Shivers
A/N: Well… everyone else is doing it! Yep, yet another Halloween fic! Whoo! For Halloween, I'm gonna be Emma Goldman! No, I'm working on getting the massive tattoo on my forehead that proclaims 'DORK'. I might have it by the end of the year… Oh well…
Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate: Atlantis, or anything affiliated with that franchise.
A shiver ran down McKay's spine as yet another cold burst of air came upon the bare skin of his face. The hairs on the back of his neck were already standing up, and his breath created a small white puff of air every time he exhaled.
He looked around his surroundings, silently cursing himself. Children were smarter than he was! Hadn't it been pounded into his head, ever since he was small, that whenever you were separated from a group, you were to stay exactly where you were, not go blundering around, especially in the a forest at night!
McKay shivered miserably again. It was so cold, he was so lost… he needed to find Sheppard and Ronan and Teyla. He figured that he already had hypothermia, that he was slowly dying of exposure to the cold. He must already have three fingers that were frostbitten, and probably also a nose. The only nose he'd ever get, and it was going to blacken and fall off. His only nose. Instinctively, McKay put his hands around his nose, trying to send what little heat he had in his hands into his nose, to heat it up.
But if his fingers fell off, how was he going to type? It would be next to impossible to do any work on Atlantis without his fingers! McKay hardly blinked, just shoved his hands under his armpits. No nose was nothing compared to not being able to work. That is, if he ever got back to Atlantis.
Why, oh why, did he always have to follow those stupid, stupid energy readings? They always ended up with the team captured, or injured, or, as in this case, separated. As always, there had been an explosion, rendering McKay unconscious. When he had awoken, he had immediately felt for the invariable torrent of blood that would be gushing from his head. Surprisingly enough, there was none. But it was still freezing cold, so cold that McKay's nose panged with pain every time a new breeze or gust of wind came up.
Shuffle, shuffle. McKay looked up suddenly, looked around him. He was certain someone was behind him. But no one was there. Shrugging it off, he instead focused on his surroundings. His scanner had been lost in the time he had been unconscious, so he had no idea where he was. He went up to one of the trees, looking for moss. On Earth, moss grew on trees only on the north side, giving one's self a direction. It was then he heard it again.
Shuffle, shuffle. Crack. McKay whirled around. Some kind of native tribe had obviously sent its warriors after him, because there they were. Tens of them, maybe even a hundred, and all every last one had his spear fixed on Rodney.
"H… hello. I'm, uh, Dr. Rodney McKay. I, uh… I come in peace. Have you seen my, uh, companions? Uh… where am I? Do you live around here? Can you take me to your camp? I, uh- ARGH!"
In one swift movement, the tallest man, the one closest to McKay sent his spear flying into McKay's gut. The scientist doubled over, the pain blinding, crippling. He felt a stab of warmth as yet another spear penetrated his weak skin, then another. Why were they doing this? They had no reason, he hadn't done anything! His mind began to reject the situation. It couldn't be true; it was so unreal, so inconceivable! There was no way this could be happening! And yet, as he tried to say something, to scream, to bring himself out of this dream, blood bubbled at his lips, a sure sign he had punctured a lung. How? Why?
McKay fell to his knees, collapsed. Why? Why? His brain previously had held all the answers, the answers to all the questions, but now, it didn't. It had stopped working, bringing all other organs down in a sort of internal computer crash that brought cheers to the natives and darkness, permanent darkness, to Rodney McKay…
…oOo...
McKay awoke with a gasp. There were things, things invading his personal space. Wires were attached to his head, to his wrists. He began to panic, his breath coming in short gasps. Then, something caused his breath to freeze in his throat.
He saw his captor. A scraggly white head, the hair unkempt and disheveled. Stick thin arms, the veiny hands pressing random buttons on whatever console he was at. Or, at least, McKay assumed it was a he.
Yet, as he kept watching, his captor turned, and McKay could see clearly that it was female. But her face was gaunt, like wax, and so pale McKay could swear that he could see the wall through her. It was then he noticed she had no legs.
She glided about two feet off the ground, and, as she came closer, he could see her hair sticking out in all directions as the speed stirred the air around her. Yet McKay could feel no breeze.
He shuddered as she came closer, got right up in his face, breathed on him. Her breath was bitingly cold, sending another set of shivers down his spine.
"Hello, Dr. McKay," she said.
A/N: Well, did you like? I'll probably continue, when I find the time. This originally was going to be a one-shot, but I don't think it will anymore.