head to look down his body. At the sight of the bits of branch still sticking out him, he moaned and plopped his head back on the muddy earth.

"How do you feel?" Jennifer asked.

"Like a voodoo doll," he muttered, closing his eyes again briefly before turning to look at her again.

"Ha," Jennifer grinned—she had thought the same thing. "Jinx!"

His brow furrowed, and he stared at her like she was crazy. "What?"

Her eyes widened slightly. She'd said that out loud? God, she was such a girl. "Nothing, nothing," she promised, patting his shoulder lightly. "I was just…nothing." She frowned then. "Look, I need to know how you're feeling. Really."

He grimaced at her intent expression, and sighed, looking up at the sky again. "A bit strange," he admitted. "It hurts, but I'm so fuzzy, I'm not entirely sure what I'm feeling."

She nodded. "That's the painkillers. I'm hoping they're strong enough to get you on your feet, so you can walk."

His eyes widened slightly, his expression clearly saying, 'what, are you nuts?' "Really?" he squeaked.

"We need to get to your team. Your left leg should be able to handle the bulk of your weight, and you can use me as a crutch for your right."

He swallowed, still looking at her as if she'd lost her mind, but, after a moment, he nodded. The need to get to his team was stronger than the pain he felt, or his fear of the agony walking would bring. And just as she'd seen him do so many times before, he set his jaw and his eyes narrowed with determination—he was going to walk, even if it killed him. Jennifer just hoped it wouldn't.

"Help me up," he said roughly, holding up a hand.
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She kept her gaze glued to the ground, guiding them along the path of least resistance. Her eyes scouted for holes, depressions, sticks, rocks – anything that could either slow them down more, or hurt Rodney more.

He was struggling next to her, breathing heavily and painfully, his right leg all but dragging behind him. His right arm was pressed across her bowed shoulders, his hand gripping the strap of her backpack. Besides feeling like she was carrying the bulk of his weight, she was also carrying the medical case and the pack. It was amazing she was still standing—she'd be feeling this trek for weeks.

Only half a mile. Less than a kilometer. When she was in college, she used to run a mile in six minutes. They could do this.

But, damn, half a mile was beginning to feel like a marathon. Screw that, it felt like a damned century.

She lost track of time, her entire attention focused on the ground surface, on Rodney's labored breathing and shuffling step, on the soft beep of the scanner in his left hand, leading them forward.

How far had they gone? How much farther was it?

She checked his leg as she moved. Damn it, he needed a new bandage above his knee—that one was soaked through. How much blood was he losing? The whole reason to keep the sticks there was to forestall blood loss until they got to the hovel—but it wasn't working. God damn it.

The mud grew deeper, sucking at her shoes. Not that her feet could get any wetter or muddier—her socks felt like lead weights on her feet.

Rodney stiffened next to her, and she saw his right foot had snagged a root. She bit her lip, trying to help him lift himself out of its snare.

The rain was driving her crazy! Why wouldn't it stop! She hated it so much!

They were moving again—the ground was a little harder packed here, a little easier to handle. My God, how long had they been at this? How much longer could he do this? How much longer could she do this?

"Oh, thank God," Rodney breathed next to her.

Her head was bowed so much, she had to really strain in order to look up.

In front of them, the trees thinned slightly, and a handful of small, green colored huts were hidden amongst the pines, pressed up against trunks. They blended so well with the surroundings, they were nearly invisible. And Rodney was right, they were hovels. The roofs looked like they were made of long grass and straw, and the walls were strapped together bits of wood, tied with black twine. They looked haphazard and temporary—and completely incapable of providing any real shelter in a storm like this. It amazed her they were even still standing considering the volume of water currently drenching them and the muddiness of the gentle hillside they were precariously sticking to.

"Which--?" she began to ask, but was cut off when a familiar looking woman popped her head out of the door of the nearest one.

"Rodney! " Teyla's face broke into a huge smile, which quickly fell when she saw the state they were in. She threw the door the rest of the way open and, using a long staff she'd obviously fashioned, she hobbled out to reach them. Jennifer quickly catalogued the woman's appearance—Teyla's left lower leg was off the ground and wrapped, probably her own work. The rest of her appeared well, though there were cuts and bruises on her arms and face.

