Grit Part 2/2
The whooping calls shortened and turned to snapping giggles. As if on cue, more animals burst from the bushes and launched themselves at the team.
“Watch out!” Ronon roared over the shots of his gun.
Behind him, John heard shots from Teyla’s P-90 as he struggled to control his mangled arm and grab his .45. He looked at his teammate. Two handed, Rodney was marginally good with a P-90, but now, with one hand still wrapped around John, he was struggling to aim the weapon with any accuracy.
Tapping into as much strength as he had, John pushed himself away from Rodney. “Let go!”
“What?” Rodney risked a glance at him as two more animals zeroed in on the pair and charged.
John twisted hard, wrenching his side but successfully tearing himself free of Rodney. “Shoot!” He roared as he collapsed, hitting the ground hard.
Rodney secured the P-90 in both of his hands and immediately opened fire, scattering bullets between the attacking animals.
Sheer willpower and tenacity were the only things that kept John in the land of consciousness. He rolled, his movements fueled by adrenaline, and yanked his gun free, his shots joining Rodney’s. Two more attackers appeared, taking the place of their fallen pack mates and focused on John, their instincts driving them to go for the weak and injured.
John’s lips curled into a snarl and he fired on them, Ronon and Rodney’s shots joining his. The two animals went down in a mass of hair and blood and suddenly, it was over, stillness replacing the turmoil of the fight.
John collapsed hard on his back, heaving breaths racing in and out of his body. “Crap,” he managed. Over the roaring in his ears, he heard the whooping calls resume, echoing all around them. “Don’t those… damned things ever… give up?”
Ronon towered over him, taking a firm position by John’s shoulder and sweeping his gun in an arc around them. “They’ve tasted blood,” he answered. “They won’t give up.”
Teyla knelt next to John and extended her hand. “I have heard stories of animals such as these,” she answered. “They are drawn to the scent…” she looked down at her arm and then back at John, her expression shocked, “… of blood.”
John swallowed hard and tried to keep his focus. “Your… arm.”
“You saying they smelled Teyla’s wound and that’s why they attacked in the first place?” Rodney surmised. “That’s crazy. The sense of smell they’d have to have to detect that wound from any distance is almost impossible.”
John shakily grabbed Teyla’s outstretched hand. “Maybe we’re… in their… territory?” He allowed her to pull him into a sitting position, struggling to stay on top of the screaming pain in his side. Immediately, the world around him lurched and turned a full ninety degrees right in front of his eyes. Groaning, he collapsed back to the ground, squeezed his eyes shut, and fought the urge to throw up.
“John?” Teyla’s voice was soft but insistent.
John drew in one stuttering breath, and then another. His stomach was doing somersaults and he felt like someone was sticking a hot poker into his side, repeatedly and with every thump of his rapidly beating heart. “Think that last… fall did something to… my side…”Panting, he winced as Teyla jostled his bandage.
“You are right,” her voice was grave. “The bleeding has worsened.”
John closed his eyes, swallowing hard. His body felt leaden, and at that moment, he honestly wondered if he could even sit up again, much less stand. Gritting his teeth, he smothered that thought with a well-used dose of stubbornness. He wrapped his fingers around Teyla’s forearm and she immediately shifted her position and returned the grip. “Just… gimme a minute….”
“We don’t exactly have one of those,” Rodney answered quickly before pausing. “God, Sheppard, you look like death warmed over.”
“Rodney!” Teyla admonished.
In spite of the situation, one corner of John’s mouth still quirked upwards. Some things in this world were absolutely predictable, and the social ineptitude of Rodney McKay was one of them. “Great pep talk… McKay.”
“Well, I mean… that is I….”
From somewhere close by, Ronon’s voice interrupted Rodney’s rambling. “Gotta move!”
John swallowed against the lump in his throat and tightened his grip on Teyla’s arm. She took the cue and helped him back into a sitting position again. He took two quick breaths and nodded. Once again, Teyla pulled him to his feet, while Rodney lifted him from behind before ducking under his arm and holding fast. The sounds around John dimmed and the spikes of pain reduced to throbs. He felt weak, his legs trembled and he struggled just to keep his eyes open and his feet under him. In the back of his head, where rational thoughts still barely existed, he knew none of this was good, but for the moment, his tormented body relished any kind of relief and drowned out all the strength he could muster. His head bobbed and his knees tried to buckle as something shook him insistently.
“Sheppard?”
Rodney’s voice was accompanied by another shake and John groaned. Why couldn’t he talk? Just a minute ago he’d been able to….
“Sheppard! I’m not carrying you! Don’t you dare pass out on me!” Rodney demanded with another shake.
The only thing John could manage was a groan, but he lifted his head and looked at Rodney’s blurry face. Slowly, he curled his fingers around the shoulder of Rodney’s TAC vest.
“That’s better,” Rodney answered as he started forward, following Ronon and hauling John with him. “Honestly, Sheppard, you’re a lot heavier than you look. If I’m going to lug your ass through the forest, then you’re going to damn well carry at least some of you weight!”
