Thank you all so, so much for the reviews! I was uneasy about this one, so I'm really glad you like it!
NIGHT HIGHWAY (or
Why Rodney Never Went to Niagara Falls)
BY TIPPER
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CHAPTER FOUR: FADE TO BLACK
"We just passed another exit, Richard," Mary said sharply, waking Rodney from his uneasy doze in the back of the car. He immediately started shivering, "I thought you said we would get off, find Mer some medicine."
"I didn't see anything at that exit," Richard replied. "I didn't recognize the town names either. We could have gotten off and gone nowhere. As soon as I see a city I recognize from the map, I'll—"
"You said we would get him some medicine!"
"And we will! As soon as we can get off, we will."
"We could have gotten off a half dozen times, already!"
"Yes, but where would we have gone? We've tried two gas stations already—both were shut. It's the middle of the night and it's pointless to keep trying blind. I don't know anything about this place, do you?"
"I know that if you get off, you're at least going to see another gas station! You could ask for directions!"
"What part of middle of the night are you missing? It's 4:23 in the morning! No gas station is going to be open! Haven't we already proved that?"
"This is America, Richard! They have things like twenty-four hour gas stations! We have to keep trying!"
Rodney listened to the argument with only half an ear. His chest really hurt. He tried to lift an arm to rub at it, but his limbs wouldn't move. They were just too heavy. He blinked slowly, and, with a great deal of effort, he somehow got his head to turn so he could see the backseat.
He was lying down again, curled up. He didn't remember lying down. Had his mother done that?
"And if I see one off this highway, I will get off!" Richard shouted.
"No, you won't! I know you, Richard! You think this is all in my head! You think I'm trying to sabotage you! Well, I'm not! Your son is sick, Richard! He needs medicine!"
Rodney tilted his head up, and peered through half-lidded eyes at the back of his mother's head. She was still sitting in the backseat, her short blonde hair in disarray, sticking up at all angles like a troll doll's hair.
He snorted a laugh, and it instantly turned into a massive coughing fit.
When it finally stilled, he was panting and his throat felt ten times too large. Like it was going to explode out of his neck.
"There! Did you hear that?" Mary McKay was upset.
"I don't like it either, Mary, but—"
"But you're not helping either! Why won't you do something?"
"Mer?" Jeannie's voice was only a whisper beneath the yelling match of their parents, but he'd heard it anyway.
Rodney turned his head to look through the suitcases. His sister was peering at him through one of the gaps. She looked really scared.
He tried to smile at her, but it was just too much work. So he just mouthed her name.
His chest really, really hurt. He curled a little tighter, pressing his hands to his ribs.
"Mer?" his sister called again. She reached an arm through the luggage, and it made him think of someone reaching through the bars of a prison. Like he was the Count of Monte Cristo. Except his prison bars were around his body. Steel bands around his arms and legs and chest, holding him down. Jeannie stretched her arm more, and the bars got tighter. And tighter. And tighter.
He couldn't breathe.
Oh God, he couldn't breathe!
Why couldn't he breathe?
He stared hard at Jeannie, right into her wide eyes.
Help.
She looked confused all of a sudden, and her hand fell.
Where was his voice? He meant to say that out loud. He tried again, his shaking lips mouthing the word.
Help!
She frowned.
His vision started to go, and he tried to swallow so he could speak, but couldn't. He couldn't. He focused on her again, saw the tears running down her face. His eyes widened, trying to make her understand.
Can't breathe!
Her eyes widened, and suddenly she was gone, throwing herself at the backseat.
"Mom! Mom! Mer's not breathing! MOM!"
He felt the car swerve hard at that, then lurch to a sudden stop, tilted at an angle. His mother's hands grabbed at him from the back seat.
"Mer? MER!"
He tried to respond, to answer. But everything seemed to fade away to black, as black as the night sky outside the window. His eyes rolled back in his head, just as he felt his mother climb into the back with him.
He felt his whole body shudder...and then go still, and his mother screamed.
He closed his eyes.
"You are sure the Wraith cannot sense us here?" Teyla asked, her voice soft.
She sounded close, and Rodney opened his eyes. Something warm gripped his hand where it hung off the edge of the bench he was lying on, and it only took a moment for him to figure out it was Teyla. She was sitting down in the back, leaning with her back against his bench, and she had Rodney's hand gripped in both of hers on her lap. The way they were situated, it was almost as if he had his arm around her.
Since the back of her head was to him, she couldn't tell he was awake. And he didn't want to tell her.
She was looking towards the front of the Jumper, and her hair tickled his chin.
He was wheezing badly and shivering. How could she stand it?
He looked to the front, blinking so that he could clear his vision. Ronon was pacing again, walking in and out of Rodney's view, and John was still in the pilot's seat.
"What did you say?" John asked.
