Okay, okay I couldn't just leave it there. Don't worry I've decided to write a trilogy so there's another part to come. I should have it done and up sometime in the next week. This one's based on the prompt Hard. Soooo yeah, here's part two of the trilogy.
Disclaimer: I own nothing… at all. It's kind of depressing.
Beta'd by Angelic Prophecy and hotshow. Thanks you guys ;)
It felt like all they'd been doing was running. Running to the jumper, running to the infirmary, running to save Rodney's life and his heart was running a mile a minute in fear.
It had taken less than five minutes to get from the jumper to the medical deck. Five minutes that had felt like eternity. There'd been so much red. He didn't even remember if Rodney had been breathing. Every time it replayed in his mind it was always a little different; but one thing remained the same, the blood.
He didn't even know if the others were okay, or if they'd managed to get back. He knew that they could take care of themselves. He trusted them to make it back.
It was difficult to say the least, having to stand back and watch Carson and his teams try to save Rodney's life. He lifted a hand to touch his lips, remembering the feel of McKay's on his own. He'd been told it'd been a promise of what was to come… But was it a dying man's last wish?
Carson shouted as his underlings scurried. He had no choice but to stand and watch.
Man, this was hard.
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He could remember. That was all he could seem to do. He remembered the jumper. He remembered being rushed to the infirmary, but most of all he remembered his promise to John. He remembered that kiss.
And that was it. He couldn't move. He couldn't feel his body. As it was, he was barely hanging on to consciousness. His brilliant mind, the one thing that had helped him get out of so many tight spots before, was useless now. No matter how hard he fought to escape the numbing darkness that pulled at him, he never got very far.
He hoped that Ronon and Teyla made it out okay, at least. He knew they'd be fine, somehow they always were. So was he thanks to them, and his Commanding Military Officer.
He needed to make it through this. He didn't want the kiss to have been a last wish of a dying man. The way he'd responded to the kiss left no doubt about the Colonel's feelings. He wanted to tell him just how he felt, but he'd have to be alive for that.
The darkness was weighing heavy. It was dragging him down. He fought.
Man, this was hard.
Life is pleasant. Death is peaceful. It's the transition that's troublesome.
Isaac Asimov (1920 - 1992)
Don't forget to R&R. Thanks for reading!
Simple Heart