Author: Espiritu
Rating: M
Category: Drama, Angst, Hurt/Comfort
Spoilers: Season One. Set sometime during Season Two after Siege III and before Runner.
Summary: Chance brought them together. Circumstances made them friends. Will fortune be on their side when the fickle finger of fate leaves them in a desperate situation? Sheppard/McKay friendship.
Author Notes: I think this plot bunny was fueled by countless cups of Starbucks vanilla lattes. So blame it on caffeine overload. Gotta love Vancouver--the coffee mecca of North America.
Disclaimer: Don't own anything related to Stargate Atlantis except some great memories and cool souvenirs from a once-in-a-lifetime set visit. Everything else is still owned by Sony, MGM, and the SciFi Channel no matter how I wish it to be otherwise.
Happenstance
Chapter 1: Into the Fire
"Colonel, you need to be still. If you keep moving, you'll start to bleed again. And quite frankly, I don't handle the sight of blood too well." I admonished not quite able to hide the worry in my tone.
"We can't stay here, McKay." Sheppard protested weakly as he tried to sit up.
I pushed against the colonel's shoulders, easing him back down against the rocky outcrop that temporarily offered shelter. We had been exploring the ruins of an Ancient outpost on M5J-346 when we had unexpectedly encountered a few of the local inhabitants. Judging from the sudden barrage of bullets that the small group of men had fired in our direction, the planet's population did not take kindly to intruders to their homeworld, friendly or otherwise. Like oh so many so-called civilized people we encounter in this part of the universe, their first instinct appeared to be shoot first and ask questions later. Just once, it would be nice to meet up with the Pegasus equivalent of the Welcome Wagon. Just one damn time.
"I mean it, Colonel! If you start bleeding again, I am not sure I'll be able to stop it this time. Our field packs do not include surgical equipment or a staff to use them. I'm it for medical help for the time being, and I'm not trained to handle serious trauma. Where's Carson and his bag of Highland voodoo tricks when you need him?" I muttered as I rechecked the pressure bandage I had hurriedly applied to the colonel's side.
As fate would have it, the bullet had managed to enter midway down Sheppard's torso into the narrow strip of side flesh not protected by the flak vest. If the colonel hadn't been so intent on pushing me out of harm's way, the alien projectile might have missed him entirely or lodged harmlessly within the bullet-stopping Kevlar. But true to his overprotective, self-sacrificing, guard dog nature, Sheppard dove into the line of fire when one of the hostile natives took aim at me. He managed to take out the shooter, but not before getting hit with a bullet himself.
"You're doing fine, McKay. Just help me get back to the puddle jumper so I can get us home." Sheppard grimaced in pain as he leaned his head against the cool, dusty rock face of the crumbling remains of an Ancient temple wall.
"I don't think you're in any condition to fly the jumper, let alone walk the whole way back to it." I said stating what should have been obvious to anyone with a modicum of functioning gray matter in his skull. But I was talking to Sheppard after all, and the man had an alarming tendency to act first and think later.
"Fine. Get us back to the jumper, and I'll let you fly it." Sheppard managed to hiss out.
"I don't think you really have a choice in the matter, Colonel. Considering the current circumstances, I am your only ticket home." I replied with a hint of smugness.
"Just make sure you fly straight this time, McKay. I don't think I can any handle long, round-about detours right now." The colonel barely wheezed the words out.
"If you're referring to your famed Sheppardesque shortcuts, have no fear, Colonel. Have no fear indeed. Unlike you, I know how to plot the quickest route from point A to point B." I shot back with as much sarcasm as I could muster under the circumstances.
He simply closed his eyes and nodded weakly as he sat slumped against the wall. His lack of a quick retort and his tightly clenched jaw spoke volumes about the severity of his injury. Granted, his sardonic quips couldn't hope to compete with my brilliant repartee, but if Sheppard wasn't contributing to our normal verbal sparring matches, something was seriously wrong. He was hurting and hurting bad. I reached into the pockets of my vest and dug out an ampoule of morphine from the field kit, wishing it were a larger, more potent dose. But a field dose was better than nothing and would take the edge off the pain until we reached the jumper. Silently thanking that irascible Scottish Kildare for insisting every offworld team learn basic first aid skills, I injected the morphine and adjusted the pressure bandage covering the jagged wound that was still seeping blood despite my best efforts. The colonel's mouth quirked up slightly in gratitude as the drug coursing through his veins took effect and some of the tenseness in his jaw eased.
