A/N: THIS IS McKAY/SHEPPARD SLASH. If it's not your thing, turn back now! Not my toys, just playing with them.
"Need a hand?" John Sheppard smirked, extending one gloved hand toward a very frustrated, very cold Rodney McKay.
"Enjoying the show, Major?" Rodney griped, sprawled on the frozen surface of an alien lake.
"It's like MENSA on ice. Very entertaining."
Sheppard gave him a relaxed, lopsided grin, waving his extended hand in a 'come on' sort of gesture. It was snowing lightly, and a dusting of flakes had settled in his hair. Rodney glared inarticulately at him, embarrassed and aching. Nevertheless, he grasped Sheppard's forearm and allowed himself to be pulled carefully to his feet.
"Seriously," he whined, brushing snow from his ass. "Isn't there an easier way to get to the temple? I am exceedingly uncomfortable with this- this pilgrimage over ice."
"Rodney," John sighed. "Seeing as how the Mkota people are letting us investigate their temple unhindered, I think we need to respect their wishes and follow tradition. Plus, the temple is on an island, and there are too many trees to land the jumper. Now, you're the genius. You tell me. You think it's safe to land the jumper on the ice? Those babies weigh what, two, two and a half, tons?"
Rodney's mind quickly calculated the outcome of landing the jumper on ice of this thickness, and he gulped nervously.
"Besides," John continued, stepping carefully on the slick surface. "The scanners all say the ice is more than sufficiently thick to support our weight. It's safe."
"Oh, yes! Because everything in the Pegasus Galaxy is always as harmless as it appears! How reassuring. Would you like to stop for a while, have a snowball fight and make some snow angels? Let's not forget that our radios are useless in this atmosphere, either, Major. It's like asking God to screw with us."
"There's no need for sarcasm, McKay," John said, but he was smiling.
"There is always a need for sarcasm, Major."
"Plus, you don't believe in God, Rodney."
"Well, no, of course not. But I still don't like tempting fate."
"Well, I can agree with you on that one. But at least you haven't broken your tailbone yet, and we're nearly there. I think I can see part of the temple."
Ignoring the jab at his clumsiness, McKay squinted into the snowfall. He could just make out a structure of some kind, perched above a small, sandy beach about a hundred yards ahead.
"Well, thank God!"
He was in the middle of pulling the life signs detector from his vest when he felt the ice vibrate.
"What the hell?"
"Shit... Shit!" Sheppard exclaimed.
"What!"
"I think I turned it on," Sheppard moaned, gesturing towards the temple. The structure was now lit by rows of blue lights, and Rodney could hear a faint humming.
"You turned it on? Aren't you the one who's always giving me crap about 'safety first' and 'look, don't touch'?"
"I didn't mean to," John said from between gritted teeth. "I was just wondering if anything still worked in there, and I sort of felt it… wake up."
"Fine. Whatever. It's too late now, might as well-"
The ice under Rodney's left foot cracked audibly, and he felt the fracture like a sharp tap on the sole of his boot.
"Oh, God!" he yelped, his body tensing involuntarily, preparing for the shock of cold water and death. But the ice didn't shift any further, didn't give way, and Rodney cautiously let out a shaky breath.
"Don't move, McKay," Sheppard said urgently, pulling a small length of rope from his vest and inching carefully towards Rodney.
"Well, obviously!" he whispered harshly. He'd meant to sound snarky, but it had come out panicky and high-pitched.
Sheppard slid his right foot forward cautiously, leaning to toss the looped end of the line into Rodney's shaking hands. McKay slipped his forearm through the loop and gripped the line desperately.
"Okay," Sheppard said calmly. "As slowly as you can, I want you to lower yourself flat, try to spread your body weight out as much as possible."
"That better not have been a slight about my weight, Major," McKay mumbled querulously. Silently wishing he hadn't had that second serving of oatmeal at breakfast, he did as he was told. The ice was damp, and he could feel vibrations through his chest as he lay against it. He couldn't be sure if they were from the temple, or from his own terrified quaking.
"I'm going to pull you back, and then-" Sheppard's next words were lost in a resounding crack, and a horrified Rodney watched as an enormous fracture raced towards the Major's position.
"Sheppard!"
McKay's low vantage point gave him a clear view of the ice giving way under Sheppard's feet, his friend's body plunging through the dark portal that opened beneath it. He caught a glimpse of Sheppard's face just before it went under.
