Bit of bad language and blood-shed ahead...
oOo
John Sheppard trailed his team across the dreary moor. A lazy wind was blowing, stirring up an unpleasant, 'boggy' smell that Rodney had already complained about.
There had been the odd life sign on this desolate world, but no human habitation to be seen. He'd called time, and they were now on their way back to the stargate, only a scant two hours after they initially came though.
In front were Ronon, on point; Teyla behind him; and just in front of John, a blustering Rodney McKay, engaged in a heated discussion with Major Lorne.
Yup, Lorne was with them today. It was good practice to rotate the teams a little, and anyway, they all liked the major, it was an easy mission, and Evan had been telling him he didn't get off world enough these days.
John smiled at his and McKay's banter; Lorne was kidding him along about something, but Rodney hadn't realised yet and was red-faced and fuming at the major. Evan Lorne could be quite the comedian when he wanted to.
He was a leader, no doubt about that; a conscientious soldier, not averse to a joke now and again, but he was focussed, perhaps more so than John himself. Where Sheppard at least appeared to be relaxed, Lorne had a serious front which his men responded to. Self-contained and level-headed, Evan Lorne exuded professionalism. In a tough spot, Lorne had a confidence that inspired total trust - something that even John himself found comforting.
One moment he was hearing the major laughingly accuse Rodney of being a girl, the next he heard a thwacking sound, Lorne's head seemed to jerk, and then... he was down.
Crap...
"Drop! Now!", he barked.
Teyla was crouched, all attention and grim purpose. Rodney was sprawled, having gone down in a heap, and was getting onto hands and knees, clutching his hand gun. Ronon was still up, scanning the periphery of the wasteland.
"One shooter. Gone already", he stated.
John yanked him down by his coat tails, and then they were both hovering over the motionless figure on the ground.
The major's eyes were open and fixed... he looked dead. John's fingers moved quickly against his neck, finding a rapid pulse. Blood was splattered across the soldier's left ear and up into his hair. Within the splash of red, was a tiny circle of black...
John's stomach lurched in recognition; he'd been shot in the head.
Focus, Colonel, he said to himself, aware that they could all still be in danger. He cast around, searching for suitable cover, somewhere they could tend to the major and assess the situation they were in.. Ronon instictively knew what he was looking for and nodded to a nearby huddle of scrawny looking shrubs.
"Let's move. Teyla... Rodney... cover us."
"Ronon?", and with no further bidding, the big man slid his hands under the soldier's arms. John took the legs and they shuffled quickly towards the area that was to be their refuge, heads down, with Teyla and Rodney behind, watching for trouble.
As they moved him, the major's head lolled slackly, eyes still open, unresponsive and white-faced. John couldn't tell if he was breathing, or indeed, if he was even still alive. Blood was running, sluggishly, down his neck from the bullet wound above his left ear.
They made their way clumsily over the rough ground, and when John turned his ankle painfully in a pot hole, the resulting sharp movement had Lorne gasping, the first real sign of life that they'd been given.
"Sorry, Major.. ", John hissed as he recovered his balance and continued, limping slightly on his twisted ankle.
They set him down beneath the canopy of the foliage, and John moved closer to his side, on his knees, rummaging in his pack for supplies.
Rodney dropped down, too, lowering his weapon and staring wide-eyed at Lorne.
"Oh my god... is that a bullet hole...? In his head? Is he- is he...?"
"No, he's alive", answered Sheppard, balling up a shirt and laying it carefully under Lorne's head.
Sheppard spoke quickly, "Lorne? Major? Can you hear me?", and he bent closer. Evan was now blinking owlishly, forehead wrinkling, appearing confused. His lips were moving slowly but he made no sound.
"He's seriously out of it...", and he shook his head worriedly.
Glancing up he was aware of Ronon and Teyla, standing restlessly and peering through the bushes, their eyes still scanning for trouble.
He nodded at Ronon's questioning look, and they both crept away to do a sweep of the area.
John turned back to his task to find Rodney, desperately searching though his own pack. He pulled out two sweaters and an emergency blanket. Only then did Sheppard become aware of a strange sound; the major was shivering uncontrollably, his teeth chattering loudly.
McKay threw the sweaters over their patient's legs, and then wrapped the blanket around as best he could, with visibly shaking hands. John grabbed Rodney's arm and held it in a firm grip. He searched the scientist's pale,worried face.
"Take it easy, Rodney. Stay calm, okay?"
The last thing they needed was another patient in shock.
"S-sorry", he said lowering his gaze and gulping, "It's just...", and his eyes strayed again to the side of Lorne's head, "...Just that... God.. Jesus..."
John could tell that McKay was really freaked.
"It'll be okay...", he said, not really believing it himself. With a bullet wound like that, Evan should be dead. Why he wasn't, was a miracle to Sheppard, who had seen his share of head injuries in his time.
Ronon and Teyla reappeared. They crouched at the injured man's feet and watched as Sheppard made to carefully clean the gory head wound.
"Easy, Major... just cleaning you up a bit, okay, buddy?", not expecting a response, John set to his task.
"Whoever it was that did this...", and Teyla looked with compassion at the major."They are now gone", and she moved quickly up to Lorne's head and held it still whilst John used dampened gauze to clean the man's neck.
Ronon held up his hand, "Look."
It was a spent shell, and John could see immediately it was old and corroded.
