SGA Fic: Line of Communication
The more I work on a long story, the more the smaller plot bunnies hop around demanding attention. I gave in to one of them...
Title: Line of Communication
Author: tridget
Genre: Gen, H/C, Friendship, Team
Rating: PG for mild language and non-graphic references to injury/violence
Warnings: See Ratings
Word Count: 2577
Summary: John is injured and separated from his imprisoned team.
Notes: Thank you to my beta reader, wildcat88, who kept me on one track once again.
Line of Communication
They had been relieved of all their weaponry and led down a set of stairs at gunpoint, heavily outnumbered by the strategically positioned guards. At the foot of the stairs, one of the guards unlocked a heavy metal door which opened into a poorly lit hallway with three cells on each side, all of them empty. The cells were dank with dark green patches of slime coating the thick cement walls. A smell of decay and mildew permeated the air.
They were herded into the last cell on the right.
Rodney made sure his protests could be heard over the sound of the iron-barred cell door slamming into place. “I object to this unfair treatment. Do you know how valuable I am? You-”
“This is unfair? You’d like fair treatment?” The guard gave a mirthless laugh. “Perhaps you would prefer to receive the same treatment as your comrade upstairs?”
“Fine. Okay. This is fair enough.”
Ronon surged forward, rattling the bars of the cell. “What have you done with Sheppard?”
“Nothing…yet,” the guard taunted as Ronon reached through the bars in a futile attempt to grab the man by the collar.
“Ronon…” Teyla cautioned.
Ronon withdrew his arm as the guards left, locking the heavy door at the end of the hallway on their way out. “They’d better not hurt him…”
“Or you’ll do what? Last time I looked, we were locked in a cell with no weapons…” Rodney trailed off at the menacing look on Ronon’s face.
“We will not be able to develop a plan while we are arguing amongst ourselves,” Teyla admonished.
Trying to take stock of the situation, Rodney chattered nervously. “Okay. Let’s see what we’ve got here. Cement walls on three sides, iron bars on the fourth, some unsanitary looking hole that is probably supposed to be a toilet…”
Ronon paced, kicked at walls and rattled bars. Teyla sat quietly with her arms wrapped around her legs. She appeared to be listening for faint sounds in the distance. Rodney searched his vest and pockets for the few supplies not taken by the guards then sighed. “We are so screwed.”
~~~~oooo~~~~
Three hours later, two guards returned bringing small rations of food and water. They ignored Teyla’s diplomatic requests for information about John. They laughed at Ronon’s threats.
As the team finished up their meager meal, they heard an explosion. Through the cement walls, they felt the vibrations caused by the aftershock. Flakes of cement dropped off the walls and dust drifted down from the ceiling.
“Do you think Sheppard managed to…?” Rodney began.
“We will have to wait and see.” Teyla sighed and leaned back against the wall.
“I’m not good at waiting.” Muttering to himself, Rodney turned for the hundredth time to examine the few supplies with which he, Ronon and Teyla had been left.
~~~~oooo~~~~
Rodney jerked as the heavy door at the end of the hallway clanged open. He heard a sound of shuffling footsteps.
“Coupla guys dragging something,” Ronon noted in a low voice.
With his face pressed to the bars, Rodney could barely make out the edge of the door two cells down as it screeched open.
Grunting with exertion the men dragged their burden into the cell and dropped it with a thud. The far cell was locked as the men left. Then…nothing. Whatever the guards deposited in the cell was not making a sound or moving.
“Hey,” Rodney called out. “Anyone there?”
Silence.
“You don’t think they killed him, do you?” Rodney began to panic.
“Why would they lock a dead man in a cell?” asked Ronon. “Not like he’s gonna escape any time soon.”
“Good point,” conceded Rodney. He released his death grip on the iron bars, his anxiety decreasing marginally.
~~~~oooo~~~~
The team kept a silent vigil in their cell for over an hour. Suddenly, Ronon’s head shot up.
“What? What did you hear?” Rodney demanded.
“Shhh,” Ronon hissed.
Rodney strained. Finally, he heard a soft rustling sound then movement, followed by a muffled groan.
“It’s about time you woke up,” Ronon called out.
The occupant moaned, his ragged breathing echoing loudly.
“Hello?” Rodney shouted.
A quiet, hoarse voice and indistinct words reached their ears.