John inhaled a stuttering breath and dragged his left leg forward. “Ch…charming,” he managed weakly.
“Yeah, well, that’s the best you’re going to get,” Rodney’s voice was unapologetic.
“How… far?” John asked, though he wondered if Rodney understood the slurring whisper that came from his mouth.
“About halfway there.” Rodney’s answer was slightly breathless.
Had he the strength, John would’ve nodded, but his concentration was split between fighting back the blackness in his vision and staying on his feet, both of which, he determined, were accomplished strictly by sheer willpower. He swallowed hard and took another step, only to have his knees buckle.
“Sheppard?” Rodney’s grip tightened around him, but John couldn’t force his weak legs to comply. He felt Rodney fall to his knees next to him as he sat down hard.
“Damn it!” Rodney held fast. “Ronon!”
John could still hear them, faintly, as he slowly collapsed to the ground. “S…sorry…” he whispered, trying to find some strength, any strength, from somewhere within. Something to get him on back on his feet. Come on, John!
He felt a dull spike of pain in his side and his thigh as someone prodded his wounds.
“He has lost a great deal of blood and the bleeding is not slowing.” Teyla’s voice sounded worried.
“No wonder those things won’t leave us alone,” Rodney answered. “If they’re really drawn to the scent of blood in some sort of… feeding frenzy, then the more he bleeds….” His voice trailed off.
“The more animals will be drawn to us,” Teyla finished.
“We can’t stop,” Ronon insisted.
John peeled his eyes open, the urgency in Ronon’s voice driving him and suddenly, John found that strength he was looking for. As long as he lay there, his team was in danger. That thought alone fueled him. Drove him. Gave him strength. He lifted a shaking hand. “Help me… up,” he managed.
“John….” Teyla started, but John wouldn’t be deterred.
“Now!” he grunted. His voice was strangled but still held every scrap of conviction he had. In the background, he could still hear the whoops and yelps of their attackers, following their trail, and he knew it was only a matter of time before they struck again.
Grabbing strongly to Teyla’s forearm, his eyes fixed just for a moment on the deep red blood stains coating her fingers. His blood, and lots of it. Tearing his eyes away from her hands, John forced his feet under himself and lurched upwards. He couldn’t quite contain the grunts of pain as his body screamed at him and he fell into her, but Teyla held fast and steadied him. Upright, he half leaned, half fell against Rodney who took his weight, surprisingly without comment. John held tightly to Rodney’s TAC vest. “When they attack… let me… go. Can’t… shoot….”
“You just concentrate on staying on your feet,” Rodney answered, “and let us worry about everything else.”
“Serious… Rodney,” John insisted, his voice rasping over each word, “I’m… liability….”
“You are an annoying, impossibly heroic, smart-ass, self-sacrificing flyboy,” Rodney snapped back. “Not a liability. Now shut up and move!”
“Come on!” Ronon urged.
John let any comment go, not that he had much choice in the matter. It was all he could do just to stay on his feet.
--------------------------
“We must keep moving!”
Teyla’s shouted voice was quiet… muted behind the roaring in his ears, but John felt the compulsion in each word. The insistent, whooping calls of their pursuers kept him going as well, but nothing as much as the safety of his team. In spite of Rodney’s words, he knew he was a liability. But if he collapsed, if he let his strength leave him, he’d become even more of one, because he knew he’d never convince his team to leave him. On the move, they had a chance. Stopped in one place, they were dead.
He wouldn’t let that happen.
He could feel his strength waning, seeping from his body with every drop of blood he shed. Blackness tinged the edge of his vision but he pushed it back, fighting through the fire of pain armed only with his tenacity.
If the devil himself had stood before him, John would’ve given him the double bird.
“Watch out!” Ronon’s shout pierced the haze in John’s head, the shots from his gun deafening.
John tried to stand on his own two feet as he felt Rodney pull away from him, but all the willpower in the world didn’t help him. Rodney tried to lower him to the ground gently, but speed won over and John hit hard, barking his side. He cried out in pain, momentarily losing his battle with the blackness as the world around him dimmed. Gunfire echoed, but it grew faint with each pounding beat of his heart. John’s hand weakly flopped against the ground as he tried to muster his strength and reach for his .45, but the holstered gun may as well had been a million miles away from his weakly fumbling fingers.
It was a long moment before he realized the gunfire had ceased, and an even longer one before his mind registered that someone was insistently shaking his shoulder. Rodney’s voice wormed its way into his hearing.
“Oh my God, is he….”
“Rodney!” Teyla’s voice interrupted.
John groaned, but he had a feeling it was a weak one at best.
“John.”