"John!" he screamed, crawling and wriggling his way over the distance between them. Bluish-white chunks of ice bobbed in the disturbed water, and then Sheppard's head broke the surface again. He gasped frantically, one water-logged arm flailing against the edge of the ice. His face was already an alarming shade of bluish-white, eyes wide and shocky.
Rodney yanked the rope from around his own arm, squirming within reach of his friend, and pulled the loop wider.
"Rod-d-dney…" Sheppard gasped, teeth chattering violently. "D-don't get too c-close." He heaved a shuddering breath, sodden, gloved hands scrabbling weakly against the ice.
"Believe me," McKay exclaimed. "I really don't want to! But if I go back to the village with a giant Air Force Major popsicle, Ford and Teyla will kill me."
John made what was either a noise of agreement or a moan, and his tenuous grip slipped a little further. His chin dipped into the dark water, and his head jerked clumsily.
"Don't you dare let go," McKay snarled, grabbing one of Sheppard's soaked wrists. "You know they'll find a way to make this my fault, and I am not getting the blame for your untimely death!"
He jammed the looped rope over Sheppard's hand, noting that small ice crytals were already forming on the wet sleeve. Sheppard's eyes began to drift closed as Rodney struggled to get the rope around the rest of his body.
"C-cold…" he sighed, focusing glassily on McKay.
"Stunning observation, Major. Just stay awake!"
In order to get the rope over John's other arm, he was forced to plunge his hand under the surface. The cold was so immediate and sharp he thought he might whimper. The stinging numbness in his fingers gave him new haste, desperate to get his friend out of the frigid waters.
"Major," he yelled, flicking Sheppard's cheek. "You're going to have to try and pull yourself out. I'm going to back up and pull, but you have to help. Understand?"
"T-try…"
Awkwardly wriggling backward, away from the unstable edge and towards the nearby shore, Rodney began exerting steady force on the rope, pulling Sheppard higher in the opening. He saw John's arms flop weakly onto the ice, sluggishly attempting to pull the rest of his body out. Sheppard was wearing standard winter gear, heavily insulated, and it was dragging him under.
"God damn it, Major, try harder!"
Rodney pulled with all his strength, muscles quivering with strain, and John's shoulders appeared, head dipped in exhaustion.
"Come on!" he screamed, sliding a little on his ass towards the hole. He braced his heels against a dip in the ice and grunted, pulling until he thought he'd burst a vein. His eyes closed as he strained, sweat dampening the innermost layers of his clothing.
Then the weight seemed to lessen dramatically, and Rodeny fell backwards with a surprised oomph. His eyes popped open, taking in the sight of Sheppard sprawled facedown on solid ice. Ignoring the ache in his back, he renewed his efforts to pull John towards the beach.
They were so close…
But it wasn't lost on Rodney that John had stopped talking, stopped moving. And as he finally got Sheppard within range of his grasp, he noted that his friend had stopped shivering.
Not a good sign.
Grabbing sodden, freezing handfuls of Sheppard's jacket, he began dragging the Major towards the shore in earnest. He prayed with each step that the ice didn't give way again, plunging them both to their deaths. He had a brief but vivid flash of their dead, white faces peering up through the ice, and he shuddered with more than the cold.
The his feet hit firm sand and he tripped backward onto his ass, John's upper body dropping limply onto his shins. Breathing heavily, he squirmed out from under his friend and began frantically stripping the Major's clothes. The fabric had already begun to freeze, and they felt stiff in Rodney's shaking hands. Zippers stuck, frozen and stubborn, and rigid sleeves clung to John's arms.
Sheppard moaned, the first sign that he was alive other than the faint white puffs of breath that plumed into the air over his mouth. His lips were purple, and dark smudges bruised the area under his closed eyes.
By the time Rodney had him down to his boxer briefs and dogtags, Sheppard's hair had frozen.
"You owe me big time for this," Rodney griped, struggling to lift the Major into a fireman's carry. Despite his lanky appearance, Sheppard was heavy and McKay was admittedly out of shape. His job description did not include heavy lifting.
Staggering a little as he adjusted his balance, McKay began tottering up the slope towards the temple.
"There- better be- hot coco waiting- for us," he wheezed, legs trembling. As he approached the temple, he saw a distinctly door-shaped opening to their left and aimed for it. Sheppard coughed weakly from his back, but did not move again.
