This is a loooong one folks. And there's lots more yet to come...
Getting to the ground floor of the ruined house had been both difficult and terrifying. The partial collapse of one of the lower walls supporting the unstable ruins of the upper levels had shifted the debris around Teyla, part of the surface she was lying on dropping sickeningly beneath her, and, in so doing, had slightly enlarged the opening through which she had been trying to reach Anari and Colonel Sheppard. Not by much, but enough that she had felt she might be able to squeeze herself through.
She had been able to get through the hole.. but only just. It had been a slow, tense process, easing her body through the tight gap in a cautious, steady wriggle. She had been uncomfortably aware of the unsteadiness of the building, the closeness of the small space through which she was trying to fit herself. Stone had scraped along her skin, the precarious ruins of the house groaning and creaking around her. Each protesting moan of shifting rubble, each tinkle of falling debris, had sent a jolt of fear through her, making her heart race, adrenalin flooding her system. She had had to fight the urge to hurry, to push quickly through the hole and get to the relative safety of the level below before the rubble shifted again and collapsed the upper levels while her body was still precariously, dangerously, wedged into the irregular gap between heavy slabs of stone. The prospect of being crushed by the shifting debris was a very real danger. She had focused on her breathing, remembering the lessons her father had taught her about keeping her centre, staying strong and calm even in the midst of chaos.
Her shoulders had pushed through the gap with a hairs' breadth to spare and she had used her arms to brace against the slab of stone below her and help pull her body further into the cramped space. Below her, John had been silent and still, having shown no signs of regaining consciousness in the long hours since she had stumbled across he and Anari trapped in the rubble. The child Anari had watched her squirming progress with a mixture of fear and hope, her little face twisting with worry as the tight confines of the irregular gap had scraped the skin from Teyla's shoulder as she slid through, drawing an involuntary hiss of pain from her lips.
Getting down to the floor, a good way below her, had been a challenge in and of itself. The drop was greater than her own height and, even if she had been able to reach to the floor, she had no way to support her weight whilst she withdrew her legs from the hole; there were no obvious handholds nearby and in any case she did not trust to the stability of the rubble enough to try and suspend herself from it in order to drop feet first to the floor. In the end, seeing no other option, she had pushed herself as far as she could without falling, sliding her hips through the narrow opening, and allowed her torso to tilt forward, her own weight pulling her body free of the gap in the rubble. She had stretched her arms out before her as she had fallen forwards into the small space under the rubble, her legs slipping smoothly over the lip of the hole high above, bending her elbows to absorb the impact with the ground, tucking her head and allowing her body to roll over, the motion absorbing the momentum of the fall and leaving her sitting, a little shaken and a lot bruised, on the ground floor of the ruined house, suddenly face to face on a level with Anari. After a moment of fearful hesitation, the child's need for comfort had overwhelmed her natural caution and she had thrown herself into Teyla's arms, her little body trembling as she sought reassurance in a fierce hug.
Teyla gladly took a moment to comfort the child, wincing a little as adrenalin faded and she became aware of a litany of aches and pains. Her muscles, stiffened after long hours of lying motionless in the cramped space atop the rubble, protested the strenuous effort of squeezing through the narrow gap above and her abrupt landing on the uneven, debris-strewn floor of the lower level had left her feeling battered and bruised. Anari sniffled quietly, her tears mostly from relief at no longer being quite so alone, Teyla guessed, and she gently held the child from her, offering a reassuring smile that brought forth a tremulous smile in response. Stretching a little experimentally, feeling the sharp ache of overtaxed muscles and bruised tissue but nothing too serious, Teyla tapped the radio earpiece and delivered the good news to the team waiting outside. She had made it.
She had a response almost immediately and, as quick as Carson's query came, she had already anticipated it and was rolling stiffly to her knees, turning to her fallen team mate as the doctor's anxious query crackled in her ear. "Teyla, how is Colonel Sheppard?"