For not the first time that day, John latched onto Teyla’s voice, using it to pull himself back to consciousness. “Here….” he whispered. Pulling in as deep a breath as he could, he lifted his head, only to have it fall back to the ground. His body was leaden, he couldn’t feel his fingers or his feet, and with a resigned sigh, he knew in his gut he wasn’t going anywhere, at least not under his own power. The blood loss had finally caught up with him and no amount of willpower could stop his body from shutting down. He peeled his eyes open and tried to focus on Teyla’s blurred face. “Get… outta… here….”
“Oh no, you don’t!” Rodney interrupted. “You’re not….”
“John,” Teyla quietly but forcefully interrupted. She gently but firmly grabbed the side of his face. “We are not leaving you here.”
Even through his blurred vision, and even fuzzier thoughts, John could see the conviction in her face and hear it in her words, and he’d been with his team long enough to know they all felt the same. On any other day, he would’ve taken comfort in that, but today he just hoped it didn’t get them all killed. Slowly, he managed a small nod.
“Ronon will carry you. We are at the tree line and can see the gate. It is not far now,” Teyla reassured.
“Forget that we have to cross three hundred yards of open grassland with God knows how many bloodthirsty pack hunters on our heels,” Rodney added.
John swallowed against his dry throat. “’Kay’s… right. Carry me… can’t shoot….” He looked up as a large shadow settled over him. Ronon positioned one foot on each side of John and reached down, grabbing his arms.
“No choice,” Ronon answered and he gently pulled John up.
John tried to help them as best he could but in the end he knew he was more dead weight than helpful. Teyla and Rodney lifted him from behind and John had to squeeze his eyes shut when the world tilted as they settled him across Ronon’s shoulders in a fireman’s carry. He felt Ronon slowly stand up straight and John couldn’t quite stop a quiet cry of pain as Ronon shifted his weight, barking his injured side. John’s weak grip twisted into Ronon’s shirt.
“Easy, buddy,” Ronon answered quietly.
The blackness in John’s vision returned with ferocity as Ronon took off at a fast jog. Grunts, punctuated John’s gasping breaths as he endured his team’s final run for the gate.
“Behind us!” Rodney shouted, gunfire following on the heels of his words.
“Ronon, go! Get to the gate and dial! We will cover you!” Teyla answered, also firing.
Through a monumental exertion of what little strength John had left, he lifted his head, confused for a moment by the upside down angle, but his gaze fixed on Teyla and Rodney, quickly backpedaling and firing on the attacking animals that burst through the trees in pursuit. “No…” he managed, weakly struggling.
“Hang on, Sheppard,” Ronon answered as he staggered to a stop in front of the DHD.
John’s head shook with the exertion of just holding it up as he refused to lose sight of Teyla and Rodney, still backpedaling towards the gate, firing on the animals that pursued them. Through the fringes of blackness on the edge of his vision, John caught a flash of movement to his left. His grip again tightened on Ronon’s shirt. “R’non… left!” he managed, though his voice was weak at best. He felt Ronon shift under him as he drew his weapon, and over the shots from his gun, John heard the gate flush to life.
Teyla and Rodney were close now and Teyla’s voice rang clear and strong over the sound of rapid gunfire. “Rodney! Your IDC!”
What blood John had left in his body was rushing to his head, making his fight against unconsciousness that much harder, but through the roaring in his ears, he could still hear his radio.
“Atlantis, this is McKay! We’re coming in hot and need a medical team in the gate room!”
“Shield is down, Rodney,” Weir’s voice immediately answered. “Security is standing by and a medical team is on its way. Come home.”
In his head, John shouted against the pain in his jostled body as Ronon ran for the gate, but what came out of his mouth was barely above a quiet groan. The rapid gunfire behind him abruptly cut off and the pain in his body was replaced with the tingle of wormhole travel. His world sharply tilted again as Ronon slowly lifted him off his back and lowered him. Disoriented, John looked up, and even through barely open eyes, he still could make out the unmistakable architecture gracing the high ceilings of Atlantis’ gate room. Home…. He barely registered the coolness of the deck plates underneath him, or Rodney’s loud voice ordering that the gate shield be raised and demanding to know where the medical team was.
John’s fast breaths were shallow and he suddenly felt like he was floating. He tried to concentrate, watching as the scene unfolded around him. His eyes lazily shifted to his left as Teyla swiftly knelt beside him. Through barely open eyelids, John tried to concentrate on her face, but he felt his control slipping. One thought stuck with him as the others fled.
They’re safe….
“John?” Teyla leaned in closer, though to John, she seemed to be retreating, falling into the blackness taking over his sight.
“John!” Teyla’s voice was more insistent.
John caught a last look of concern on her face before his eyes closed completely.
Safe.
He felt her fingers press into the side of his neck and then, nothing.
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Warmth.
John pulled in a slow breath as blackness faded. Warm light basked his face and he still felt like he was floating. But this time, there was no pain. He arched his brows, pulling on heavy eyelids, and the gray slowly gave way to light. He tried to focus on a face staring down at him and blinked slowly and lazily, a soft groan escaping his lips. He looked at the face again and recognized Carson’s smile.
“Aye, there you are,” Carson answered softly. “About time, Colonel.”