"What happened?" Teyla demanded as she reached them. Even with her leg, Teyla was by their side in moments, reaching out to take the medical case. Before Jennifer could tell her not to take it and save her foot—Teyla was already holding the case under her free arm and shifting to get under Rodney's other arm. "What have you done to yourself?" she admonished, her face pale as she took in the seriousness of the wounds. Rodney stretched his arm over his shoulder, shaking his head.

"The others?" he asked, and Keller tilted her head to hear the answer.

Teyla blinked up at him once, as if measuring her words. The she pulled Rodney's arm tighter around her shoulders, almost in a hug.

"They're still alive."

Rodney grimaced. "Are we…," he looked pained, "Are we in time?"

Teyla closed her eyes then leaned forward to look at Jennifer. "Let us go inside—the Doctor can answer that question better than I."

Jennifer gave her a wry look, but nodded, stepping when Teyla stepped to keep Rodney balanced. He hissed in pain, bowing his head.

Teyla looked up again at Rodney as she tried to take more of her weight. "Rodney, what happened to you? And where are the others? Where is Major Lorne?"

Rodney sighed. "The others are back on Atlantis. The weather's a full blown typhoon or something down in town, preventing them from coming through the Gate safely. As for us…" He glanced at Keller, then grunted as he tripped up a little. "Ouch, damn it." He sighed heavily. "As for us," he said again, "we were attacked by a tree," he said through gritted teeth. "And the tree won."

Teyla didn't answer immediately, obviously taking in the fact that Jennifer and Rodney were alone, then she offered a small smile to Rodney. "Well, I am not surprised the tree won." She hopped a little to get over a dip in the muddy ground. "You really must stop baiting them the way you do." She grinned, and Rodney quirked a smile, to Jennifer's happiness. Teyla leaned forward then, to see Jennifer better.

"It really is good to see you," she said, her voice heavy with relief. "Both of you. I was very worried, what with the weather and the rebels, and…and I…." She shook her head, unable to finish. It wasn't often that Teyla was at a loss for words, but under the circumstances, Jennifer could completely understand. The Athosian shook her head, as if ashamed with herself and looked up at Rodney. "I should have known you would make it. And we are almost there. There is a good fire inside—you both clearly need it."

Jennifer just smiled weakly, her now free arms wrapped around Rodney to support him better as they struggled up the slight incline, both women now supporting the sagging man. "Almost there, Rodney," Jennifer promised him as Teyla let go to hobble forward and push the door open. He just nodded, holding on a little tighter as well.

In moments, they were crossing the rough threshold into a room that almost felt too hot, and Teyla was helping to pull Rodney away from her. Jennifer almost protested, feeling somehow like the other woman was taking him away from her, but sense prevailed and she watched as Teyla settled Rodney down on a straw pallet along one of the hovels four walls.

"Be careful of—"

"Yes," Teyla said. "I know."

Jennifer nodded and, blowing out a heavy sigh, pulled the backpack off her shoulders and settled it on the ground next to Rodney. Teyla had set the medical case too near the small fire pit in the center of the room, and, as Jennifer moved over to pull it away, she glanced up at the small hole in the roof through which the gray smoke was escaping. Raindrops fizzled in the heat. She then took a longer look around the single room, frowning more and more as she took in the state of it and its inhabitants.

Along the right hand wall was a pallet set up off the floor by about three feet. Ronon lay on that, and Jennifer swallowed thickly at the sight of arrows sticking out of his body like Leonidas at Thermopylae. Moving closer, she saw there were only three—one in upper left shoulder, one through his right oblique, and one sticking out of his right thigh. Jesus. She could see that Teyla had done a fine job bandaging the wounds, but they were all heavily speckled with blood. Ronon's color was poor and he appeared to be deeply unconscious. Not good.

Quickly, she gently peeled up the three bandages, and studied the wounds. She nodded softly to herself, already mentally picking out instruments and medicines from her kit.

Resetting the bandages, she moved over to the pallet along the back wall, which was on the ground like the one Teyla had set Rodney on, and knelt down. John was sleeping, a bandage wrapped around his head. Like Ronon's, it was mostly clean. He showed no other injuries, other than a pretty deep cut to his left arm, which was also bandaged neatly.

