(no subject)
Title: Staring at the Sun
Rating: R? NC-17? Starting with the smut, right out of the gate, here. :)
By: Jendavis
Spoilers: Vague Season 5
Pairing: John Sheppard/ Ronon Dex
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue, don't take this too seriously.
Summary: This is all
nomelon's fault, because if it wasn't for stumbling upon one of her SN stories, I wouldn't have actually spent the next three hours thinking about the darwinian adaptations of sex pollen.
Prologue
Ronon straightens out his clothes and feels the world spin again. This was. This is.
Fuck, this was insane.
Anxiously looking over the settlement, he's relieved to find it unchanged. The botanists are still working, and the sun's the tiniest bit lower in the sky, and he's never this lucky, but this world hasn't ended yet.
John's getting to his knees, zipping himself up, and his face is still flushed. His eyes dart everywhere, like he can't decide whether to stare at Ronon or pretend he isn't there at all.
Ronon's not sure himself.
"Hey," John says, maybe for the second time. "Uh. You alright?"
"I'm fine, just. Don't know what-"
"Me neither, I-" John's just as lost as he is, but he doesn't look irate. Even though they broke the number one rule. Let their guard down. Got careless, ridiculously so.
The world tilts again, and Ronon wonders if he's going to be sick, really and truly, he's nauseous, and feels like he's burning up from the inside again, like he might pass out, but this time, there's no outlet, no recourse.
"Ronon?" John's up in an instant, forcing him to open his eyes again. "Hey, it's fine. We're fine, nothing- Ronon?"
"I'm. Been out in the sun too long," he tries, but not even John is convinced, though he walks him back into the meager shade of the nearby tree. When Ronon stumbles, he helps him down to lean against the trunk. It's embarrassing.
"Yeah, right. I'm not buying it." He taps his radio back on to transmit, and orders the others to report in. "Everyone all right?"
"We're fine," Ronon hears Lorne respond, followed by the other team leads. It's a few moments before they hear from Heather Franks, one of the botanists, though, and when she does, she sounds worried. "Sirs? Jerry's not looking so good."
"Lorne, I need you to dial back, get Keller out here and prep for quarantined re-entry. Could be nothing, but I think we've got a situation developing."
"Yes sir," Lorne answers unquestioningly, and it's a mild relief. There will be plenty of questions later. The set of John's shoulders doesn't let him think otherwise, nor does his expression when he taps his radio off.
"Okay. We're going to need to get you closer to the gate. You going to be okay to walk?"
Ronon tries to answer, but his throat is dry, parched, and it's answer enough, and John goes back to the radio, then grabs his hand. "Tell them to bring stretchers. How's Lieutenant Halverson doing?"
"Deteriorating," Franks says. "Having trouble swallowing and breathing."
Lorne's already telling Keller to send field stretchers through, and it's only a few seconds before John says that he sees them coming. Ronon's not seeing much of anything, he's turned entirely inward, now, trying to keep breathing, trying not to panic, because whatever this thing is, it's trying to kill him. He's not going to make it any easier.
There's a blip on the radio, and Franks is terrified, now, her voice a panic as she says that Halverson's lost consciousness, that he's not breathing, but John reaches down, yanks Ronon's earpiece out before he can hear more.
Ronon doesn't have the words to thank him. He already knows what's coming, can feel it at the edges, but he tries to focus on John's face, finds that the world's gone a shade or two darker and he didn't notice the sun setting. There's something at his mouth, his canteen, and it's cool, cold, but his throat can't decide if it wants air or water more.
He must have moved, because John pulls away, slightly. He's talking, but Ronon hasn't heard a word over the ringing in his ears.
"…coming, just hold on…with me, okay? Don't….talk to her when we get back… almost here…Ronon?"
He's tired, wishes John would calm down, it's fine, but it hurts, and he should say goodbye, because this is just another losing fight, and he can't even feel John's hand any more.
---
Ronon's dying because you didn't stop.