She pushed herself smoothly to her feet and, crouching carefully, she stepped over and around the uneven debris to drop to her knees beside John, picking her way over the rubble-strewn floor much as Anari had hours earlier. She found herself oddly hesitant to touch him; as much as the LSD assured them that he still lived, he had been so still, so silent for all these hours and she could not dispel a lurking fear that she would lay her hand on him and find him cold, his life having slipped away unnoticed whilst they had worked fruitlessly above. She pushed that awful fear aside and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, breathing out a small sigh of relief at finding his body soft and warm to the touch, not cold and stiff in death. He did not react to her touch and the tight feeling of concern, the icy fear that had lain, cold and hard, in her stomach as the hours had passed, did not abate. Moving quickly, concentrating on remembering the skills Carson had taught her, she moved her hand to John's neck; his head was turned away from her and she had to slip her fingers between his shoulder and his chin to search for the pulse point. His skin was cool the touch and his pulse, when, after a long, fearful moment, she found it, was weak and fast. Biting her lip, she held her hand over his lips and was relieved to find him breathing. The flutter of air across her skin was slight though and also rapid. She frowned.
"Carson?"
"Yes, love?" She could hear the fear and hope in his voice, the dreadful eagerness for information, for knowledge that he could use to help his patient, his friend.
Consciously using the terminology he had taught her, the words still feeling foreign, unfamiliar on her tongue, she told him, "John's carotid pulse is weak and rapid and his skin feels cool and clammy. His breathing also seems rapid and shallow." Her heart was heavy as she listed the symptoms; she recalled that very list of danger signs from Carson's first aid training. "He is in shock, is he not, Carson?" she questioned, concern tightening her chest.
There was an exhalation of breath over the radio and she felt Carson's frustration and worry as palpably as her own. "Yes, love. He's almost certainly in hypovolaemic shock. We need to find out where he is bleeding and do what we can to treat it." His voice was rough, tight with emotion, but gaining in strength as he began to issue orders, slipping easily into the confident, decisive mannerisms she had seen in him time and time again when a life was at stake, the survival of another living being entirely in his hands.
"Teyla, I need you to examine the Colonel and describe his injuries to me." There was a click as he opened the radio channel to broadcast to the entire team. "We need medical supplies and equipment inside that house, right now. Where's that chappy with the ropes and harnesses? I need him up on top of the rubble to pass equipment to Teyla."
The energy and determination in his voice brought a rush of hope to Teyla, leaving her revitalised and focused. Over the radio, there was a chatter of voices as the team, similarly invigorated, responded quickly to Carson's orders. Anari crouched nearby and watched with wide eyes as Teyla moved around John's still form, stepping carefully around him to crouch in the cramped space between his head and the edges of the tumbled rubble which half buried him. John's eyes were closed and he looked almost peaceful, as though he were merely sleeping. White, chalky dust was thick in his tousled hair and Teyla carefully brushed more plaster dust from his cheek as she examined his face. His skin looked pale under the coating of dust but there were no injuries that she could see. Running her fingers quickly through his hair, she found no evidence of any lumps or cuts that would indicate a head injury. Bending forward to look more closely, she gently gripped his chin and turned his head just a little, lifting his cheek from the floor. Frowning, she tapped her radio and called Carson.
"Teyla. How's our patient?"
"I have found what looks like bruising to his left temple, Carson. I fear he may have received a blow to the head during the collapse." She focused on keeping her voice steady as she reported the worrying news.
"Okay." Carson took the information in his stride, his voice thoughtful as he discussed the situation with her. "We're looking at a probable concussion then; that could explain why he has not yet regained consciousness. Is the skin broken?"
She carefully lifted John's head further, wary of moving him too much and exacerbating an unknown injury, and peered more closely at the discoloured patch of skin. She could not see any blood and, running her fingers gently across his temple, she could feel no evidence of a cut or any bleeding, the skin smooth and hot beneath her touch. "I do not believe so, Carson." She carefully laid John's head back down and turned her attention to her continued examination.
"What about any other injuries? Have you found the source of the bleeding?" Carson queried urgently.
Teyla shook her head, feeling a growing frustration as she ran her hands carefully over John's shoulders and back. "Not yet," she murmured. "This will not be a simple matter.. much of the Colonel's body is buried under the rubble. He.." Her words died on her lips as her questing hands touched damp, sticky cloth.
"Teyla? What is it, love?" Carson's concerned voice was loud in her ear as she lifted her hand and grimaced to see her fingertips smeared red with blood, John's blood. Bright, red, fresh blood, which meant that John was still continuing to bleed. She swallowed thickly.
