I forgot
This one is again for the GW whump challenge: Sheppard is seriously injured by one member of the original SG-1 team. Include at least one member of Sheppard's team in your fic.
Thanks to my friends and betas joaniexjony and mrscopterdoc!
Author: Libero
Fandom: SGA/SG-1
Characters: John Sheppard, Daniel Jackson
Rating: G
Word count: 2149
I forgot
What the hell should I call this mess?
Chaos theory? Coincidence? Inshallah? Rodney would know.
I call it crap. It sucks, it's not fair and I do not agree with it!
I got promoted today and now I'm dying …
Man, it hurts!
Elizabeth was fantastic earlier today. Like an Amazon, weapon in hand and battle cry on her lips, she came to our table in the mess hall and plopped down on the fourth chair. She looked like she'd talked to the International Committee all night - perhaps she had - she looked gorgeous.
Her smile was radiant when she reached out to shake my right hand.
"Congratulations, John! You made it to Lieutenant Colonel this morning and you're now officially military commander of Atlantis."
It was quiet for some seconds; while my huge grin threatened to crack my jaw. When Elizabeth let go of my hand, the shoulder clapping began. Rodney was first and not too gentle, then Carson and again Elizabeth, whose touch was very tender and brief.
Despite the searing pain in my thigh, I'm smiling now.
Lieutenant Colonel - wow. Sounds great.
Colonel John Sheppard - I'm dying to see dad's face when they tell him.
Oh wait. I am dying!
I can already feel the wooziness creeping into my head. It's an almost pleasant feeling that comes with massive blood loss. Been there, done that.
If it weren't for the pain, the aching stiffness of my muscles and the damn cold, bleeding to death would be a good way to go.
After breakfast, Elizabeth went to her quarters; hopefully to sleep 10 hours straight, but I doubted that the committee or General Landry would cut her so much slack.
Rodney went to the meeting room 6 floors above, to begin with handpicking new scientist personnel. The poor geeks that had to put up with him.
Carson too was expected at the infirmary to question and choose new medical staff for Atlantis. As for me I walked along with him to the elevators.
My own task of testing soldiers on their abilities to fight the Wraith wasn't scheduled until the next day, so I was free to celebrate my promotion with a long run outside the mountain.
On the way to my quarters I bumped into Dr. Jackson who was balancing his coffee mug in one hand and some ancient tome in the other.
"Oops, sorry Major, didn't see you coming."
"It's OK, Doctor." I did not correct him, because he wasn't paying attention, his nose already in the open book again.
But then he stopped, looked through the corridor and maundered: "Actually-"
Closing the book and clasping it under one arm, he pointed in my direction with his steaming mug.
"Do you have some time, Major?"
Why?
Why do we say 'yes' when we mean 'not really'?
I said 'yes' because I admire Dr. Jackson for his intelligence and because I actually had some time.
But look how this turned out.
I can't move one inch with my thigh shot through, scorched and somehow glued to the ground. If I try to crawl to the door or try to reach the telephone, I would leave half of my leg behind. Don't want to become another captain Ahab.
The mere thought of moving, sets my thigh on fire.
We should send them some Atlantis radios. They'd come in handy when you're pinned to the ground and need some help.
No please, not! It's so damn cold in here, I'm shivering. Ahhh, that hurts!
Maybe I should holler again?
"Help!"
Sounds weak. I'm tired, really really tired, cold, dizzy …
When we came to one of Dr. Jackson's research labs, I took in the room: books, loads of books, old ones, very old ones and really ancient ones scattered all over the two huge desks, the floor, all available chairs and some of them even on bookshelves.
"Sit down. I have to do some preparations first, but I want you to look at some of our recent finds."
I didn't answer him, but took some dusty books and journals from a chair and placed them carefully on the ground.
Dr. Jackson was typing on his keyboard and sipping his coffee. He placed the mug down on a tiny free place near his laptop. At the same time he was murmuring something in a foreign language.
I crossed my legs and examined my boots.
How long is 'a little time'?
"Help!"
It doesn't work. No one not invited by Dr. Jackson ever comes here.
Speaking of which - where is Dr. Jackson? It can't take him this long to get a dictionary from his office. Besides, aren't these things online nowadays?
He's been gone almost an hour now.
OK … think John - you have to come up with plan B or you're dead within the next hour.
Do they monitor this room? There's a camera but no light's blinking.