Four hazmat-suited doctors arrive, and he helps them ease Ronon on to the stretcher. There's oxygen, but apparently his throat's closed, and they're pulling out the trach kit, and he's seen this done in the field before, and it's horrible but he can't take his eyes away. They're cutting into Ronon's throat and he hasn't even told them what's wrong yet and-
There's a tube in his throat and it's horrible, but not nearly as horrible as seeing Ronon's chest jump with his first breath.
John wonders how much time, exactly, it bought them, but they're already rushing back towards the gate. He's dimly aware of the other team heading back, much more slowly.
Halverson's dead.
Deal with it later.
The jumper's waiting on the ground and they load Ronon inside, placing him on the floor next to Halverson's covered stretcher. John thinks he's going to have to fight for it, but Keller waves him inside, along with Doctor Franks and the rest of Keller's team. They're going to containment, she's explaining. Lorne and his team are staying behind to monitor the situation, and up past the control panel, the gate room's come into view, sinking as the jumper rises, up through the bay and out to the west pier's auxiliary medical bay.
Keller makes a startled sound, and John swivels his head to find Ronon blinking up at the ceiling of the jumper, confused and starting to panic, but Keller gets there first, gets him to look at her, and the mere fact that he can kicks John's lungs into gear.
He's still terrified, but Ronon's still breathing. He'll take the trade.
---
He has to go through decon, and it seems like forever before Keller comes through to see him, but she's smart, and "He's fine" are the first words out of her mouth, so he shuts up and lets her look him over as she listens to his breathing.
"We got him under a scanner, and I'm not lying, it looks like it was close. The inflammation in his throat's starting to go down already, but we're keeping him on a ventilator to be on the safe side. He was awake when I left, but needs to rest."
"What else?" Through the mask, he can see the worry in her eyes.
"The scan didn't show anything, nothing at all," she admits, moving the stethoscope, telling him to inhale and listening, for a moment, gloved fingers on his throat. "We're running his blood work now, and his initial physical-" she breaks off, then, and it's obvious what she wants to say next.
She can feel him swallow, and she nods. Finishes the preliminaries, and says, "If you want, Doctor Beckett's back from the mainland. He's monitoring Ronon right now, but I can have him come in and finish your examination."
How she's managing this without blushing, John can't tell.
"He knows too, doesn't he?"
"Him, myself, and Doctor Mehrata. Two nurses, too, but before you ask, this all falls under patient confidentiality."
"Okay. Thanks. Um. " John sighs. Calling Beckett in will only cause another delay, so he pulls his robe down, left shoulder first. "Let's just get this over with."
---
He's tying his boots when the door chimes. It's Keller, and Beckett's in tow. More to the point, they're both still in their cleansuits, and they're both looking concerned.
This can't be good.
"Colonel, I'm afraid I must inform you that we're going to have to keep you under quarantine."
"You found something in my blood, didn't you?'
"Well," Keller glances at Beckett, no doubt looking for backup, and says. "It's just going in to be analyzed right now, but. We checked in with Lorne. He says that nobody else has reported in sick. Right now, it's just Ronon."
"That's." Good isn't the word he's looking for.
"The thing is, and we'll need to do an autopsy to confirm it, but Doctor Halvorson seems to have suffered the same symptoms as Ronon."
"Okay, but-"
"And you're sharing certain symptoms with Doctor Franks," Keller says delicately, staring past his shoulder, and he gets it, she doesn't need to dance around it so much, not in here.
"So you're saying this has something to do with it?" Of course it did, it makes sense. Well, it makes sense in the usual nonsensical way. "But I feel fine."
"And that's excellent," Carson reassures him. "But until we know more…"
"Right." John leans back against the examination table, but it's all the defeat he's willing to show. "Okay. Let me know when the next dial-in happens, I have to talk to Lorne. In the meantime, can someone bring me a computer? I still have work to do."
"We're setting up rooms for both Doctor Franks and yourself," Carson says, and any remaining illusion that this isn't as bad as it seems is ripped away. "We'll need you to suit up for the transfer, but you'll be more comfortable once you get there."