"I have.." Her voice cracked and she tried again. "He is still bleeding. I cannot see the injury but his shirt is wet with fresh blood."
She sat back on her heels, looking up at the narrow opening above as she spoke, "I am going to have to try and remove some of the debris if we are to have any hope of treating Colonel Sheppard's injury."
Rodney's voice broke in on the conversation, his tone harsh as he snapped, "If you mess around in there you could bring the whole thing down on top of all of you!"
"I am aware of that, Rodney but.."
Her attempt at a calm reply was interrupted by Carson's equally snappish response, "And if we don't try then the poor bugger'll have bled to death by the time you and your engineers figure out a way to get him out of there!"
"Hey! If it wasn't for "me and my engineers".."
"Is there not some way to shore up this area from within so that we may more safely remove the debris that is trapping the Colonel?" Teyla stopped the growing argument by the simple expedient of talking over the two men, keeping her voice calm and firm. She was rewarded with a moment of silence before Rodney's excited voice came back over the radio, the sound of his snapping fingers audible in the background.
"Of course! We can pass supports through the gap to Teyla and she can reinforce the structure from the inside! Jefferson, get over here! I need some of those collapsible.." Teyla tuned out Rodney's words as she realised he was no longer talking to her, his attention consumed by the details of his plan to shore up the ruined building from the inside.
"Teyla?"
"Yes, Carson?"
"Lt Masood should be with you in a moment with some medical supplies. He's going to pass them to you through the hole."
"Understood." She straightened gingerly from her uncomfortable crouch and stepped carefully over and around the heaped rubble towards the opening above, flinching into a crouch instinctively as somewhere nearby something groaned and snapped audibly, a rushing, tinkling sound announcing a shower of small pieces of debris falling somewhere within the rubble. She looked up from her crouched position to find Anari huddled in a similar posture, the child's eyes bright with fear. Teyla hurried over to her in a cautious half-crouch and knelt beside the frightened child to gather her into her arms. Anari trembled as Teyla held her close, the long hours of fear and loneliness taking their toll. Teyla ran a soothing hand over the little girl's soft, blonde hair as she spoke quietly into her radio.
"Lt Masood?"
"Yes, ma'am? I'm nearly at the entrance. I'll be with you in just a moment."
Teyla's voice was firm as she asked the young marine, "How much weight can you carry, Lieutenant?"
""I'm sorry?" She heard the voice both through her earpiece and from behind and above her and, looking over her shoulder, she found Lt Masood grinning tightly down at her from above.
"I have some supplies for you, courtesy of Dr Beckett." Before she could respond he was slipping a rucksack through the narrow gap where it swung slowly on a slim piece of rope as he carefully lowered it down towards the floor. Teyla rose smoothly to her feet, the child Anari still cuddled to her, and picked her way through the rubble until she was almost beneath the only entrance and exit to this cramped and dangerous space within the ruins of the house. Balancing Anari on one arm, her body tilted to rest the child's weight on one hip, she reached out and snagged the rucksack as it came within reach, setting it gently on the floor.
She lowered herself to kneel on the floor, setting Anari beside her, and used both hands to unfasten the rope from the bag of medical supplies. She was anxious to do what she could for John but there was little she could do until they could shore up the debris enough to allow her access to treat him and, in the meantime, he was not the only one who had been caught up in this disaster. With a quick glance at the exhausted, scared child beside her, she looked up at where Lt Masood waited for her to return the rope and asked him firmly, "Can you carry Anari with you to safety?"
Her request was unexpected and she could see the concern on his face. "My orders are to bring you these supplies and then return immediately to collect more equipment to pass to you.."
"I know." She spoke calmly, not wanting to frighten the child further, but her tone made it clear that this was not a request. "This child has been trapped alone down here for many hours, Lieutenant. She is tired and cold and hungry and she needs to be with her mother. She is small enough to fit through the gap if you lift her on your rope; can you safely bear her weight across the rubble?"
The young soldier nodded seriously, his expression softening as he regarded the forlorn little girl below him. "The harness and pulley system can cope with her weight as well as mine," he affirmed.