“Perhaps he is not yet fully conscious,” Teyla suggested worriedly as she rose quickly and crossed the cell to the door. “Colonel Sheppard? John?”
Rodney and Ronon joined her at the bars calling desperately down the hall.
Sounds of increased activity filtered down the hallway followed by a cry of pain. The motion stopped. The only sound from the far cell was harsh breathing.
Then, his voice raw with pain and anger, the man in the cell demanded, “What’ve you…done with…my…team?”
“We’re here, Sheppard.” Ronon’s voiced boomed in the hollow space.
“Are you alright?” Rodney shouted. “We heard an explosion.”
Sheppard coughed weakly and started to retch.
“Eww!” Rodney wrinkled his face and covered his ears. “What‘s wrong with him?”
“Head injury,” stated Ronon.
When Sheppard finished throwing up and brought his breathing under control again, Teyla tried to speak to him. “John? John, are you able to answer us?”
Rodney was less patient. “Damn it, Sheppard! You need to answer! Sheppard! John!”
“Wha’?… My team… Where’sss…team?” Sheppard began to whimper. “Who’sss…?” He choked back another cry of pain. His voice became a soft whisper. “Ssstop…please…stop.” The sounds faded away again then ceased.
“This is so not good,” Rodney fretted.
“He seems very confused,” Teyla noted.
Ronon nodded. “Bad head injury.”
Rodney thought for a minute. “I think it’s more than that. The explosion… He must have been near the explosion. He can’t hear very well.”
Teyla looked at Rodney, her eyes filled with concern for her teammate. “Then he does not know we are nearby.”
~~~~oooo~~~~
Another hour passed. Two guards arrived with food and water. The team’s pleas to be allowed to tend to Sheppard were ignored.
After a muffled conversation between the guards, Sheppard’s cell door was unlocked. There was pause before one of them spoke. “Not dead.” Slap. Flesh on flesh. Another sound. Maybe a heavy boot connected with a body. Twice. “Might not make it to tomorrow. If he does, he’ll wish he was dead.” The guards laughed as they left, locking the doors behind them.
Ronon slammed his hands against the wall with an inarticulate yell. Teyla rested her forehead against her drawn-up knees. Rodney sat down heavily, feeling the blood drain from his face.
~~~~oooo~~~~
It was almost an hour before they heard Sheppard shift position again and heard his ragged breathing interspersed with soft moans. He began muttering to himself. “Well done, John.” His voice was laced with sarcasm. “Screwed up again. What the hell...have you let happen...to your team now?”
“Well, this is embarrassing,” said Rodney.
“Shut up, McKay.” Ronon rested his forearm on the wall and pressed his head against it.
“We have to let him know that we are here.” There was urgency in Teyla’s voice.
“Let’s see now… He can’t hear us and we can rule out the use of Zelenka’s carrier pigeons. Got any other ideas?”
A louder moan from down the hall was followed by the sounds of another bout of retching.
After a minute, Rodney reached down and began unlacing his boots. He glanced at Teyla and Ronon as he worked. “Give me your laces. I need the laces from your boots.”
Teyla quickly complied.
“This had better be good,” warned Ronon as he unlaced a boot.
Rodney began tying the laces into one long strand. He pulled out the Power Bar still left in his vest. Unwrapping the bar, he stuffed half in his mouth and put half back in his pocket for later. He kept the wrapper in his hand. “I need a weight for this wrapper.”
Ronon found a small stone from the chipped cement wall.
“Perfect.” Rodney covered the stone with the wrapper then secured it with one end of the bootlace.
“Ronon, I need you to reach through the bars and aim this down in front of Sheppard’s cell. I’ve got it all worked out. The cells are about three meters across. So, you need to stand on this spot and hold the weighted end of the lace right here. Then you’re going to-”
Ronon rolled his eyes and snatched the string from Rodney. “Move outta the way, McKay.”
Ronon took a few swings then tossed the weighted end of the lace toward Sheppard’s cell. His aim was good. He handed the other end of the lace back to Rodney.
After an initial silence, they heard John slowly move towards his cell door. They could hear him pause every few seconds, gasping and whimpering.
Rodney felt a small tug on the line as Sheppard grasped the other end of the lace. The Power Bar wrapper crinkled when Sheppard picked it up.
