Wrote this for the Sheppard H/C fic exchange at the Sheppard H/C community on livejournal. Thought I'd post it here too. I put the prompt at the end.
Escape
Her mouth set in a grim line, Teyla drew the belt tight around her commanding officer's blood soaked thigh. His leg jerked and he moaned, his head tossing restlessly on the grass. "I am sorry, John," she murmured. A light breeze ruffled her hair, and she cast a glance up at the sky. Large puffy white clouds drifted slowly overhead, barely casting a shadow over the grassy fields that stretched as far as the eye could see. By her best calculations the gate was at least three miles away, due east. She could have kicked herself. She'd talked John out of bringing a jumper, convincing him the hike would do them both good.
"Leave me," John mumbled, his face a grimace of pain. "Get to the gate."
"I am not leaving you John," Teyla's eyes flashed as she stared down at the injured colonel.
"Atlantis doesn't know we're in trouble," he said weakly, so matter of factly that it made Teyla's heart sink. "You have to get to the gate," he repeated. "I'll only hold you back."
"We will get to the gate. Together." Teyla said firmly. She sat back on her haunches and brushed a wisp of hair out of her eyes. She bit her lip and looked around the empty landscape. There had to be something she could use. Something to help her get the grievously injured colonel back to the gate, back to Atlantis.
"Wasn't your fault," John said quietly. His face was pale, his skin beaded with sweat. And he stared at her with such intensity that she was unable to look away.
"I trusted them," she said, her voice bitter with self recrimination.
"You trusted Cierra," John corrected her. Limply he brushed a finger against her knee. "You had no way of knowing she could be so easily bought."
Teyla shook her head, refusing to allow the tears she could feel building behind her eyes begin to fall. As gently as she could, she examined the colonel's wound. His face slightly grayed, and he let out a strangled gasp. With satisfaction she noted that the bleeding had finally begun to slow, a sluggish rivulet rather than an overflowing stream. But he'd already lost so much blood. He was weakening with every passing minute, every passing breath.
"As soon as they find we've escaped, they'll be coming for us. We need to get moving," Teyla rested a hand on John's chest. "I can help you, but you must walk."
The set of her dark eyes brooked no argument, and finally John simply nodded, taking a deep breath, gearing himself for the searing pain to follow. But as Teyla hefted his arm around her slim shoulder and pulled, his world reduced to a wash of white hot agony shooting down his damaged leg.
She staggered, desperately trying to keep her footing as the colonel became a dead weight in her arms.
"Not…working," he panted faintly. "Won't…make it."
Eyes tearing, Teyla eased the injured man back to the ground. "I won't leave you," she spat fiercely.
"No sense…in both of us…dying." John gripped her hand hard, shaking it as he would have shaken her had he the strength to do so. Stubbornly he met her gaze, not letting go until he saw the concession in her eyes. Breathlessly he let his head fall back on the stiff grass. He'd seen more men and women die in the field than he cared to remember. Some had died sobbing. Some had died quiet. Some had died with last words for loved ones on their lips. He opened his mouth to speak, realizing he should have given this more thought, should have decided what he'd like his last words to be.
"Do you hear that?" Teyla cocked her head, closed her eyes and tried to decipher the sounds whispering to her in the wind.
"They're coming," John whispered urgently, forcing his eyes open. "You have to go. Now."
Teyla narrowed her eyes in puzzlement. It wasn't so much sound as it was… vibrations. She placed her hand on the ground and swore she could feel the earth shudder under her fingertips. And then she saw them: A small herd of woolly beasts, pounding over the plains, dozens upon dozens of hooves beating upon the dirt. A young boy rode an animal she'd heard John's people refer to as horses. Her people called them Shahar.
"Teyla," John groaned. "Get outta here. That's an order!"
"I'm going all right," Teyla sprang gracefully to her feet. "And you're going with me."
For the first time since she'd realized Cierra had sold them out to the Simrilions, a group who, much like the Genii before them, had hoped to used Atlantis' own against her, to barter lives for weapons and bombs. For the first time since John had been shot, casually and cruelly, to prove to Teyla that their lives meant nothing, to convince her to beg Richard Woolsey for her life, and for John's. For the first time, she felt hope.
She ran towards the boy, flagging him down, mindless of the beasts the boy was frantically trying to bring to a halt.
"Are you trying to get yourself killed?" The boy screamed, his face red with anger and panic as he threw his mount between the young woman and the herd in an attempt to deflect them away from her. Only when they'd veered off, finally slowing to a walk, did he turn his horse back towards her.