Teyla smiled and her words were heartfelt as she told Masood seriously, "Thank you." She turned to Anari to find the little girl watching her solemnly with large, tear-filled eyes. "We are going to get you out of here Anari and the nice Lt Masood up there is going to take you back to your mother." She kept her voice low and reassuring, speaking soothingly to the child as Anari looked upwards doubtfully at the hole above where Lt Masood waited, offering an encouraging wave to the little girl.
Teyla quickly formed the rope into a wide loop around the child and fastened it into a firm knot, all the while talking gently, calmly. "I need you to be brave for me just a little while longer. Lt Masood is going to need to lift you up to the gap up there so that he can reach you and lift you out of here. We're going to use this rope for you to sit on – just like a swing, Anari. You like swings, don't you? He's going to lift you up and I will hold on to you all the way up so you will be safe, Anari. Okay?"
The child nodded bravely, her eyes wide in fear, as Teyla settled the loop of the rope snugly under her legs and wrapped Anari's little hands around the tightly-fastened knot in the rope. "I need you to hold on tight for me, Anari. Hold on tight." She hugged the child to her one last time and then signalled silently to Masood. Keeping her hands around Anari's waist she kept the child's attention on her as the line slowly tautened and the little girl's feet left the floor. Smiling and talking all the while, Teyla slowly straightened as Masood pulled in the rope and Anari rose higher and higher towards the precarious ceiling above. Eventually, the child swung high enough to pull her out of Teyla's grasp and Anari's thin wail of fear echoed in the small, enclosed space but she held on tight to the rope, just as Teyla had asked her, and a moment later Masood reached in through the gap above and grabbed the child under her arms, smoothly lifting her from the rope seat and sliding her out through the hole in the ceiling. In the blink of an eye, Anari was gone from view.
Teyla felt a momentary pang at the child's absence, feeling suddenly very alone here in the gloom of the shattered house. But she was not alone and Colonel Sheppard needed her help; grabbing up the bag of medical supplies, she moved quickly to crouch beside her unconscious friend, calling Carson on the radio even as she began to unpack bandages, suture kits and bags of blood products from the rucksack.
"I have the supplies, Carson," she told him and his voice was thick with relief as he responded.
"Okay, love. The most important thing is to get an IV started; we've no way of knowing how much blood he's lost but the fact that he's in shock is a worrying sign and I want to at least start replacing what he's losing whilst we work on finding and treating the injury."
Teyla looked dubiously at the array of equipment she had unpacked from the rucksack; Carson had insisted that every member of Atlantis' off-world teams be given basic first aid training, including the protesting Dr McKay who had felt he had far better ways to spend his time than "being taught voodoo", until Carson had pointed out that, given Rodney's usual obsession with his health, he would have expected the physicist to take an active interest in acquiring knowledge designed to safeguard that same state of health. Carson had only gotten to number five on his list of minor conditions which could prove life-threatening if not treated properly in the field before Rodney had hurriedly agreed to the training session. Whereas those members of the expedition from Earth had required only a short session to learn the basics of triage and first aid, Carson had taken it upon himself to train Ronon and Teyla personally, taking the time to explain to them the unfamiliar Earth terms used to describe the body and its condition and to demonstrate the various pieces of equipment and how they should be used. Teyla prided herself on being a quick study and she had learnt well.. but she had never actually done what Carson was asking of her and the thought of attempting the unfamiliar process for the first time in such circumstances, with John's survival at stake, was daunting.
"Carson.." She found herself instinctively looking upwards at the small gap above, her only link with the world outside this cramped, gloomy space, as she spoke into the radio, her words hesitant, unsure.
The Scot's lilting brogue was warm and reassuring, filled with understanding, "Don't worry, Teyla. I'll talk you through every step of the way. You'll do fine."
She breathed out slowly and carefully, seeking for and finding strength from within. John needed her help and she would not fail him in this. Her voice was steadier as she told Carson, "Okay."
John's right arm was lost under the rubble, leaving his left arm as the only candidate for the IV. The situation was not ideal with John lying in a face down position but she lifted and rotated his arm enough to expose the underside of the arm and quickly fastened the tourniquet around his upper arm, following Carson's instructions as she pulled the strip of rubber tight and massaged John's arm, leaning forward and using the medical kit's pen flashlight to help illuminate the area as she searched carefully for a vein. Finding a likely candidate, she tapping repeatedly over the vein, just as Carson had shown her, and watched it distend and become more visible through the pale skin of John's arm.
