A/N: I am by no means implying that I could have written "Depths" better. This is simply a slightly whumpier, more even approach to the tension that's been building between our two lovely main characters. And plus, I just wanted to see what would have happened if MAGNUS had been the one to get the bigger dose of the magic water. :) This is my interpretation.
Feel free to let me know what you think. I can't guarantee a regular posting on this, since my priority is my SG-1 fic, but this has been keeping me occupied at work while doing otherwise mind-numbing tasks. So yes, in other words it is a culmination of my daydreaming. ;)
Enjoy!
Will's eyes blinked open, pulling against encrusted grit and dust that instantly began to sting. He hissed, and tried to lift himself up onto his elbows, only to groan in instant agony. With a cry he fell back, looking down to paw past his bloodstained shirt to find a small, oozing bullet wound that was far more painful than it looked like it should be.
But once he gathered his senses beyond the immediate pain, he recognized that it really wasn't so bad. It was still bleeding, and it hurt like a bitch, but it looked like it wasn't near anything vital. Magnus would be able to patch him up easily enough.
Magnus. Shit.
"Magnus!" Will's voice echoed off the rock walls, sounding more and more panicked with each reverberation. "Magnus!"
He pushed himself to his feet, his concern for her dulling his own pain with a rush of adrenaline. His eyes were drawn instantly to the massive pile of rock that reapped them in the cavern. He hoped to god she wasn't under that.
He couldn't remember anything except the ceiling starting to fall, and the pain of being shot. He'd heard Magnus' voice shouting, but nothing else. Where was she?
"MAGNUS!"
"Will…" The voice was dry and weak, sending a shiver of fear down his spine. His eyes darted towards the sound of it, but still couldn't see her. Oh god, oh god, please don't let her be buried…
"Magnus?"
"Will…" This time she trailed off into a round of dry, hacking coughs as she tried to clear her throat of the dust that no doubt coated hers as it did his. Her hand lifted from the rubble, and Will saw it.
Now he could see her, her black clothes so covered with dust she was indistinguishable from the surrounding rock. But he followed the line of her arm, and spied the twist of her tangled legs. But his heart leapt to his throat when he saw the jumble of rocks that was scattered on top of her.
"Oh my god, Magnus—" He stumbled over to her, falling to his knees at her side. "Magnus!"
"Will…"
"Hold on, Magnus, I'm gonna get you out. Just hang in there."
Her eyes blinked through dirt-packed lashes to look at him blearily. One eye seemed bluer than the other. It took him a moment to realize her pupil sizes were uneven. Her hand flopped towards where he knelt, brushing his knee as she reached for him.
"You're injured…" she pointed out breathlessly, her tone just a little confused, as if she couldn't figure out why he was bleeding.
"It's nothing," he told her quickly. For now, it really was nothing. He could handle it. "Just hold on, Magnus…"
A thick line of blood ran along her hairline, its source a deep gash high on her forehead. A rock nearby had a dark splotch of blood on it, and he could only assume that it had fallen on her in the cave in, then rolled away. Thank god it hadn't been big enough to crush her skull outright.
But at the moment, her head wound was the least of his concern. First he had to get the rest of the rocks off her. If he had the time, he would worry if it was even safe to lift them, because something told him that removing the pressure could only bring more problems. But she was starting move, writhing against her impromptu prison as she tried to get up.
"Magnus, stop! Don't move." A wordless groan answered him. "Magnus, please…"
"I can't breathe…" she moaned, her accent thick. His eyes widened, and his hands immediately began to scrabble at the rocks, searching for purchase. One by one he lifted them as quickly as he dared, throwing them off to the side in an effort to free her.
"Magnus…" What did he do now? He didn't know what to do with himself.
"Up," she answered curtly. "I need to get up—"
"What—no, Magnus! If your ribs are broken—"
"Up. Upupupup—" She broke off into a wet cough, and Will found himself responding the only way he knew how. He gently helped her sit up, his hands supporting her shoulders as he put his arm between her and the ground. In the end, he cradled her, ignoring the fiery pain of his own gunshot in the face of her overwhelming vulnerability.
He carefully wiped away the specks of blood that came to her lips, trying not to think about what it meant. Or that he was holding his boss in his arms—a woman so tough she seemed infallible—as she struggled to suck in a breath.
"How's that?" he asked, after her breathing eased a little.
She nodded, her head bobbing as she blinked in relief. "Better." She winced. "A little."
Her eyes opened then, and she turned her head to scan their surroundings. "The others…?"
"Dead, I think. The entire corridor back there must have collapsed. We got lucky."
She huffed a laugh that instantly morphed into a grunt of pain. "Yeah," she breathed. "Lucky."
"Yeah," he concurred. His face pulled into a grimace, out of reflex more than anything else, and though he tried to hide it she saw it.
"Will, your wound!" She tried to heft herself out of his arms, but only got halfway before the pain had her gasping. But still she tried to examine his injury as best she could. "Dear God. Why didn't you say anything?"
"It's just a flesh wound," he joked. But her eyes narrowed in displeasure. He took it as a good sign—she was more coherent now, in any case. "Magnus, your ribs…"
"Broken…" she murmured, her eyes closed. He pulled her against him once more.
"I need to look at them," he told her, his hand already pulling her shirt up. She began to voice a protest, but when she only managed a grunt, he took advantage of the opportunity and glanced at the exposed skin.
His stomach churned sickeningly, and he swallowed against rising bile. Normally pale skin was mottled with purpling bruising, and the slightest touch against her skin made her groan with pain.
"Magnus…"
"We have to get you sewn up, Will. It's a miracle you haven't bled out yet, and—" she trailed off for a moment, but then opened her eyes once more. "Even now… risk of infection…"
"Magnus, you're the one bleeding out here," he pointed out grimly.
