Flight - by Wagthedog
Disclaimer: All copyrights apply and all that stuff. Everything belongs to TPTB, except what doesn't. Everything is used without permission or prior consent.
Characters: McKay, Beckett, Sheppard, Ronon, Zelenka, Teyla
Summary: Rodney and Carson are separated from the team on what was thought to be a much more primitive and peaceful planet. Can they be saved in time?
Notes: In my world, "Sunday" doesn't exist. This has been sitting on my hard drive unfinished since the show's cancellation, and I figured during a break in school, I should work on finishing it and sharing to keep the dream alive.
Thanks to smudgesister for the great beta!
Chapter 1
"Oh god, oh god. Stop. Please stop."
"Just a bit further, Rodney." Beckett tightened his arm around Rodney and adjusted his grip on the military web belt at his friend's waist. He hissed as Rodney stumbled again, sending another jolt through his torn and bloody wrist where one of the Coceme projectiles had shattered his watch and sent the sturdy timepiece flying off into the thick moon-lit forest along with his .9mm.
"I can't, Carson."
Beckett slowed and turned his head to listen to the weapons fire that had receded into the background, listing to the side as Rodney hopped on his good leg to regain his equilibrium. Despite their slow progress, they'd seemed to put a fair amount of distance between themselves and the escalating battle back at the village, but that did little to assuage the doctor's feeling of ill ease. The two men were still cut off from their teammates and the stargate on the other side of the valley, and radio contact was intermittent at best—thanks to a highly ionized atmosphere.
Beckett grit his teeth, shifting most of Rodney's weight onto his hip before swinging his friend down to settle against the nearest tree.
"Don't you have anything you can give me?" The physicist ground the heel of his good leg in the dirt, pushing himself back against the tree, almost as if trying to crawl away from the pain.
After one more vigilant stare back through the dense undergrowth, Beckett crouched down, carefully dividing his attention between Rodney and the forest behind them. "I'm sorry. I had to leave my pack behind. We'll have to make do with what we've got in our vests."
"What? A few bandages and an EpiPen?" Rodney laughed harshly, and then sucked a few breaths in through clenched teeth as another jolt of pain shot through his leg. "Might as well have packed Band-Aids and an injector full of hydrochloric acid for all the good it'll do me. Oh god, I can't believe I'm going to die on this worthless backwater planet, a victim of a holy war between the Schmucks and the Cochise…who woulda thought this could get any worse than last year when we came here to trade a bunch of stone worshippers for a new source of mystery meat, purple grain, and not-coffee beans for our dwindling supplies."
Beckett grabbed for Rodney's wrist as it flailed around, stilling the man's movements and pressing warm fingers into the pulse points. "It's the Coceme and the Shme," Beckett corrected smoothly. "And you're not gonna die, Rodney. It's just a flesh wound. You need to calm down. Your heart rate is too fast."
"I'm in pain, you Highland hack! Ow, dammit!" Rodney stiffened and then sagged back against the tree, panting heavily. "This sucks."
Beckett released his wrist and checked the bandage, peeling the layers of absorbent material back to reveal the frayed, blackened edges where the bullet had torn through Rodney's pants. "At least this time you'll not be coming home high as a kite from the natives' local version of peyote."
"They had complicated rituals. We didn't want to offend anyone. Ow! Do you have to be so rough?"
Beckett sighed and released the bandage. Rodney was always a challenge in the best of circumstances, but when he was in pain… "The bleeding is under control."
Carson paused as a shaking hand closed around his own bloody wrist, loosening up quickly in response as he grunted in pain. Rodney's blue eyes were dark and glassy in the moonlight as he blinked down at his friend's injury. "What happened to you?"
Beckett eyed his wound critically for a moment in the half light, trying to flex his fingers through the pain, mentally detailing tendons, nerves, and blood supplies in the tight wrist compartment. Surgeons depended highly on dexterity and he hadn't taken the time to attend to his own injury. A little therapy and he'd probably be right as rain, though. "Don't you be worrying about me, Rodney. I'll be fine. I'm more worried about the children back at the village. They were sick enough as it was without all of this mess to put up with."
"What, this little thing." Rodney circled a hand around in the air half-heartedly. "What's a little hundred year old skirmish when the grass skirt-wearing fools we're trying to help, worship gods in a forest filled with an abundance of tradable minerals. Spears are no match for the projectile weapons the Coceme seem to have appropriated since our last visit." Rounds of P90 fire erupted closer to their position, answered in turn by the more antiquated Coceme armaments. Rodney snuck a look around the side of the tree and used a dirt-covered hand to swipe the perspiration off of his forehead. "Do you think anyone followed us?"
"With your leg, we left a fairly clear trail, I'm afraid."
"Maybe Ronon'll find us first."
"Wishful thinking." Carson expelled a heavy breath before he continued. "From the sounds of it, I think we're on our own for the moment and we've only your gun between us now." He held his hand up. "My aim was less than perfect to start with and we both know you'll be too bloody busy just concentrating on staying upright to shoot. And need I remind you that neither of us is trained in hand-to-hand combat? Pray it doesn't come to that."
"Hey, I'll have you know I've been practicing."
"Oh, shut it. Being forcibly dragged down to the gym by Colonel Sheppard once a month does not constitute practice, Rodney."
Rodney's eyes narrowed. "One of these days, Sheppard is going to find his ass shocked by his Ancient toilet seat."
"Good God, man, isn't it enough that you control the water temperature to everyone's showers, now you have to wreak havoc with the rest of the plumbing."
"I will do no such thing," Rodney gave his friend a pointed look. His eyes darted to the side nervously for a moment before sliding back. "But I think I foresee Zelenka's schedule freeing up. And FYI, he's still mad at Sheppard for breaking down his still."
"Aye, well, some of the younger marines are having a wee problem with portion control."
Rodney snorted. "Just because some of the military have a propensity for treating every party like it's a fraternity free-for-all sideshow, doesn't mean the rest of us should suffer."
The two Atlanteans flinched and snuck a quick look around the side of the tree once more as muzzle blasts from weapons fire lit the dark forest in a nearby clearing. Beckett grabbed Rodney's elbow and started to hoist him up. "Time to get moving. The war is waging closer this way."
They'd barely managed to get a step away from their natural forest shield before shots impacted into the wood, forcing them to dive back down to the ground. Rodney panted, trying not to let his injured leg get caught under him in the shuffle. "I think that answers our question about whether or not someone is following us!"
"Give me your gun." Beckett grabbed for Rodney's holster as he spoke, tapping the physicist's arm with his other hand. "Stay down low and head back toward the rocks."
"What? Don't be crazy! Tease me all you want about my skill with semi-automatic weapons, but you said it yourself. With that wrist, you might as well just sit back here, carve a Wiccan pentagram on the tree for protection and stick pins in a voodoo doll." He ducked to the side and grabbed his leg, hissing in pain as another projectile sent splinters of bark flying across their clothing.
Beckett moved into position at the tree, shoving at Rodney's hip lightly with a boot. "Shut your gob and get moving man. Fer Christ's sake, if you'd put half as much energy into moving as you do into complaining we'd be in a right bit less trouble now."
"Carson!"
"I'll be right behind you!"
Carson shifted the gun into his non-dominant hand, and struggled to pull off a series of half decent cover shots into the forest, wondering how the hell they were going to get out of this mess.
TBC
