"Colonel?"
"…mmmm?"
"Hang in there, OK?"
"OK"
"…Colonel?"
A longer pause this time. "What."
"Help is coming. You're going to be fine."
"Sure."
"…John?"
"McKay."
"What?"
"Knock it off!"
McKay glared as if studying a particularly complex equation. The equation that was John Sheppard seemed to be unraveling before his eyes and Rodney was damned if he was going to let it spiral into infinity. The problem was, he didn't know how to stop it. Or the bleeding. The massive, shirt-soaking, puddle-forming, dirt-sogging bleeding that flowed from Sheppard's upper chest as if a red fountain had suddenly decided to cheerfully imitate human form.
John sat slumped against the rough wall of the abandoned hut they were sheltering in, the sounds of distant gunfire and yelling drifting in through the one pane-less window and door-less door. He was pale and trembling, although McKay would never use that term to his face, with the effort of simply sitting upright. He's going into shock, thought McKay, and bit his tongue to keep himself from querying the man again just to hear him respond, to prove to himself that Sheppard could respond…
Unbidden the equation "shEppard ≅ MC Screwed" flashed through Rodney's mind and he almost wished it were that simple. Math was simple. Elegant. People were messy and complicated. And until Atlantis, Rodney had always preferred the company of equations. Now though… even in the midst of a war zone, holding a sopping bandage to the chest of his team's commander and covered in his blood, even now he wouldn't want to be anywhere else.
OK that's ridiculous, thought McKay, almost snorting out loud at the internal conversation he was holding with himself seeing as Sheppard refused to participate in one. Of course he wanted to be ANYWHERE else. He just meant that now he could do this, since he had to. Since Ronon had nearly shot him when he'd nagged the prickly man against his better judgment to stay too. Since Sheppard had told him to shut up at least twice before telling him to knock it off. McKay + Tense situation / Anybody ≅ "Shut up" Maybe if he tried to reduce all situations to equations, he'd have a better handle on life.
Rodney grabbed yet another field bandage from his vest pocket and pressed it into Sheppard's seeping wound. Only seeping, he thought with some relief, not gushing in spurts so he didn't think an artery had been compromised. It just wouldn't stop. John only sighed and rolled his head back, eyes closed, to bang it slowly against the wall. Looking at the litter of soaked bandages around him, Rodney was more concerned by Sheppard's lack of reaction to the painful pressure. The first few pads into the shoulder had earned him manly grunts and inventive swearing. This display of pitiful acceptance was more than McKay could bear. Or tolerate.
"Dammit, Colonel. It's my turn to save your life, and you'd better give me the satisfaction of cooperating. I am REALLY going to make you work for your next turn at saving mine. I'll think of something so spectacular, you'll wish I was back to disintegrating solar systems."
John actually smiled, although his eyes remained closed and his voice was faint. "I already saved your life today. I'm taking the rest of the week off." He suddenly grimaced and his whole body went rigid with a wave of unchecked pain and McKay found himself bracing his arm against Sheppard's chest to keep him upright and provide comforting resistance. Once the spasm passed, John relaxed, more limp and pale than before.
Rodney was reminded forcibly of another time he'd had to watch Sheppard fight for his life, that time lying on a jumper floor with a life-sucking wraith-bug attached to his neck. The team was new then, it had practically been their maiden mission. And Rodney had lost it. Had panicked to the point of hyperventilation before Sheppard, even in excruciating pain, had snapped him out of self-absorbed speculation. Rodney + Sheppard ≅ a better Rodney
They had all matured since then, the team was now a well-oiled machine each playing their roles well and complimenting each other's skills. Rodney usually let Teyla play the comforter while Ronon and Sheppard acted out the physical parts. McKay was getting quite good at saving their macho butts in the end with his brain and a clever scheme. And Sheppard, the heart of the team, kept them all focused.
But there were no fancy devices or computers or shields or ships on this miserable dustball of a planet so Rodney was left playing Teyla while she ran to the gate for help and Ronon was off, well, still being Ronon but without a leash. Team – Sheppard ≅ ? Rodney shuddered at the thought of literally writing the Colonel out of the equation.
As if John had been reading Rodney's mind, he gasped painfully and whispered, "It's bad, McKay…"
Despite his worry, Rodney was a contrarian and could argue both sides of any topic, changing sides on a dime if the situation called for it. Although it was usually his preference to take the pessimistic view, he could play optimist, especially when such an easy gauntlet was thrown down, "No, no, no! A single dart, or whatever they call them on this planet. Came right on out with hardly a tug. Beckett will plug you up with a couple of stitches and you'll be wooing the nurses in no time." Noticing his knees wet with Sheppard's blood, pooled on the ground underneath him, and the saturated uniform on the man, he did add somewhat ruefully, "Although, I think your lucky shirt might need an honorable discharge and sent to the VA for retired clothing."
John just shook his head, "Losing too much blood. And something's not right. I think…I think the dart might have been poisoned." When he opened his eyes to meet Rodney's startled look, a shadow of fear was lurking in their depths.
"Why do you say that?" McKay was intense, gathering information, trusting Sheppard's unsettling guess, but needing every bit of data he could get to pass on to the med-evac team.
"Pain's everywhere, in spasms, not just shoulder. Pulse is too fast. Vision is blurry. Breathing is hard." As if to prove the point, he began to pant in fast shallow gasps and closed his eyes again.
"Those are symptoms of shock." He didn't add the "mostly" that was drifting through his mind.
Sheppard shook his head slowly, "Been there. Done that. This is different."
Rodney froze for a long moment. This was so not the situation he was used to. First he was expected to fill in for Teyla. Now he had to make decisions too? Sheppard + blood loss + poison ≅ HELP! Teyla and the Medical Evacuation team were fighting their way through the civil war outside, the Atlanteans trying to just get through without taking sides or get caught in the crossfire. He'd heard nothing since Teyla had first returned through the gate and radioed they were at least on their way.
Deciding the situation warranted risking radio contact, Rodney shifted his hold on the bandage to free one hand and clicked the call button twice through his vest mesh to signal he wished to communicate. He was relieved to hear an answering click and a soft "This is Teyla, go ahead."
"Teyla, where's that medical evac team? The Colonel's not doing so good…" He hated the way his voice cracked in fear at the understatement.
"We are about 10 minutes from your position, Ronon just found us and there is heavy fighting on the main road. We are trying to go around."
"You've got to hurry. Sheppard thinks the dart that hit him was poisoned. You need to be careful yourselves!"
"This is Lt. Greene," a female voice cut into the conversation, "what are the Colonel's symptoms? Why do you say poison?"
Rodney was grateful for the remote expertise at least and was about to eagerly relay Sheppard's comments when Teyla suddenly hissed "We've been spotted, initiate radio silence, out."
"Dammit!" Rodney shouted to the window and the interfering natives by proxy. Sheppard chose that moment to seize again, the panting devolving into agonizing moans as he thrashed against the pain and Rodney's supportive arm again pressed across his chest. Rodney's anger quickly shot into mind-numbing worry and he was considering calling Lt. Greene again despite Teyla's order for radio silence. When the writhing man finally seemed to relax a bit, Rodney found himself watching Sheppard's face closely for signs of consciousness. John finally opened his eyes took in the worried face watching him, then looked over Rodney's shoulder. Eyes widening in sudden fear, John croaked out a raspy "McKay!" and fumbled at his hip for a weapon long gone.
McKay whirled to see no fewer than 5 men sauntering in the door of their hut behind a sturdy, dusty native leader…
