We were talking about bugs on the JS whump thread and this little story came to mind. This is my first attempt at writing whump. I do not own any recognisable characters...you know the drill.
The little black bug hovered just inches from his face. John Sheppard cringed and swished at it with one hand, the other remaining on the controls of the Puddle Jumper. The bug didn't move, but the jumper did, swinging from side to side in response to his unconscious thought. John refocused his mind on the job at hand, trying desperately to forget about that little black bug. He hated bugs. He only had to last a little bit longer, another few minutes and he'd have crossed the mainland and then then a couple of minutes more over the ocean before he could land safely in Atlantis. The bug flew about the cockpit of the jumper distracting John with it's erratic movements. The bug lowered itself gracefully onto the console and John watched horrified as the button it had landed on slowly depressed. The rear hatch began to open. John struggled against the sudden turbulence, compensating for the added drag. The hatch opened fully and John suddenly regretted not following safety protocol and wearing the seatbelt. He felt himself being pulled out the open hatch and tried to hold onto the chair, mentally shouting at the jumper to close the hatch. Without the pilot the jumper began to descend, closing in on the pine forest below.
"Oh crap!" he said to himself as his fingers lost their grip and he was yanked mercilessly out the back of the jumper.
He saw the rapid approach of the pine trees below: the sharp needles, the cones, the spindly branches that would not support his weight, and the ivy winding its way up the trees. As he hit the first branch he saw the jumper crash into the trees and then it disappeared as the pain of his fall took over completely. The first few branches were bearable. The needles pricking and flicking his skin like a whip. The cones started at the fifth branch, small and with edges as sharp as razors. He could feel the blood trickle from a cut on his face, and though he tried to grab a branch to stop his fall they continued to snap and he was left grasping thin air. About halfway down his descent slowed as the branches began to bend instead of breaking on impact, he now began to drop from branch to branch being flung like a rag doll. He allowed himself to fall mindlessly knowing that to tense and fight would be more dangerous. The tree seemed to go on forever or perhaps time had slowed down, John couldn't tell. He concentrated on how he was going to fix the jumper, the next rotation roster, the next place he could leave a lemon for Rodney. A crack slipped through his thoughts and a thin branch appeared through his lower leg. He looked at it wondering where it had come from and why there was no blood where it pierced his skin. He hit the ground with a thud, landing in a muddle of vines from the ivy. Lying there he could see the sunlight streaming through the hole in the canopy and saw the jagged edges of the broken branches. He rubbed his arm unconsciously as he realised how lucky he was to have survived the fall. Suddenly he felt the itch all over and wondered where that red rash had come from. Then he watched in fascination as blood started to pool around the branch sticking out of his shin. He realised he was suffering from shock but was almost glad of the fact as he knew that at some point his injuries were going to hurt. As he started to catalogue his injuries he realised they were probably quite severe; besides the leg puncture, there were numerous deep lacerations, the rash, he scratched again, probably similar to poison ivy,. He tried to sit up, his tail bone, broken or bruised, either way it hurt a lot. He twisted to his side, and, pushing up with his arms he managed to stand. Leaving the branch in his leg he began to hobble his way towards where he thought the jumper had crashed, grimacing with every step.
The sunlight reflecting off glass drew him like a beacon until he could see the jumper. It had crashed into an small open field overlooking the oceans and in the distance, Atlantis. The jumper sat welcomingly in the field, the open hatch beckoning him to reclaim his territory. He approached cautiously, hoping that that little black bug had met it's demise in the crash. John peered through the jumper dismayed at the beedy eyes glaring back at him from on top of the pilot's seat. He unclipped his 9mm from the leg holster, feeling more in control with it's weight in his hand. He felt anger at his situation rise, how this little bug had caused him to lose his concentration and crash his jumper. He was embarrassed and ashamed, he could imagine the jokes that would arise - Colonel Sheppard scared of bugs. He could see the practical pranks and the anger turned to hatred. Before he realised he had emptied his clip. The bug lay upside down on the floor beside the chair, legs in the air twitching. He could feel the accusing glare of his adversary as it's life faded from existence,. Stalking through to the pilot's console, he took great pleasure at the sound of the bug crunching beneath his boots.
Concentrating he tried to power up the jumper, but it failed to respond to his commands. John tried again, but when that failed also, he moved awkwardly to the back in an attempt to jump start the crystals.
"Sheppard? This is Atlantis, can you read? Over." The dulcit tones of Rodney McKay broadcasted over the radio.
John grinned. "McKay! Nice to hear your voice. Look I'm having a little problem with my ride, any hints on how to jump start it?"
John could almost hear the clogs ticking in his friend's brain. "What did you do? Break it?" came the cynical reply.
"You could say that," John grimaced.
There was a short pause. "Take the first crystal out, and use it to bridge the last two." McKay directed.
John pulled the first crystal,carefully balancing on his good leg as he reached. His leg was starting to throb and the rash was moving towards places that he'd rather not think about. As he bridged the the last two crystals the reassuring hum of the engines settled into the quiet surrounds.
"Atlantis, this is Jumper One. Jumper One is now inbound, ETA 5minutes." John closed off the radio and concentrated on flying, he ignored the niggling thought at the back of his mind that Dr Keller was going to restrict him to the infirmary again.
John blinked his eyes groggily and the familiar faces of McKay, Teyla and Ronan appeared beside his bed.
"Well, well, well. Look who's awake," McKay was the first to notice. "What the hell happened to the Jumper? It looked –"
"Are you alright?" the concerned voice of Teyla interrupted McKay's questioning.
"I'm fine," John replied, unconsciously rubbing the back of his right ear. "Mitts? Seriously?"
"Dr Keller wanted to be sure you wouldn't itch," Teyla commented. "The branch through your lower leg has been removed, it skimmed the muscle and should heal with no complications. The rash will disappear in a few days, a few of the cuts required stitches – don't try to sit up Colonel Sheppard!" she remonstrated as he struggled into a more upright position, "you have broken your tailbone."
John grimaced. "Anything else?" he asked looking around his friends.
"Yes." McKay demanded. "What the hell happened? We found a number of bullets lodged into the flight console, and your blood all over the Jumper."
John contemplated creating some fanciful story, but these was his team. He decided on the truth. "It was a bug," he admitted. "It opened the rear hatch and I was pulled out the back in mid flight."
"A bug?" McKay queried thoughtfully. "I'll get Zelenka onto it. We'd better check the other Jumpers too." He paused. "But that doesn't explain the bullets."
"Not a computer bug Rodney, a bug bug." John admitted sheepishly.
"A bug?" McKay asked.
John shifted uncomfortably on the bed, and allowed the silence to grow.
"You mean that tiny black thing we found on the floor of the Jumper?" McKay asked increduously. "A little black bug caused you to crash your Jumper?"
John nodded slowly, "a little black bug."