Title: The Long Haul
Author: Joolz
Genre: Slash,
Hurt/Comfort, First Time
Pairing: John/Rodney
Rating: R
Word Count: 3,500
Season/Spoilers: Season
Summary: John’s slipping away, but Rodney’s not about
to let him go.
Notes: Written for tearfall, who bid generously in
the Sweet Charity Auction. Prompts
used: H/C, John hurt, blood, first time
Sincere gratitude to Lady
Ra and Tenaya for all their help getting this into shape!
Disclaimer: Not my lovely characters, just playing with
them.
Warnings: non-graphic m/m, ubiquitous Monty Python
references
++++++++++++
The Long Haul
They were running full-out
through the forest with a band of hostile locals chasing after them when Ronon shouted,
“Sheppard, stop.”
It wasn’t the other man’s
get-down-or-die voice, so John didn’t immediately react. This was same old, same old, but at the
moment he was feeling just plain old and didn’t want to lose his momentum. He said over his shoulder, “What is it?”
“You’re bleeding,” Ronon
informed him, not sounding winded at all, which made him feel even older. “You’re leaving a trail they can follow.”
Taking a quick inventory, through
a tear in his T-shirt John found a gash on the outer edge of his left
shoulder. His whole arm was red, and blood
was dripping off the elbow where he cradled his P-90. Slowing to a stop, he said, “Huh.”
Ronon already had his pack
off and was pulling out first aid supplies when Rodney came huffing up and
almost ran into him, with Teyla shepherding him from behind.
Seeing the blood, Rodney
barked worriedly, “What did you do? Are
you hit?”
John shook his head. “I kind ‘a remember running into a bush with
thorns, but mostly it got my vest.
Didn’t feel that happen.”
As Teyla probed the wound
delicately, she said, “It does not appear to be deep.”
Ronon pushed her hand out
of the way, slapped a gauze pad over the cut and began wrapping a bandage
around John’s arm and shoulder to hold it in place. “Bleeding too much,” he said succinctly.
John looked around. The ground in this part of the forest was
rocky with small clumps of grass. The
ground had been disturbed enough by some hoofed animal that except for the
splashes of blood it wasn’t too evident where the four of them had passed.
Looking back toward the
village, Rodney said, “They haven’t given up, by chance, have they?”
“No, Rodney,” Teyla responded,
“but we will move on in a moment.”
“What did we even do this
time?” McKay groused rhetorically, “I don’t even know what we did to make them
start with the spear waving.”
John wasn’t too sure,
either. Even with guides who were native
to the galaxy, misunderstandings happened frequently. One person didn’t say what they meant, and
another only heard what they expected.
Seemed like a universal constant.
“Doesn’t matter now,” John
said as Ronon tied off the bandage and shrugged his pack back on. “Let’s get going.” He started in the direction they had been headed,
downhill toward the valley that led to the Stargate. Going back would be quicker than the trek up
to the village had been but it would still take a couple of hours to get there,
which left plenty of opportunity for the locals, who knew the terrain better,
to ambush them.
John felt unusually
winded, considering that they were going downhill, and after barely ten minutes
Ronon stopped them again. The gauze pad
and bandage were completely soaked with blood, and John was once again dripping
a bloody trail.
“Great, Sheppard,” Rodney
said, concern sharpening his tone. “Try
to keep some of it on the inside.”
Teyla asked, “You say it
was a thorned plant that caused the injury?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
She and Ronon looked at
each other. Ronon said, “Could be forccia.”
“I did not notice forccia,
but it is possible,” she agreed.
“Let’s hope not,” Ronon
replied.
“What?” Rodney asked
apprehensively, sparing John the trouble.
“Is that bad? Is it poisonous or
something?”
“The thorns and the sap
from the leaves of this plant thin the blood and keep wounds from closing,”
Teyla explained. “My people avoid it as
a matter of course. If this is what John
encountered, then he must stop running immediately. The exertion will speed blood loss.” She began scanning the landscape around them.
“It’s just a scratch,”
John protested.
“How d’you feel?” Ronon
asked him.
“A little out of breath,
but not bad. We should keep going.”
“No,” Teyla said firmly. “You could bleed to death, John.” Ronon pointed to their right and Teyla
nodded. “This way.”
John had noticed that
Ronon and Teyla could communicate between themselves silently, not unlike how John
often did with Rodney. They used it at
times like this when they decided it was necessary to override John’s
authority.
Ronon wrapped a spare
shirt around John’s arm to catch the blood and manhandled him into following
Teyla, then loped on ahead.
“Guys,” John objected,
feeling a surge of annoyance, “We should head back to the ‘gate.