"We found this... a long way out. That's why we never heard the shot. I'm certain there was only ever one of them... a parting warning to make sure we never returned, maybe...? ", and he shrugged.
This at least was a piece of better news; from such a distance, the bullet must have been almost spent. But it was cold comfort to know that the major was only still alive, because the bullet currently lodged in his skull had not penetrated as it should have.
"We may still lose him, I've seen it before. We have to get going..."
Sheppard had noticed with concern that blood was not the only thing leaking from the bullet wound; pale, clear fluid was glistening across his jawline, streaking down to his collar. Rodney's voice interrupted his thoughts...
"Shouldn't he be on his side? I mean... clear airway, and everything..", Rodney said nervously.
"Good thinking, McKay", and Sheppard was already rolling the unresponsive major's shoulders towards the kneeling Teyla.
He looked up towards the Satedan.
"Ronon? You and Rodney, keep watch for now."
Teyla had shuffled back a little, pulled up the pillowed shirt, and rested Lorne's right cheek against her knee. She reached across and took a fresh pad of gauze from John and set about wiping the major's eyes, the mixture of blood and fluid now dripping into them.
She looked over at John, and said, "We should cover this wound".
He nodded and dragged over another of their packs.
As she dabbed and swept the pad across, she realised the fixed eyes of the major were actually now fixed on... her. She drew in a breath as his eyes connected with hers and his lips moved, haltingly,
"T-t-t...", was all the man could stammer out.
"Sshh...", she admonished, "Do not talk... be strong".
John watched as she gently caressed his brow; it was chalk-white and sweaty, streaked with old blood.
Sheppard ran a hand through his hair...
What to do... Could they carry the injured man back to the gate? It was a good three miles away and over rough ground. They had no stretcher, no time to make one... No time... Someone could go for help, maybe? He sighed, retrieved a wrapped package from the kit. He unrolled the field dressing, quickly and expertly applying the bandage and tying it off.
As he lifted Evan's heavy head, with the help of Teyla, they exchanged a worried look; his eyes were blinking slowly but the right eye was sluggish, un coordinated. John quickly, but awkwardly, slid a hand into the right sleeve of Evan's jacket... the skin was cold. He pulled out a little, and grasped the soldier's hand... it, too, was cold and had a slackness that was anything but normal.
Sitting back on his heels, John beckoned Rodney and Ronon over, and said, "He's got no time for this."
"I'm no doctor, but this is some serious...", and he fumbled for the right words, settling for,"... brain shit."
Good language, John, he thought lamely; Rodney groaned.
"He's gonna die if we don't get help."
"I just - just - just... it's... no, y-y-you..."
All eyes looked down to find Lorne struggling to speak.
"What is he trying to say?", asked Rodney.
"I believe he thinks we are still in danger, and he is asking us to leave him.", Teyla said quietly, astounding them all with her intuition.
Teyla looked as close to tears as John had ever seen her, as she lay her long fingers gently against Evan's lips.
"No..", she whispered, shaking her head.
Rodney spluttered...
"What? He's as bad as you, Sheppard! We're going to leave him behind? Yeah, right..."
John purposefully ignored the ranting doctor, and spoke to the rest of his team.
"Alright.. Teyla... Ronon.. get back to the gate and... " He stopped, threw up his hands and sighed wearily, "Hell, you know the rest - just go now, I've delayed enough."
Teyla gently re-positioned Evan's face onto the make-shift pillow, and lay her hand on his cheek for a brief moment. Then she and Ronon left hastily, and John's attention was wrenched back to Rodney. He was still muttering away to himself.
McKay was upset; he was strung out and tired, but John couldn't afford any more hysterics.
"Rodney! Cool it... That's an order.", he said icily.
Evan still tried valiantly to speak, but it seemed that the ability to do so was slipping away, as his eyes grew duller, and his breaths more laboured.
"G-g-g-go.."
"Is he choking? Get him up!", yelled Rodney.
"What happened to 'on his side', McKay?", John asked, irritated.
"Well, I don't know... It just seems better now for him to be up", he finished, lamely.
Rodney ended with the major's head in his lap. He would probably grouch about it later, but right now he knew the score as well as John did; Lorne could have minutes to live, and they would make him as comfortable as possible.
Evan's eyes still roamed and it seemed to John that he saw and recognised Rodney leaning over him, but as his eyes shifted past the scientist, they appeared to fix onto things unseen, perhaps flicking around a circle of faces that were no longer there.
"..s'dark", he slurred, almost drunkenly.
Rodney's eyes met John's, looking puzzled; it was no darker now than it had been five minutes ago, in fact, the sun was trying to push through as the afternoon wore on.
This was not a good sign.
John leaned over, into Lorne's line of sight. The major blinked crookedly, and John saw no recognition. He spoke anyway, his hands on the man's face, willing him to hear.
"Major... you'll be okay... just hold on..."
At first, Sheppard thought with horror that the stuttering breath he heard next, was Lorne's final one, but then, out of the blue, after going totally limp, he watched helplessly as the man went into convulsions.
"Sheppard...?", squealed Rodney, his hands on the quaking shoulders. But John wasn't listening, he was shouting, his face only inches from Lorne's.
"Evan? That's an order! You're one of us... and we don't leave our people behind."
oOo
One more little chap to go. Sorry about the dubious 'brain shit'... I'm completely untrained... (pass me a scalpel)