Disclaimer I do not own any of the characters of Stargate Atlantis, and I only write for my own pleasure (and hopefully other fans') without any monetary gain.
A great big thank you to my wonderful beta Lahela, who's invaluable support and feedback always keep me on track.
Ronon half awoke to something tickling his throat. The cough it caused ended quickly in a grunt when the motion sent fiery daggers through his breast. Gasping through the pain, he tried to open his eyes. They appeared to be caked shut, but he managed to open one of them just a slit. It didn't help much. Wherever he was, it was pitch black.
He tried lifting his arms to wipe his eyes, but only the right limb obeyed him. His left arm was squashed painfully against his tender ribcage. Instead of towards his face, his right hand went towards his left side, but it only encountered broken stone and rubble.
Ronon stopped moving and attempted to get his sluggish brain to remember what had happened. His team. Were they buried under the debris as well? Not Teyla and Sheppard, though - they were missing. No, John had come back through the Stargate, suddenly. With a wild story of having visited the future. And he had brought a gate address… Images formed in Ronon's dazed brain, a room with Wraith equipment, and then in his mind Lorne's voice rang out.
"Colonel, it's a booby trap!"
He remembered running out of the room, pushing Sheppard ahead of him, and then the crash as the ceiling of the corridor came down on them.
"Sheppard?" Ronon tried to call, but his dry throat could only produce a croak. His attempt to speak brought on another coughing fit that left him dizzy with pain. If there was any reply he would have missed it, so Ronon took a careful breath and called again. From the dull tone his voice made he could tell that he was in a rather small cavity.
Refusing to consider the worst, Ronon decided that John was either close by and unconscious, or he had managed to escape and was going for help. As waiting was something that never came easy to the Satedan, he decided to try and pull himself out from under the rubble. His right hand probed the immediate area, and just above his head it found an end of pipe that was sticking out from the concrete floor. Reaching for it, he clamped his right hand around it and gave a mighty heave.
He came to regret his decision almost immediately. Ronon had expected his busted ribs to protest, but he had been unaware that his left leg was broken, and that his foot was trapped under a large slab of the ceiling. His scream echoed through the chamber as the ends of the broken bones grated against each other. A red veil rose before his eyes, and he lost consciousness.
The next time he woke he felt something cool against his face. Moaning softly, he ran his tongue over his lips, lapping at droplets of water.
"That's it, big guy, come on, open your eyes for me."
Ronon did as John had said. This time his eyes opened immediately, since Sheppard had cleaned his teammate's face of dust and blood. The narrow beam of a flashlight illuminated the Colonel's worried face, hair powdered almost white by dust.
"Drink…" Ronon croaked, and right away he felt the welcome taste of water trickle down his parched throat. But all too soon the flask was taken away from his lips.
"Sorry, bud, that's all I can give you right now. We have to save some for later," Sheppard explained. Ronon nodded and closed his eyes.
"You okay?" he asked.
"Apart from some scrapes and bruises, I'm fine - thanks to you," John replied. "You pushed me and sent me flying out of harm's way when the ceiling came down." When he saw the puzzled frown on Ronon's face, he asked, "You don't remember, do you?"
The Satedan shook his head, wincing as a dull ache spread through his skull.
"Not surprising. You got a nice gash across your forehead, so you can expect your brain to be a bit woozy at the moment. Any other damage you can tell?"
"Ribs," Ronon murmured, "And my leg…"
"Well, we've got to get you out of there. There's no telling how long we'll be stuck here. I tried raising the others on my com, but no answer. In the meantime, you may be slowly bleeding to death somewhere under that pile."
John ran the flashlight over the heap of rubble that covered his friend.
"Looks kinda loose to me. Maybe I can just pull you out from underneath."
Disregarding the throbbing in his temples, Ronon shook his head emphatically.
"No. Tried that," he rasped. "Foot's trapped. Hurts like hell."
"You were awake before? And tried to pull yourself out?" John sighed. "Why am I not surprised…" He looked at the rubble again. "Okay, I'll have to dig you out. Slowly, or this whole crap may come down on both of us."