Teyla shook her head. “You cannot run or walk that far. You would be dead before we arrived.”
That sounded unlikely, but
the shirt was already sagging wetly.
This definitely wasn’t an ordinary scratch.
“Listen to them,” Rodney
said. “They’re the experts in weird,
alien, man-eating flora.”
“Thank you for conceding
my superior knowledge, Rodney,” Teyla teased pointedly.
“I have quite enough to
worry about with keeping ten thousand deadly threats from killing us every day
us to concern myself with petty things like botany,” he replied in his usual
pissy form. “You’re welcome to it.”
The fact that John had actually
started to feel crappy was convincing him to listen, if nothing else. He was having more trouble focusing and
thinking clearly, which worried him, because it made him a liability to his
team. The sensation of blood loss was all
too familiar, but it was usually accompanied by pain and trauma. This was akin to being paralyzed by stubbing
your toe.
They came to a large outcropping
of boulders, and Ronon reappeared from behind it. “Over here,” the large man said.
He led them to a gap
between stones just wide enough to walk in to.
It didn’t end in a cave, or anything so convenient as that, but it would
block them from the view of anyone who wasn’t standing directly in front of the
opening.
Ronon pulled John’s pack
off his back, pushed John to the ground and shoved the pack under John’s feet,
elevating them. Just as John was gearing
up to protest, the big man said, “Come on, McKay.”
“What? Where?”
“We’re heading back to the
‘gate to get help. Teyla will stay here.”
“Who put you in charge?”
Rodney challenged. “No, I’m not
going.”
John looked up to see
McKay standing with his hands on his hips.
“Rodney,” Teyla said,
sounding oh-so-reasonable.
The scientist’s face displayed
a remarkable combination of stricken and stubborn. “He could d…, something could happen to John
while I wasn’t here.” Stubborn began to
win out. “I won’t go and you can’t make
me.”
“Rodney,” Teyla started,
“you are…”
“You two go,” McKay
interrupted. “You run faster than I
do. Have you forgotten that we’re being
hunted? There could be fighting on the
way back to the ‘gate. Or knowing me I’d
run into another one of those thorn bushes and die in a sodden, bloody
heap. I’ll stay with Sheppard. I can take care of him, I’m not useless. You go.”
“I was going to say,”
Teyla replied with a slightly raised voice, “that you are right. Ronon and I will go.” She turned to John. “We will be back with help as soon as
possible. Do not move, do not get up,
keep your feet elevated.”
John felt a bit like he
should be giving the orders, but didn’t have the energy to make an issue of
it. “Yes, mom.”
Not dignifying that with a
response, Teyla and Ronon left their packs, taking only their weapons and,
after a discreet hand gesture to Rodney making it clear that his presence was
required, all three of his teammates disappeared outside the crevice, leaving
John to listen the wind whistling between the boulders and watch the clouds
scuttle by overhead. He heard the sound
of quietly conferring voices, then Rodney came stomping back in.
Stepping over John to
kneel by his head, Rodney said with forced cheerfulness, “Okay, what else do we
do for someone who’s bleeding like a stuck pig?
Let’s see, hydration!” He dug out
a water bottle and John sat up enough to drink.
It was good; John hadn’t realized how thirsty he was. But his head started spinning, so Rodney
helped him lay back down and turn onto his right side. “We’ll keep the wound up higher, maybe not as
much blood will leak out. Can’t hurt. I don’t think I can get a tourniquet on
anywhere that would help.”
John was still
bleeding. It was amazing how much red
such a small cut could produce. Rodney strapped
a pressure bandage on over the soaked gauze.
He then dug a silver emergency blanket out of his pack and draped it
over John’s body.
“There? Is that good?
Is there anything else I should do?” he asked fretfully. “
“Rodney.” John’s head was starting to hurt, and with
the position he was lying in, it was slumped at an uncomfortable angle,
straining his neck, but he didn’t have the energy to move. “Something for a pillow?”
“Oh! Yes, of course. That would be me. Here.”
Rodney shifted closer and lifted John’s head onto his thigh until he was
cushioned by warm flesh, the back of his head resting against Rodney’s belly. It was a very comfortable pillow.
Fingers started carding
absently through John’s hair as Rodney kept talking. “Because I’ve never seen anyone who’s half
the trouble magnet you are, flying bombs into hive ships and sassing back to
Wraith queens, turning into a bug or getting eaten by one.”
John knew the smell of
blood; fresh blood, old blood, whatever.
He could smell it now. Without
even looking he knew that he was still bleeding too much, pressure bandage not
withstanding.
