AMONG THE STARS - by NotTasha
Here we go! Nearly done.
PART 19: SPITE
"Rodney!" There was no response… nothing. God, no! John wanted to jump out of his seat and go to his friend, do everything he could to revive him, but they were still in flight. He had two choices… go through the Gate and wait through the landing process -- or land on a planet with minimal medical help. There was a medic, wasn't there? Was that enough?
"Damn it! Damn it!" Over the radio, he barked, "Ironspot, Dial Atlantis!"
On the ground below, scientists gathered, looking up at them.
"You stupid, asshole!" Sheppard growled as he glanced back at McKay's form, under all those blankets. "You're just doing this to spite me, aren't you, McKay!"
One dot on the life signs detector… still only one dot. "Not now," Sheppard wibbled. "Not when we're so damn close!" And he gave his DHD a disgruntled smack as the Gate lit up under the Ironspot's direction. "No...no..."
"Colonel, what sort of ship did ya bring with you? I've never seen the like before."
The familiar Scottish brogue coming through the radio almost brought tears to Sheppard's eyes. "Carson!" he cried. "Thank God." It would take too long to get the jumper through the gate and into the jumper bay where they could finally get help. Rodney was dying. They had only seconds, and the best doctor in the galaxy was standing beneath him – Sheppard was never one to pass up an opportunity.
"Beckett, you're coming with me, NOW!"
"Am I then?" Carson replied. "Right!" Sheppard could see the doctor running through the clearing, obviously trying to find a place to meet up with the jumper once it landed. God, how he loved Beckett. No talking back – the man just understood, and came running.
"Rodney's heart's stopped," Sheppard explained urgently as the wormhole whooshed to life, and he brought the jumper down fast, landing it with one hell of a thump, and John opened the hatch. "Second ago. It's only been seconds."
Over the radio, Teyla said only, "John…" .
The doctor was running to him, medical gear in hand, leaping into the back of the jumper before the rear hatch was fully opened. One of his nurses was right behind him, carrying whatever gear she could lay her hands on.
"Doc, am I ever glad to see you!" Sheppard exclaimed.
"Corporal Dunne had a bit of an accident," Beckett explained breathlessly as he came in. "Broke his leg. I was setting it and…Good God in heaven."
Carson started yelling orders as he felt for Rodney's pulse. Sheppard tried to move from his seat to start artificial respiration, but a medic had come in as well. Between Beckett, Maria and Deroche, they had McKay surrounded – breathing for him, trying to start his heart.
A couple of Marines came in as well, ready to add whatever assistance they could, crowding the rear of the jumper. Outside, the Ironspot roared as it came down, landing roughly nearby.
"Shot. He got shot…" Sheppard explained as Beckett worked.
The medic breathed for Rodney. Beckett went back to compressions as Deroche moved out of his way.
"Colonel Sheppard? Ronon?" Weir's voice came over the radio. "We received Ronon's IDC and nothing more. Is there a problem?"
"Hell of a problem," Sheppard muttered unhappily.
Beckett replied for him, calling out orders, telling his staff what they needed, what to have ready. His voice was steady as he exerted himself.
As Beckett spoke to Weir, Sheppard called softly, "Come on, Rodney. Don't be an ass! You're really fucking up my day."
Beckett's gaze flicked up at him, understanding the exclamation. "Get us back, John," he ordered the colonel. "Get us back."
"Hang on!" Ronon called from just outside the door. He raced up the ramp, with Rix slung over his shoulder and Teyla right behind him.
Sheppard opened his mouth to counter Ronon's decision to bring the pirate along, but Dex was already settling the unresponsive Mills on one of the bench seats.
"Go," Ronon declared.
Teyla stood just inside the doorway, finding what little room was left. The hatch nearly slapped her rear as it came up. Her solemn gaze switched from McKay, being worked over by three people, to Ronon, who seemed unusually gentle with his handling of Rix, to Sheppard as he fired up the ship.
Without another word, Sheppard lifted the jumper from the ground and sent it toward the open Gate, "Atlantis," he called, "this is Sheppard. We're coming in."
Beckett kept rattling off what he needed from his staff. Maria was ripping at the Velcro on the defibrillator. It started to whine.
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The return to Atlantis was chaotic. Beckett had managed to restart Rodney's heart on the short journey from the gateroom to the bay, a victory for everyone.