Sheppard's breathing was becoming alarmingly raspy and labored, leading me to strongly suspect the bullet was lodged in the colonel's lung. As if it couldn't get any worse. Right about now I wished we had taken another team member with us on this mission. Teyla was on temporary medical leave due to a torn Achilles tendon, and Über Ford had disappeared to parts unknown after the siege by the Wraith on Atlantis. Sheppard had wanted to take a couple of marines along, but I had insisted that only the two of us were needed to take readings and check out any possible Ancient relics left behind. Yes, I had been quite adamant that this little excursion would only require the presence of one know-it-all head scientist and his sidekick colonel. I had successfully argued that the rest of the military and scientific personnel were needed on clean-up detail around our battled-scarred city. I had ranted and raved until I had finally convinced Sheppard that the two of us could more than handle a simple scientific outing to what we thought was an uninhabited planet. I was so eager to get my hands on more Ancient doodads that I neglected to confirm the validity of the earlier, and what were ultimately erroneous, reports concerning this deceptive little backwater of a world. I had never been so wrong.
Now I was cursing to myself over my incredibly stupid lack of foresight and my sheer vainglorious arrogance that got us into this predicament. Expecting an easy reconnaissance of an Ancient site, we instead found ourselves in the midst of a firefight from unknown assailants. Sheppard had managed to kill two of the four men who launched the surprise attack on us, and I seriously wounded a third. The fourth decided to flee the scene after seeing his cronies fall, but it was only a matter of time before he came back with reinforcements. Fate was a fickle bitch that never cut us any slack in this galaxy. We still had to find our way back to the puddle jumper through a mile of rough terrain with Sheppard seriously wounded and barely able to stay conscious. Not to mention his current propensity for bleeding profusely. No problem. So what that this planet was not close to a convenient stargate, leaving us with several hours of flight time before we made it back to Atlantis? Piece of cake. I lived and breathed for such challenges. Now if I could just keep the colonel living and breathing until Carson could work his magic and put the man back to rights. But hey, wasn't I the answer man? Wasn't I the one who could fix anything? Wasn't I the one who could pull miracles out of my ass at a moment's notice? So why did I feel that this time lady luck was about to thumb her capricious nose at the likes of us?
But I put aside any nagging doubts for the moment. Didn't Sheppard tell me once that you should never let them see you sweat? Easier said than done I say. Yet, I had to admit the idea had merit. Not that I would ever let this cocky, hero-wannabe flyboy know that I actually agreed with him on anything. So I pushed aside my fears and took matters into my own hands. Literally. Sliding my arms under Sheppard's, I hoisted him up, wrapped his arm around my shoulder, grabbed hold of his waist, and got us under way in a manner of speaking. To say we were walking was to use the term loosely. To say it was more like two Siamese twins stumbling drunkenly would have been an understatement. Too weak to stand completely upright, the colonel leaned heavily against me, his near deadweight causing me to lurch sideways with each agonizing step. It may not have been the most efficient means of transportation, but it covered ground and put us closer to escaping this nightmarish hellhole.
We continued half hobbling, half staggering along as we left the vicinity of the temple complex and headed back into the nearby forest. I hoped that the dense strand of trees would offer some shelter from any more pursuing locals along with giving us a more direct route back to the puddle jumper. We had been on the move for somewhere close to twenty minutes when I felt Sheppard slump further into my shoulder just before I heard him gasp in pain. His knees buckled suddenly as I came to a halt, forcing me to ease him to the ground.
"McKay...gotta stop." He managed to rasp as he struggled to take another ragged breath. The waxy, gray pallor of his face gave the zombies from 'Night of the Living Dead' a run for their money.
"Colonel? We're almost there. Just hang on, we've not much further to go."
Fool's words I know. Usually I am what Sheppard likes to term optimistically challenged, but I could be as positive as the next guy. Truly I could. I was willing to take a lesson from Sheppard's 'Don't Worry, Be Happy' school of thought. I was fully prepared to take to heart a page out of his manual 'The Optimist's Guide for the Hopelessly Screwed'. I would wade through the knee-deep shit we currently found ourselves in with a smile on my face. Well, a forced, tight-lipped smile sure, but a smile nonetheless. Call me Mr. Happy Fucking Go Lucky.