John swallowed hard against his parched throat. “What…” he managed with a wince.
“Here.” Carson presented him with a few ice chips and John relished the cool sensation as they slid down his throat. “How… long?” he managed.
Carson set the cup aside. “Two days. Though ye had us hopping for half of that.” He sighed. “You’d lost a considerable amount of blood by the time your team got you back here. Made it a little touch and go for a while.”
“I’m okay?” The fuzziness in his head continued to fade and his thoughts started to clear.
“Aye,” Carson answered. “You’ll be fine. You had some internal bleeding in your side, but we got that fixed up, as well as a nicked artery in your thigh. Lots of tissue damage in all your wounds but nothing permanent. You do, however, have a lot of PT to look forward to before you’re back to active duty, and you will probably sport some interesting scars.”
A ghost of a smile passed over John’s face. “Don’t… feel it.”
“No,” Carson answered, his voice tinged with amusement. “I don’t expect you do. I just gave ye another dose of the good stuff.”
“Team… okay?” John lifted his head but was immediately reassured by Carson’s relaxed expression.
“Aye, they’re fine. Even Teyla. Fifteen stitches but no complications.” Carson’s smile widened just slightly. “They’re anxious to see you, if you feel up to it?”
John let his head settle back onto his pillow. “Yeah,” he answered. He took another couple deep breaths as Carson disappeared behind the privacy curtain. John’s thoughts drifted back over the mission as he tried to remember everything that’d happened. At first, things were clear, but as his injuries had worsened, so had his memory. He arched a brow slightly as the curtain moved, and Carson returned, flanked by his team.
“Well, it’s about time.” Rodney stopped just to the left of John’s bed and crossed his arms.
“Nice to see you too, McKay,” John answered, his voice still hoarse and gravely.
“It is good to see you awake, John.” Teyla reached out and lightly squeezed his right forearm, her touch brief as if she knew anything longer would make him uncomfortable.
John smiled. “Good to be awake,” he answered, “and in one piece.” He sighed. “Close call.”
“Closer than I liked,” Rodney answered. “I did some poking around in the data we managed to retrieve while you got your beauty sleep, not that it helped much.”
“What’s the matter, McKay?” John answered. “Hair envy?”
Rodney’s gaze turned cold. “That is so far from the truth that I won’t even dignify it with a response. From what I could decipher in the scattered bits of data I managed to retrieve, the Ancients were performing genetic experiments on those animals.” His face twisted in frustration. “There isn’t much data left, but near as I can tell, enhanced olfactory abilities were likely one of the genetic manipulations the Ancients put in place.” He looked at Teyla. “Turns out, they did actually smell the blood from your wound and attacked.” He looked back down at John. “When you went and got yourself mauled, it only drew more animals to us.”
John put on the best indignant look he could muster. “It’s not like I was trying to get mauled, McKay.”
“You were still mauled,” Rodney retorted.
John bit back any further retort and just let it slide. He looked past Rodney, his gaze settling on Ronon, quietly standing at the end of his bed. John smiled a little. “Owe ya big time for the ride.”
Ronon smiled and shrugged but remained silent. John looked at him a moment longer, reading everything he needed from Ronon’s expression. He nodded back. “Thanks.” His gaze passed over Teyla and Rodney as well. “All of you.”
“Yes, well, the only thing I could think about, while dragging your heavy butt through the woods and fending off blood thirsty animals single-handedly….”
“Single-handedly?” Carson interrupted. “Where were Teyla and Ronon while you were performing this heroic miracle?”
“Well, they were… there.” Rodney waved his hand idly. “The point is, the last thing I wanted to do was break in another military commander. Knowing the IOA, he’d be all buzz cut and no brains. Wraith fodder inside two months.”
John settled his head deeper into his pillow. Whatever good stuff Carson had given him, was starting to make him sleepy. “Glad to spare you the agony, Rodney,” he answered.
“Hm.” Rodney grunted. “Definitely have to reclassify that planet. TRA but hostile and wild. WU possibly, or a little of both. Might need a new classification….”
John’s eyelids felt heavy and McKay’s rambling definitely wasn’t helping. He surrendered, letting them close.
“Aye, figured the pain meds would get the best of you before long,” Carson’s voice was quiet and knowing. “Out, all of you. Colonel needs his rest.”
“Rest easy, John,” Teyla’s soft voice penetrated the fog in John’s mind. “We will be here when you wake.”
Through a monumental effort, he peeled his eyelids open just a little. “I know,” he whispered, reassured by her gentle smile.
John let his eyes close again and surrendered to the warmth.
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Prompt: 050 Like death warmed over
AN: Big thanks to TanaquiSGA for letting me bounce ideas off of her and to coolbreeze1 for her quick and awesome beta.
Also big thanks to michelel72 for patience in answering all my questions about the new AO3 stuff and for running GenFicAThon in the first place! Thank you!
