Cloak of Comfort

Rated: PG-13 (violence, injury).

Category: Gen, Carson/Rodney Friendship, Action/Adventure, Whump.

Season: Between Sunday and Kindred.

Spoilers: Sunday.

Summary: It's Not Rodney's Time.

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CHAPTER ONE

The bullet sliced through bone and flesh as easily as a hot knife slips through butter.

Rodney McKay fell.

The wormhole vanished, taking with it the last of Rodney's team.

He was alone.

The aim had been true.

Rodney's lifeblood oozed out onto the ground around him, and he slipped into oblivion.

XXX

He never expected to wake.

When he realized that was exactly what was happening, as his world slowly went from black to grey, Rodney thought that he was in another world for a split second.

Then the pain exploded in the right side of his chest and he knew he was still among the living, at least for now. There was no way it hurt this much to be dead.

The pain made the scientist gasp, and he immediately regretted it. A pair of obsidian eyes riveted onto him from an olive face. Rodney looked into the dark orbs, and he knew he was seeing his shooter and captor.

The eyes shone brightly in the firelight as they regarded their victim. They checked the knots in the ropes binding Rodney's legs together and pulling his hands behind his back. Satisfied that all was secure, the man belonging to the eyes relaxed, sitting back on his haunches.

Rodney looked around weakly then, trying to figure out where he was and what was going on.

He was in a small tent like structure, with Dark Eyes as his only companion. The floor was dirt. A small flap allowed entry to the structure, and it was open now to allow smoke from the fire to escape.

If Rodney McKay hadn't known any better, he would have thought he'd been transported into a bad western movie, complete with a cliché Indian village and a silent captor straight from central casting. Dark Eyes was even clad in leather stockings and a jacket that matched, which almost made Rodney laugh with a sense of irony.

But McKay did know better. He knew he was a galaxy away from Earth, on a planet far from his home base of Atlantis. He also knew that the savage looking man in front of him was no simple hunter. This man knew how to use modern weaponry, and the stolen firearm across his lap bore silent testament to that fact, as did the gaping hole in Rodney's chest.

Rodney also knew he was alone.

There was no one here to save him, and if his guess was right, a rescue team would not be coming for him, as the risk for loss of life was too great. Elizabeth wouldn't risk losing more people to save just one man, and any probes sent through to evaluate the situation on this side of the gate would be fired upon by Dark Eyes and his buddies, thus deeming the situation hostile and sealing Rodney's fate.

So, in spite of the searing pain pulsating through his body with each breath, Rodney McKay attempted to speak. He licked his lips twice experimentally, tasting metal with each movement, before finally managing to find his voice.

"Hey. These ropes aren't necessary, you know. I can't exactly run off..." Rodney proved his point by falling into a coughing fit as his voice trailed off. Blood splattered the dirt floor in front of him as if flung by a careless painter.

Dark Eyes sneered as his only response, and Rodney knew he wasn't going to get any sympathy from his guard. He would've given anything to be free of the ropes binding him, but he suspected that wasn't going to be easy to accomplish.

As if the agonizing pain of a bullet wound through his right chest and lung wasn't enough, Rodney was trussed up like some sort of strange Christmas present.

His legs were bound together at the ankles and knees, and his arms were pulled viciously backwards by a short length of rope that bound his elbows together.

It made breathing just a bit on the difficult side.

As his fit sputtered to a halt, Rodney tried to get air into his lungs, but he failed miserably.

As he lay in the dirt wheezing and gagging, hoping against hope for just one breath of oxygen, his captor looked again at him, this time with a look of concern.

The man stood and drew a long knife from somewhere in his clothing.

Rodney drew back away from Dark Eyes, thinking that the man meant to kill him, but the onyx-eyed devil only reached down and cleanly slit the ropes binding Rodney's arms in one swift stroke.

As his arms were released, Rodney immediately felt a rush of relief as he managed to suck a few lungfuls of air into his oxygen-starved body. When he had recovered enough to speak, Rodney tried to be polite.

He knew his odds of getting home were minimal, but it seemed his only chance was to befriend his enemy. His voice was a whisper as he spoke.

"Thank you."

The man nodded and grunted noncomittaly in response. He then turned back to the fire, where he was obviously preparing some sort of food.

After a few minutes, Dark Eyes began to eat his meal and when he was nearly done, he tossed a piece of greasy meat toward Rodney.

"Eat."

Rodney was flummoxed. "Why would you feed me when you tried to kill me? You shot me!"

"I didn't shoot you."

"Well, then, who did?"

"I don't know. Probably the Ruds. I found you, left for dead, on the steps of the stone ring. You weren't dead, so I brought you here. This is my camp."

"And you are?" Rodney was still struggling to speak, but the words were coming easier now.

"Name's Naktubuti. You can call me Nak."

"So, Nak…why tie me up if you didn't shoot me?"

"Well, I don't know you. Maybe the Ruds had a good reason to shoot you, huh?"

"Who are the Ruds?"

"Neighbors up North. Enemy of my people. Not real keen on strangers."

"So I've gathered. Look, I'm no threat to you."

"You know what? I believe you. Besides, that wound is pretty nasty. Don't think you could do much if you tried anything."

Rodney coughed again, and nodded in agreement.

When he recovered enough to speak, Rodney looked imploringly at his captor. He gestured with his head to his bound legs. "Then, please?"

Nak seemed to think things over a bit, then he slowly nodded. He stepped across the shelter and drew his knife again. This time Rodney didn't flinch as Nak cut the ropes on his legs, freeing him to try to find a more comfortable position on the dirt floor.

There wasn't one. Rodney's chest and side felt like they were on fire, and he was gripped by alternating waves of nausea and pain. His vision swam and the world became black for a second when he tried to sit up from his prone position.

Nak laid a hand on Rodney's shoulder then.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, there, buddy. Take it easy. You have a nasty hole in your side. Lay back down."

Rodney complied out of necessity. He couldn't have stayed sitting if he'd tried. Blood began to bubble out his mouth as he carefully forced out his next words.

"Look. If you could just take me to the stone ring, I can leave here. I won't be back. I can get help."

Nak looked fearful at Rodney's words.

"No one can activate the stone ring without approval from the council of the elders."

Rodney weakly waved one hand dismissively. "Fine, fine. Can I see them?"

"I will take you to them at first light."

Rodney was too weak to respond this time, so he merely nodded before dropping into the deep sleep of the very painful and the nearly dead. His adrenaline had run out, and he had nothing left to give.