Apologies for the horrendous delay in updating this. Real life issues got a bit stressful and I chose to take a much-needed break from the writing. Am now back to working on this story and there will be another 1-2 chapters to come.
Teyla's heart was pounding in her chest as she stretched herself full-length across the unstable rubble, carefully spreading the distribution of her weight as she eased herself down to slide her head and shoulders as far as she could into the gap that had opened up towards the far corner of what remained of the building. The space was narrow and she could feel her back scraping against the rough underside of a large slab of stone. She was hyper-aware of every noise, every creak and groan of the precariously balanced structure, every plink and tinkle of small stone fragments slipping and falling in the settling debris. The rubble was dangerously unstable and she knew there was a very good possibility that it could collapse at any moment but she pushed that fear aside and continued to squirm carefully forwards.
She managed to get one arm through the gap before her shoulders wedged in the small space and she knew she could go no further. Stretching as far forward as she could, she craned her neck in an effort to see, calling out softly, equal parts hope and fear tightening her throat, "John?"
Some way below her, on what must have been the original ground floor of the house, half buried in a twisted mess of rubble, something shifted and moved sluggishly, and Teyla found herself looking into the frightened eyes of a young child. The small face crumpled in fear and the mouth opened in a thin wail that made Teyla's heart ache.
Her radio clicked and Rodney's voice was sharp, impatience overlaying fear, "Anything?"
"I see them," she replied, a little breathlessly, the sound echoing oddly in the small space formed by the collapsed rubble. "The child is awake. She is scared but I cannot see any visible injuries."
"What?" Rodney's voice was distracted and Teyla could hear the murmur of voices as someone interrupted the scientist. "Fine." The impatience was more pronounced as he returned to their conversation. "Apparently the child's name is Anari. What about Sheppard?"
She swallowed. "He is not moving. I believe he is unconscious…"
She did not voice the fear that left her dry-mouthed and cold but she knew that Rodney had nonetheless heard her unspoken words, his voice rough as he replied shortly, "The LSD shows he's still alive."
She closed her eyes briefly, allowing herself a quiet moment of relief, short-lived though it may be. They had found John, and that was a positive step, but the situation was still grave and she found herself wondering how they could hope to extract him safely from his precarious position.
It was sheer luck that she had even found them at all. The rubble had shifted as she had tried to move a heavy beam aside, something giving way underneath her, the surface beneath her feet dropping sharply, sending her sliding down a sudden incline to land, shaken and gasping, in a dip in the creaking, groaning debris. She had been frozen in place, terrified of precipitating a further collapse, and it had taken all her courage to remain calm and to force herself to move, to try and climb back out.
She had crawled across the unstable debris on hands and knees, holding her breath as stone shifted under her weight and the still trembling structure creaked and groaned. The partial collapse had opened up gaps in the tangle of rubble, dangerous holes where remnants of the roof and upper floors were balanced precariously on the ruins of the rooms below. It was as she was carefully negotiating her way around one of these gaps that a flash of colour caught her eye, something that didn't fit in with the mass of earth-coloured stone and wood and brightly painted plaster. She had turned back, leaning forward tentatively, peering into the small gap in an effort to find what had attracted her attention. For a moment she had seen only chaos, the destruction and tangled debris of the lower floor, and then her eye had caught a glimpse of black fabric and suddenly the chaos had resolved into recognisable shapes, the scrap of black fabric becoming a t-shirt clad torso, and she had realised she was looking at John Sheppard, his body half-buried in the rubble. He was lying face down, his shock of dark hair almost unrecognisable for a thick coating of dust and plaster fragments. His legs and the right side of his torso were hidden from view under the debris and his left arm was flung out to the side, curved protectively over… the huddled form of a small child. She lay close beside him, her body sheltered by his. They were both utterly still, their bodies crumpled amongst the shattered ruins of the house.
The thrill of fear at seeing John trapped under the debris, lying so still and silent, had almost overwhelmed her joy at having found him. Her heart had been in her throat as she had backed carefully away from the hole and, completely forgetting her radio, shouted at the top of her voice that she'd found them.
The radio crackled briefly. "Can you reach him?" Rodney couldn't hide the tremor of hope in his voice.
She squirmed briefly, feeling the rough stonework scrape at the skin of her shoulders, and grunted in frustration. She was several feet above them and even with her shoulders wedged in the gap and her arm outstretched, she could not reach far enough to touch them. The child watched her struggles and began to sob quietly.
She gave up with a sigh. There was no way to reach further into the cramped space. "No," she reported unhappily. "I cannot get close enough."