Finally, John can ask. "How's Ronon doing?"
"He's resting, but we're still waiting on his blood work. I'll-" Keller turns again to Beckett, and after a moment, he's the one to continue.
"We'll let you know when anything changes. If you like, once you've suited up, we can take you by to see him for a wee bit." He wants to say more, that much is obvious, but he shakes it off.
---
John's there when he opens his eyes again, and it seems like it's been a long time since he's seen him, but Ronon can't be sure. John's dressed like the rest of the doctors, wearing the same red suit.
Ronon's hazardous material, then. Weak as he feels, it's almost funny.
"Hey buddy," John says, and Ronon knows he can't answer him, not with whatever they've done to his throat, but he twitches his fingers in his direction, tries to make it a question, but thinks John misses it.
"You scared the hell out of us back there," John says, and it's hard to read his face through the mask, but his eyes are intense and burning, and he doesn't look like he's joking. He's not even amused. There's things he's not saying, and if Ronon could lift his head to see, maybe he'd find others there. Doctors, maybe, or nurses, and if they'd leave, maybe things would be different.
"They're taking me to quarantine," John continues, and then he's jerking his head to the left, and the noise that Ronon had been hearing finally translates. They've got him on a monitor, probably more than one, and his startled worry has probably registered there.
"I'm fine," John promises. "It's just a precaution. Soon as they have this figured out, I'll be back." There's a murmur somewhere in the room, and John's looking over his shoulder, nodding.
"Gotta go. Take it easy, and I'll see you in a bit, okay?"
"Yeah," Ronon says, regretting it immediately as his throat tears open, but John's actually smiling back through his mask when he leaves. But he still leaves, and Ronon hasn't said anything important, yet.
Hasn't told him that he still doesn't understand, that they haven't told him anything. That there might be a connection between what happened on the mission, and what happened next, though John's probably figured that much out. But he hasn't told him how fucked it had felt, and how right, all at once. Hasn't told him how screwed they would have been if the wraith had come through, or maybe he did, he can't remember. Hasn't told him how close he'd come, how surprised he'd been to open his eyes again. How terrifying it was that Beckett didn't seem to know what was going on, how frustrating. Hasn't told him that he wants him to stay, even though it's not the sort of thing he'd normally say, but today- it is still today? It's been long and strange and he can't understand any of it.
John's gone now, and Ronon hasn't told him how angry he is.
---
It takes the doctors over a day to find the problem in the blood, and though it doesn't do much for John, at least Lorne and the rest are allowed back into the city.
Between the lack of sleep and the blood that's probably been drained from him in the infirmary, Lorne looks exhausted when he appears on the other side of John's window. More importantly, though, he tells John that nobody else seems to be showing signs.
"It's weird. Far as anyone can tell, the gardens, and all the samples they took from the area directly surrounding the village, well. Those were clean, for the most part, but past that? Out in the fields? There's something to it."
"Think it's why original inhabitants cleared out?"
Lorne's face darkens even more, and it's more than mere exhaustion. "No. We found some bodies. Whatever it is, we think this is what killed the original inhabitants. "
"Well that's just. Peachy," John says, and changes the subject. Ten minutes later, maybe fifteen, and he's officially handed control of the city over. Another five minutes after that, though, and what he's really been dreading occurs. Woolsey sits down, and John already knows what his first words will be, he's known since yesterday.
"I've got some questions concerning your report," he begins, as soon as the small talk is over with, and leans over his notepad. "What were you and Ronon doing over on the south hill?"
"It provided the best vantage point of the gate and the village. Franks and Halvorson were flanking the other side of the village for the same reason."
"Yes. About them. Did you have any contact with them once you split off from the rest of the expedition?"
"Only by radio, and even then, not much. It was quiet, up until everything went to hell."
"Same as it ever was," Woolsey smiles, and John wants to like him, he really does, but it's impossible, right now, because he's finally worked up to it. "Before the obvious, did you notice anything strange?"
And here's where John could tell the truth, and here's where he could lie.