Sheppard continued to pant painfully as if he were running the last leg of a 26K marathon. He was sucking in mouthfuls of air as if he were fighting for his life and losing the battle. Damn him, he'd better not give up on me. Not if he knew what was good for him. I would be hard-pressed to find another friend like him. He was one of the rare individuals who had disregarded my abrasive and prickly personality right from the get go. Not only did he not seem to be offended or put off by it, he actually seemed to enjoy it. Imagine that! People like that aren't easy to find in my world. So when someone comes along that can give back snark as good as he gets...well in my book, he's a keeper. I am sure most people found ours an unlikely friendship. Hell, I even thought that on occasion. It was a friendship that started by chance, grew by circumstance, and flourished under the most unusual of conditions. I was not going to let him die on me now. Not now. Not ever. I so was not about to go to all the work of breaking in another team leader. I didn't need that kind of headache. Not in a million years. The leader I had was enough of a headache already thank you very much. Not enough Tylenol in the infirmary to quell that pain in the head as I was fond of telling him.
I put my hand against Sheppard's shoulder as he inhaled sharply before looking up at me with eyes glassy with pain and a pale face clammy and slick with sweat. His voice was no more than a hoarse whisper when he finally spoke.
"McKay. I'm not gonna make it. I can't go any further."
I was angered that he was giving up so easily. That wasn't the John Sheppard I knew. Not by a long shot. "Oh no you don't, Colonel. You are not, I repeat, not checking out of the party early. Oh, no. No. No. Don't even think it!" I was ready to slap him up the side of that foolish head of his.
"And what, miss out on all this fun? Wouldn't dream of it normally, but my body's telling me it has other ideas on the matter." He uttered with almost weary resignation, pausing between each word to draw in a rattling breath.
'Well, don't listen to it. It obviously doesn't know what it is talking about. I'm getting out of here, and you're coming with me. There'll be no further argument about it either. So save your breath, do us both a favor, and shut the hell up."
He decided to do more than that. I no sooner finished reprimanding him than when he had the unmitigated gall to lose consciousness. Right then and there. His eyes rolled back in his head a la Linda Blair, and he sank into oblivion. At first I was alarmed by his motionless form, until a quick check for a pulse assured me he was still alive. At least for the moment. But, I had to make haste to get us to the jumper and back to Atlantis, or he wouldn't be much longer. Leave it to him to stick me with all the work. Far be it for Lt. Colonel John Sheppard to offer a little assistance to me here in getting us on the move. Nope, he took it upon himself to pass out and thus take his lazy self out of the equation. Asshole incarnate.
Fine. So be it. The inconsiderate bastard was going to force me to break my back in order to save his sorry ass. There was no other recourse. I would have to carry him the rest of the way. It was not something I looked forward to. He might have looked wiry as whipcord, but the man was all lean muscle and weighed a ton. I grunted with the effort it took to haul him up and sling him over my shoulder into a classic fireman's carry. I grunted and staggered I admit, but I still pulled it off using sheer determination to fuel my strength.
I thought the past year in the field had whipped me into better condition than I had ever been before. I was convinced the weeks of goon training with Sheppard had built my muscles as it trimmed my waistline. I believed the days tramping across alien planets had strengthened me. I deluded myself into thinking the hours running from the Wraith had toughened me. Was I ever mistaken. Yes, my being wrong seemed to be the general theme of this mission. The great Dr. Rodney McKay was most definitely wrong. I was not in the shape I thought I was. If I were, I wouldn't be sweating like a pig and huffing and puffing like the big, bad wolf. Somehow though, I found it in me to keep plodding though the woods. Hampered by thickets and underbrush whipping against my ankles, I continued on, quivering knees threatening to give out under the strain, my back screaming in protest against the burden it carried. But I wouldn't stop. I couldn't. If I did, Sheppard would be a dead man. That was something I just would not accept for as long as I lived.
We finally made it to the edge of the forest. The clearing where we had parked the jumper was in my direct line of sight. Needing to take a breather, I stopped briefly and slid the colonel's unconscious body down onto the ground. Standing back up, I stretched and popped several vertebrae back into alignment as I mentally calculated the remaining distance to the jumper. All we had to do was get our asses across the open patch of grass in front of us, and we were home free. No sweat. I could do this. Taking a deep breath, I stooped down and scooped the colonel back up over my aching shoulders.
Fate, however, decided to spit one last time in our proverbial eyes. We had just reached the back hatch of the jumper, and I once again had carefully set Sheppard down onto the grass to free my hands to operate the hatch controls. I don't know if it was the sudden moan coming from the wounded man on the ground a few feet away from me or the distinctive sound of a weapon being cocked that first caught my attention. Dropping my hand from the control panel, I turned slowly around to see a vaguely familiar man standing over the now semi-conscious Sheppard. That fourth native that had run screaming from his fallen comrades? Well, he was back and back with a vengeance.