"I have been waking him every hour," Teyla said, hobbling up next to where Jennifer was kneeling next to John. "His pupils are even, but I was concerned about concussion."

"You did well," Jennifer said, checking the pupils herself now with her penlight. John moaned a little, and she shushed him back to sleep. It did seem a little strange that he was still asleep after, what, five hours? More? The wound didn't look serious enough to have kept him in such a state. She hated that it probably meant there was more to it.

When she stood again, she found Teyla hovering behind her. She was leaning on the crutch, looking at Jennifer with a mixture of anxiety and hope.

"You should sit down," Jennifer told her.

Teyla gave a quick headshake. "How are they?"

Jennifer grimaced, looking at Ronon. "I can't say anything for certain yet. Let me work on them a little, and then I can give you a better prognosis. But this much is obvious—Ronon's clearly lost a lot of blood. He'll need more."

Teyla nodded. "Doctor Beckett said we were a close match. I can—"

"Yes, I know. But in your condition…" Jennifer grimaced.

Teyla bit her lip, glanced over her shoulder at Rodney, then back at Jennifer. She stepped forward and lowered her voice to a whisper.

"I am still only a few weeks along. Would it really endanger the child?"

Jennifer closed her eyes, then gave a headshake. "At this stage in your pregnancy, while early, it does pose a risk," she whispered. "If your iron levels were to drop—"

"Then monitor them," Teyla said.

Jennifer shook her head, "I can't. It doesn't work that way. I won't be able to tell—"

"How great is the risk?"

Jennifer grimaced. "I don't know. There are a lot of factors to consider. Truth is," she shrugged, "you could be totally fine. Or you might not."

Teyla's eyes narrowed. "That is not an answer."

Jennifer raised a hand in a shrug. "It's all I got. But," she shook her head, "based on what I know—I'd lean towards there being little risk. At the same time…it's practice never to allow a pregnant woman to give blood." God, she hated not being able to answer this question. In any other circumstance, she would never let Teyla give blood while pregnant.

Teyla frowned, looking down at her feet. "So answer me this," she whispered. "If I do not help, Ronon will die, correct?"

Jennifer gave a nod. "Yes. Of that I have no doubt."

"Then it is settled," Teyla said, backing away. Jennifer just shook her head. Just something else to add to the list of things she hated even contemplating. She would never forgive herself if Teyla lost the baby—even if Teyla herself did not seem to have wholly accepted it yet. Of course, she'd also never forgive herself if Ronon died because she was too afraid that her own skills wouldn't be able to keep both Teyla's baby and Ronon alive.

She looked down at the colonel again. John was a universal donor, but in his condition, Jennifer wasn't going to be taking any blood from the colonel until she knew exactly what was wrong with him.

Of course, none of this helped Rodney at all, and her gaze shifted to where he was lying near the door. She just had to hope Rodney hadn't lost as much blood as she thought he had. At least right now she was sure he hadn't lost as much as Ronon.

As if sensing her attention, Rodney opened his eyes and blinked muzzily at her. She could tell from the tightness of his face that he was listening to the conversation—though he couldn't have heard the part that was whispered. She didn't know why Teyla was keeping it a secret from them, but she would do what she could to honor it.

"What about John?" Teyla asked suddenly, drawing Jennifer's eyes back to her. The doctor frowned and she turned around to look down at the colonel again.

"I can do a preliminary scan with the equipment I have, but it won't be as effective as getting him under an CT scanner. I don't like that he's sleeping so much." She grimaced, "Right now, best we can do is keep him comfortable." Her eyes narrowed, and she looked at Teyla again. "As for you, I really need you to sit down now."

Teyla frowned, "But I can—"

"No," Jennifer said, "you really can't. Do me a favor and sit down on the pallet next to Rodney so I can check your leg."

Teyla's lips twisted in a wry grimace, but, with a sigh, she turned and hobbled over to the pallet on which she'd lain Rodney. It was barely wide enough for two, but Jennifer didn't care. She waited as Teyla settled herself, then Jennifer arranged her so that her hurt leg was elevated. The doctor unwrapped it quickly, ignoring the hiss of pain from Teyla, and palpated the swelled limb. Rodney was right—Teyla had downplayed it to him when she'd described it as a sprain. From the looks of it, it was at least fractured. She'd know more once she ran the Ancient medical scanner over it.

