A/N: Hey, gang! This is my first venture into writing for the SGA fandom. I actually wrote this for the LJ community 15minuteficlets, and since it didn't say you couldn't x-post, I figured I would. I wrote this in 15 minutes (hence the name of the comm), so it may be a little rough 'round the edges. If you happen to write for this challenge, I haven't point out what the word was, but you might figure it out. Short, but I hope you enjoy!
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Pairing: Vague McShep
Rating: K
He ran hard, forcing breath into his lungs only to have it squeezed back out. He fought back his panic his fists clutched at his side.
This should have never happened. If he hadn't been so stubborn, if he hadn't yelled so loud…if, if, if.
John stumbled and fell against a tree for support. The air was cold; he noticed it for the first time since he started running. He could see his breath puff in front of him and he shivered. The air was damp, and he knew two of the things Rodney hated most were being damp and cold, especially at the same time.
The strange forest was silent around him, haunting in its lack of life, devoid of color. It snowed here, like it did on earth. The trees reached up and blended into the sky, all shades of gray. No birds dotted the sky above him, no creatures rustled in the underbrush. The rest of the team was scattered; it was as if he were alone.
But he knew he wasn't. Rodney didn't know…he didn't know…
He pushed himself away from the tree, cold despite the burning in his lungs. He barely knew where he was going, following vague footprints in the snow, following the sharp ache in his heart.
If only he hadn't be so stupid…now his world was lost to white and silence and cold.
He was running out of time, and out of energy. He couldn't remember how long he'd been out here. It could have been minutes, it felt like days. Every second that went by froze some part of the hope he had left.
John tripped and fell to his knees, making a muted sound in the back of his throat. It was freezing now, his entire body cold to the bone. But it was the sleeve, the ripped part of a jacket, the bloodstained Canadian flag already the color of red clutched in his fist that chilled him the most.