---
Chapter 2
Rating: R? NC-17? Starting with the smut, right out of the gate, here. :)
By: Jendavis
Spoilers: Vague Season 5
Pairing: John Sheppard/ Ronon Dex
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue, don't take this too seriously.
Summary: This is all
nomelon's fault, because if it wasn't for stumbling upon one of her SN stories, I wouldn't have actually spent the next three hours thinking about the darwinian adaptations of sex pollen.
Prologue
Ronon straightens out his clothes and feels the world spin again. This was. This is.
Fuck, this was insane.
Anxiously looking over the settlement, he's relieved to find it unchanged. The botanists are still working, and the sun's the tiniest bit lower in the sky, and he's never this lucky, but this world hasn't ended yet.
John's getting to his knees, zipping himself up, and his face is still flushed. His eyes dart everywhere, like he can't decide whether to stare at Ronon or pretend he isn't there at all.
Ronon's not sure himself.
"Hey," John says, maybe for the second time. "Uh. You alright?"
"I'm fine, just. Don't know what-"
"Me neither, I-" John's just as lost as he is, but he doesn't look irate. Even though they broke the number one rule. Let their guard down. Got careless, ridiculously so.
The world tilts again, and Ronon wonders if he's going to be sick, really and truly, he's nauseous, and feels like he's burning up from the inside again, like he might pass out, but this time, there's no outlet, no recourse.
"Ronon?" John's up in an instant, forcing him to open his eyes again. "Hey, it's fine. We're fine, nothing- Ronon?"
"I'm. Been out in the sun too long," he tries, but not even John is convinced, though he walks him back into the meager shade of the nearby tree. When Ronon stumbles, he helps him down to lean against the trunk. It's embarrassing.
"Yeah, right. I'm not buying it." He taps his radio back on to transmit, and orders the others to report in. "Everyone all right?"
"We're fine," Ronon hears Lorne respond, followed by the other team leads. It's a few moments before they hear from Heather Franks, one of the botanists, though, and when she does, she sounds worried. "Sirs? Jerry's not looking so good."
"Lorne, I need you to dial back, get Keller out here and prep for quarantined re-entry. Could be nothing, but I think we've got a situation developing."
"Yes sir," Lorne answers unquestioningly, and it's a mild relief. There will be plenty of questions later. The set of John's shoulders doesn't let him think otherwise, nor does his expression when he taps his radio off.
"Okay. We're going to need to get you closer to the gate. You going to be okay to walk?"
Ronon tries to answer, but his throat is dry, parched, and it's answer enough, and John goes back to the radio, then grabs his hand. "Tell them to bring stretchers. How's Lieutenant Halverson doing?"
"Deteriorating," Franks says. "Having trouble swallowing and breathing."
Lorne's already telling Keller to send field stretchers through, and it's only a few seconds before John says that he sees them coming. Ronon's not seeing much of anything, he's turned entirely inward, now, trying to keep breathing, trying not to panic, because whatever this thing is, it's trying to kill him. He's not going to make it any easier.
There's a blip on the radio, and Franks is terrified, now, her voice a panic as she says that Halverson's lost consciousness, that he's not breathing, but John reaches down, yanks Ronon's earpiece out before he can hear more.
Ronon doesn't have the words to thank him. He already knows what's coming, can feel it at the edges, but he tries to focus on John's face, finds that the world's gone a shade or two darker and he didn't notice the sun setting. There's something at his mouth, his canteen, and it's cool, cold, but his throat can't decide if it wants air or water more.
He must have moved, because John pulls away, slightly. He's talking, but Ronon hasn't heard a word over the ringing in his ears.
"…coming, just hold on…with me, okay? Don't….talk to her when we get back… almost here…Ronon?"
He's tired, wishes John would calm down, it's fine, but it hurts, and he should say goodbye, because this is just another losing fight, and he can't even feel John's hand any more.
---
Ronon's dying because you didn't stop.