"Okay," she said, pushing herself back to her feet. "No," she snapped, holding up her hand as Teyla made to move as well, "You're staying there."

"But—"

"Three reasons. One, you need to stay off that foot. Two, I need you to monitor Rodney for me while I work on Ronon. Third, you're the best thing I have for keeping Rodney warm—he's freezing and losing blood. So, you're staying there."

Teyla frowned and pushed herself up again. "But you need help and—"

"Not right now, I don't. I'm guessing you haven't rested since Rodney left. Well, you're resting now."

The pout on Teyla's face was almost comical. "Doctor Keller, I appreciate the concern, but I think—"

"I'd do as she says," Rodney said softly, cutting Teyla off with a finger to her wrist. "She knows what she's doing." He looked up at Jennifer through heavy lidded eyes. "And she's the best."

And, strangely, Jennifer didn't have the slightest compunction to deny it. Since coming into this room, she'd felt calm and totally in control. She wasn't afraid anymore. She wasn't even worried.

She had patients she had to take care of.

She shrugged. "He's right," she told Teyla. "So, you're staying there. I'm going to get rid out of this wet jacket, change my shirt and then I'm going to get to work. In the meantime, can you help Rodney out of his wet jacket and shirt? I'll give you a blanket to cover him with."

Teyla's eyes widened slightly, but she didn't say no.

Jennifer arched an eyebrow at her. "And keep your left leg elevated the whole time, got it?"

Teyla finally relented, and favored Jennifer with an unhappy grimace. "As you wish."

"I do wish," Jennifer smiled, and knelt down next to her. "And Teyla," she said, lowering her voice, "It's going to be alright. I'm going to take care of all of you. Just trust me, okay? I didn't come all the way out here through," she glanced at Rodney remembering his words back in town, "through figurative hell and literal high water to let you down."

Teyla's smile deepened. "I know," she replied, just as softly. "Thank you."

Jennifer nodded again, and turned to get her things from her pack.
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Running the scanner over Ronon revealed exactly what Jennifer expected, and feared. His blood pressure was dangerously low, and his temperature was abnormally high.

Turning to John, she ran the scanner over his head. She frowned at the results—the wound really was shallow. No evidence of concussion. But he was clearly out cold. This didn't make sense.

She leaned back on her haunches, considering the wound on his arm. Then she remembered that Rodney had mentioned something about a bolas.

Scooting down, she pulled the blanket Teyla had placed over the colonel off his legs, and frowned at the shredded looking trousers. Pulling out a knife, she sliced the fabric up to about mid thigh on both legs, and swore. There were a bunch of nasty cuts, all scabbed up.

"Teyla?" she called out.

"Yes?"

Keller pivoted around in her crouch to look at her, "Did Rodney carry him all the way up here with the bolas still around his legs?"

Teyla was propped up on her elbows next to Rodney, and she nodded at Keller's question. "There was no time to take it off down below. I removed it after we got here." She pointed to the base of John's pallet. "It's there."

Jennifer stood up, crossed to the bottom of the pallet, and then crouched down again when she saw the bolas curled in on itself at the foot. She grimaced as she lifted it—the iron balls at the ends were barbed, like mace heads. Swearing softly, she grabbed her flashlight and focused it on the barbs.

There was some sort of dry ichor on them. Poison.

"Damn," she whispered.

"What is it?" Teyla asked.

"He's been poisoned," Keller answered, putting the bolas down and looking back at the other woman.

Teyla sat up more, her eyes widening. "I didn't know."

"There's no reason you should," Jennifer said, standing up to walk to her medical case. Quickly, she pulled out a testing kit. It was for snakebites, but it should at least give her an idea of what she was dealing with.

"He going to be okay?" Rodney asked, his words slurring. Keller looked up, about to snap at him to get some rest, but, when she saw his and Teyla's faces together…she found she couldn't.

"I'm going to do everything I can," she said, and returned her attention to putting the kit together.
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Keller set the test running for the poison, then crossed over to run the scanner over Rodney. He just watched her through half-lidded eyes, obviously fighting to stay awake.