Ripping open a sterile swab from the medical kit, she carefully cleaned the area around the vein, wiping away the dirt and plaster dust that coated John's skin. Concentrating on Carson's firm, reassuring voice, she opened up a sterile 20-gauge IV catheter and placed the needle against John's skin over the vein. "Tilt the needle slightly and make sure the vein is tightly anchored." She pulled down on the skin, holding the vein steady and, with a deep breath, slid the needle quickly into John's arm. The sense of relief was immense as blood spilled backwards into the catheter and she realised with a small rush of pride that she had done it; she had got the vein on her first attempt. Her hands were shaking a little from the release of tension as she carefully followed Carson's instructions and flashed back the chamber, removing the tourniquet and needle and quickly attaching an IV bag of type-specific blood, opening the valve wide to run the precious fluid into John's veins.
She was using tape to secure the catheter hub firmly against John's skin when a cheerful voice called from above and she looked up to see Lt Masood once again peering down at her from the entrance hole. "Got some more deliveries for you," he informed her as he carefully pushed another bag through the gap and began to lower it to the floor.
Teyla quickly checked John's pulse and airway and, happy that he remained stable for the moment, that the IV was patent and the blood transfusing steadily, she rose to her feet and moved to catch the slowly descending bag of supplies. In all, Lt Masood dropped three bags down into the cramped space before wishing her luck and disappearing from view, his footsteps crunching audibly on the debris as he clambered lightly back to safety.
"Teyla?" The radio clicked and Rodney's voice came through clearly, tight with impatience. "Do you have the equipment?"
"Yes, Rodney." She was carefully unpacking the bags as she spoke, lifting out an array of collapsible supports; sturdy metal tubes with wide, splayed legs to evenly distribute weight. As she examined the unfamiliar equipment, Rodney explained how the tubes extended telescopically and locked into place, allowing the wide top plate to be pushed firmly against any surface, forming a temporary support pillar capable of withstanding several a weight of up to several tonnes.
Setting the supports into place in the cramped confines of the ruined house was difficult and dangerous. Rodney and the team of engineers conferred with her across an open channel, she describing the placement of the debris and they suggesting the best spots to place the extending supports to help strengthen the unstable structure. The ruins creaked and groaned around her as she locked each support rod into place, plaster dust showering down into her hair, making her cough and rub her eyes. The floor was uneven and strewn with rubble, the ceiling of debris above her varying in height so that at times she was forced to crawl, pulling a metal support awkwardly along behind her. Time seemed to pass slowly and more than once she stopped in her work to check on Colonel Sheppard's condition, worried at the continued delay in treating him.
Placing supports to shore up the debris above and around the Colonel was especially important – and particularly difficult. The space was small and cramped and areas of the load-bearing wall and the levels above had already collapsed, resulting in the tangled pile of rubble that had partially buried John. Moving around in this delicate area, consciously careful not to jar or touch the unconscious man, was a slow, dangerous process and it was difficult to find clear, stable places in which to site the support rods. As she leant over John's body to lock a rod into position she felt it slip in her hands, sliding sideways as a section of the overhanging debris cracked and broke under the pressure, the support rod falling to the floor with a loud crash. She instinctively threw herself forward, covering John's body with her own as a shower of debris rained down from the unstable ceiling above, grunting in pain as something heavy impacted against her shoulder blade. She breathed tightly through the pain, coughing on the dust-choked air, the rushing, tinkling sound of dust and small stone fragments pouring down from above almost drowning out the frantic babble of voices in her ear as her team mates called her name desperately.
Gradually, the flow of dust and debris eased and, slowly and carefully, Teyla eased herself up from where she lay across John's unprotected back, pushing painfully back to kneel beside him, looking warily up at the unstable rubble above. It seemed to be holding steady for now and she coughed a couple of times, her mouth and throat gritty with dust, before croaking a response to her worried friends. "I am here."
"Oh, thank god!"
"What the hell happened?"