When he reached the door, however, McKay couldn't get it open. There was no handle, no access panel, not even a frickin' doorbell. He thought open at it as hard as he could, but apparently his gene was not sufficient to the task.
Quelling the now-familiar twinge of jealousy, Rodney half-dropped Sheppard into a seated position against the building and panted for breath.
Sheppard flinched a little as his exposed skin made contact with the ground. The area around the door was clear of snow, but the ground was still frozen solid.
"Sheppard," he yelled, shaking his teammate and patting him on the cheek.
Sheppard moaned and his eyelids fluttered briefly. McKay thought his friend's skin looked carved from marble, cold and colorless.
"Sheppard!" He said more sternly, rising panic making his voice stern. "Wake up!"
For good measure, he ground his knuckles into John's sternum. Sheppard grunted in pain, trying to pull away from McKay, but his eyes blinked open.
"Sheppard, you need to open the door," McKay urged.
Sheppard blinked heavily, and his eyes rolled alarmingly in his head.
"No, no! Do not pass out! Damn it, Sheppard, this is all your fault anyway! You turned this fuckin' place on and cracked the ice. The least you can do is open the door!"
"R-rodney?" Sheppard croaked, struggling to focus. "M's-so c-cold…"
"I know Major. That's why you need to open the door, so I can warm you up. Just think about opening the door. Please."
Sheppard's eyes seemed to open more at Rodney's plea, and McKay was hugely relieved to hear the door whoosh open.
"Oh, thank God," he exclaimed, and wasted no time in hoisting Sheppard inside the uncertain shelter of the temple. As they passed the threshold, a row of blue lights ignited around the circumference of the ceiling, lighting the room in a dim glow.
They were in a circular room about the size of the gateroom on Atlantis, dominated by a large dais against the far wall. It appeared to be a statue of a woman, her hand raised in a gesture of peace. Rodney could see piles of offerings at her feet, no doubt left by villagers on pilgrimages. Ordinarily McKay would scoff at such primitive, superstitious voodoo, but in that moment he felt only relief. He could see animal pelts and woven blankets among the tributes, and that meant a way to warm his dangerously chilled friend.
Dragging the once-again unconscious Sheppard across the room, McKay wasted no time gathering up all the pelts and blankets from the dais. Spreading out the thickest of the furs on the smooth floor, he rolled Sheppard onto them and covered him with another pelt. He layered on several handmade blankets and a quilt made from animal hides, until he could only just see Sheppard's nose and eyes from under the pile.
Even so, he knew it wasn't enough.
Fear still pounding in his chest, Rodney stripped off all but his long-johns, lifted the edge of the furs, and slid between the layers. Pulling closer to Sheppard, he hissed in shock. The Major's body was painfully cold, his skin icy against Rodney's warmer flesh. Bracing himself, McKay pulled Sheppard's bare back against his chest. He tucked Sheppard's glacial hands into the Major's own armpits, then wrapped his arms securely around the Sheppard's body in a bear hug.
Sheppard's head rested under McKay's chin and on his arm, the back of his thighs pressed against McKay's lap. Rodney had tucked his calves around John's freezing legs, and he was pretty sure this now qualified as spooning.
Oddly, the idea didn't bother him all that much. Though cold, Sheppard's skin against his own felt smooth and firm. Muscle. Vulnerability. Sheppard.
The momentary appreciation faded quickly, though, as he felt Sheppard's sluggish pulse thumping weakly through his neck. It fluttered slowly against Rodney's arm, struggling against blood that was cold and thick. Sliding his arms between Sheppard's arms and his torso, he rubbed Sheppard's ribs vigorously. He had to warm his core, but not his extremities.
Having been based in Antarctica, McKay'd been well trained in the treatment of hypothermia. If he re-warmed Sheppard's arms and legs too fast, the chilled blood that had pooled there would rush back into Sheppard's torso and lower his core temperature further.
John's ribs bumped under his fingers, and McKay found himself fervently wishing that his friend had at least some body fat to keep him warm.
Then Sheppard shivered and gasped, jerking weakly in Rodney's arms.
"Major?"
"Wh-what's…?"
John's voice was slurred and confused, and more than a little afraid.
"It's just me - McKay.You fell through the ice, remember? I'm trying to warm you up. And if you utter a single word of this to anyone on the base, I'll deny it to the grave."
"R-r-rodney?"