His temperature was already rising, despite the cold and clammy appearance of his skin.

Blowing the air out of her cheeks, she gave Teyla some bandages to add to the blood-soaked ones on his legs, and something to help with the infection.

Then she was standing up and quickly setting out what she'd need to operate on Ronon.

The timer on the kit "dinged" and she checked it.

Her shoulders sank in relief. The chemical composition revealed the poison was a sedative, and it was nowhere near overdose level. Just enough to knock him out, probably for another few hours or so. She resolved to keep waking him on the hour, though, just in case the head wound was worse than it appeared.

She told Teyla and Rodney, earning her relieved smiles from both.

Then Rodney's eyes closed—it didn't look voluntary. Keller sighed, and stood. Teyla stared up at her, her hand gripping Rodney's by her side. Keller glanced at Ronon, then back at her.

"I will need you in a minute. Stay there until I do, all right?"

Teyla just nodded. "Of course."

Jennifer gave her a grim smile, then knelt down to pull her instrument, gloves and sterile solutions from her case and backpack.
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Time began to blur then. Jennifer knew she was exhausted. Knew she shouldn't even be working in this condition. Knew that her grip on consciousness was growing increasingly fragile, her entire world tunneling to first Ronon's wounds, then Rodney's, then John's.

At some point, she'd had Teyla helping her, then she'd had Teyla climb up beside Ronon and lie down, so that she could transfer some blood from the Athosian to the Satedan. Teyla had remained awake during the procedure—until Jennifer smiled at her and said she felt like Ronon's chances were better than 50-50 (which was more than she could have said when she first saw him). At the news, Teyla had fallen asleep almost immediately, finally giving in to her own exhaustion, but there was a smile on her face.

Working on Rodney was harder—partly because the wounds were messier. But they were also fresher, so the signs of infection were not as pervasive. Keller's vision was so tightly focused, she never even felt the eyes on her until, when she finally pulled back and looked around the room…she saw John had shifted to lie on his side and was watching her through heavy lidded eyes. He looked tired and confused and worried, all at the same time.

Smiling, she stood up to go talk to him, but his eyes closed before she could—the drug was still too strong, though he had clearly tried to fight it. Fact was, he still had hours to go before he would wake. She pressed her lips together in a sad smile, and returned her attention to Rodney.

When she finally got to John's side, all she did was clean his wounds, using butterfly bandages on his head and swabbing the marks on his legs.

When she finally finished and stood…she nearly fell over, her equilibrium was that shot.

Blinking in exhaustion, she checked once more on Ronon, then stumbled back to Rodney.

Carefully, close to passing out, she settled herself down next to him so that she was sitting by his head, her back to the wall of the hovel. Wiping sleep from her eyes, she reached out and took his hand in hers, just to hold it. Then she tilted her head towards the door, to listen to the rain and wind still battering the walls outside.

Gray started to settle in around the edges of her vision, and she jerked awake. Quickly, she checked her watch, terrified for a moment that she had, in fact, fallen asleep.

Only five minutes. Thank God. She couldn't fall asleep, not until there was someone else who could monitor them all.

She looked over at her backpack, thinking about the stimulants she had packed inside of it.

She'd taken one, and it had sent her heart hammering, but hadn't done much for the exhaustion. She hated stimulants—but she wouldn't deny that they had been part of the reason she'd survived medical school. Still, she'd been eschewing them ever since, even during the long shifts in Glasgow.

Glasgow.

It's funny, considering everything she'd seen and done over the years, the one place she remembered as clearly as yesterday was Glasgow. She'd loved it there, even though the only reason she'd gone was to try and score a fellowship position with Carson Beckett. She didn't get it, and he'd disappeared barely a year after she'd gotten there, but when he saw her again two years ago in Stargate Command, he laughed, telling her how well he still remembered the young girl shoving her resume in his face all those years ago on the University steps.

She'd loved Carson. Everyone had loved Carson.

Carson wouldn't fall asleep when his friends needed him.

Resolved, and a little bit desperate, she got up and tottered over to her backpack for a second stimulant.

This was going to be a very, very long night.
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Continued in Part Five