"Are you sure," Teyla said, enunciating more but still keeping her voice low, "that the Wraith cannot sense us here?"
"Um," John was busy hitting things on the console, "Wraith sense or sensors sense? And you don't have to whisper—they can't hear us."
Teyla gave a shrug, which Rodney felt in his arm. It was sort of nice. She was warm. It seemed he hadn't felt warm in a long time, just like he couldn't remember what it was like not to shiver.
"I meant," she said, a little louder, but still not loud, "can they sense us with their equipment? And I am whispering because Rodney is sleeping."
"Well," John gave a shrug, and turned in the chair to look back at her, "they didn't sense that I was stuck to their ship when I was in that F-302. So, I don't think they could—" He smiled suddenly as he looked into the back. "Hey, Rodney." He bounced out of his seat and walked towards them.
Teyla also shifted immediately, pulling away and letting Rodney's hand go. He tried not to be upset by the loss of warmth. She turned all the way around on her knees, and peered down at his face, smiling softly.
"Hi," she said, gently running a hand across his forehead. It was cool. "You gave us a fright," she said.
He frowned, not quite understanding. "Sorry," he said. Except he didn't say it. No noise came from his mouth at all. He frowned more. He tried again, but even the attempt to use his voice caused pain, and his throat started to burn. He tried to swallow, but it felt like he was trying to force down hot sauce, and his throat muscles contracted—making the pain worse. He started to cough, and it was like having razors slicing at his trachea. It just made him cough more, and...God, it hurt!
"Rodney?" Teyla sounded worried. "Rodney, don't. You have to relax."
But he couldn't. He couldn't relax. The wound on his neck felt like it was the size of a melon, burning through his skin! Couldn't she see how much it HURT?
Suddenly new hands were on him, shaking him, and it got him opening his eyes again (he hadn't even noticed he'd closed them). He found himself looking into Sheppard's face, even as he continued to gasp for air like a fish on dry land.
"It's okay, Rodney," the Colonel said sharply. "You're going to be fine. Just ride it out. Breathe."
He stopped coughing for a second, his mind tripping over those words. Breathe? Why would he stop breathing?
Although, thinking about it, it was sort of hard to breathe...kinda like he was sipping up oxygen through a straw.
He started to panic now, trying to draw in more air. The pain from before was replaced by terror as his lungs started to burn, and his chest began to heave. John shook him again, keeping McKay's eyes locked on his.
"Aw crap. Come on, McKay. Don't panic. You're fine. You're fine."
"Rodney!" Teyla sounded scared, her head near Sheppard's. "Listen to him!"
Rodney stared at the earnest eyes of his friends, and tried to glean some of the confidence in them. Thing was—there wasn't much.
"Damn it!" Ronon suddenly roared, and Rodney flinched as something loud banged against the back of the Jumper.
"Ronon!" Teyla stood up, glaring at the Satedan.
Ronon had thrown the tool box against the back hatch, and was now just standing there, breathing hard. He looked like he was on the verge of exploding.
It had worked though, whether Ronon meant it or not...Rodney had stopped panicking. Breathing was hard, but he was breathing. There was just pain now, and resting his head back on the pillow lessened some of that.
Sheppard, seeing that Rodney was calm now, actually gave a small smile to Ronon before looking back at the scientist. His hands fell away and he rocked back on his heels, creating distance.
"Okay?" he asked.
Rodney just continued to struggle to breathe, and when he looked up at Sheppard again, he tried to convey the obvious. He wasn't okay, for Christ's sake. But he could breathe. For now. But he'd really, really like to go home now.
Sheppard smiled dryly, his expression suggesting he understood everything Rodney just silently conveyed.
"Yeah," he said quietly, looking down. "I know."
Ronon, meanwhile, had sort of sighed and deflated behind Sheppard, falling back to lean against the bulkhead doors. Teyla leaned against the bench again, her head leaning back against the padded seat. The Colonel ran a hand through his terminally spiky hair and blew the air out of his cheeks, standing up and stepping away from Rodney. He turned to look out the front of the Jumper—which Rodney couldn't really see from where he was without sitting up. Rodney reached out and grabbed at Sheppard's pant's leg around the knee, tugging hard.
Sheppard actually tripped a little, looked down at the hand, then arched an eyebrow at Rodney. "Yes?"
Rodney frowned at the slightly mocking tone (he couldn't speak! What did the man expect? Semaphore?), and mouthed the question, "Where are we?" at the Colonel.
Sheppard smiled suddenly, this time with a wicked quirk of the lips and eyes narrowing with glee.
Rodney gave a small eye roll, and Sheppard just grinned even more crookedly.
"Wanna see?" the Colonel asked, eyebrows raised. Oh, he was proud of himself, wasn't he? Rodney hesitated, then gave an almost imperceptible nod, though he didn't necessarily want to feed the crazy.
