Doh! I forgot the title and the rating (and I don't have the nifty edit button). Apologies for that, but I couldn't think of what to call this :/ It's rating is supposed to be G.
Characters: John (H/C), team or team member of your choice Request: John exhausted, cold and really, really sick. Maybe delirious and scared and/or lost. Team or one of the team taking care of him. Lots of friendship and comfort. Don't Want: Gut wounds, John treated/portrayed as an idiot, character bashing or any of the team being jerks. I don't mind humor but not in excess and not at the expense of any of the characters.
Cold Nights (1/5, PG)titan5December 14 2009, 02:57:25 UTC
“He’s here,” Rodney whispered, staring at the scanner. “I mean he’s in there of course,” he clarified, pointing toward the low building in front of them. Hunkered down in the mud behind a series of bushes, Rodney wiped the rain from the screen of the Ancient device and shivered. “You’d think after five days the rain would have let up.” He couldn’t wait to get back to Atlantis so he could dry up and thaw out
( ... )
Cold Nights (2/5, PG)titan5December 14 2009, 03:01:25 UTC
John gripped Ronon’s hand, but when he tried to climb off the cot, he almost fell into the water. Would have if Ronon hadn’t caught him. His legs appeared to be locked, unable to respond to commands. Rodney reached out to help Ronon get the colonel to his feet
( ... )
Fighter Pt. 2kriadydragonDecember 3 2009, 04:14:48 UTC
John's new owner he imagined would be Rodney in some twisted universe where everyone was their evil counterpart. The guy was old, ancient, maybe seventy, possibly two-hundred. He looked like a pudgy Merlin but had a mean right hook like a former boxer. He liked Ancient things, liked to make them light up, and liked to brag about how he “caught” himself a full-blooded Ancient. He made John wear rags, forgot to feed him, sometimes, and would hit John when some Ancient doohicky refused to work
( ... )
Shrine tag, PG (1/4)sholioDecember 4 2009, 02:20:02 UTC
Three days flat on his back had left Rodney testy, bored and miserable. He couldn't even sit up without being swamped by a wave of dizziness that left him so sick and disoriented he couldn't tell floor from ceiling, and Keller's painkillers barely blunted the tip of the icepick digging into his skull.
"You can't expect to be back on your feet in a day, Rodney," she said when he accused her of withholding the better drugs to teach him a lesson. "I drilled a hole in your skull. With a power drill. You're not going to bounce back immediately after that."
It still seemed as if modern medicine ought to be able to give him something better than this, though. He couldn't focus on his laptop for more than a few minutes without the headache and dizziness roaring back to leave him shaking and clinging to the bed, feeling like a ship tossed in a storm. He refused to use a bedpan -- he'd had enough humiliation already to last a lifetime, thanks -- but the alternative wasn't much less embarrassing: clinging to a nurse as he shuffled through the
( ... )
Shrine tag, PG (2/4)sholioDecember 4 2009, 02:20:54 UTC
Being bored in his quarters turned out to be even worse than being bored in the infirmary, not that he had any intention of admitting this to Keller. At least there, he'd had people around to annoy whenever he felt like it. Keller dropped by once a day to make sure he wasn't bleeding out his ears or anything like that, and Sheppard "just happened" to be passing by his quarters on a statistically unlikely basis, but otherwise he had nothing but his laptop and four walls to keep him company.
Focusing was easier now, and so was sitting up, so at least he could get work done on his laptop. Still, after two days of being a virtual prisoner in his quarters, he found himself wide awake at two in the morning, staring at the ceiling. There would be no one in the labs to rat him out. And he had half a dozen experiments in progress that really could not be left to the minions any longer, even if he was able to keep tabs on them via email now. Rodney knocked back his next dose of painkillers and made his getaway
( ... )
Shrine tag, PG (3/4)sholioDecember 4 2009, 02:21:36 UTC
Rodney didn't remember most of the trip back to his quarters; the next thing he knew, he was lying on the bed and Sheppard was stripping off his jacket and boots with surprising efficiency. "Should I call the doc
( ... )
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Request: John exhausted, cold and really, really sick. Maybe delirious and scared and/or lost. Team or one of the team taking care of him. Lots of friendship and comfort.
Don't Want: Gut wounds, John treated/portrayed as an idiot, character bashing or any of the team being jerks. I don't mind humor but not in excess and not at the expense of any of the characters.
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Shame on you both
>:-)
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Request: Rodney sick or whumped and still trying to work.
Don't want: Unhappy or unhopeful ending.
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"You can't expect to be back on your feet in a day, Rodney," she said when he accused her of withholding the better drugs to teach him a lesson. "I drilled a hole in your skull. With a power drill. You're not going to bounce back immediately after that."
It still seemed as if modern medicine ought to be able to give him something better than this, though. He couldn't focus on his laptop for more than a few minutes without the headache and dizziness roaring back to leave him shaking and clinging to the bed, feeling like a ship tossed in a storm. He refused to use a bedpan -- he'd had enough humiliation already to last a lifetime, thanks -- but the alternative wasn't much less embarrassing: clinging to a nurse as he shuffled through the ( ... )
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Focusing was easier now, and so was sitting up, so at least he could get work done on his laptop. Still, after two days of being a virtual prisoner in his quarters, he found himself wide awake at two in the morning, staring at the ceiling. There would be no one in the labs to rat him out. And he had half a dozen experiments in progress that really could not be left to the minions any longer, even if he was able to keep tabs on them via email now. Rodney knocked back his next dose of painkillers and made his getaway ( ... )
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Request: I'm dying for an aftermath fic! My eternal love and virtual jumper cookies to anyone who'd like to write one.
Don't want: Major character death
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