I Hurt Myself Today

A/N: I was listening to Johnny Cash's Hurt and it was so John Sheppard, I couldn't believe it. No song lyrics are used—the song is just inspiration. No infringement on the show or the song is intended.

A/N2: No beta (this is an experiment, sorry) and excuse my errors in the medical and military fields.

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I woke up, propped against the killing wall, and really wished I hadn't. The pain in my right leg was nauseating. I opened my eyes to look at the damage, but McKay's square form blocked my view of the mess.

He was sitting astride my right knee and babbling into his radio about direct pressure not working and too much blood.

I shifted against the wall and hissed in pain; causing him to look up with that incredibly expressive face he has for a guy that likes to pretend he's so standoffish. "Rod . . . ney?"

"Don't move, Colonel. This isn't working, so I have to try something else." McKay hesitated before ramming his hands against the right side of my groin. I grunted in pain and shock and he kinda made a sympathetic noise.

"Sorry, sorry . . . the bleeding is too much," he whispered almost in my ear.

Only McKay would apologize so agonizingly for trying to save my life like this. "Okay . . . okay, Rod . . . ney."

So, we sat like that—me pinned to the wall by his body and McKay pushing for all he was worth . . . well, I don't know how long. I'm a little fuzzy and I'm getting cold.

He must have felt me shiver, because he moved in closer, so close I could feel the heat from his flushed and sweating face.

I do know that he kept calling on his radio. He was yelling for Elizabeth, for Teyla, for Ronon, and for Carson. None of them answered for . . . well, for I don't know how long.

Long enough for McKay to sound desperate and for me to go from feeling fuzzy to weak and hazy and breathless.

"Are you happy now?" asked Rodney harshly, his voice trembling almost as bad as his hands on me.

What . . . I don't know . . . oh, our conversation just before this happened.

That little worry in the back of my brain that I'd seen too much here in the Pegasus—done too much—that I couldn't feel anymore. That I was too different to be effective as Atlantis' military CO and leader of its first gate team.

That was proved completely wrong when I saw that metal blade slide from the wall and aim for McKay. My friend—one of the closest I've ever had.

I took it for him because . . . I could and I didn't want to see a friend of mine in pain.

From the look in his eyes, he felt the same.

"Yes," I slurred. "Happy . . . it wasn't you."

"Idiot," Rodney whispered and he pressed down harder, angry and worried at the same time. "Arrogant, stupid, dense, American idiot. It shouldn't have been you, either."

Then his radio hissed and he took his panicking eyes away from me to babble into it. I caught the name of Carson and Elizabeth just before I let the black haze settle over me.

McKay could handle it, he's a good friend, and I trust him to get me back to Atlantis.

"Sheppard! Carson's coming with his team. Just hold on a little longer!" His voice is high and stressed.

"Good," I muttered as I forced my eyes to stay open for a moment longer. "See . . . you."

It sounded like a goodbye, but McKay understood immediately and he grinned for me—even if it was a little sick looking. "Sure, I'll see you back in the infirmary. I don't want to miss Carson ripping you a new one for this little stunt."

I nodded slowly against the wall and let the dark take me away.

I didn't feel it as McKay used his shoulder to hold me up until Carson reached us in the smooth walled tunnel.

END