"Ronon," Sheppard said over his shoulder, "give me a hand, will ya?"
Sheppard helped Rodney to sit up, then Ronon was there. Between the two of them, they practically carried Rodney into the front, then settled him into the co-pilot's chair. Rodney had closed his eyes, trying to manage the pain from the infected cut on his neck. When he opened them again, he found Ronon had stepped back, while Sheppard stood next to the DHD, his hands on his hips and a huge grin on his face. Teyla ducked under Sheppard and draped a blanket over Rodney, then ducked back out.
"So," Sheppard said, throwing a thumb towards the front window, "take a look."
Rodney did.
His jaw dropped.
They were sitting, neatly nestled, on the arm of a Wraith Hive ship. The architecture of the massive ship curled around them on three sides, silver, shiny and complicated, like sitting inside the limb of an old, gnarly tree made of metal. And surrounding the Hive ship was the soft, blue-tinged whorl of hyperspace.
McKay tried to say, "My God," but it just resulted in more coughing. He felt Ronon's large hand rubbing his back, and, eventually, the pain subsided. When his vision cleared, he was holding the console in front of him, staring at it without really seeing it. His neck and shoulders both burned—he could barely hold his head up. No wonder they had him lying down.
He heard the three of them talking above him, but couldn't focus on the words. All he could do right now was breathe. He focused on the console, willing his eyes to stay open.
When he felt more stable, he snaked up a hand to touch his neck, the other gripping the console to hold himself up. Shaking fingers traced the edge of the bandage—which went down under his shirt collar. He could feel the sensitive skin all down his back—got it had to be hideous. How could they even stand to look at him?
A large hand—Ronon's—gently plucked his hand away from the wound then let go. Rodney sighed, and let his hand fall back to the console.
A thought crossed his mind, then, as he stared at the buttons in front of him—the first useful thought he'd had since he'd gotten really sick.
"Even so," Teyla said quietly from somewhere, the first real words to break through his reverie, though she obviously wasn't talking to him, and he didn't know what she was agreeing to. "He'd probably be more comfortable lying down."
He held up a hand. Not yet.
"Not yet," Sheppard said, easily getting the meaning. The colonel leaned against the DHD so Rodney could see him better. "What's up, McKay?"
Sucking in a shallow breath, Rodney leaned forward slightly, ignoring the strain on his neck, and hit a couple of buttons on the console. A HUD appeared, and it told him the status of the cloak. It wasn't on.
"Figured they wouldn't be able to tell we were here," Sheppard explained, his arms still crossed, looking over his shoulder at the HUD. "They didn't know that whole time while I was in the F-302, until I moved after we dropped out of hyperspace, so...I didn't want to waste power."
Rodney gave a small nod, wincing a little when even that hurt. It was getting seriously frustrating. Sniffing, he hit a few more keys, and brought up an estimated trajectory. Based on where they entered hyperspace, and, assuming the ship was headed to the nearest Stargate...they should come out of hyperspace in about thirty five minutes.
"Oh," Sheppard said, reading the information on the HUD, his arms finally uncrossing, "that's good to know."
Rodney set up a ticking clock of sorts for Sheppard to use, then fell back, practically crumpling into the chair. He felt a quick pat of thanks on his left shoulder as the co-pilot's soft leather chair wrapped around him. They were very nice chairs.
In this slumped position, though, his chest began to hurt. More than his neck. He was torn between wanting to stay—and help—or go back to lying down. He didn't want to sleep anymore. He didn't.
His chest began to hurt more, as if someone were slowly cutting out his lungs from the bottom up.
He caught Sheppard glancing at him worriedly, so he tried to hide his discomfort by staring out at the Wraith Hive.
They really were beautiful ships. As elegant as a spider web.
The presence behind him that had been Ronon left then, and Rodney tried to sit up, to see where he went. Failing that, he focused on the reflection in the window. Ronon had walked into the back, and was now pacing to the front again. The Satedan looked at Sheppard, then at the back of Rodney's chair, then turned to pace again.
"You know..." Ronon seemed to stop himself, growled a little, then continued, "You know, if they don't know we're here...and now that he's awake, there's a lot of people on the Hive who might be—"
"I had a feeling you were going to bring that up again," Sheppard said quietly, crossing his arms again. Rodney's eyebrows lifted. This had come up before?
Ronon snorted. "I'm just saying, if we can help—"
"We can't."
Ronon didn't answer that immediately, and Rodney finally managed to turn the chair a little so he could see all three of his teammates without turning his head. Teyla was sitting in the chair behind Sheppard's, and Ronon continued to pace. He had his head down. When he looked up, he was frowning.
"Why not?"
Sheppard sighed, "First of all, I'm not sure I can move us while we're in hyperspace..." He glanced at Rodney for the answer.