Finally, big, squee filled thanks to Trillingstar for the AWESOME art. Thank you so much! It fits the story perfectly, I love it! :D
Back to Part 1
“Watch out!” Ronon roared over the shots of his gun.
Behind him, John heard shots from Teyla’s P-90 as he struggled to control his mangled arm and grab his .45. He looked at his teammate. Two handed, Rodney was marginally good with a P-90, but now, with one hand still wrapped around John, he was struggling to aim the weapon with any accuracy.
Tapping into as much strength as he had, John pushed himself away from Rodney. “Let go!”
“What?” Rodney risked a glance at him as two more animals zeroed in on the pair and charged.
John twisted hard, wrenching his side but successfully tearing himself free of Rodney. “Shoot!” He roared as he collapsed, hitting the ground hard.
Rodney secured the P-90 in both of his hands and immediately opened fire, scattering bullets between the attacking animals.
Sheer willpower and tenacity were the only things that kept John in the land of consciousness. He rolled, his movements fueled by adrenaline, and yanked his gun free, his shots joining Rodney’s. Two more attackers appeared, taking the place of their fallen pack mates and focused on John, their instincts driving them to go for the weak and injured.
John’s lips curled into a snarl and he fired on them, Ronon and Rodney’s shots joining his. The two animals went down in a mass of hair and blood and suddenly, it was over, stillness replacing the turmoil of the fight.
John collapsed hard on his back, heaving breaths racing in and out of his body. “Crap,” he managed. Over the roaring in his ears, he heard the whooping calls resume, echoing all around them. “Don’t those… damned things ever… give up?”
Ronon towered over him, taking a firm position by John’s shoulder and sweeping his gun in an arc around them. “They’ve tasted blood,” he answered. “They won’t give up.”
Teyla knelt next to John and extended her hand. “I have heard stories of animals such as these,” she answered. “They are drawn to the scent…” she looked down at her arm and then back at John, her expression shocked, “… of blood.”
John swallowed hard and tried to keep his focus. “Your… arm.”
“You saying they smelled Teyla’s wound and that’s why they attacked in the first place?” Rodney surmised. “That’s crazy. The sense of smell they’d have to have to detect that wound from any distance is almost impossible.”
John shakily grabbed Teyla’s outstretched hand. “Maybe we’re… in their… territory?” He allowed her to pull him into a sitting position, struggling to stay on top of the screaming pain in his side. Immediately, the world around him lurched and turned a full ninety degrees right in front of his eyes. Groaning, he collapsed back to the ground, squeezed his eyes shut, and fought the urge to throw up.
“John?” Teyla’s voice was soft but insistent.
John drew in one stuttering breath, and then another. His stomach was doing somersaults and he felt like someone was sticking a hot poker into his side, repeatedly and with every thump of his rapidly beating heart. “Think that last… fall did something to… my side…”Panting, he winced as Teyla jostled his bandage.
“You are right,” her voice was grave. “The bleeding has worsened.”
John closed his eyes, swallowing hard. His body felt leaden, and at that moment, he honestly wondered if he could even sit up again, much less stand. Gritting his teeth, he smothered that thought with a well-used dose of stubbornness. He wrapped his fingers around Teyla’s forearm and she immediately shifted her position and returned the grip. “Just… gimme a minute….”
“We don’t exactly have one of those,” Rodney answered quickly before pausing. “God, Sheppard, you look like death warmed over.”
“Rodney!” Teyla admonished.
In spite of the situation, one corner of John’s mouth still quirked upwards. Some things in this world were absolutely predictable, and the social ineptitude of Rodney McKay was one of them. “Great pep talk… McKay.”
“Well, I mean… that is I….”
From somewhere close by, Ronon’s voice interrupted Rodney’s rambling. “Gotta move!”
John swallowed against the lump in his throat and tightened his grip on Teyla’s arm. She took the cue and helped him back into a sitting position again. He took two quick breaths and nodded. Once again, Teyla pulled him to his feet, while Rodney lifted him from behind before ducking under his arm and holding fast. The sounds around John dimmed and the spikes of pain reduced to throbs. He felt weak, his legs trembled and he struggled just to keep his eyes open and his feet under him. In the back of his head, where rational thoughts still barely existed, he knew none of this was good, but for the moment, his tormented body relished any kind of relief and drowned out all the strength he could muster. His head bobbed and his knees tried to buckle as something shook him insistently.
“Sheppard?”
Rodney’s voice was accompanied by another shake and John groaned. Why couldn’t he talk? Just a minute ago he’d been able to….
“Sheppard! I’m not carrying you! Don’t you dare pass out on me!” Rodney demanded with another shake.
The only thing John could manage was a groan, but he lifted his head and looked at Rodney’s blurry face. Slowly, he curled his fingers around the shoulder of Rodney’s TAC vest.
“That’s better,” Rodney answered as he started forward, following Ronon and hauling John with him. “Honestly, Sheppard, you’re a lot heavier than you look. If I’m going to lug your ass through the forest, then you’re going to damn well carry at least some of you weight!”