“Rodney?” Sheppard’s voice was still hoarse and rough. “McKay? Is that you? Are Ronon and Teyla…ummm…Rodney? Can’t…hear…too well…right now.”
Rodney tugged on the lace to let Sheppard know he heard.
There was a very long pause. Rodney tugged again.
“Gimme…a…minute.”
Rodney waited.
“Tug once…if you’re alone…twice if Ronon ’n Teyla…are with you.” Sheppard’s speech was slurring badly.
Rodney tugged twice.
“Now…mmm…pull once…if everyone’s okay…twice...if anyone’s hurt.”
Rodney tugged once.
“Good. Tha’s…good. We’re due back in ummm…” The lace went slack and the slurred speech trailed off as Sheppard started to gag again. “Need…’nother…minute,” he gasped.
Rodney started retracting the lace to prepare another message.
“We just…have t’ wait…rescue. They’ll…be…here.”
The heavy door banged open again, leaving Rodney scrambling to conceal the shoelace.
Two guards delivered another portion of food and water through the small hatches in the two cell doors while ignoring the team’s requests for medical assistance for Sheppard.
On the way out, they paused at Sheppard’s cell. “Maybe you’ll think twice before you try to pull another stunt like the last,” one of the guards taunted.
Sheppard mumbled something that might have been an insult.
A grunt of anger could be heard from a guard. A scrambling sound. A sharp cry of pain as something connected with the cell bars.
“Let him go,” commanded the other guard. “He might still be useful.”
“Doubt it,” retorted the first guard.
When the guards left, Rodney picked up a pen and notebook from the few supplies that Teyla had been allowed to retain. He hastily tore a sheet of paper from the small notebook. Rodney thought for a minute then wrote, Don’t sleep. Drink water if you have some. We’ll wait for rescue.
Ronon tossed the weighted message down the hall tied to the end of the lace.
There was a long silence. “Guys? Can’t…read…too well, either. Room’s spinnin’. Hit my head.”
Rodney pulled some duct tape from one of his pockets and used it to piece several small sheets of paper together. He drew two large hands. Then he drew a loop of string around each wrist and connected the loops with a line. He attached his new note to the string.
While he waited for Sheppard to comprehend the message, Rodney tied one end around his wrist. “I’ll be able to wake him every two hours” he explained. “And Sheppard will know we’re still here if he wakes up.”
When the lace went taut, Rodney knew Sheppard had understood the message.
“Thanks, Rodney,” Sheppard whispered.
Overcome with fatigue, Rodney settled on the floor to sleep holding tight to the string, the lifeline to Sheppard. “You’re welcome, John,” Rodney murmured as his eyes closed.
~~~~oooo~~~~
Rodney was roused from his restless sleep by Ronon shaking him gently and calling, “Time to check on Sheppard.”
Before he even managed to push himself to a sitting position, Rodney tugged on the string. Once…twice…
On the third try John groaned. “Wha?” Then he fell silent.
Rodney pulled harder. He heard a clang. Something connected with the cell bars. “Sorry. Sorry,” Rodney muttered before he remembered John couldn’t hear the apology.
“Rodney?” John tugged back. “M’okay...jus...jus tired.” His voice drifted off.
Rodney pulled again. He needed to keep John awake just a little longer.
“M’fine…bleeding stopped…pretty much... Everyone okay?”
Rodney tugged gently.
“Good…rescue’ll…be here…soon
Teyla prepared to take the next watch as Rodney sighed, checked the knot on the string around his wrist and settled back to his fitful sleep. His hand clutched the line so tightly that his knuckles were white.
~~~~oooo~~~~
Before the two hours were up, Rodney was awakened by tugging on the string. He pulled back to let John know he was there.
“R-Rodney? Mmm…r-really…really…c-cold.” Rodney could hear the tremors in John’s voice as he spoke.
“He’s going into shock,” Teyla stated.
“E’ryone…o-okay?
One tug.
“Tha’s g-good.”
Rodney undid the lace around his wrist momentarily, letting the line go slack as he slipped off his jacket.
“Rodney? Rodney...still there? Answer me, McKay!”
Rodney grabbed the string and tugged back. “Bastards!” He cursed the guards under his breath.
“Ronon?” Rodney began.
“I’m on it, McKay.” Ronon was removing his coat too.