Carson's expression of relief was almost drowned out by Rodney's peremptory demand and Teyla allowed herself a small smile, knowing that the scientist's often abrasive nature concealed a depth of affection equal to Carson's. She brushed plaster dust from her hair and looked around her to locate the fallen support rod. "Part of the debris overhead broke away under the pressure of the support strut," she informed Rodney. "There was a minor collapse but it seems to be stable for now. The Colonel's condition remains unchanged." She leaned over to press her hand to John's neck as she spoke, confirming the truth of her words as she felt the flutter of his pulse under her fingers; still fast and weak but perhaps not quite so weak as before. She checked the IV bag and found it nearly empty.
"Are you okay, love?" Carson's queried as she pulled a second bag of type-specific blood from the bag of medical supplies and carefully set about changing over John's IV supply.
"I am fine, Carson," she replied, ignoring the twinge of pain in her shoulder as she connected the IV line to the new bag and opened the port wide. She couldn't help a sad smile as she realised that this was usually Colonel Sheppard's trick, ignoring his own injuries in order to help others, offering a standard reply of "I'm fine" to any queries about his own health. She checked John's condition once more before returning to her work, grimacing at the stab of pain as she was forced to stretch across John's unconscious body to retrieve the fallen support rod and lift it back into position.
It took another half hour of back-breaking work before the ruined building around her was shored up to Rodney's satisfaction and still the real task lay ahead of her; she needed to somehow lift and remove the rubble pinning Colonel Sheppard to the floor. Wiping sweat from her brow with a dusty, grimy hand, she knelt by John's side and carefully began to pull away the debris covering his body, one careful piece at a time.
It was slow, delicate work; the debris was a tangled jumble, shattered pieces of stone mixed in with broken wooden beams and jagged chunks of plaster, cascades of tiny stone fragments sliding and clattering over the surface of the rubble as she carefully worked each piece free. She focused her attention on clearing the debris covering John's torso and lower back, the area where John's clothes were sticky with blood. She found herself breathing heavily as she lifted heavy chunks of solid stone, sharp wooden shards where beams had snapped and splintered, awkward slabs of painted plaster that crumbled in her hands, shedding more fine dust into the air. It was hot and stuffy in the cramped space under the rubble and the dust was choking, making her eyes water and her breath catch in frequent coughing. Rodney and Carson were a constant, anxious presence, their voices crackling in her ear as they chattered to each other and to her, asking how it was going, asking if she was okay. Her responses were short and to the point, heat and physical exertion robbing her of the breath for idle chatter.
She felt an almost physical rush of adrenalin, a sudden revitalising burst of energy, as she pulled aside a piece of stonework and found the underside smeared with blood, both dark and drying and fresh and red; she was getting close. She worked quickly, her fingers sure and nimble and she dug carefully through the rubble, tossing aside more and more pieces of blood-stained debris until, finally, she strained to lift the edge of a heavy slab of stone and felt the warmth drain from her body as she caught her first glimpse of John's injuries. Her arms trembled with the strain and suddenly nerveless fingers struggled to keep a grip on the heavy, awkward chunk of stone. She twisted her torso to tilt the stone sideways and let it go with relief, uncaring of the loud crash as it hit the floor hard.
"Teyla?"
"What was that?"
Hours of fear and tension were evident in her friends' worried voices as they heard the loud noise echo over the radio. Teyla felt suddenly incredibly weary, a creeping sense of despair draining the energy from her limbs as she knelt beside John and regarded the injury her efforts had exposed.
"Teyla?"
She coughed harshly, her throat feeling dry and worn. "Carson, I have located the source of Colonel Sheppard's bleeding." She swallowed, trying to work some moisture into her mouth before continuing, "It does not look good."
"What does that mean? Not good?" There was an undertone of sharp fear in Rodney's voice and she could hear an echo of that same fear in the deliberate calm of Carson's quiet query.
"Can you describe the injury to me, Teyla?"
She sighed helplessly, feeling suddenly overwhelmed, and found that she was struggling to find the words to describe to Carson the full extent of what she saw before her; she could see blood welling slowly from the edges of John's wound, soaking into the fabric of his shirt, she could see the torn edges of flesh where his shirt had ripped. But the thing that captured all her attention, that drew her gaze helplessly and left an icy lump of fear in her chest, was the long, narrow spear of solid wood, a fragment of a much larger beam, that protruded from John's lower torso, impaling him, pinning him firmly to the floor.
TBC...