Rodney was breathing on his own, still looking as sick as hell. The tension didn't ease from John's back and he felt as if he might break the controls as he waited for the automatic system to bring the jumper to a rest.
The heart monitor bleeped, but John picked up the Life Sign Detector and carefully counted the dots, ensuring that there was one for each of them.
Beckett hissed empathetically as he pulled back the dressing from the wound. "How long?" he asked. "How long ago was he shot?"
Sheppard looked at him, bleary eyed, unable to even comprehend the question. How much time had passed? He had no idea exactly. It wasn't that long, all things considered. It only seemed like a lifetime.
"He was trapped. We couldn't reach him," John responded. His voice tight and remarkably even.
"Got to him as quick as we could," Ronon stated defiantly.
"We did good work," Teyla added. "We all did." She even glanced to Rix, who was motionless and pale, with Ronon standing protectively above him. The Bogachiel had saved them during the explosion, and his complete unresponsiveness had frightened them once they landed the Ironspot.
Beckett watched the heart monitor, his face drawn, but hopeful now. He smiled, but only slightly. "Hang in there, Rodney," he said softly. The monitor kept beeping. "That's right, you daft man, I know you don't give up on anything."
"He is obstinate," Teyla added.
"Aye, that he is," Carson said, his smile growing as the monitor continued to return good news. "A mulish man, if there ever was one." Beckett's face dropped as he regarded the result as Maria took Rodney's blood pressure.
The doctor started an IV, handing the bag of fluid to Sgt. Wilmington to hold. The Marine had been standing stiffly beside the group, and looked relieved to have something to do, even if it meant he'd simply be acting as an IV stand.
Beckett looked up to see how much longer they had before the jumper came to a stop in the bay, and then turned to see the others in the ship. His gaze lit on Rix. "What's happened to him then?" he asked, curiously.
"Hit his head a while back," Ronon replied, "Seemed okay, just a little… confused. When we landed, he was slumped over. Can't wake him."
"We'll take a look at him," Beckett promised. "See what can be done to put him right."
Ronon nodded in response.
The jumper finally came to a halt in the bay. John lifted the hatch, and a gurney came up the ramp. Beckett was shouting instructions again, ordering another gurney, giving directives over the radio to those waiting for them in the infirmary.
John did nothing as the medical unit swarmed in, collected Rodney and all the stuff that was attached to him, then they swarmed back out. The gurney wibble-wobbled through the open space of the jumperbay at their rapid exit. Beckett ran alongside, with Maria, Deroche and Wilmington who still played the part of IV stand.
Ronon waited a moment, and seeing that the second gurney hadn't yet arrived, picked up Rix, carefully slung him over the shoulder, and went after the others.
Sheppard hoped the other gurney caught up with them – Ronon's carrying method was hardly the best way to transport a man with a head injury.
And then the once crowded jumper was almost empty again. Just wrappers and the abandoned defibrillator was left – and the torn, bloody shirt that they'd cut off Rodney. Sheppard gazed at the mess, feeling ineffectual, as if he'd managed to do nearly nothing during all of this.
"John," Teyla called softly, drawing his attention.
"Yeah," he drawled in return. "I suppose you're going to tell me that I did the best I could and that we got him back here in time. You're going to tell me that Beckett's the best and that Rodney's going to be okay. Everything is going to be just fine, right?"
She smiled at him, but there was a tightness around her eyes. "I was going to tell you that I was frightened," she admitted. "I was going to tell you that I was so scared."
Sheppard sighed, and for a moment neither did anything, simply standing together in the rear of the jumper. Finally, Sheppard stooped to pick up his pack.
"Come on," he said with a smile as he slung the bag over his shoulder. "Let's see if McKay is giving the nurses any grief yet." And together they exited the jumper.
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He remembered the stars. He dreamed of them, dreamed of floating among them. It was a sweet sensation, and as he drifted. He never wanted to leave them. He was floating among the stars, knowing everything there was to know about them, yet finding them fresh and new and perfect.
It was a lovely dream.
But things started to change. First of all, there was an irritating beeping that crept into his consciousness, the sharp smell of antiseptics, a dull pain, then the buzzing of voices – sometimes very near him. People seemed to be talking to him, and he should have been irritated by it. He should have been annoyed by the voices that were breaking into his perfect dream of space. He should have blotted them out to allow his flight to continue – but instead he found himself drawn to the sounds, listening intently, trying to define exactly what was being said.