“As am I.” Teyla handed over her jacket.
Ronon wadded up the jackets, reached through the bars and tossed the clothing down within reach of the far cell.
Rodney pulled the string. He heard John stir and then drag the clothing through his bars.
“Th-thanks.”
~~~~oooo~~~~
An hour later, gunfire shattered the silence. The door down the hall was flung open as Major Lorne rushed in with his men.
As soon as their cell door was opened, the team rushed down the hall to John’s cell. He looked as bad as Rodney had imagined. He was ghostly pale and shaking violently. Dried blood was smeared from his ears down the sides of his head and neck. The hair on the back of his head was thickly matted with blood which had run down and soaked the back of his shirt.
Rodney untied the string from his own wrist, wound it up in a hasty wad and tucked it into the palm of John’s hand.
“He can’t hear,” Rodney offered.
Lorne nodded in understanding.
~~~~oooo~~~~
After his post-mission exam, Rodney remained in the infirmary doing his best to stay out of the way of the medical personnel. He quickly forgot his resolve when he heard a nurse request a pair of scissors as John made a protesting sound. Rodney hurried over to John’s bedside.
The circlet of lace was still looped around John’s wrist. The remaining length of string was clutched in his hand and held pressed against his chest. John’s other hand was clasped on top, protectively.
The nurse reached out trying to free the bound hand. “Easy, it’s okay. We’re just going to snip the string away.”
“Nooo…” John squirmed weakly.
Rodney thrust his arm out, placing a hand on top of John’s. “The string stays.”
The nurse looked exasperated. “Dr. McKay, you’ll have to-"
She was cut off as Carson bustled back to the bedside. “Rodney! What the bloody hell are you doing here interfering with the medical care?”
“The string on Sheppard’s wrist - it stays. He wants it on.”
Carson frowned for a moment. “Aye, alright then.” He turned to the nursing staff. “Leave it on for now. And Rodney-”
“Yes?”
“Get out of the way.”
“Oh. Right.”
As Rodney started to lift his arm away, John turned his hand to grasp Rodney’s lightly. He held it for a second before letting it slide tiredly back to the bed.
“You’re welcome,” Rodney whispered. Then he reached for the string and tugged it gently.
~~~~oooo~~~~
The End
Title: Line of Communication
Author: tridget
Genre: Gen, H/C, Friendship, Team
Rating: PG for mild language and non-graphic references to injury/violence
Warnings: See Ratings
Word Count: 2577
Summary: John is injured and separated from his imprisoned team.
Notes: Thank you to my beta reader, wildcat88, who kept me on one track once again.
Line of Communication
They had been relieved of all their weaponry and led down a set of stairs at gunpoint, heavily outnumbered by the strategically positioned guards. At the foot of the stairs, one of the guards unlocked a heavy metal door which opened into a poorly lit hallway with three cells on each side, all of them empty. The cells were dank with dark green patches of slime coating the thick cement walls. A smell of decay and mildew permeated the air.
They were herded into the last cell on the right.
Rodney made sure his protests could be heard over the sound of the iron-barred cell door slamming into place. “I object to this unfair treatment. Do you know how valuable I am? You-”
“This is unfair? You’d like fair treatment?” The guard gave a mirthless laugh. “Perhaps you would prefer to receive the same treatment as your comrade upstairs?”
“Fine. Okay. This is fair enough.”
Ronon surged forward, rattling the bars of the cell. “What have you done with Sheppard?”
“Nothing…yet,” the guard taunted as Ronon reached through the bars in a futile attempt to grab the man by the collar.
“Ronon…” Teyla cautioned.
Ronon withdrew his arm as the guards left, locking the heavy door at the end of the hallway on their way out. “They’d better not hurt him…”
“Or you’ll do what? Last time I looked, we were locked in a cell with no weapons…” Rodney trailed off at the menacing look on Ronon’s face.
“We will not be able to develop a plan while we are arguing amongst ourselves,” Teyla admonished.
Trying to take stock of the situation, Rodney chattered nervously. “Okay. Let’s see what we’ve got here. Cement walls on three sides, iron bars on the fourth, some unsanitary looking hole that is probably supposed to be a toilet…”
Ronon paced, kicked at walls and rattled bars. Teyla sat quietly with her arms wrapped around her legs. She appeared to be listening for faint sounds in the distance. Rodney searched his vest and pockets for the few supplies not taken by the guards then sighed. “We are so screwed.”