Rodney grimaced, and used his hands to convey a shrug. Depended on the nature of the Hive's shielding protecting it in hyperspace. If it was wide enough, they might be able to do it. If not—they risked being torn apart.
Sheppard frowned at his response. "Is that a yes or a no?"
Rodney just narrowed his eyes at him. He raised a hand and tilted it from side to side, then, with a wry grimace, gave a thumb's down.
"Possible, but not likely?" Sheppard asked, in clarification.
Rodney gave a thumbs up.
"But it is possible," Ronon said, bouncing a little as he came forward again. Sheppard frowned, and shook his head, his arms still crossed.
"It's a bad idea, Ronon."
"Why? Look, maybe Teyla can help. She can connect to the—"
"Absolutely not," Sheppard said, stepping forward. Teyla's eyes had widened a little in her seat. Ronon frowned, and looked at her.
"Could you?" Ronon asked. "Just sense where they were without actually—"
Teyla shook her head, but it was more tentative than negative. "I do not think—"
"No!" Sheppard said. "Ronon, we're not having this conversation. I know how you're feeling, but I did not bring us here to stage a rescue."
"But, we could—"
"No!"
"I won't just sit here!" Ronon bellowed.
Rodney jumped and turned his head to look at him, and immediately regretted it, as the burn in his neck turned into a mile-high flames, riding down his neck and into his torso. His air was cut off, and he started coughing, hard and violent. He fell forward off the chair, trying to get away from it, desperately trying to get air, desperately trying not todie.
There were three sets of hands on him as he gagged on the floor, holding on tight.
His vision went. Only the hands on his shoulders and arms stopped him from losing it completely. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he managed to take in a breath, and, even more slowly, he began to see again. Looking up, he found Sheppard crouched in front of him, gripping his wrists. He was talking, but Rodney couldn't hear him. Teyla was kneeling next to John, a hand on his left arm. Which meant the hands gripping his shoulders were Ronon's.
Sound came back last, and he heard Sheppard sigh heavily in relief as he let go of Rodney's wrists. The other two continued to hold on as the Colonel sat back on his heels and lowered his head, covering his face with a hand.
Teyla's expression grew stern, and she looked at Sheppard. "We should lie him down again, his back and neck cannot take this strain."
John grimaced, gave Rodney an apologetic look, and then moved to lift him up on the left. Ronon once more reached in to pull him up on the other side, and the two men carried Rodney back to the rear of the Jumper. Teyla helped him climb back into the sleeping bag and helped him lie on his side, and then sat down next to the bench, acting like a bulwark.
She lifted her head, her gaze focusing on Ronon, who was standing in front of the bench opposite them.
"Even if it were possible, Ronon," she said, her voice tight, "we can not leave him to try. I will not do that. Even if I thought we stood a chance in there of success—"
"I get it," Ronon said, cutting her off. Rodney blinked up at the Satedan, and saw nothing but despair on his face. He stared at Rodney, then nodded at Teyla. "I know." He looked then at Sheppard, who was standing between the bulkhead doors. The Colonel had his arms crossed, looking between the two of them. "I'm sorry," Ronon said, shaking his head. "It was a dumb idea. I don't know what I was thinking."
Sheppard just nodded, then smiled crookedly. "I know what you were thinking," he said. "Believe me, I do. And I'm sorry, too."
Ronon gave a nod, and then sat down hard on the bench. He stared at the floor for a moment, then looked up, meeting Rodney's eyes.
He gave him a sheepish smile.
Rodney didn't smile back.
He didn't want to die. But he didn't want to be the reason they didn't try to save the people trapped on this ship.
He mouthed the word, "Go."
Ronon's eyes widened, then he frowned. "What?"
Rodney tried to swallow, then put everything he had into saying, with volume, "Go."
Teyla twisted to look at him, and Sheppard was staring at him now too, the colonel's arms loose by his side.
Ronon stood up again, and was shaking his head. "No, McKay. Sheppard's right—it's a bad idea."
"Go," Rodney tried again, feeling his eyes fill with tears. "Go."
"No," Ronon said, getting angry now.
"Please," Rodney said, tilting his head a little to see him better. "Go."
"I'm not going, McKay. Stop it!"
Rodney was breathing harder, and Teyla turned fully around, kneeling up so she could grip his arm. He was still staring at Ronon, though. He would not be responsible for stopping them from saving people. He wouldn't!
He tried one more time, all his reserves, everything he had, "Go!"
"No! You can't make us leave you!" Ronon yelled.
But Rodney didn't hear his shout. He was coughing again, and he couldn't stop. He tasted blood in his mouth, and his vision blacked out again. It was too much, hurt too much...
Oh God. Oh God...
I'm sorry.
He closed his eyes.
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TBC...