Four hazmat-suited doctors arrive, and he helps them ease Ronon on to the stretcher. There's oxygen, but apparently his throat's closed, and they're pulling out the trach kit, and he's seen this done in the field before, and it's horrible but he can't take his eyes away. They're cutting into Ronon's throat and he hasn't even told them what's wrong yet and-
There's a tube in his throat and it's horrible, but not nearly as horrible as seeing Ronon's chest jump with his first breath.
John wonders how much time, exactly, it bought them, but they're already rushing back towards the gate. He's dimly aware of the other team heading back, much more slowly.
Halverson's dead.
Deal with it later.
The jumper's waiting on the ground and they load Ronon inside, placing him on the floor next to Halverson's covered stretcher. John thinks he's going to have to fight for it, but Keller waves him inside, along with Doctor Franks and the rest of Keller's team. They're going to containment, she's explaining. Lorne and his team are staying behind to monitor the situation, and up past the control panel, the gate room's come into view, sinking as the jumper rises, up through the bay and out to the west pier's auxiliary medical bay.
Keller makes a startled sound, and John swivels his head to find Ronon blinking up at the ceiling of the jumper, confused and starting to panic, but Keller gets there first, gets him to look at her, and the mere fact that he can kicks John's lungs into gear.
He's still terrified, but Ronon's still breathing. He'll take the trade.
---
He has to go through decon, and it seems like forever before Keller comes through to see him, but she's smart, and "He's fine" are the first words out of her mouth, so he shuts up and lets her look him over as she listens to his breathing.
"We got him under a scanner, and I'm not lying, it looks like it was close. The inflammation in his throat's starting to go down already, but we're keeping him on a ventilator to be on the safe side. He was awake when I left, but needs to rest."
"What else?" Through the mask, he can see the worry in her eyes.
"The scan didn't show anything, nothing at all," she admits, moving the stethoscope, telling him to inhale and listening, for a moment, gloved fingers on his throat. "We're running his blood work now, and his initial physical-" she breaks off, then, and it's obvious what she wants to say next.
She can feel him swallow, and she nods. Finishes the preliminaries, and says, "If you want, Doctor Beckett's back from the mainland. He's monitoring Ronon right now, but I can have him come in and finish your examination."
How she's managing this without blushing, John can't tell.
"He knows too, doesn't he?"
"Him, myself, and Doctor Mehrata. Two nurses, too, but before you ask, this all falls under patient confidentiality."
"Okay. Thanks. Um. " John sighs. Calling Beckett in will only cause another delay, so he pulls his robe down, left shoulder first. "Let's just get this over with."
---
He's tying his boots when the door chimes. It's Keller, and Beckett's in tow. More to the point, they're both still in their cleansuits, and they're both looking concerned.
This can't be good.
"Colonel, I'm afraid I must inform you that we're going to have to keep you under quarantine."
"You found something in my blood, didn't you?'
"Well," Keller glances at Beckett, no doubt looking for backup, and says. "It's just going in to be analyzed right now, but. We checked in with Lorne. He says that nobody else has reported in sick. Right now, it's just Ronon."
"That's." Good isn't the word he's looking for.
"The thing is, and we'll need to do an autopsy to confirm it, but Doctor Halvorson seems to have suffered the same symptoms as Ronon."
"Okay, but-"
"And you're sharing certain symptoms with Doctor Franks," Keller says delicately, staring past his shoulder, and he gets it, she doesn't need to dance around it so much, not in here.
"So you're saying this has something to do with it?" Of course it did, it makes sense. Well, it makes sense in the usual nonsensical way. "But I feel fine."
"And that's excellent," Carson reassures him. "But until we know more…"
"Right." John leans back against the examination table, but it's all the defeat he's willing to show. "Okay. Let me know when the next dial-in happens, I have to talk to Lorne. In the meantime, can someone bring me a computer? I still have work to do."
"We're setting up rooms for both Doctor Franks and yourself," Carson says, and any remaining illusion that this isn't as bad as it seems is ripped away. "We'll need you to suit up for the transfer, but you'll be more comfortable once you get there."