“I’ve gotten into my share
of scrapes, too, of course,” the scientist went on. “If I hadn’t gotten involved with the Stargate
program I’d probably be a Distinguished Professor at M.I.T., or something, with
no bigger problem than fighting off amorous grad students and beating
competitors into submission over funding.
But no, I get shot at on a regular basis, trapped at the bottom of the
sea, almost eaten by big, scary energy monsters. Not how I expected my life to be, I can tell
you. Yes, some of us are born to
heroism,” he patted John’s head, “and some of us have it thrust upon us.
“But you!” Rodney showed no signs of stopping his chatter. “No one but you could get taken out by a
shrubbery. I’m going to mock you about
this forever. What a joke.”
Except Rodney didn’t sound
like he was laughing. He was pressing on
the bandage on John’s arm, tension radiating from his body. Feeling lightheaded and floaty made it easy
for John to say, “Ni!”
Rodney stilled for a long
moment, then winced and snorted a slightly hysterical laugh. “Oh, you insane bastard. At a time like this, you have to go and say
‘Ni’.”
Not his most brilliant
joke ever, but John couldn’t manage much more.
“Ni. Ni,” he said again, his voice sounding faint even
to himself. It reminded him, though, of
hours of competitive movie banter, of the time he and Rodney had recited ‘Holy
Grail’ almost verbatim, causing Ronon and Teyla to fear for their sanity. So many good times with Rodney. The best.
Rodney’s hand slid across
John’s chest to rest open-palmed over his heart. It made him feel peaceful and safe, in a way
that had nothing to do with the lassitude of slowly bleeding to death.
“Yes, very droll,” Rodney tried
to tease but failed completely, his worry and affection evident in every word. “Promise not to die and we’ll watch the movie
when we get back, while you’re recovering.
Just keep breathing, okay?”
Rodney’s voice took on a bruised,
pleading tone. “And don’t do this
anymore. You’ve made whatever your point
is with all the injuries and near deaths.
Enough already. Just stop.”
“Okay.” John could barely hear his own voice. They were silent for a while. John felt cold all over except where Rodney
was touching him. “Rodney?”
“Yes.”
“Thanks for staying with
me.” He couldn’t imagine anyone else
keeping him distracted and entertained and making him feel so good while
dying.
“Of course I stayed,”
Rodney said quietly, bending over John and wrapping him in an embrace. When he spoke again it was soft, almost a
whisper, but rich with Rodney’s immutable-truth tone. “I’m not ever going to leave you, John. We’re way beyond any question of me leaving
you. And you’re not going to leave me
either; we’re in this for the long haul. You’re stuck with me, whether you like it or
not, remember that.”
“I will.”
There was a crackling in
his ear, and John heard Teyla say, “Doctor McKay, Colonel Sheppard. Can you hear me?”
Rodney answered sharply,
“I hear you. Where are you?”
“We ran into some difficulties
but are almost to the ‘gate. How is
Colonel Sheppard?”
“Still bleeding, but it’s
slowed down. I don’t know if that’s good
or bad. Weak pulse, slurred speech, irregular
heartbeat, and he’s white as a ghost.
You need to move faster,” he finished heatedly.
“Understood. Have you had any problems with the natives?”
“No, it’s been quiet. One thing that’s gone right today. Oh, god, I just jinxed it, didn’t I?” The anxiety in his voice increased. “Why did you have to ask that? Now we’ll be overrun any minute. That’ll be just perfect.”
“I believe most of the
warriors have followed Ronon and myself,” Teyla said calmly. “You will be fine. We will be back with a ‘jumper and medical
assistance shortly.”
“Okay, good. Fine.
McKay out. Did you hear that?” he
said to John. “They’ll be right back.”
John drifted, feeling
strangely content. Rodney debated out
loud whether it would be more harmful to sit John up and give him more water,
or leave him lying down and risk dehydration, but the disastrous images his
friend painted didn’t bother him. The
sound of Rodney’s sharp and jittery voice was like a lullaby. He’d said he wouldn’t leave John, and he
hadn’t. John held onto Rodney like a
lifeline. Everything in his life seemed
tied to Rodney. In life or death, one
person was always at the center of it all.
“Why are you smiling?”
Rodney said. “You aren’t seeing a light
or anything clichéd like that, are you?
No running off with the angels or ascended princesses, you got that?”
“You,” John answered.
“What? Me, what?”
Rodney made him smile, but
he would explain that later, when he wasn’t so tired. He was holding on to the Rodney lifeline as
tight as he could, but John was beginning to feel stretched too thin. He needed to rest, and Rodney was just going
to have to take over and keep him from drifting away. His grip metaphorically slipped.
“John? Don’t you dare. John!”
+++++++++++++
“Colonel Sheppard. Can you hear me? He’s coming ‘round.”