He half-expected her to contradict him. The fact that she didn't scared the crap out of him. "Possible pneumo… pneumothorax as well…"
It was getting harder for her breathe again. But he knew that they wouldn't get anywhere by arguing. "I'll find the medkit. We'll go from there."
"...should rest…" she told him.
"Yes, you should," he returned blithely, turning her concern back onto her with a deft hand. He carefully transferred her to a nearby boulder, where she could lean as comfortably as she could while he got up to look. "Just keep breathing okay?"
It took longer than he would have liked to find the kit she wanted, but as he continued to walk around, his hand clamped onto his side, his wound woke up again, making its presence known with a vengeance. He stumbled and teetered on the verge of falling over until he finally found the first aid kit. It was half smashed, but hopefully she could scrounge enough out of it that it could be of some good.
In the end, he had to lay out on the cave floor, as she leaned her shoulder heavily against the boulder as her hands worked to remove the bullet. He struggled to keep the flashlight steady for her, holding its beam on his wound as best he could as he grunted through the pain of forceps digging through his flesh.
But it was over sooner than he expected, and despite her own disorientation he was left with a couple of neat stitches and a relatively clean bandage covering the sight. When she was done she relaxed back against the boulder breathlessly, her eyes closing in pain.
"Magnus?" He rolled to one side before pushing himself, trying not to tear his brand new stitches. For a long moment, she didn't answer. "Magnus!"
"Water…" she got out, her voice raspy. Exhausted.
He nodded. Water. Right. He could do water. He got to his feet, and worked his way through what was left of the SCIU team's supplies. Nothing. A single bottle of water was cracked and empty—useless. But then he spied the now-empty bottle of disinfectant. Its contents had been spilled liberally—and agonizingly—over his wound, and now… Well, it wouldn't be half-bad as a water bottle.
Invigorated in his now half-completed task, he searched every crevice, every dark pocket between the rocks for moisture. Nothing, until he heard the tantalizing sound of trickling water.
"Magnus! Magnus, I think I found something here!" he called out. He didn't expect her to answer, and she didn't, but the sound of his voice was more reassuring than the sound of her strained breaths bouncing off the walls. He moved along the edge of the cave, feeling his way closer to the sound.
Then he saw the barely there trickle. His eyes tracked to the ditch below, and the glimmer of standing water sent his spirits soaring. "Magnus, there's water!" He dipped the bottle into the pool, and then paused only a moment before taking a swig. "Tastes fresh enough," he called, swallowing his mouthful.
He filled the bottle the rest of the way, then twisted the cap on it before straining his way back onto his feet. He tripped his way back to where he'd left her, and nearly fell completely when he saw her eyes closed, her body motionless.
"No," he moaned. "No, no, no..." He fell to his knees beside her, fumbling with the bottle cap, trying to get it off. "Magnus, stay with me!"
He put the bottle to her lips, and for a heart-stopping moment it trailed down her chin before her reflexes kicked in and she sputtered, her eyes blinking open in confusion. She instinctively swiped at his hand, but he refused to budge.
"Magnus, you need to drink. Please… It's water…"
By the grace of god she obeyed, sucking down several gulps before she pushed him away, leaning back in exhaustion. But after she'd blinked a few times, her eyes looked clearer. She turned to look at him.
"Did you find a way out of here?"
He shook his head. "No."
Her eyes tracked along the walls, searching. Suddenly, they focused on something off to her right. "There."
He looked, but didn't see anything. "Where?"
"There, on the wall…"
He got to his feet and moved to investigate it, even though he knew it was pointless. "Magnus, there's nothing here, I already—" He cut himself off as he caught sight of a gap in the rock. It was subtle, a hidden pocket that he'd missed the first time around. But as he drew closer, he could see that it delved deeper into the mountain.
"There's some kind of tunnel here, Magnus," he shouted. "How did you even—"
"It must be some kind of seam. It could lead to another a part of the cave system." She met his gaze squarely, even as she laboriously worked to push herself off the boulder. "It's not exactly my first cave, Will."
He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Of course it wasn't. He was beginning to think that there was no more firsts to be had for her. "You shouldn't be moving," he told her.
"I've got my breath back," she countered. "And standing is the least of my concerns if we're going to go down that tunnel."
She had a point, and she was already on her feet anyways. "How's your pain?"
"Better," she answered softly. "And my head's clearer."
"That's good." A little hard to believe, but who was he to contradict her? He'd suspected for a while that her "unique physiology" gave her a quick healing time, but it hadn't been enough to heal her radiation poisoning—was it enough to heal those busted ribs?
She spotted a backpack on the ground, and nodded towards it. "What's in there?"
"Flashlights, glo-sticks, a little bit of rope that won't really do us any good…" he told her. "And I threw the rest of the bandages in there.
She nodded in approval, before scooping it up and swinging it over her shoulder. She swallowed a groan of pain, but he saw it anyways and immediately reacted. "Nice try," he said, striding towards her. He reached for the pack as soon as he was in reach, but she twisted away from him.
"You're injured."
"So are you," he fired back. "I think I should be the one to carry it—you did a good job patching me up."
It was true. He could barely feel the wound now. It'd probably be sore for days once they got home, but the survival instinct must have kicked in, because he felt good as new. To his surprise, she handed the pack over without another word of protest.
"Let's just get out here," she told him, moving past to take a closer look at the seam she'd spotted. "Pass me a flashlight?"
He did so, not bothering to question her obvious desire to go first. He watched as she clicked it on and shone it down the tunnel, inspecting it as closely as if she might actually be able to see where it went. And when she climbed up to lever herself in, he watched carefully without saying a word. And then he followed, delving head first into the tunnel after her.