Finally, John can ask. "How's Ronon doing?"
"He's resting, but we're still waiting on his blood work. I'll-" Keller turns again to Beckett, and after a moment, he's the one to continue.
"We'll let you know when anything changes. If you like, once you've suited up, we can take you by to see him for a wee bit." He wants to say more, that much is obvious, but he shakes it off.
---
John's there when he opens his eyes again, and it seems like it's been a long time since he's seen him, but Ronon can't be sure. John's dressed like the rest of the doctors, wearing the same red suit.
Ronon's hazardous material, then. Weak as he feels, it's almost funny.
"Hey buddy," John says, and Ronon knows he can't answer him, not with whatever they've done to his throat, but he twitches his fingers in his direction, tries to make it a question, but thinks John misses it.
"You scared the hell out of us back there," John says, and it's hard to read his face through the mask, but his eyes are intense and burning, and he doesn't look like he's joking. He's not even amused. There's things he's not saying, and if Ronon could lift his head to see, maybe he'd find others there. Doctors, maybe, or nurses, and if they'd leave, maybe things would be different.
"They're taking me to quarantine," John continues, and then he's jerking his head to the left, and the noise that Ronon had been hearing finally translates. They've got him on a monitor, probably more than one, and his startled worry has probably registered there.
"I'm fine," John promises. "It's just a precaution. Soon as they have this figured out, I'll be back." There's a murmur somewhere in the room, and John's looking over his shoulder, nodding.
"Gotta go. Take it easy, and I'll see you in a bit, okay?"
"Yeah," Ronon says, regretting it immediately as his throat tears open, but John's actually smiling back through his mask when he leaves. But he still leaves, and Ronon hasn't said anything important, yet.
Hasn't told him that he still doesn't understand, that they haven't told him anything. That there might be a connection between what happened on the mission, and what happened next, though John's probably figured that much out. But he hasn't told him how fucked it had felt, and how right, all at once. Hasn't told him how screwed they would have been if the wraith had come through, or maybe he did, he can't remember. Hasn't told him how close he'd come, how surprised he'd been to open his eyes again. How terrifying it was that Beckett didn't seem to know what was going on, how frustrating. Hasn't told him that he wants him to stay, even though it's not the sort of thing he'd normally say, but today- it is still today? It's been long and strange and he can't understand any of it.
John's gone now, and Ronon hasn't told him how angry he is.
---
It takes the doctors over a day to find the problem in the blood, and though it doesn't do much for John, at least Lorne and the rest are allowed back into the city.
Between the lack of sleep and the blood that's probably been drained from him in the infirmary, Lorne looks exhausted when he appears on the other side of John's window. More importantly, though, he tells John that nobody else seems to be showing signs.
"It's weird. Far as anyone can tell, the gardens, and all the samples they took from the area directly surrounding the village, well. Those were clean, for the most part, but past that? Out in the fields? There's something to it."
"Think it's why original inhabitants cleared out?"
Lorne's face darkens even more, and it's more than mere exhaustion. "No. We found some bodies. Whatever it is, we think this is what killed the original inhabitants. "
"Well that's just. Peachy," John says, and changes the subject. Ten minutes later, maybe fifteen, and he's officially handed control of the city over. Another five minutes after that, though, and what he's really been dreading occurs. Woolsey sits down, and John already knows what his first words will be, he's known since yesterday.
"I've got some questions concerning your report," he begins, as soon as the small talk is over with, and leans over his notepad. "What were you and Ronon doing over on the south hill?"
"It provided the best vantage point of the gate and the village. Franks and Halvorson were flanking the other side of the village for the same reason."
"Yes. About them. Did you have any contact with them once you split off from the rest of the expedition?"
"Only by radio, and even then, not much. It was quiet, up until everything went to hell."
"Same as it ever was," Woolsey smiles, and John wants to like him, he really does, but it's impossible, right now, because he's finally worked up to it. "Before the obvious, did you notice anything strange?"
And here's where John could tell the truth, and here's where he could lie.
---
Chapter 2