SAF's Secret Santa Whump!
Once upon a time he'd been sure he'd die alone but that time had long passed. Now, he wasn't so certain. So tired. He was so tired he could hardly move and any attempt to felt like creeping through syrup. In a puddle next to him lay the, now sprinkled with a coating of ice crystals, contents of his stomach. For a while, he'd believed he would be rescued – after all, he was in Atlantis not some darn Wraith controlled planet – but even that drop of hope had frozen along with his life blood. He couldn't even remember how he got here. He couldn't remember where he was. Cold winds whipped around him, whistling through the dark hairs on his forearms, strangely warming him. Something in the back of his brain warned him that the warm sensation it gave just wasn't right. He looked at his hand, now blue with cold, strangely fascinated by the blue tinge creeping along from the tips of his fingers to his palm.
His vision blurred. He tried to gasp for air and briefly panicked when none entered his lungs, feeling consciousness begin to fade. Shivers began to shake his body. He could almost hear his icy blood shatter into little pieces, jangling with each jerk of his body like some ghastly parody of a child's rattle. Where were his so-called friends now? All this, all those years of service and loyalty, all the times he'd risked himself to save them and, at the end, they had left him for dead, deserted him. No! That was his delirium speaking and he wouldn't let himself go there.
Cold. He'd never been so cold. The brief respite of warmth had faded into what seemed like a distant memory, but could only be seconds away. At least the shivering had stopped. For some reason he couldn't move his fingers but there wasn't any pain: just a blessed numbness and an acceptance that this was it. Where was he? He knew he should know but couldn't remember. He could hear the sound of the wind around the building that towered above him and it was strangely calming. The terrible pounding of his heart, the organ seeming to wish to escape the confines of his chest, had ceased and slowed. Darkness seemed to enclose him, calling for him to give up and he was ready to do so.
'John! Buddy! Don't give up now. John!' He heard the loud shout of a familiar voice, then a gentler one urging him to fight. Warm bodies surrounded him, warming him and covering him.
'Oh thank God!' a whining voice uttered, concern and caring cutting through its harshness. 'It's alright, Sheppard. We've found you. There was a glitch in the sensors and the transporters malfunctioned; you were sent to this God-forsaken tower. We've been looking for you for two hours. Jennifer? He will be alright won't he?'
And, somewhere deep down, John Sheppard knew that he would. With the care of good friends. After all, he'd never doubted them. They would always come for him and he'd never be alone again.