What can I do to set off the alarm?
So tired …
Think Colonel! You will get out of this alive or you'll never hear your soldiers say: "Aye, Colonel."
Only thing I can reach is the chair. Where do I have to throw it? If I am able to move it at all.
Eventually Dr. Jackson stopped typing, opened the desk drawer and took out a wooden tray with 5 little artifacts. Each of them could easily fit into my palm.
"Jack already tested them and they're harmless. Two of them glowered and hummed when he touched them, the other ones did nothing."
"OK, and what do you want me to do?"
Absentmindedly he fingered some kind of stony thing with a rough and pointy surface, then he looked back on the screen of his laptop.
"Dr. Jackson?"
"Huh?"
He frowned and seemed confused to see me sitting there.
"Ah, Major. Oh, yes … I forgot. Anyway, could you take this for a moment?"
I took the little stone and immediately it began to vibrate like my cell phone and the tips of the tiny spines started to glow silvery.
It wasn't threatening, so I turned it around in my hand and waited for Dr. Jackson to tell me what to do next.
"Where's my …" He rummaged through the books right next to his computer, then he searched the shelf behind his chair and cursed.
"I have to …"
Suddenly he stood behind me and looked over my shoulder.
"It's this one word again. It makes no sense at all. 'Weapon' … no language would use … I have to look it up again. Sorry, one minute, Major?"
He walked to the door turning around and scratching his head.
"Only one minute. I forgot the other dictionary at my office. Don’t touch anything else, OK?"
"Yeah, OK." I grinned but he was already scurrying through the hallway.
Did he say 'weapon' back then?
Oh yes, Dr. Jackson. Don't know what word you were searching in your dictionary, but I would translate it as weapon.
A few minutes after I was left alone in the lab, the stone suddenly began to shake in my hand. Then it became really hot and the silvery color of the peaks turned red. It burned my palm, slipped onto my right thigh, exploded and I went crying and clutching my leg to the floor. I think one part of this bugger shot right through flesh and bone into the ground.
Even with my wealth of experience like bug-love-bites or being a Wraith-punching-ball, I have to say this one hurts. A lot.
And it's still bleeding. I can feel the sticky pool under my body and the lightheadedness threatens to knock me out soon.
So, Plan B?
It will hurt like nothing before and I'm left with this one chance. If I fail, I die.
All right, throw the chair into this blinking switchbox over there, John. And do it fast, violent and accurate.
Get the alarm on, summon some people, preferably medical doctors, snag a ride to the infirmary - easy as pie.
Gripping the chair's caster seems to be the hardest thing I ever did. My muscles are like steel tubes and my leg, my back, my whole body is hurting so much, I scream. My hand is slippery with sweat, my vision gets blurry but I try to reach the chair with my other hand. Can't …
I close my eyes only to open them again, trying to get rid of sweat and tears. I focus on Elizabeth's gorgeous smile. I cry out: "Lieutenant … Colonel … fu …" and throw that thing with my last bit of strength.
Waking up in the infirmary is always sweet - for about one or two seconds - until one tiny movement reminds you of your battered body.
Pain radiated through my right leg and turned my stomach. Oh my, don't let me puke now … I would not survive any more movement.
Some kind of control monitor next to me began to bleep like mad and I close my eyes to concentrate on the one essential task: the do-not-throw-up-task. My hands are clutching the blankets and there's so much pain, too much pain and nausea.
"Colonel Sheppard? John, can you open your eyes?"
Through my tears I can see Carson looking down at me, syringe in one hand and smiling encouragingly.
"Wha …s ha … ppn?"
Damn cotton wool in my mouth.
Carson pinched the needle into the cannula on the back of my hand and explained:
"This will help with the pain and nausea, but it will make you really sleepy. Don't fight it, John. You went through a long and difficult surgery, but all went well. They have all kinds of specialists here and they did …"
Puff - I crashed into a pink drifting cloud.
I have the strangest dream: lying on said cloud I'm flying through space. In front of my cloud are two puddlejumpers and outside on top of each jumper sits a man. Are they twins?
They're talking and they seem to argue. I can hear them loud and clear:
"It was tested material, Rodney! Jack has the Ancient gene as you know and he tested them all. They seemed perfectly safe. The Major must have …"
"Colonel!"
"What?"
"It's Colonel Sheppard and he must have nothing! That's bullshit and you know it. Nothing is safe in our field of work. How could you leave him there and to make things worse FORGET about him?"