God damn it! I swore under my breath. Why couldn't we ever catch a break? Why did it seem we were always perpetually screwed? Was it just bad luck? Bad karma? What?
Pointing his weapon at me, the irate thug flashed a malicious grin and ordered me to step away from the jumper. At least I think that is what he said. Not understanding the language he was speaking, I raised my hands slowly, nodded like the village idiot, and backed away from the control panel. My mind was racing as I feverishly tried to think of a way to get us out of this latest predicament.
"Stepping away. I'm stepping away. See, feet moving. Moving away." I hoped my actions if not my words would reassure him I was complying with his wishes and buy me enough time to formulate a plan.
I guess I either did not move fast enough or he mistook my actions as hostile intent. He suddenly waved the gun at Sheppard while a steady stream of incomprehensible shouts bellowed from his mouth. The commotion was loud enough to wake the dead, or at least the almost dead, because the colonel began to stir as the noise penetrated the fog of his unconsciousness. Hearing the colonel's movements, the gunman decided to substantiate his threat by kicking Sheppard furiously in the ribcage. The colonel cried out in agony at the vicious assault as he curled his body into a fetal position to escape further attack.
Sheppard's outcry at the savage treatment made my blood boil and caused my anger to hotly erupt like Mount Vesuvius. Spewing forth with a spat of invectives, I vented in rage and frustration at the turn of events, blindly ignoring the fact that the lowlife was still holding a gun on us.
"Get the hell away from him you filthy, homicidal maniac! He's already been shot once today. Enough is enough! Do you hear me? We are no threat to you or your freaking fellow Neanderthals. Just go back to your cave or whatever primordial swamp spawned you, and let us go in peace."
As I launched my verbal attack, he stopped kicking Sheppard and turned back towards me with an evil leer. Raising his arm, he pointed his gun directly at my chest. Freezing in fear, I involuntarily squeezed my eyes shut as he pulled the trigger. My ears blocked out the explosive sounds of weapon discharge as I mentally prepared myself for my untimely death. Surprised to not feel the impact of the bullet tearing into my flesh, I opened my eyes and looked first at my midsection, shocked at the lack of blood or injuries. Surely he could not have missed at such close range. I patted along my body to assure myself of the absence of any gunshot wound. As my mind was still trying to comprehend what the hell had just happened, I turned my head and saw our attacker lying dead face down in the grass. A single bullet hole surrounded by a wet, red splatter was centered over his back. I looked up from the fallen enemy at my feet to see Sheppard sitting up in the grass, one hand grasping the blood-stained bandage at his side, the other pointing a still-smoking gun at the dead man.
"Nobody tries to kill one of my geeks and lives to tell about it." He slurred out a weak growl before flopping heavily back to the ground, his nine millimeter dropping from a hand gone limp.
I rushed over to where he had collapsed, concerned by the spreading splotch of fresh blood along his flank. I thought he had been pale before, but now his face was stark white with a shocking bluish tinge creeping onto his lips. The irregular breaths he did manage to take were woefully inadequate in getting air to his oxygen-deprived lungs. His pain-filled eyes met my terrified ones while his throat bobbed up and down as his mouth struggled to form words.
Gulping in a mouthful of air, he finally managed to gasp faintly. "Christ almighty, that hurt."
He was lying flat on his back, rolling slowly in an effort to stop the suffering, one hand clutched spasmodically at his injured side. I grabbed his shoulder and called out to him.
"Colonel! Are you alright? John! Hang on, I'm going to get us home. Stick with me!"
"Like glue, McKay." His muffled, choked reply was cut short by a bout of prolonged coughing that dissolved into fit of agonized retching as he lay on his side. Turning him back over, I noticed flecks of bright red blood staining his teeth and lips as he grimaced in pain, his eyes half open and his face drawn and pinched. Oh God! Not good. This was so not good.
"Don't you dare die on me, Sheppard. Don't. You. Dare. You even think about leaving the here and now, I will track down your sorry ass and haul it back to the land of the living! There is no galaxy in the universe where you can run and hide from the wrath of Rodney McKay. Do you hear me, John?" I gripped his arm tightly as I spoke, shaking him gently in the hopes of instilling some strength into his weakening body.
I didn't give him a chance to respond to my pleas or threats. Standing up, I slammed my hand onto the hatch controls to open the back of the jumper. Grabbing him under the arms, I half dragged, half carried his barely conscious form up the ramp into the rear compartment of the ship, all the while praying we'd get back to Atlantis in time.
(TBC)