~~~~oooo~~~~
Three hours later, two guards returned bringing small rations of food and water. They ignored Teyla’s diplomatic requests for information about John. They laughed at Ronon’s threats.
As the team finished up their meager meal, they heard an explosion. Through the cement walls, they felt the vibrations caused by the aftershock. Flakes of cement dropped off the walls and dust drifted down from the ceiling.
“Do you think Sheppard managed to…?” Rodney began.
“We will have to wait and see.” Teyla sighed and leaned back against the wall.
“I’m not good at waiting.” Muttering to himself, Rodney turned for the hundredth time to examine the few supplies with which he, Ronon and Teyla had been left.
~~~~oooo~~~~
Rodney jerked as the heavy door at the end of the hallway clanged open. He heard a sound of shuffling footsteps.
“Coupla guys dragging something,” Ronon noted in a low voice.
With his face pressed to the bars, Rodney could barely make out the edge of the door two cells down as it screeched open.
Grunting with exertion the men dragged their burden into the cell and dropped it with a thud. The far cell was locked as the men left. Then…nothing. Whatever the guards deposited in the cell was not making a sound or moving.
“Hey,” Rodney called out. “Anyone there?”
Silence.
“You don’t think they killed him, do you?” Rodney began to panic.
“Why would they lock a dead man in a cell?” asked Ronon. “Not like he’s gonna escape any time soon.”
“Good point,” conceded Rodney. He released his death grip on the iron bars, his anxiety decreasing marginally.
~~~~oooo~~~~
The team kept a silent vigil in their cell for over an hour. Suddenly, Ronon’s head shot up.
“What? What did you hear?” Rodney demanded.
“Shhh,” Ronon hissed.
Rodney strained. Finally, he heard a soft rustling sound then movement, followed by a muffled groan.
“It’s about time you woke up,” Ronon called out.
The occupant moaned, his ragged breathing echoing loudly.
“Hello?” Rodney shouted.
A quiet, hoarse voice and indistinct words reached their ears.
“Perhaps he is not yet fully conscious,” Teyla suggested worriedly as she rose quickly and crossed the cell to the door. “Colonel Sheppard? John?”
Rodney and Ronon joined her at the bars calling desperately down the hall.
Sounds of increased activity filtered down the hallway followed by a cry of pain. The motion stopped. The only sound from the far cell was harsh breathing.
Then, his voice raw with pain and anger, the man in the cell demanded, “What’ve you…done with…my…team?”
“We’re here, Sheppard.” Ronon’s voiced boomed in the hollow space.
“Are you alright?” Rodney shouted. “We heard an explosion.”
Sheppard coughed weakly and started to retch.
“Eww!” Rodney wrinkled his face and covered his ears. “What‘s wrong with him?”
“Head injury,” stated Ronon.
When Sheppard finished throwing up and brought his breathing under control again, Teyla tried to speak to him. “John? John, are you able to answer us?”
Rodney was less patient. “Damn it, Sheppard! You need to answer! Sheppard! John!”
“Wha’?… My team… Where’sss…team?” Sheppard began to whimper. “Who’sss…?” He choked back another cry of pain. His voice became a soft whisper. “Ssstop…please…stop.” The sounds faded away again then ceased.
“This is so not good,” Rodney fretted.
“He seems very confused,” Teyla noted.
Ronon nodded. “Bad head injury.”
Rodney thought for a minute. “I think it’s more than that. The explosion… He must have been near the explosion. He can’t hear very well.”
Teyla looked at Rodney, her eyes filled with concern for her teammate. “Then he does not know we are nearby.”
~~~~oooo~~~~
Another hour passed. Two guards arrived with food and water. The team’s pleas to be allowed to tend to Sheppard were ignored.
After a muffled conversation between the guards, Sheppard’s cell door was unlocked. There was pause before one of them spoke. “Not dead.” Slap. Flesh on flesh. Another sound. Maybe a heavy boot connected with a body. Twice. “Might not make it to tomorrow. If he does, he’ll wish he was dead.” The guards laughed as they left, locking the doors behind them.
Ronon slammed his hands against the wall with an inarticulate yell. Teyla rested her forehead against her drawn-up knees. Rodney sat down heavily, feeling the blood drain from his face.