John inhaled a stuttering breath and dragged his left leg forward. “Ch…charming,” he managed weakly.
“Yeah, well, that’s the best you’re going to get,” Rodney’s voice was unapologetic.
“How… far?” John asked, though he wondered if Rodney understood the slurring whisper that came from his mouth.
“About halfway there.” Rodney’s answer was slightly breathless.
Had he the strength, John would’ve nodded, but his concentration was split between fighting back the blackness in his vision and staying on his feet, both of which, he determined, were accomplished strictly by sheer willpower. He swallowed hard and took another step, only to have his knees buckle.
“Sheppard?” Rodney’s grip tightened around him, but John couldn’t force his weak legs to comply. He felt Rodney fall to his knees next to him as he sat down hard.
“Damn it!” Rodney held fast. “Ronon!”
John could still hear them, faintly, as he slowly collapsed to the ground. “S…sorry…” he whispered, trying to find some strength, any strength, from somewhere within. Something to get him on back on his feet. Come on, John!
He felt a dull spike of pain in his side and his thigh as someone prodded his wounds.
“He has lost a great deal of blood and the bleeding is not slowing.” Teyla’s voice sounded worried.
“No wonder those things won’t leave us alone,” Rodney answered. “If they’re really drawn to the scent of blood in some sort of… feeding frenzy, then the more he bleeds….” His voice trailed off.
“The more animals will be drawn to us,” Teyla finished.
“We can’t stop,” Ronon insisted.
John peeled his eyes open, the urgency in Ronon’s voice driving him and suddenly, John found that strength he was looking for. As long as he lay there, his team was in danger. That thought alone fueled him. Drove him. Gave him strength. He lifted a shaking hand. “Help me… up,” he managed.
“John….” Teyla started, but John wouldn’t be deterred.
“Now!” he grunted. His voice was strangled but still held every scrap of conviction he had. In the background, he could still hear the whoops and yelps of their attackers, following their trail, and he knew it was only a matter of time before they struck again.
Grabbing strongly to Teyla’s forearm, his eyes fixed just for a moment on the deep red blood stains coating her fingers. His blood, and lots of it. Tearing his eyes away from her hands, John forced his feet under himself and lurched upwards. He couldn’t quite contain the grunts of pain as his body screamed at him and he fell into her, but Teyla held fast and steadied him. Upright, he half leaned, half fell against Rodney who took his weight, surprisingly without comment. John held tightly to Rodney’s TAC vest. “When they attack… let me… go. Can’t… shoot….”
“You just concentrate on staying on your feet,” Rodney answered, “and let us worry about everything else.”
“Serious… Rodney,” John insisted, his voice rasping over each word, “I’m… liability….”
“You are an annoying, impossibly heroic, smart-ass, self-sacrificing flyboy,” Rodney snapped back. “Not a liability. Now shut up and move!”
“Come on!” Ronon urged.
John let any comment go, not that he had much choice in the matter. It was all he could do just to stay on his feet.
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“We must keep moving!”
Teyla’s shouted voice was quiet… muted behind the roaring in his ears, but John felt the compulsion in each word. The insistent, whooping calls of their pursuers kept him going as well, but nothing as much as the safety of his team. In spite of Rodney’s words, he knew he was a liability. But if he collapsed, if he let his strength leave him, he’d become even more of one, because he knew he’d never convince his team to leave him. On the move, they had a chance. Stopped in one place, they were dead.
He wouldn’t let that happen.
He could feel his strength waning, seeping from his body with every drop of blood he shed. Blackness tinged the edge of his vision but he pushed it back, fighting through the fire of pain armed only with his tenacity.
If the devil himself had stood before him, John would’ve given him the double bird.
“Watch out!” Ronon’s shout pierced the haze in John’s head, the shots from his gun deafening.
John tried to stand on his own two feet as he felt Rodney pull away from him, but all the willpower in the world didn’t help him. Rodney tried to lower him to the ground gently, but speed won over and John hit hard, barking his side. He cried out in pain, momentarily losing his battle with the blackness as the world around him dimmed. Gunfire echoed, but it grew faint with each pounding beat of his heart. John’s hand weakly flopped against the ground as he tried to muster his strength and reach for his .45, but the holstered gun may as well had been a million miles away from his weakly fumbling fingers.
It was a long moment before he realized the gunfire had ceased, and an even longer one before his mind registered that someone was insistently shaking his shoulder. Rodney’s voice wormed its way into his hearing.
“Oh my God, is he….”
“Rodney!” Teyla’s voice interrupted.
John groaned, but he had a feeling it was a weak one at best.
“John.”
For not the first time that day, John latched onto Teyla’s voice, using it to pull himself back to consciousness. “Here….” he whispered. Pulling in as deep a breath as he could, he lifted his head, only to have it fall back to the ground. His body was leaden, he couldn’t feel his fingers or his feet, and with a resigned sigh, he knew in his gut he wasn’t going anywhere, at least not under his own power. The blood loss had finally caught up with him and no amount of willpower could stop his body from shutting down. He peeled his eyes open and tried to focus on Teyla’s blurred face. “Get… outta… here….”