"I'm sorry. I really am. As I said, I just went to get my dictionary, but then Sam came and asked something about our next mission, I got distracted and thirsty and we went to get some coffee …"
"Great. I saw you sitting there chitchatting meanwhile Colonel Sheppard was dying!"
"I said I'm sorry. If I had known …"
"You simply can't leave Sheppard with uncharted stuff. You have to monitor his every single move or …"
Enough is enough! I don’t like this dream anymore.
Without opening my eyes I grunt:
"Shut up, Rodney. I'm no clumsy child you have to supervise."
At least that's what I want to say.
I have to admit it sounds more like: "Shu … Rodn …mmmno clumch … vet …upervssssss."
But anyway the two scientists fall silent, the puddlejumpers vanishes into thin air and I land on a solid bed in the SGC infirmary.
The right eye pops open and the other follows slowly. Ah, there are my visitors - the little room is filled with a whole bunch of PhDs.
"How are you, Sheppard?" Rodney smiles and helps me sip a mouthful of water from a paper cup.
"M OK, Rodn…"
"You scared the hell out of us. What is it with you and your near-death or really-death experiences? You doing this on purpose?"
"Unn, no … mm, sorry."
Carson comes to save me from Rodney's wrath.
"Visiting hours are long since over, gentlemen. Colonel Sheppard needs to rest. You can come again tomorrow."
Rodney is out of the room with a "see you" but Dr. Jackson lingers at my bed a little longer.
"I'm sorry this has happened, Colonel Sheppard. If I had known that this thing was a weapon I would have never …"
He takes off his glasses and fiddles them nervously.
"S not you … fffault, Dr. Jacksssssn."
I'm really tired now but this is important. Carson leaves us with a stern "one minute, lads!"
"But it's my fault I forgot about you. I hope you can forgive me even I would never forget what I've done."
"There's nothnnng to forgive, Dr. - we all make msssstaksss."
"Thank you, Colonel Sheppard."
"It's John."
"Oh, thanks again - I'm Daniel."
"You're wlllcommm … Daniel."
I close my eyes and search for my cozy pink cloud. A tentative hand touches my left shoulder and I hear someone mumble: "I will never forget this, John" and I sleep.
Thanks to my friends and betas joaniexjony and mrscopterdoc!
Author: Libero
Fandom: SGA/SG-1
Characters: John Sheppard, Daniel Jackson
Rating: G
Word count: 2149
I forgot
What the hell should I call this mess?
Chaos theory? Coincidence? Inshallah? Rodney would know.
I call it crap. It sucks, it's not fair and I do not agree with it!
I got promoted today and now I'm dying …
Man, it hurts!
Elizabeth was fantastic earlier today. Like an Amazon, weapon in hand and battle cry on her lips, she came to our table in the mess hall and plopped down on the fourth chair. She looked like she'd talked to the International Committee all night - perhaps she had - she looked gorgeous.
Her smile was radiant when she reached out to shake my right hand.
"Congratulations, John! You made it to Lieutenant Colonel this morning and you're now officially military commander of Atlantis."
It was quiet for some seconds; while my huge grin threatened to crack my jaw. When Elizabeth let go of my hand, the shoulder clapping began. Rodney was first and not too gentle, then Carson and again Elizabeth, whose touch was very tender and brief.
Despite the searing pain in my thigh, I'm smiling now.
Lieutenant Colonel - wow. Sounds great.
Colonel John Sheppard - I'm dying to see dad's face when they tell him.
Oh wait. I am dying!
I can already feel the wooziness creeping into my head. It's an almost pleasant feeling that comes with massive blood loss. Been there, done that.
If it weren't for the pain, the aching stiffness of my muscles and the damn cold, bleeding to death would be a good way to go.
After breakfast, Elizabeth went to her quarters; hopefully to sleep 10 hours straight, but I doubted that the committee or General Landry would cut her so much slack.
Rodney went to the meeting room 6 floors above, to begin with handpicking new scientist personnel. The poor geeks that had to put up with him.
Carson too was expected at the infirmary to question and choose new medical staff for Atlantis. As for me I walked along with him to the elevators.
My own task of testing soldiers on their abilities to fight the Wraith wasn't scheduled until the next day, so I was free to celebrate my promotion with a long run outside the mountain.