~~~~oooo~~~~
It was almost an hour before they heard Sheppard shift position again and heard his ragged breathing interspersed with soft moans. He began muttering to himself. “Well done, John.” His voice was laced with sarcasm. “Screwed up again. What the hell...have you let happen...to your team now?”
“Well, this is embarrassing,” said Rodney.
“Shut up, McKay.” Ronon rested his forearm on the wall and pressed his head against it.
“We have to let him know that we are here.” There was urgency in Teyla’s voice.
“Let’s see now… He can’t hear us and we can rule out the use of Zelenka’s carrier pigeons. Got any other ideas?”
A louder moan from down the hall was followed by the sounds of another bout of retching.
After a minute, Rodney reached down and began unlacing his boots. He glanced at Teyla and Ronon as he worked. “Give me your laces. I need the laces from your boots.”
Teyla quickly complied.
“This had better be good,” warned Ronon as he unlaced a boot.
Rodney began tying the laces into one long strand. He pulled out the Power Bar still left in his vest. Unwrapping the bar, he stuffed half in his mouth and put half back in his pocket for later. He kept the wrapper in his hand. “I need a weight for this wrapper.”
Ronon found a small stone from the chipped cement wall.
“Perfect.” Rodney covered the stone with the wrapper then secured it with one end of the bootlace.
“Ronon, I need you to reach through the bars and aim this down in front of Sheppard’s cell. I’ve got it all worked out. The cells are about three meters across. So, you need to stand on this spot and hold the weighted end of the lace right here. Then you’re going to-”
Ronon rolled his eyes and snatched the string from Rodney. “Move outta the way, McKay.”
Ronon took a few swings then tossed the weighted end of the lace toward Sheppard’s cell. His aim was good. He handed the other end of the lace back to Rodney.
After an initial silence, they heard John slowly move towards his cell door. They could hear him pause every few seconds, gasping and whimpering.
Rodney felt a small tug on the line as Sheppard grasped the other end of the lace. The Power Bar wrapper crinkled when Sheppard picked it up.
“Rodney?” Sheppard’s voice was still hoarse and rough. “McKay? Is that you? Are Ronon and Teyla…ummm…Rodney? Can’t…hear…too well…right now.”
Rodney tugged on the lace to let Sheppard know he heard.
There was a very long pause. Rodney tugged again.
“Gimme…a…minute.”
Rodney waited.
“Tug once…if you’re alone…twice if Ronon ’n Teyla…are with you.” Sheppard’s speech was slurring badly.
Rodney tugged twice.
“Now…mmm…pull once…if everyone’s okay…twice...if anyone’s hurt.”
Rodney tugged once.
“Good. Tha’s…good. We’re due back in ummm…” The lace went slack and the slurred speech trailed off as Sheppard started to gag again. “Need…’nother…minute,” he gasped.
Rodney started retracting the lace to prepare another message.
“We just…have t’ wait…rescue. They’ll…be…here.”
The heavy door banged open again, leaving Rodney scrambling to conceal the shoelace.
Two guards delivered another portion of food and water through the small hatches in the two cell doors while ignoring the team’s requests for medical assistance for Sheppard.
On the way out, they paused at Sheppard’s cell. “Maybe you’ll think twice before you try to pull another stunt like the last,” one of the guards taunted.
Sheppard mumbled something that might have been an insult.
A grunt of anger could be heard from a guard. A scrambling sound. A sharp cry of pain as something connected with the cell bars.
“Let him go,” commanded the other guard. “He might still be useful.”
“Doubt it,” retorted the first guard.
When the guards left, Rodney picked up a pen and notebook from the few supplies that Teyla had been allowed to retain. He hastily tore a sheet of paper from the small notebook. Rodney thought for a minute then wrote, Don’t sleep. Drink water if you have some. We’ll wait for rescue.
Ronon tossed the weighted message down the hall tied to the end of the lace.
There was a long silence. “Guys? Can’t…read…too well, either. Room’s spinnin’. Hit my head.”
Rodney pulled some duct tape from one of his pockets and used it to piece several small sheets of paper together. He drew two large hands. Then he drew a loop of string around each wrist and connected the loops with a line. He attached his new note to the string.
