[Stargate: Drabble] "In the West" [John/Rodney, G]
Title: In the West
Prompt: writerverse challenge #13 quick fic #5, prompts ‘track them down’ & “I will learn to love the skies I’m under” (“hopeless Wanderer” by Mumford & Sons)
Bonus? historical fiction genre
Word Count: 925
Rating: G
Original/Fandom: Stargate Atlantis (wild west AU)
Pairings: John Sheppard/Rodney McKay
Summary: If Rodney had any sense, he would leave the man where he found him.
Note(s): originally posted to the writerverse wv_library
In the West
If Rodney had any sense, he would leave the man where he found him.
There was a reason he lived almost a full days’ ride from the nearest town, and it wasn’t just the amount of noise he made testing out his new inventions. But despite what Rodney wanted the world to believe, he wasn’t completely heartless, so once he’d determined that the fellow was actually still alive, he heaved him up onto his horse, and turned them back toward his house.
The stranger groaned as Rodney dumped him onto the only available space, his perpetually-unmade bed, but didn’t stir again as Rodney checked him for injuries. There was a half-healed stab wound on the left side of his ribs, lopsidedly stitched, like the idiot had done it himself. And it was clearly infected- the man hissed and rolled away when Rodney tried to touch it.
“You could be more cooperative,” Rodney grumbled. “I’m trying to help.”
As if on cue, the man let out a distressed-sounding noise and began to flail.
“Hey!” said Rodney. “Stop that! You’re going to hurt yourself!”
Clearly, the stranger was feverish, eyes open but not seeing Rodney, but when he tried to roll himself out of bed, Rodney leaned forward to hold him down.
“It’s all right!” he said, over and over. “You’re safe, you’re safe.”
After a long moment, the man quieted, and Rodney slumped back into the chair beside the bed. He stayed there, watching, for hours, only getting up to start a fire in his cast-iron woodstove, until some time after the sun had set.
Rodney had been dozing himself when the stranger stirred, groaning somehow more coherently this time.
“Where-” he rasped. “Where am I?”
“Safe,” Rodney said. “And as to where…? In the middle of nowhere. The nearest town is a day’s ride from here, if you were well enough to make it. Which you’re not.”
“I…” The stranger put a hand to his side and hissed in pain. “What happened?”
“How should I know?” Rodney snapped. “I found you wandering the desert, when I was looking for mineral samples. Can you drink?”
“What?”
“Water. You’re severely dehydrated, and you need to drink. Can you sit up?”
“I guess…”
Rodney helped to prop the man against his headboard, and held the glass while he drank. “I’m McKay,” he said. “Dr. M. Rodney McKay, inventor. Probably nothing you’ve heard of, I design very specific components for steam locomotives.”
“In the middle of nowhere?” the man asked, with a smirk. “I’m Sheppard. Major, I think.”
“You think?” Rodney repeated. “I didn’t think to check for brain injury. Here, let me-”
Sheppard caught his hand as he leaned over the bed. “I don’t have a brain injury. I’m just not sure that my rank still holds.”
“I suppose the Army might not recognize your rank now that the War Between the States is over- I don’t live that far out I don’t know that!”
“I didn’t say anything,” said Sheppard, smiling as Rodney scowled. Then, the smile fell away, leaving his face completely blank. Suddenly, he threw back the covers and rolled out of bed, swaying on his feet, but heading determinedly toward the door. “I’m sorry, I have to leave.”
“What?” said Rodney, startled. “You can’t- Would you just- Idiot!” He managed to catch Sheppard before he hit the floor and hauled him back to the bed. “You need rest, not a two-day walk across the desert!”
“Look, McKay, you seem like a decent fellow, and I’m grateful to you. But that’s exactly why I can’t be found here.”
“Found?” Rodney repeated. “Then someone is looking for you?”
Sheppard made what looked like another attempt to get out of bed, but flopped back against the pillows, short of breath. “I was a major, in the Union Army,” he said. “Part of a cavalry unit. During a long battle, my commanding officer was badly wounded. We were trapped behind enemy lines- I had infiltrated them to find him- and he gave orders for me to…. to…”
“To spare him the misery?” Rodney suggested.
“Yeah,” Sheppard agreed. “And I did, one bullet right to the heart. I barely made it back to the Union lines, but the senior officer there… Colonel Caldwell never did like me. And he’s a US Marshall, now.”
“But you were following orders!” protested Rodney. “I don’t claim to comprehend how the military mind works, but I was under the impression that ‘following orders’ was most of a soldier’s job.”
“Well, yes,” said Sheppard. “But Sumner and I were alone when he ordered me to do it, and he didn’t even, exactly, use words I could quote.” He paused, curling his fingers into the blanket. “I meant to leave the Army when the war ended. Come west, make a clean start.”
“This is west,” said Rodney, and Sheppard looked up, sharply. “I mean, you don’t know me, you have no reason to trust me, but… I’m absent-minded, generally irritable, unintentionally offensive, and I keep strange hours. But I could use another set of hands, building my prototypes, and the only person who comes through here, most of the time, is the Pony Express rider, Ford, bringing my supplies. If you… if you wanted to stay.”
He was cringing by the end of his rambling, hesitant offer, but when he looked up, Sheppard was smiling. “I… John.”
“What?”
“John Sheppard. That’s my name. You’ve got a chess set, McKay- do you play?”
“No, I win,” Rodney said, and went to get his chessboard.