On the way to my quarters I bumped into Dr. Jackson who was balancing his coffee mug in one hand and some ancient tome in the other.
"Oops, sorry Major, didn't see you coming."
"It's OK, Doctor." I did not correct him, because he wasn't paying attention, his nose already in the open book again.
But then he stopped, looked through the corridor and maundered: "Actually-"
Closing the book and clasping it under one arm, he pointed in my direction with his steaming mug.
"Do you have some time, Major?"
Why?
Why do we say 'yes' when we mean 'not really'?
I said 'yes' because I admire Dr. Jackson for his intelligence and because I actually had some time.
But look how this turned out.
I can't move one inch with my thigh shot through, scorched and somehow glued to the ground. If I try to crawl to the door or try to reach the telephone, I would leave half of my leg behind. Don't want to become another captain Ahab.
The mere thought of moving, sets my thigh on fire.
We should send them some Atlantis radios. They'd come in handy when you're pinned to the ground and need some help.
No please, not! It's so damn cold in here, I'm shivering. Ahhh, that hurts!
Maybe I should holler again?
"Help!"
Sounds weak. I'm tired, really really tired, cold, dizzy …
When we came to one of Dr. Jackson's research labs, I took in the room: books, loads of books, old ones, very old ones and really ancient ones scattered all over the two huge desks, the floor, all available chairs and some of them even on bookshelves.
"Sit down. I have to do some preparations first, but I want you to look at some of our recent finds."
I didn't answer him, but took some dusty books and journals from a chair and placed them carefully on the ground.
Dr. Jackson was typing on his keyboard and sipping his coffee. He placed the mug down on a tiny free place near his laptop. At the same time he was murmuring something in a foreign language.
I crossed my legs and examined my boots.
How long is 'a little time'?
"Help!"
It doesn't work. No one not invited by Dr. Jackson ever comes here.
Speaking of which - where is Dr. Jackson? It can't take him this long to get a dictionary from his office. Besides, aren't these things online nowadays?
He's been gone almost an hour now.
OK … think John - you have to come up with plan B or you're dead within the next hour.
Do they monitor this room? There's a camera but no light's blinking.
What can I do to set off the alarm?
So tired …
Think Colonel! You will get out of this alive or you'll never hear your soldiers say: "Aye, Colonel."
Only thing I can reach is the chair. Where do I have to throw it? If I am able to move it at all.
Eventually Dr. Jackson stopped typing, opened the desk drawer and took out a wooden tray with 5 little artifacts. Each of them could easily fit into my palm.
"Jack already tested them and they're harmless. Two of them glowered and hummed when he touched them, the other ones did nothing."
"OK, and what do you want me to do?"
Absentmindedly he fingered some kind of stony thing with a rough and pointy surface, then he looked back on the screen of his laptop.
"Dr. Jackson?"
"Huh?"
He frowned and seemed confused to see me sitting there.
"Ah, Major. Oh, yes … I forgot. Anyway, could you take this for a moment?"
I took the little stone and immediately it began to vibrate like my cell phone and the tips of the tiny spines started to glow silvery.
It wasn't threatening, so I turned it around in my hand and waited for Dr. Jackson to tell me what to do next.
"Where's my …" He rummaged through the books right next to his computer, then he searched the shelf behind his chair and cursed.
"I have to …"
Suddenly he stood behind me and looked over my shoulder.
"It's this one word again. It makes no sense at all. 'Weapon' … no language would use … I have to look it up again. Sorry, one minute, Major?"
He walked to the door turning around and scratching his head.
"Only one minute. I forgot the other dictionary at my office. Don’t touch anything else, OK?"
"Yeah, OK." I grinned but he was already scurrying through the hallway.
Did he say 'weapon' back then?
Oh yes, Dr. Jackson. Don't know what word you were searching in your dictionary, but I would translate it as weapon.
A few minutes after I was left alone in the lab, the stone suddenly began to shake in my hand. Then it became really hot and the silvery color of the peaks turned red. It burned my palm, slipped onto my right thigh, exploded and I went crying and clutching my leg to the floor. I think one part of this bugger shot right through flesh and bone into the ground.
Even with my wealth of experience like bug-love-bites or being a Wraith-punching-ball, I have to say this one hurts. A lot.
And it's still bleeding. I can feel the sticky pool under my body and the lightheadedness threatens to knock me out soon.
So, Plan B?