That was
John was warm in the
infirmary bed, but somehow it wasn’t as nice as the cozy lap he’d been in
before. He forced his eyes open, and a
bright light was immediately flashed into them.
He squeezed his eyelids shut again, grimaced, and made a complaining
noise, “Nnnnnng.”
“Do you have to perform
the light torture right now? The man’s
just had another near-death experience. Give
him a break, Torquemada.”
“That’s it,” the Scot
snapped, clearly on his last nerve. “You’ve
seen him, now everyone out. Believe it
or not, Rodney, I am actually trained to perform medical diagnostic tests, and
you are not. Out.”
John blinked his eyes open
again, and found himself surrounded by friends.
Rodney was there, smiling at him
with one side of his mouth tilted up crookedly.
John smiled back.
To show he meant business,
Beckett had scary Nurse Sharon drive everyone away, and not even Rodney stood a
chance against her. But John kept
smiling. He was alive, and he had plans.
+++++++++++
John rang the buzzer on
Rodney’s door and waited for it to open.
He didn’t have to; they were accustomed to walking into each others’
quarters without an invitation, and when exactly had that started? But this time John wanted to stand on
ceremony.
When the door slid open
John stepped in to find Rodney sitting on his bed with his laptop. “You’re late,” Rodney complained. “I ate all the popcorn already and was just
about to start the movie without you.”
“Sorry, I got held up.” Held up showering and shaving and deciding
what to wear.
John sat down next to
Rodney, but put his hand over the other man’s to stop him from hitting
play. Rodney looked at him curiously,
eyebrows raised.
“Long haul, Rodney. Way past the point of leaving me.”
Rodney blushed and
fidgeted. “Oh, you remember that. I thought you were probably too out of it to
pick it up.”
“I remember. Did you mean it?”
“Of course I did,” Rodney
said testily. “You and me, we’re, you
know,” he flapped his hand, “a thing.
We’re you and me. It’s not rocket
science, though obviously it wouldn’t be a problem for me if it were. It’s, as they say, a no-brainer, which means
even you should be able to grasp the concept.”
John wasn’t diverted by
the ribbing. “I’m glad you feel that
way, because I’m not leaving you either.
You’re stuck with me, too, just like you said.”
Rodney’s eyes
widened. “Oh? Um. Really?”
“Yup.” John felt self-conscious talking about this,
but it was true and he was going to say it.
“I’m way too smart to let you get away.
You take care of me even though I’m the one who’s supposed to take care
of you, staying behind and protect me in enemy territory. You talk for hours to keep me distracted when
I need it and put up with my unconscionably bad jokes. Do you think, Rodney, that there’s anyone
else I’d want beside me? To, um, you
know, hug me, like you do, and,” dying of embarrassment, his voice dropped low,
“to love me? ‘Cause I don’t think there
is anyone else. Just you.”
Rodney was starting to
look proud, skirting very close to smug.
“I’m glad you noticed, that love thing, because I do, you know. That.”
He waved his hand again. “You. More than pretty much anything.”
“Me, too.” John nodded in
agreement, glad that was all cleared up.
“A lot.”
John leaned in and kissed him,
his lips moving lightly and lingering.
Rodney made a surprised noise, but shifted forward to press more
firmly. He tasted like popcorn with
butter and salt, and like John’s new favorite flavor - irascible
astrophysicist.
John reached up to cup
Rodney’s face in his palm, then let his hand slide down to splay over the
center of Rodney’s chest. Rodney’s heart
was beating almost as fast as his own; it was reassuring, the thump of both
their hearts moving the blood around inside their bodies, where it should be,
keeping them alive. He pulled the other
man closer, savoring his solid presence, sinking into the kiss.
When they drew apart,
Rodney said, shyly pleased, “I like that.
I like kissing you.”
“Me, too,” John replied,
grinning. “Let’s do it a lot.”
“Okay,” Rodney grinned
back, blue eyes shining.
“Do you wanna do more than
kiss?” John teased affectionately, pretty sure he knew the answer.
“Oh, yeah!” Rodney nodded
emphatically. “I think the word ‘stop’
has completely left my vocabulary.”
The laptop ended up on the
floor; Monty Python could wait. John
ended up lying on the bed with Rodney pressed against him everywhere possible,
his arms full of warmth.
His leg hooked over
Rodney’s thigh, John rubbed his body against Rodney’s languidly. Bits of skin were slowly bared, neither one
in a hurry. Even though they’d never
done this with each other before, it felt so comfortable it seemed like they’d
been doing it forever.
Rodney touched him gently
but firmly, like he was afraid John would break but was never going to let him
go.
John was very all right
with that.
End
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