"Yes," McKay griped. "We've just been over this. Try and keep up, Major."
"M'really c-cold…"
"This, too, has already been established. I'm doing my best here, Major, okay? Just, try to stay still and think warm thoughts."
Sheppard was shivering again, and despite the rattling teeth and pathetically quaking body, McKay was encouraged. Consciousness and shivering were good things.
Sheppard gave a shuddering sigh and pushed back against Rodney's body, wiggling a little to ease closer. He felt like one of those vibrating beds in cheap motels, shivering so hard that even Rodney's bones seemed to shake. Without consciously deciding to do so, McKay tightened his hold on Sheppard, still rubbing his warm hands over clammy ribs. They lay like that for an indeterminable amount of time, the silence broken only by Sheppard's chattering teeth and stuttering breath. Slowly, McKay felt his friend's skin begin to warm somewhat.
Unfortunately, warmth heralded the return of sensation, and Sheppard's breath caught as feeling returned to his body. Rodney felt him tense, muscles quivering, and Sheppard moaned miserably.
"H-hurts," he gasped, jerking feebly against McKay's forearms.
"It's just your body warming up, Major," Rodney explained. "It'll pass."
But he felt helpless and angry, pained by his friend's breathy moans of agony. Sheppard was panting, his lean chest heaving desperately under Rodney's hands, and his legs were moving in a feeble attempt to ease the hurt.
"God," he whimpered, "Oh, God… Rodney, Please. M-make it st-st-stop!"
Twisting jerkily, Sheppard turned and buried his face in McKay's shoulder. His right hand landed on Rodney's hip, trembling fingers digging into the scientist's flesh.
"I'm sorry," Rodney implored. "I can't"
Sheppard gave a broken sob, his breath gusting warmly against McKay's skin and sending goose bumps along his spine. Rodney rested a hand on the back of Sheppard's neck, massaging gently and brushing the short hair at the base of his skull.
Long minutes went by, minutes where Sheppard moaned and whimpered in agony, gripping hard enough to Rodney's hip that he was sure he'd have bruises for weeks.
Eventually, Sheppard seemed to settle some and his trembling eased. The punishing grip on McKay's hip slackened, John's limp hand sliding downward a little so that the heel of it rested against Rodney's stomach. Something stirred in McKay's belly at the touch, a tiny spark of arousal, and he flushed in embarrassment.
It's just a physiological reaction, he argued silently. Doesn't mean anything.
"Major?" He queried, concerned by the silence.
"Uh huh," Sheppard sighed, and shivered lightly. "M'okay. Passed."
He sounded exhausted, on the verge of passing out or falling asleep.
"Oh. Okay, good. Teyla and Ford should have missed us by now, so I'm sure help is on the way. I'll just-"
He started to pull away, to give Sheppard the space McKay was sure he wanted. Before he could scoot away, though, Sheppard hooked an arm around Rodney's waist and pulled him back.
"I'm still cold," John sighed, eyes fluttering closed. "Stay?"
Rodney could tell Sheppard wasn't fully aware of what he was saying. But he couldn't bring himself to remove Sheppard's arm or move away. For once at a loss for words, he sighed and settled back against the furs. Sheppard's forehead rested against Rodney's chest, his damp hair tickling McKay's neck.
Gently running his fingers through the thawed locks, Rodney was overcome by a sudden, unfamiliar surge of affection. Without meaning to, he pressed a light kiss to the top of John's head.
Later, after Teyla and Ford had resuced them, after they'd been whisked back to Atlantis and the tender care of Carson Beckett, Rodney would blame his uncharacteristic display of affection on exposure and adrenaline. He would dismiss it as a slightly delirious reaction to near-death and close physical proximity, and file the memory away in the never happened category.
And afterwards, he never dreamt of Sheppard's skin pressed to his, like fire and ice.
Never longed for a brief, warm paradise between alien furs and holy offerings.
Definitely never woke gasping Sheppard's name as he came, the ghost of John's breath against his chest.
Because Rodney McKay was a man of science. It was beneath him to waste time considering impossible outcomes; an affront to logic and reason.
He had held the Major's life in his hands, warmed the faint flutter of his pulse back into existence. And for a moment, he'd allowed himself to feel a primal sense of ownership.
But John Sheppard did not belong to him.
A/N: Next chapter will be posted in a about two weeks, as I'm about to begin the torturous process of moving accross country! Feedback always cherished!