THE END
Current Mood:
aggravated
Prompt: writerverse challenge #13 quick fic #5, prompts ‘track them down’ & “I will learn to love the skies I’m under” (“hopeless Wanderer” by Mumford & Sons)
Bonus? historical fiction genre
Word Count: 925
Rating: G
Original/Fandom: Stargate Atlantis (wild west AU)
Pairings: John Sheppard/Rodney McKay
Summary: If Rodney had any sense, he would leave the man where he found him.
Note(s): originally posted to the writerverse wv_library
In the West
If Rodney had any sense, he would leave the man where he found him.
There was a reason he lived almost a full days’ ride from the nearest town, and it wasn’t just the amount of noise he made testing out his new inventions. But despite what Rodney wanted the world to believe, he wasn’t completely heartless, so once he’d determined that the fellow was actually still alive, he heaved him up onto his horse, and turned them back toward his house.
The stranger groaned as Rodney dumped him onto the only available space, his perpetually-unmade bed, but didn’t stir again as Rodney checked him for injuries. There was a half-healed stab wound on the left side of his ribs, lopsidedly stitched, like the idiot had done it himself. And it was clearly infected- the man hissed and rolled away when Rodney tried to touch it.
“You could be more cooperative,” Rodney grumbled. “I’m trying to help.”
As if on cue, the man let out a distressed-sounding noise and began to flail.
“Hey!” said Rodney. “Stop that! You’re going to hurt yourself!”
Clearly, the stranger was feverish, eyes open but not seeing Rodney, but when he tried to roll himself out of bed, Rodney leaned forward to hold him down.
“It’s all right!” he said, over and over. “You’re safe, you’re safe.”
After a long moment, the man quieted, and Rodney slumped back into the chair beside the bed. He stayed there, watching, for hours, only getting up to start a fire in his cast-iron woodstove, until some time after the sun had set.
Rodney had been dozing himself when the stranger stirred, groaning somehow more coherently this time.
“Where-” he rasped. “Where am I?”
“Safe,” Rodney said. “And as to where…? In the middle of nowhere. The nearest town is a day’s ride from here, if you were well enough to make it. Which you’re not.”
“I…” The stranger put a hand to his side and hissed in pain. “What happened?”
“How should I know?” Rodney snapped. “I found you wandering the desert, when I was looking for mineral samples. Can you drink?”
“What?”
“Water. You’re severely dehydrated, and you need to drink. Can you sit up?”
“I guess…”
Rodney helped to prop the man against his headboard, and held the glass while he drank. “I’m McKay,” he said. “Dr. M. Rodney McKay, inventor. Probably nothing you’ve heard of, I design very specific components for steam locomotives.”
“In the middle of nowhere?” the man asked, with a smirk. “I’m Sheppard. Major, I think.”
“You think?” Rodney repeated. “I didn’t think to check for brain injury. Here, let me-”
Sheppard caught his hand as he leaned over the bed. “I don’t have a brain injury. I’m just not sure that my rank still holds.”
“I suppose the Army might not recognize your rank now that the War Between the States is over- I don’t live that far out I don’t know that!”
“I didn’t say anything,” said Sheppard, smiling as Rodney scowled. Then, the smile fell away, leaving his face completely blank. Suddenly, he threw back the covers and rolled out of bed, swaying on his feet, but heading determinedly toward the door. “I’m sorry, I have to leave.”
“What?” said Rodney, startled. “You can’t- Would you just- Idiot!” He managed to catch Sheppard before he hit the floor and hauled him back to the bed. “You need rest, not a two-day walk across the desert!”
“Look, McKay, you seem like a decent fellow, and I’m grateful to you. But that’s exactly why I can’t be found here.”
“Found?” Rodney repeated. “Then someone is looking for you?”
Sheppard made what looked like another attempt to get out of bed, but flopped back against the pillows, short of breath. “I was a major, in the Union Army,” he said. “Part of a cavalry unit. During a long battle, my commanding officer was badly wounded. We were trapped behind enemy lines- I had infiltrated them to find him- and he gave orders for me to…. to…”
“To spare him the misery?” Rodney suggested.
“Yeah,” Sheppard agreed. “And I did, one bullet right to the heart. I barely made it back to the Union lines, but the senior officer there… Colonel Caldwell never did like me. And he’s a US Marshall, now.”
“But you were following orders!” protested Rodney. “I don’t claim to comprehend how the military mind works, but I was under the impression that ‘following orders’ was most of a soldier’s job.”
“Well, yes,” said Sheppard. “But Sumner and I were alone when he ordered me to do it, and he didn’t even, exactly, use words I could quote.” He paused, curling his fingers into the blanket. “I meant to leave the Army when the war ended. Come west, make a clean start.”
“This is west,” said Rodney, and Sheppard looked up, sharply. “I mean, you don’t know me, you have no reason to trust me, but… I’m absent-minded, generally irritable, unintentionally offensive, and I keep strange hours. But I could use another set of hands, building my prototypes, and the only person who comes through here, most of the time, is the Pony Express rider, Ford, bringing my supplies. If you… if you wanted to stay.”
He was cringing by the end of his rambling, hesitant offer, but when he looked up, Sheppard was smiling. “I… John.”
“What?”
“John Sheppard. That’s my name. You’ve got a chess set, McKay- do you play?”
“No, I win,” Rodney said, and went to get his chessboard.
THE END
Current Mood:
aggravated