"Please," Teyla pleaded. "My name is Teyla Emmagen. My friend, John Sheppard, is injured. We must reach the circle of the ancestors. Please help us."
The boy peered curiously past her, his eyes widening in surprise when they landed on the form sprawled on the grass. "What happened to him?"
Teyla bit her lip, hesitant to tell the boy the truth. "He is gravely injured. His people can help him, but we must get to the gate. He hasn't much time."
"My pa'll kill me if I don't get the Jaxon back to the lower pasture by mid-day." The boy's horse shifted nervously underneath him, and he patted her withers until she calmed.
"The gate is not far," Teyla said smoothly. "You would not be taking your Jaxon too far out of the way. My friend cannot walk. An extra hour of your time will save a man's life."
The boy stared at her, considering, and Teyla briefly wondered if she had it in her to take the horse from the boy by force.
"I'm Tip," the boy said as he lithely jumped down from the horse. He let the reins hang down. The horse pawed at the ground with one hoof, but remained where it was.
Tip was only a boy, but he was taller than Teyla. Brown hair fell into blue eyes, bright with curiosity. He wore leathers to protect himself out in the meadows. "My mum's a healer; she might be able to help," he finally said.
"We can't stay," Teyla tensed.
Tip chewed his bottom lip, glanced back at the herd and then walked towards John. Teyla watched as Tip sank to his knees, and with a gentleness belying his young years, carefully probed the wound in John's thigh. The injured man let out a strangled gasp.
"He's hurt bad." Tip said gravely, catching Teyla's eye. "How'd he get shot?"
"We were…betrayed. In town," Teyla supplied carefully. Either the boy would help them or he wouldn't. And if he wouldn't, she decided, then she would help herself.
"Dolan owns that town. Nothing happens he don't know about." Tip glowered. "Thinks he owns everything else too. He shot Linus, from two farms over, last week when he wouldn't give over half his cale crop. Mum couldn't save him. What'd he want from you?"
"Information," Teyla said cautiously.
Tip nodded, and then suddenly whistled. The horse trotted over. "I guess the Jaxon'll be okay for a little while. They're more interested in eating grass than running off anyway."
"You'll help us?" Teyla whispered, her knees suddenly weak from relief.
Tip shrugged, a smile quirking at the corner of his lips. "Anything that makes Dolan unhappy is a good thing in my book."
"Thank you," Teyla knelt next to John, her hand on his shoulder. She looked up gratefully at the boy. "Thank you, Tip."
"Let's get him up," Tip said, leading the horse next to John.
With a gentle pat on the horse's shoulder, Tip directed the horse to kneel next to John. Teyla gently slid her hands under John's shoulders and pushed as Tip pulled the larger man upwards. Between the two of them, they hoisted John onto the horse's back. Halfway there, John's face went an even whiter shade of pale, and his head fell forward, flopping bonelessly against his chest.
Shouts echoed in the distance. Teyla looked up sharply, her heart sinking at the barely discernable figures of a large group of people marching towards them across the grassland. Teyla figured they were probably still a mile distant, but it confirmed her fear: Their escape had finally been discovered.
"You know how to ride?" Tip asked. At Teyla's nod, he said, "it'll be faster with just the two of you." He threaded his fingers together, motioning Teyla to use his hands as a stepping stool.
She clambored onto the horse's back, snaking one arm around John's middle to hold him in place.
"When you get to the circle, just smack her on the rear and she'll come home." The horse nuzzled Tip with her nose and Tip smiled. "You go with them, girl." Firmly he struck the horse's haunches, sending the animal into a fast gallop.
"Hold on, John," Teyla murmured, her arm tight around his stomach as their seat pitched and rocked. "Just hold on. We're almost there."
"Teyla?" John groaned, the fire in his leg awakened by the gait of the horse. The horse's sturdy legs pounded into the grass, quickly eating up the miles.
"Not much longer," Teyla said encouragingly. "I can see the gate now. We're almost there."
"Teyla," John said weakly. "I couldn't think of anything to say."
"That is all right, John," Teyla hugged him to her, unsure what he meant, but just glad he was still conscious, still alive. She rested her head briefly on his sweat soaked back.
She nearly cried in relief as they finally reached the gate. Launching herself off the horse, she gripped the colonel by the middle and strong armed him down to the ground.
