oOo
Ch 5 Sliver
John
Two figures in gray were standing over another in blue, who was seated.
The seated figure was McKay; John saw a familiar blue shirt, upon a curved back, and relief hit him solidly in the chest.
Rodney was turned slightly away, and John could only see the side of his face. He was sitting hunched forward in an office chair - a plain old swivel office chair - looking almost relaxed, his arms laid across his knees, hands hanging loose.
Then, taking John completely by surprise, Rodney threw back his head and screamed, 'No!' in such a way that the others around him all took several steps backward.
John, on the other hand, went forward, drawing level with the two medics.
"Don't... touch me.. don't.."
"Hey, buddy... what's up?" he said softly.
"Sheppard...? is'at you?", came the unsteady response.
"Yeah, it's me. Are you hurt?" John was edging closer, his hands indicating to the medics to back off.
McKay turned, the chair swinging around slowly until John could see the man's face properly for the first time.
Rodney was shockingly pale, looking to John like he was on the verge of collapse. He wore a desolate expression, but when he realised it truly was Sheppard, it crumbled into one of exhausted elation, and his eyes turned bright with tears.
"God...I need... you're here...", he said in a broken voice, interspersed with sobs, "..how did..?"
"It's okay...", John said immediately, and his hand came down and clasped Rodney's arm warmly, "You don't have to say anything. Wanna go home?"
He recieved a rapid nodding in reply and John realised that his friend was probably in shock, his body trembling and his eyes unfocussed, looking too big for his face.
Sheppard stepped back and waited for Rodney to rise. But he didn't, he only sat motionless, staring across at his discarded Atlantis jacket and the bulky shape beneath.
Sheppard crouched down, into Rodney's line of sight, eyes now level with his friend's. Taking off his own jacket, he wrapped it around the shoulders of the scientist, saying quietly, almost in a whisper...
"Rodney? Can you come... now... with me?"
Another slow nod and then McKay stared into his eyes as if trying to communicate, just by the force of that desperate stare. He seemed to be having some trouble comprehending what John was saying or making any response. He fisted both hands in the fabric of John's shirt sleeves, and stammered out,
"I l-lost... m-my gear..."
John shook his head, dismissing the comment, saying smoothly, "It's okay... not important."
He carefully helped the dazed man to thread his arms through the jacket sleeves. His dark shirt was dirty and torn, and flapped a little, as if it had been snagged on something. His pants were wet at the knees and looked filthy. Sheppard did a quick visual check for signs of injury, but found nothing obvious. McKay was disoriented and could maybe have knocked his head, but on the whole, he looked unhurt - he was certainly better off than many others who survived the day.
"Come on.", Sheppard said, and held out a hand for Rodney to take.
McKay seemed to rally a little, and said, "Hope your jumper's.. parked around back.."
"Sorry, McKay..", and he really was, "... we'll be walking home."
Rodney latched on to the offered hand and slowly pulled himself to standing. John noticed his eyes slide around to the body on the ground.
"I couldn't save him."
"No", was all John could say.
"Can we go now?", came the familiar whiny tone that John was glad to hear, and he smiled.
"Yes, we can go now, Rodney."
oOo
The scene was still horrific, but John could see that the Almans were coping. He had talked to a security chief, and had been assured that things were well in hand. He promised a team of engineers for as long as they required them, and recieved suitable thanks. But Sheppard got the impression that the Almans, being embarrassed by the event, were anxious to be rid of the Lanteans, at least for the time being.
Incredibly, only forty minutes had passed since the blasts had brought John running back from his journey to the gate.
He glanced over at Rodney. The scientist was leaning against a low wall, perched half on top and listing to one side. He watched as a water bottle was brought unsteadily to his lips, and a few mouthfuls gulped down; a power bar lay untouched on the wall beside him.
It was forty-five minutes to the gate at a brisk walking speed; with Rodney, it could be more like ninety.