It will hurt like nothing before and I'm left with this one chance. If I fail, I die.
All right, throw the chair into this blinking switchbox over there, John. And do it fast, violent and accurate.
Get the alarm on, summon some people, preferably medical doctors, snag a ride to the infirmary - easy as pie.
Gripping the chair's caster seems to be the hardest thing I ever did. My muscles are like steel tubes and my leg, my back, my whole body is hurting so much, I scream. My hand is slippery with sweat, my vision gets blurry but I try to reach the chair with my other hand. Can't …
I close my eyes only to open them again, trying to get rid of sweat and tears. I focus on Elizabeth's gorgeous smile. I cry out: "Lieutenant … Colonel … fu …" and throw that thing with my last bit of strength.
Waking up in the infirmary is always sweet - for about one or two seconds - until one tiny movement reminds you of your battered body.
Pain radiated through my right leg and turned my stomach. Oh my, don't let me puke now … I would not survive any more movement.
Some kind of control monitor next to me began to bleep like mad and I close my eyes to concentrate on the one essential task: the do-not-throw-up-task. My hands are clutching the blankets and there's so much pain, too much pain and nausea.
"Colonel Sheppard? John, can you open your eyes?"
Through my tears I can see Carson looking down at me, syringe in one hand and smiling encouragingly.
"Wha …s ha … ppn?"
Damn cotton wool in my mouth.
Carson pinched the needle into the cannula on the back of my hand and explained:
"This will help with the pain and nausea, but it will make you really sleepy. Don't fight it, John. You went through a long and difficult surgery, but all went well. They have all kinds of specialists here and they did …"
Puff - I crashed into a pink drifting cloud.
I have the strangest dream: lying on said cloud I'm flying through space. In front of my cloud are two puddlejumpers and outside on top of each jumper sits a man. Are they twins?
They're talking and they seem to argue. I can hear them loud and clear:
"It was tested material, Rodney! Jack has the Ancient gene as you know and he tested them all. They seemed perfectly safe. The Major must have …"
"Colonel!"
"What?"
"It's Colonel Sheppard and he must have nothing! That's bullshit and you know it. Nothing is safe in our field of work. How could you leave him there and to make things worse FORGET about him?"
"I'm sorry. I really am. As I said, I just went to get my dictionary, but then Sam came and asked something about our next mission, I got distracted and thirsty and we went to get some coffee …"
"Great. I saw you sitting there chitchatting meanwhile Colonel Sheppard was dying!"
"I said I'm sorry. If I had known …"
"You simply can't leave Sheppard with uncharted stuff. You have to monitor his every single move or …"
Enough is enough! I don’t like this dream anymore.
Without opening my eyes I grunt:
"Shut up, Rodney. I'm no clumsy child you have to supervise."
At least that's what I want to say.
I have to admit it sounds more like: "Shu … Rodn …mmmno clumch … vet …upervssssss."
But anyway the two scientists fall silent, the puddlejumpers vanishes into thin air and I land on a solid bed in the SGC infirmary.
The right eye pops open and the other follows slowly. Ah, there are my visitors - the little room is filled with a whole bunch of PhDs.
"How are you, Sheppard?" Rodney smiles and helps me sip a mouthful of water from a paper cup.
"M OK, Rodn…"
"You scared the hell out of us. What is it with you and your near-death or really-death experiences? You doing this on purpose?"
"Unn, no … mm, sorry."
Carson comes to save me from Rodney's wrath.
"Visiting hours are long since over, gentlemen. Colonel Sheppard needs to rest. You can come again tomorrow."
Rodney is out of the room with a "see you" but Dr. Jackson lingers at my bed a little longer.
"I'm sorry this has happened, Colonel Sheppard. If I had known that this thing was a weapon I would have never …"
He takes off his glasses and fiddles them nervously.
"S not you … fffault, Dr. Jacksssssn."
I'm really tired now but this is important. Carson leaves us with a stern "one minute, lads!"
"But it's my fault I forgot about you. I hope you can forgive me even I would never forget what I've done."
"There's nothnnng to forgive, Dr. - we all make msssstaksss."
"Thank you, Colonel Sheppard."
"It's John."
"Oh, thanks again - I'm Daniel."
"You're wlllcommm … Daniel."
I close my eyes and search for my cozy pink cloud. A tentative hand touches my left shoulder and I hear someone mumble: "I will never forget this, John" and I sleep.