"Dammit." McKay's curse was quiet, not intended to be heard, but the sensitive microphone picked up his words and carried them to her and she pressed her lips together, knowing he shared her frustration. All they could do now was wait for help to arrive.
The child was crying quietly, her eyes huge and round in her dirt-streaked face, and Teyla's heart went out to the terrified girl, all too easily imagining how frightening it must have been for her to have been caught in the path of the storm, seeking shelter in this building only to have it torn apart around her, trapping her in the dark, dangerous ruins of the house.
"Hush now," she soothed, keeping her voice low and reassuring, "There is nothing more to fear. Everything will all be alright." Her words sounded hollow even to her own ears; she wished desperately that she could know them to be truth but their situation was grave and every moment that passed could easily be their last.
The child continued to whimper and Teyla sought helplessly for a way to distract her. "Your name is Anari, yes?" A tearful nod.
"That's a beautiful name, for a beautiful and brave little girl. We will get you out of here, Anari." She poured into her voice every ounce of faith that she had in Rodney and in Ronon and in all of the Atlantis team, willing the child to believe that she was not alone, that they would not give up until she was freed. "I just need you to be strong for me, okay? It will take some little time but we will get you out of here."
Anari stared up at Teyla with big, tearful eyes but her crying slowly stopped and she nodded solemnly. Teyla smiled and was pleased to see an answering, tremulous smile on the child's face.
"Are you injured, Anari?" she questioned gently. "Does anywhere hurt?" The child shook her head. Teyla could not see any sign of visible injury. It looked as though John had used his own body to shelter the girl from the falling debris as the house came down around them; she lay curled up against his side, his arm laid across her waist. Teyla frowned. "Can you move?"
Anari's face showed reluctance, her lip trembling again, and she burrowed closer to John, clutching his arm fearfully.
"Anari?" Teyla kept her voice deliberately calm and low. "Can you tell me if John is injured?" She gestured with her one free arm at John's motionless body. "The man who protected you from the roundwind? His name is John. He is… he is a good friend of mine. Can you tell me if he is hurt, Anari?"
The child looked a little dubiously at Teyla and then back at her fallen saviour. Her little forehead creased into a frown as she looked back up at Teyla and when she spoke her high, childish voice was quiet and subdued.
"He's sleeping."
Teyla's reassuring smile wavered slightly, her breath catching in her throat. "I know, Anari. But I need to know if he is hurt…" She bit her lip, trying to find a way to make the child understand. "Have you ever fallen and hurt yourself, Anari? Have you had a bruise - where the skin changes colour and it hurts when you touch it? Or a cut or a graze where the skin is broken and it bleeds?"
Anari nodded solemnly. "I fell and hit my leg and it was bleeding. Mother said I was a brave girl because I only cried a little.."
Teyla nodded encouragingly. "Okay. Well, I need you to be brave now and tell me if John has a hurt like that? Is he bleeding?"
The child looked at John again and then back up at Teyla, her face a mixture of emotion, her fear warring with a brave determination that brought a sharp ache to Teyla's throat. Slowly, moving stiffly, the little girl struggled to sit up, sliding herself carefully out from under John's arm. Teyla watched helplessly as John remained motionless, not registering the child's movement, his arm slipping limply to the floor as Anari clambered unsteadily to her hands and knees beside him.
John didn't move as Anari hesitantly poked at his shoulder. Teyla watched, hardly daring to breathe, as the little girl crawled over the rubble to check John over for injuries.
"He's bleeding." Teyla's blood ran cold as Anari turned a pale, dirt-streaked face to her, the child's eyes huge with fear. She closed her eyes briefly, reaching into herself to find a place of calm, just letting herself breathe for a moment. Swallowing past the lump in her throat, she asked carefully, "Can you see where he is hurt?"
Anari shook her head and pointed at John's torso, half-buried in shattered debris. "His clothes are sticky," she stated sadly and Teyla was horrified to see the child's hands stained with red from where she had touched John's t-shirt.
"Teyla?" The radio crackled to life with a suddenness that startled her. Rodney's voice was tight with impatient excitement, his words rapid as he told her, "They're here. The jumper's here."
The overwhelming relief that washed through her was tempered by uncertainty. They were a long way from safe just yet. The ruined house was dangerously unstable and she had no idea how they could possibly intend to dig John and Anari out without collapsing the entire structure. And John was injured, possibly seriously. She kept her voice quiet so as not to worry the child hunched on the rubble-strewn floor below her, knowing that the mic would carry even her whispered words to McKay. "You need to hurry, Rodney."
TBC..