John cried out, gasping, his vision blacking out at the edges. His leg was hot agony, and he curled in on himself, as if that could protect him from the pain.
Teyla raced for the DHD, her hand slamming into the symbols. As the stargate kawooshed into life, she ran back to John and heaved him up.
"Get up, John!" Teyla screamed. "Get up!"
John forced his wobbly legs to move. They could barely hold his weight and he staggered, Teyla stumbling with him. Slowly, the world began to tilt.
"No you don't John!" Teyla lodged her feet into the dirt. "Get your ass up and move!"
And move he did. With a guttural cry, John gathered his legs under him and forced one foot in front of the other. His chest tightened. He couldn't breathe. His vision narrowed to the shimmering blue of the wormhole, drawing ever closer. He was almost there. Almost.
Desperately he tried to suck in more oxygen. He felt himself begin to topple, and his last thought as he began to fall, before everything went dark, was that he was sorry he hadn't had a chance to say goodbye.
And then he landed. Hard. Which didn't make any sense. Death wasn't supposed to feel like a stone floor, was it?
"John."
"Teyla?" John mumbled, squinting against bright light.
"We made it, John." Teyla squeezed his hand. "We made it."
The wormhole blinked out, and John felt himself rolled carefully onto his back. As he stared up at Atlantis' vaulted ceiling, he heard frantic shouts in the distance. He turned his head and saw Teyla smiling down at him.
"We made it?" he asked fuzzily.
"A med team is on its way," she promised. "Just hang on."
"S'okay," John gave a weak smile. "Prob'ly shouldn't die 'til I figure out what to say anyway."
Teyla rested a hand on her friend's chest and said, "When it's time, you'll know."
John nodded, letting his eyes slide closed. He did know. But he wasn't ready to say it. Not yet.
Fini.
Prompt: John is seriously injured; Teyla takes the lead and gets them back home.
A/N: I hope everyone doesn't mind if I take a moment to draw your attention to a request for help from Joe Flanigan on behalf of a friend of his who is suffering from ALS. I'm reposting his letter and hope you'll read it. I'm not sure if I can post links here, but if you would like to donate, visit the "Friends of Sarah Geary" website for info or visit Charity Buzz for info on the auctions.
I would like to introduce everyone to my close friend Sarah Geary. Earlier this year she was diagnosed with ALS, also known as Lou Gehrigs disease. She has been unfortunately declining ever since. Despite the effects of this cruel disease, she manages to continually enrich the lives of those around her in the most amazing ways. My wife Katherine and I have been profoundly effected by her iron will, piercing intellect and abominable charm. It seems like health and spirit have an inverse relationship with Sarah. Her husband Tim has been overwhelmed with the practical and emotional demands of this crisis, all the while attending to a demanding full time job.
At the end of the day, however, the outcome is certain. Sarah will slowly and sometimes painfully diminish toward death. The medical demands and costs are staggering and, in some ways, constitute a second tragedy for the family. They have been living in the guest house of some very generous friends, which gives them proximity to the doctors. They have also been spending many of their weekends with my family in Malibu, where Sarah, Tim and the kids feel genuinely relaxed and welcome in their 'adopted home'. Recently Sarah has lost her speech and we now have to carry her in and out of the house. And while she has been robbed of so much of the communication we all take for granted, she manages to almost vibrate silently with affection for everyone and everything around her.
I feel remarkably blessed in my career. One thing I feel so proud of is the special relationship that we, actors of The Stargate franchises, have with our fans. If there ever was a chip I could cash in on for my success, this would be it. My uncharacteristic seriousness should only underscore the sobering obligation I feel toward Sarah.
I'm asking all of us to rally for Sarah Geary and her family. We can make her last days as comfortable as possible and help Tim and the kids transition to the next chapter of their lives. Unlike donations to a large organization where it is difficult to measure the impact of your contribution, your money will have a direct and immediate impact on her well-being from breathing apparatus' to night nurses. Tim and I will be keeping everyone in touch by informing them of the process.
David Hewlett and I are auctioning off a lunch together in Los Angeles. David will be forced to eat lemons and laugh at my same joke that I will continually repeat throughout the meal. Additionally, and perhaps more shockingly, I am auctioning off my trusty skateboard that has reliably transported me around the studio-lot for many years and has appeared in scenes through out the Stargate Atlantis series. Yes, folks, I brought my skateboard to space.
So please, join me and my friends in our support of Sara Geary. Look forward to seeing everyone soon.
-Joe Flanigan