Disclaimer: I am simply a poor college student who couldn't make any money off of this if I tried. I'm just borrowing the characters for a bit. I'll return them with minimal damage...promise.
A/N: Possible hints for TRW. If you can't figure out who the characters are in this little story, especially if you look at spoilers...you lose.
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Fear was a funny thing, its ways strange and enigmatic at best. When he was fighting terrorists or life-sucking aliens, or when he had engaged enemy planes in the skies above Khabul or performed aerial dances in his beloved puddlejumper to avoid blasts from hive ships, fear was pushed to the background. He knew the emotion was still there somewhere because otherwise he wouldn't have survived for as long as he had; and occasionally he could even feel it rise to touch his consciousness.
His fellow soldiers in Afghanistan had nicknamed him "Iron John." They'd said he was fearless.
Nothing could have been farther from the truth.
Since arriving in Atlantis he'd been afraid plenty of times, and almost all of those instances had been because of her. When Kolya had her at gun point and was about to take her through the 'Gate, when she didn't answer after the Wraith darts' kamikaze run during the siege, the terror he's felt was greater than anything he'd ever experienced before.
And now, as he maintained his diligent vigil at her bedside, the steady rise and fall of her chest and the beeping of the heart monitor his only assurance that she was alive, he felt that terror return with a vengeance.
It was his fault she was like this; he never should have taken her to that planet. Teyla had tried to convince him otherwise, but he knew the truth. He had failed to protect her, to keep her safe, and now there was the distinct possibility he could lose her forever.
Carson didn't even know what was wrong with her, which frustrated the both of them to no end. Without knowing what was wrong they were limited in what they could do to help her. Carson had suggested he talk to her, which was fine by him since he hadn't planned on leaving her side anyway. He only talked to her when no one else was around though, and when he did he told her stories about McKay's faux pas on other worlds, how he'd taught Ronon to play football, what his family used to be like and how he'd love to meet hers.
He told her how much everyone missed her, how they needed her, how they loved her. In his head he added, me more than anyone. Most of the time however, he didn't use words at all. The majority of their communication had always been nonverbal, and he found he couldn't break the habit now.
When he didn't have to worry about prying eyes he held her hand or brushed stray curls away from her pale face, hoping he could convey his feelings to her through touch. When others were nearby he simply settled for watching her, silently willing her to wake up.
Every time Beckett came to check on her he would raise a questioning look to the doctor's eyes, begging him to say there was some improvement. Every time, Carson just shook his head sadly and he felt hope slip that much lower in his chest. Their little routine had been going on for four days now, four agonizing days. This last time he'd caught a concerned look from the doctor aimed at him. He couldn't understand why; he wasn't the one lying comatose on an infirmary bed, though he would have given anything to take her place.
Caldwell had taken over for him, and on the rare occasions when duty called, one of his teammates would temporarily take his place by her side. Rodney had assumed the role of waiter, bringing cafeteria food and making sure he ate it. The few hours of sleep he got at night were obtained sitting in an infirmary chair, occasionally though inadvertently using her bed as a pillow. His whole world now revolved around a single ward of the infirmary and its inhabitant; although if he were to be honest with himself, his world had revolved around her from the beginning.
At first he had been drawn to her because he was curious about the beautiful, intelligent, vibrant woman who had given him a chance when no one else would; and who despite her fragile appearance, exuded such strength and initiative that the entire military contingent on Atlantis was fiercely loyal to her almost immediately.
It didn't take long for his interest in her to grow deeper. He began to seek her out simply for the pleasure of her company. He found that he could relax and just be himself around her. He felt the weight lift off his shoulders when he made her laugh, her brilliant eyes sparkling in amusement; and he loved that he could, if only for a short while, help her forget her own burdens as well.
It wasn't too long after that he began to realize that she meant more to him than life itself.
He had never mentioned it to anyone, but as perceptive as she was, Teyla had probably figured it out before he had. Carson had probably guessed, given that he was privy to their interactions in the infirmary. Now, in light of recent events, he wouldn't have been surprised to hear that most of the people in the city had figured out that his feelings for their leader extended beyond mere friendship.
She was his air, he couldn't breathe without her. Just the thought of losing her smothered him, made him feel as though he was suffocating. He couldn't even imagine how dire the consequences would be if that heart monitor were to flat line.
He needed her to come back, needed to see her radiant smile and hear the music his ears had been deprived of for too long: the sound of her voice.
But all he could do was wait, helpless, while her body waged a war on itself. This was one battle he couldn't help her fight; she had to face it alone. There was one thing he knew for certain, however: he was going to make sure he was there at the conflict's end…no matter the outcome.
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Okay, so I wrote this before I saw the preview for The Real World, in which our OTP is apparently separated by glass, so you'll have to forgive the discrepancy. It's the thought that counts, right?