“Oh no, you don’t!” Rodney interrupted. “You’re not….”
“John,” Teyla quietly but forcefully interrupted. She gently but firmly grabbed the side of his face. “We are not leaving you here.”
Even through his blurred vision, and even fuzzier thoughts, John could see the conviction in her face and hear it in her words, and he’d been with his team long enough to know they all felt the same. On any other day, he would’ve taken comfort in that, but today he just hoped it didn’t get them all killed. Slowly, he managed a small nod.
“Ronon will carry you. We are at the tree line and can see the gate. It is not far now,” Teyla reassured.
“Forget that we have to cross three hundred yards of open grassland with God knows how many bloodthirsty pack hunters on our heels,” Rodney added.
John swallowed against his dry throat. “’Kay’s… right. Carry me… can’t shoot….” He looked up as a large shadow settled over him. Ronon positioned one foot on each side of John and reached down, grabbing his arms.
“No choice,” Ronon answered and he gently pulled John up.
John tried to help them as best he could but in the end he knew he was more dead weight than helpful. Teyla and Rodney lifted him from behind and John had to squeeze his eyes shut when the world tilted as they settled him across Ronon’s shoulders in a fireman’s carry. He felt Ronon slowly stand up straight and John couldn’t quite stop a quiet cry of pain as Ronon shifted his weight, barking his injured side. John’s weak grip twisted into Ronon’s shirt.
“Easy, buddy,” Ronon answered quietly.
The blackness in John’s vision returned with ferocity as Ronon took off at a fast jog. Grunts, punctuated John’s gasping breaths as he endured his team’s final run for the gate.
“Behind us!” Rodney shouted, gunfire following on the heels of his words.
“Ronon, go! Get to the gate and dial! We will cover you!” Teyla answered, also firing.
Through a monumental exertion of what little strength John had left, he lifted his head, confused for a moment by the upside down angle, but his gaze fixed on Teyla and Rodney, quickly backpedaling and firing on the attacking animals that burst through the trees in pursuit. “No…” he managed, weakly struggling.
“Hang on, Sheppard,” Ronon answered as he staggered to a stop in front of the DHD.
John’s head shook with the exertion of just holding it up as he refused to lose sight of Teyla and Rodney, still backpedaling towards the gate, firing on the animals that pursued them. Through the fringes of blackness on the edge of his vision, John caught a flash of movement to his left. His grip again tightened on Ronon’s shirt. “R’non… left!” he managed, though his voice was weak at best. He felt Ronon shift under him as he drew his weapon, and over the shots from his gun, John heard the gate flush to life.
Teyla and Rodney were close now and Teyla’s voice rang clear and strong over the sound of rapid gunfire. “Rodney! Your IDC!”
What blood John had left in his body was rushing to his head, making his fight against unconsciousness that much harder, but through the roaring in his ears, he could still hear his radio.
“Atlantis, this is McKay! We’re coming in hot and need a medical team in the gate room!”
“Shield is down, Rodney,” Weir’s voice immediately answered. “Security is standing by and a medical team is on its way. Come home.”
In his head, John shouted against the pain in his jostled body as Ronon ran for the gate, but what came out of his mouth was barely above a quiet groan. The rapid gunfire behind him abruptly cut off and the pain in his body was replaced with the tingle of wormhole travel. His world sharply tilted again as Ronon slowly lifted him off his back and lowered him. Disoriented, John looked up, and even through barely open eyes, he still could make out the unmistakable architecture gracing the high ceilings of Atlantis’ gate room. Home…. He barely registered the coolness of the deck plates underneath him, or Rodney’s loud voice ordering that the gate shield be raised and demanding to know where the medical team was.
John’s fast breaths were shallow and he suddenly felt like he was floating. He tried to concentrate, watching as the scene unfolded around him. His eyes lazily shifted to his left as Teyla swiftly knelt beside him. Through barely open eyelids, John tried to concentrate on her face, but he felt his control slipping. One thought stuck with him as the others fled.
They’re safe….
“John?” Teyla leaned in closer, though to John, she seemed to be retreating, falling into the blackness taking over his sight.
“John!” Teyla’s voice was more insistent.
John caught a last look of concern on her face before his eyes closed completely.
Safe.
He felt her fingers press into the side of his neck and then, nothing.
----------------------------------------
Warmth.
John pulled in a slow breath as blackness faded. Warm light basked his face and he still felt like he was floating. But this time, there was no pain. He arched his brows, pulling on heavy eyelids, and the gray slowly gave way to light. He tried to focus on a face staring down at him and blinked slowly and lazily, a soft groan escaping his lips. He looked at the face again and recognized Carson’s smile.
“Aye, there you are,” Carson answered softly. “About time, Colonel.”
John swallowed hard against his parched throat. “What…” he managed with a wince.