John considered leaving McKay there, to be tended to by the medics, while he ran back to the gate and called for help from Atlantis. But after taking another long look at Rodney, seeing his red-rimmed haunted eyes and watching him jump at every shadow, he knew Rodney would not allow it - they should stay together.
Hopefully, he'd be able to get McKay back to the gate, and if not, they would go as far as they could, and then sit tight and wait for Atlantis to call.
Atlantis would open a worm hole, according to standard protocols, in about fifty minutes. He would wait for radio contact and then have Carson and a team meet them.
"Ready?", he asked, shouldering both their packs.
Rodney nodded his assent, and pushed himself reluctantly away from the wall.
oOo
At first Rodney had done quite well, keeping up with John's slow but steady pace. But over the past ten minutes, he had been stumbling, causing John to take up position at his shoulder, to provide some stability. Even so, Rodney would not let John take his arm, shrugging off every attempt he made, so that he could only watch and offer the occasional steadying touch.
The trail took them on a roughly straight course to their destination, the stargate. More or less unused for centuries, the wide path bordered by short grass, with rolling hills and trees beyond, was overgrown in some places, but always passable. There were no signs of habitation and no one around, as ordinary folk would have no reason to come this way.
They had been walking for a little over twenty minutes, mostly in companionable silence. The daylight was already fading, and John remembered this planet's short days and nights.
Abruptly, Rodney stopped.
Looking sideways, John could see his shadowy outline swaying, and he was shocked to hear the wheezing of his breathing in the quiet twilight, and the shiny sweat on his brow.
Something wasn't right; this was more than exhaustion, more than shock alone.
"What is it? McKay? Talk to me...", he ordered.
"Don't feel so good..."
John quickly guided him to a grassy bank. "Sit down for a minute... tell me.", he prompted.
"Feel kinda sick..."
He grimaced momentarily, and stiffened, which didn't go unnoticed, and John asked, immediately, "What hurts?"
"Belly...", was all the man said, before he pitched sideways without warning.
John grabbed at shirt fabric and jacket, catching him and lowering him slowly to the grass.
John's fingers pressed beneath McKay's jawline, and with relief he found a swiftly beating pulse. Carefully pushing the unconscious man onto his back, John grabbed both their packs and used them to elevate Rodney's legs.
Now his attention was drawn to the tears in the scientist's shirt he had noticed earlier, and it was with trepidation that he raised the tattered hem, and squinted at Rodney's left side in the swiftly fading light.
It was no good... too dark to see, so he went straight to the front pocket of McKay's pack and pulled out the flashlight he knew would be there.
Popping it on, he again scrutinised the pale skin of Rodney's flank.
He drew in a sharp breath, and then let it out, dread filling him..
There was a hole in McKay's abdomen, above the point of his left hip. No bigger than a dime, a little blood had leaked out staining the skin dark red.
Oh, God...
There was something protruding from the wound. He had almost missed it, it was so small.
A thin piece of... something, glinting in the beam of the flash light.
He angled the light to see more...
A sliver of dark metal.
He hadn't seen it; Rodney's shirt was torn, he was limping, pale and shocky, and John hadn't put it all together; a sliver of dark metal, against a dark shirt, made even darker by dried blood.
How had McKay not known, and gone on for so long?
The answer must have been adrenaline: John knew the effects it could have on the body, how soldiers would carry on, on the battle field, only to find themselves badly injured once back to safety.
When Sheppard gently pressed around the entry wound, he found the skin tight and more blood welled up, and he realised that Rodney had been slowly bleeding into his belly since the explosions.
There was no way to tell how long this.. spike... was, short of pulling the thing out, which of course he knew he couldn't.
He daren't move Rodney now, not when he could see that any small movement might cause worse damage, or start catastrophic bleeding. Neither could he leave him alone, and attempt to either reach the stargate, or return to the city
If Atlantis stuck to procedure, which he was certain they would, then the gate would open in - he checked his watch - twenty-four minutes, to check up on them.
All he could do was wait...
...and in the mean time, try to keep Rodney alive.
oOo
TBC and thanks for sticking with me!