While he waited for Sheppard to comprehend the message, Rodney tied one end around his wrist. “I’ll be able to wake him every two hours” he explained. “And Sheppard will know we’re still here if he wakes up.”
When the lace went taut, Rodney knew Sheppard had understood the message.
“Thanks, Rodney,” Sheppard whispered.
Overcome with fatigue, Rodney settled on the floor to sleep holding tight to the string, the lifeline to Sheppard. “You’re welcome, John,” Rodney murmured as his eyes closed.
~~~~oooo~~~~
Rodney was roused from his restless sleep by Ronon shaking him gently and calling, “Time to check on Sheppard.”
Before he even managed to push himself to a sitting position, Rodney tugged on the string. Once…twice…
On the third try John groaned. “Wha?” Then he fell silent.
Rodney pulled harder. He heard a clang. Something connected with the cell bars. “Sorry. Sorry,” Rodney muttered before he remembered John couldn’t hear the apology.
“Rodney?” John tugged back. “M’okay...jus...jus tired.” His voice drifted off.
Rodney pulled again. He needed to keep John awake just a little longer.
“M’fine…bleeding stopped…pretty much... Everyone okay?”
Rodney tugged gently.
“Good…rescue’ll…be here…soon
Teyla prepared to take the next watch as Rodney sighed, checked the knot on the string around his wrist and settled back to his fitful sleep. His hand clutched the line so tightly that his knuckles were white.
~~~~oooo~~~~
Before the two hours were up, Rodney was awakened by tugging on the string. He pulled back to let John know he was there.
“R-Rodney? Mmm…r-really…really…c-cold.” Rodney could hear the tremors in John’s voice as he spoke.
“He’s going into shock,” Teyla stated.
“E’ryone…o-okay?
One tug.
“Tha’s g-good.”
Rodney undid the lace around his wrist momentarily, letting the line go slack as he slipped off his jacket.
“Rodney? Rodney...still there? Answer me, McKay!”
Rodney grabbed the string and tugged back. “Bastards!” He cursed the guards under his breath.
“Ronon?” Rodney began.
“I’m on it, McKay.” Ronon was removing his coat too.
“As am I.” Teyla handed over her jacket.
Ronon wadded up the jackets, reached through the bars and tossed the clothing down within reach of the far cell.
Rodney pulled the string. He heard John stir and then drag the clothing through his bars.
“Th-thanks.”
~~~~oooo~~~~
An hour later, gunfire shattered the silence. The door down the hall was flung open as Major Lorne rushed in with his men.
As soon as their cell door was opened, the team rushed down the hall to John’s cell. He looked as bad as Rodney had imagined. He was ghostly pale and shaking violently. Dried blood was smeared from his ears down the sides of his head and neck. The hair on the back of his head was thickly matted with blood which had run down and soaked the back of his shirt.
Rodney untied the string from his own wrist, wound it up in a hasty wad and tucked it into the palm of John’s hand.
“He can’t hear,” Rodney offered.
Lorne nodded in understanding.
~~~~oooo~~~~
After his post-mission exam, Rodney remained in the infirmary doing his best to stay out of the way of the medical personnel. He quickly forgot his resolve when he heard a nurse request a pair of scissors as John made a protesting sound. Rodney hurried over to John’s bedside.
The circlet of lace was still looped around John’s wrist. The remaining length of string was clutched in his hand and held pressed against his chest. John’s other hand was clasped on top, protectively.
The nurse reached out trying to free the bound hand. “Easy, it’s okay. We’re just going to snip the string away.”
“Nooo…” John squirmed weakly.
Rodney thrust his arm out, placing a hand on top of John’s. “The string stays.”
The nurse looked exasperated. “Dr. McKay, you’ll have to-"
She was cut off as Carson bustled back to the bedside. “Rodney! What the bloody hell are you doing here interfering with the medical care?”
“The string on Sheppard’s wrist - it stays. He wants it on.”
Carson frowned for a moment. “Aye, alright then.” He turned to the nursing staff. “Leave it on for now. And Rodney-”
“Yes?”
“Get out of the way.”
“Oh. Right.”
As Rodney started to lift his arm away, John turned his hand to grasp Rodney’s lightly. He held it for a second before letting it slide tiredly back to the bed.
“You’re welcome,” Rodney whispered. Then he reached for the string and tugged it gently.
~~~~oooo~~~~
The End