At first it was just a muddled mess, but after a time he was able to pick out bits of the conversation.
"It's a television program. You remember what I told you about television programs, right?"
"I'm not stupid."
"Yeah, yeah, fine. Okay, so it's this show where this bunch of guys break into another guy's house, mess up his stuff, throw all his furniture and clothing in the trash. Then they make him wear weird-ass clothing, shave him, force him to cook for others, then put him on display to his friends and family."
There was a feral growl and, "It is a demonstration of utter humiliation."
"Did I mention that they were gay?"
"The guy was happy about what they did to him?"
"No… no. Well, maybe he was by the end. I think it was just the Stockholm Syndrome at work, so… I don't get it anyway."
"And you watched this television program?"
"I was kinda forced to. Wasn't my idea."
"Who forced you to view this… program."
"My girlfriend… yeah, yeah, don't say it."
He wanted to laugh, but just couldn't find the strength to do so. God, he was pathetic.
"Hey, is he waking up? McKay?"
"He was breathing different."
"Rodney? You in there, buddy?"
"Maybe just dreaming."
"Yeah… wish he'd just give it up and WAKE UP!"
"Let him sleep." Something patted him rather roughly on the leg. "Been through enough."
"He's doing this purposefully. I bet he's just listening."
"Sure."
"He's a pain in the ass, you know that? You hear that, McKay? I got things I could be doing."
Someone snorted a laugh. "Yeah… I'm sure you do…"
The voices grew fuzzy. The words became disconnected from their meaning, and he drifted for a while after that. He was back with the stars – pinpoints of light so bright, they almost hurt his eyes. And he drifted, detached and numb. He loved the stars.
Words became clearer again, less of a buzzing – more meaning. Pain thudded, but the voices drew him back to reality – he wanted to come. The stars were lovely, but he longed for the contact.
"Are you still here then, lass?"
"I wanted to ensure that he was not alone when he awoke. He spent too much time alone."
"Ah yes. A pity it couldn't have been different. But he's back with us. I'm sure that you and the others are doin' him a world of good." A pause, and "And how are you?"
"Better, now that he's better."
"That he is." There was soft whoosh of a seat gaining an occupant.
"He did not want to leave me. When we parted, just before he was hurt, he was anxious about leaving me alone." There was a quiet moment.
"Ah, but that's not your fault."
"I should have gone with him."
"Because if you had, he wouldn't 'ave gotten hurt?"
"There is a good chance."
"And you could've been hurt as well."
"In all honestly, that does not make me feel better."
"Aye, I suppose it wouldn't." There was a sigh. "But you know, there's nothing to be done about it now. You know he's not offerin' you any blame."
"He would not."
"Just remember that. He'll bear you no ill will. It was his choice to go alone, so more than likely, he'll just blame himself for what happened."
A soft sigh. "He is that way. I wish…"
"If wishes were horses… ah, nevermind."
He wondered if that strange pirate had a similar expression and he wondered what the phrase might sound like. What happened to that pirate? He couldn't remember.
It seemed that everything had gone to hell on him. He'd made poor choices, that was certain. So stupid—getting shot and climbing all that way – and he lost something – something important. And he remembered the explosion of the station – and the others…
"Rodney?" the voice sounded concerned.
"He's waking. Are you there, Rodney? Come on now. Just open your eyes for a peek. Just want to see how you're doin'."
Someone touched his arm. It was warm – it was comforting. He realized that he was warm again, and it was a wonderful sensation.
"Rodney? You there, lad?"
He wanted to answer, but he was so tired.
"Apparently, he wishes to sleep still." There was a smile in the voice.
"So it seems. Well, we'll let him be for a bit longer. You hear that, Rodney?"
"We will wait for you, Rodney."
"Yes, lad. I'll let it go for now, but next time you're gonna do what I ask."
There was a little laugh, and it made him feel good to hear it. "Do you honestly believe he will do as you ask him?"
A chuckle. "Ach, a man can dream."
And he slept again, his dreams full of stars and warm conversations.
--
TBC - see? He's going to be fine. The finale is tomorrow.