“Here.” Carson presented him with a few ice chips and John relished the cool sensation as they slid down his throat. “How… long?” he managed.
Carson set the cup aside. “Two days. Though ye had us hopping for half of that.” He sighed. “You’d lost a considerable amount of blood by the time your team got you back here. Made it a little touch and go for a while.”
“I’m okay?” The fuzziness in his head continued to fade and his thoughts started to clear.
“Aye,” Carson answered. “You’ll be fine. You had some internal bleeding in your side, but we got that fixed up, as well as a nicked artery in your thigh. Lots of tissue damage in all your wounds but nothing permanent. You do, however, have a lot of PT to look forward to before you’re back to active duty, and you will probably sport some interesting scars.”
A ghost of a smile passed over John’s face. “Don’t… feel it.”
“No,” Carson answered, his voice tinged with amusement. “I don’t expect you do. I just gave ye another dose of the good stuff.”
“Team… okay?” John lifted his head but was immediately reassured by Carson’s relaxed expression.
“Aye, they’re fine. Even Teyla. Fifteen stitches but no complications.” Carson’s smile widened just slightly. “They’re anxious to see you, if you feel up to it?”
John let his head settle back onto his pillow. “Yeah,” he answered. He took another couple deep breaths as Carson disappeared behind the privacy curtain. John’s thoughts drifted back over the mission as he tried to remember everything that’d happened. At first, things were clear, but as his injuries had worsened, so had his memory. He arched a brow slightly as the curtain moved, and Carson returned, flanked by his team.
“Well, it’s about time.” Rodney stopped just to the left of John’s bed and crossed his arms.
“Nice to see you too, McKay,” John answered, his voice still hoarse and gravely.
“It is good to see you awake, John.” Teyla reached out and lightly squeezed his right forearm, her touch brief as if she knew anything longer would make him uncomfortable.
John smiled. “Good to be awake,” he answered, “and in one piece.” He sighed. “Close call.”
“Closer than I liked,” Rodney answered. “I did some poking around in the data we managed to retrieve while you got your beauty sleep, not that it helped much.”
“What’s the matter, McKay?” John answered. “Hair envy?”
Rodney’s gaze turned cold. “That is so far from the truth that I won’t even dignify it with a response. From what I could decipher in the scattered bits of data I managed to retrieve, the Ancients were performing genetic experiments on those animals.” His face twisted in frustration. “There isn’t much data left, but near as I can tell, enhanced olfactory abilities were likely one of the genetic manipulations the Ancients put in place.” He looked at Teyla. “Turns out, they did actually smell the blood from your wound and attacked.” He looked back down at John. “When you went and got yourself mauled, it only drew more animals to us.”
John put on the best indignant look he could muster. “It’s not like I was trying to get mauled, McKay.”
“You were still mauled,” Rodney retorted.
John bit back any further retort and just let it slide. He looked past Rodney, his gaze settling on Ronon, quietly standing at the end of his bed. John smiled a little. “Owe ya big time for the ride.”
Ronon smiled and shrugged but remained silent. John looked at him a moment longer, reading everything he needed from Ronon’s expression. He nodded back. “Thanks.” His gaze passed over Teyla and Rodney as well. “All of you.”
“Yes, well, the only thing I could think about, while dragging your heavy butt through the woods and fending off blood thirsty animals single-handedly….”
“Single-handedly?” Carson interrupted. “Where were Teyla and Ronon while you were performing this heroic miracle?”
“Well, they were… there.” Rodney waved his hand idly. “The point is, the last thing I wanted to do was break in another military commander. Knowing the IOA, he’d be all buzz cut and no brains. Wraith fodder inside two months.”
John settled his head deeper into his pillow. Whatever good stuff Carson had given him, was starting to make him sleepy. “Glad to spare you the agony, Rodney,” he answered.
“Hm.” Rodney grunted. “Definitely have to reclassify that planet. TRA but hostile and wild. WU possibly, or a little of both. Might need a new classification….”
John’s eyelids felt heavy and McKay’s rambling definitely wasn’t helping. He surrendered, letting them close.
“Aye, figured the pain meds would get the best of you before long,” Carson’s voice was quiet and knowing. “Out, all of you. Colonel needs his rest.”
“Rest easy, John,” Teyla’s soft voice penetrated the fog in John’s mind. “We will be here when you wake.”
Through a monumental effort, he peeled his eyelids open just a little. “I know,” he whispered, reassured by her gentle smile.
John let his eyes close again and surrendered to the warmth.
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Prompt: 050 Like death warmed over
AN: Big thanks to TanaquiSGA for letting me bounce ideas off of her and to coolbreeze1 for her quick and awesome beta.
Also big thanks to michelel72 for patience in answering all my questions about the new AO3 stuff and for running GenFicAThon in the first place! Thank you!
Finally, big, squee filled thanks to Trillingstar for the AWESOME art. Thank you so much! It fits the story perfectly, I love it! :D
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