Title: The Long Haul
Author: Joolz
Genre: Slash, Hurt/Comfort, First Time
Pairing: John/Rodney
Rating: R
Word Count: 3,500
Season/Spoilers: Season 3-ish, no major spoilers
Summary: John’s slipping away, but Rodney’s not about to let him go.
Notes: Written for ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
winter_elf (tearfall), who bid generously in the Sweet Charity Auction. Prompts used: H/C, John hurt, blood, first time
winter_elf (tearfall), who bid generously in the Sweet Charity Auction. Prompts used: H/C, John hurt, blood, first timeDisclaimer: 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. Carson’ll fix this right up. It’s just a scratch.”
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. “Carson would know. Why didn’t he come with us? We should make him come all the time, don’t you think, considering the trouble we get into, especially you. If you’re not trying to bleed out you’re getting taken over by aliens or fed to Wraith. If you could survive all that, this won’t kill you. Of course not. It’s ridiculous to even think that, right?” Rodney was sounding less convinced all the time, but he was like that. Unless there was something he could do his mind occupied itself with worst case scenarios.
“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 Carson. Infirmary. Atlantis. Alive? Apparently.
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 to 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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