Not in the Manual (McKay/Sheppard, PG-13)
Title: Not in the Manual
Author: lavvyan. Duh.
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard (pre-slash)
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Briefly hints at possible off-screen torture.
Notes: Written for the Stargate Atlantis Urban Legend Slash Challenge 2007. My prompt was this: Any car equipped with a remote keyless entry system can be unlocked via cell phone.
Since we're completely ignoring how remote controls work, why not ignore how radios work, too? In other words: the science in this is complete bogus.
Thanks to houseinrlyeh, villainny and broet_chan for beta - you know you've got their attention when they all point out the same missing full stop. ♥ All mistakes still in here are from my meddling and not their responsibility.
Pre-Sunday, slight spoilers for Common Ground.
~~~
Not in the Manual
Rodney would have liked to yell at Sheppard that this was all his fault. Except that it wasn't, not really, and he was too busy huffing in as much air as he could to keep his body going to keep running, for once knowing better than to waste his breath on pointless accusations. Even if they would have made him feel better.
When they'd reached the stack of boulders where they'd parked the jumper, he'd thought they were safe. Then Sheppard had started patting his pockets with a look of dawning horror - or mild confusion and increasing worry, which on Sheppard was much the same thing - on his face and Rodney had known that on a scale of one to bad, their day had just reached complete and utter disaster. And he probably should have anticipated as much, what with the Wraith-worshipping natives raising pick-pocketing kids who would have put the Artful Dodger to shame. Losing the jumper's remote control had been practically a given.
So now they were running again, following a narrow path through dense undergrowth, strangely-leafed trees looming up left and right. The ground was uneven, trampled dirt, and Rodney kept stumbling, saved from falling only by Sheppard's hand under his elbow, firm grip keeping him upright. Behind them, he could hear Teyla's quieter footsteps over the sound of his own harsh breathing, Ronon's gun discharging whenever the furiously roaring natives got too close. He was sweating, thighs burning and sides aching, and he hated running, and he wanted to be home already: back in his lab, or in his quarters, or in the mess hall.
"Dial!" Sheppard yelled when they reached the Gate, shoving him roughly in the direction of the half-overgrown DHD and bringing his P-90 up to fire a round of warning shots over the natives' heads, making them jerk back. Rodney braced himself against the DHD, his lungs on fire as he tried to catch his breath, punching in Atlantis' address and fumbling for his GDO as the wormhole flashed into being. His fingers shook with adrenaline as he punched in his IDC and waited for the little light to signal that the shield was down.
"Clear!" he shouted when it blinked on, running toward the Gate. The natives had clearly overcome their fear of Sheppard and Teyla's automatic weapons, and the last thing Rodney saw before Sheppard shoved him into the event horizon was a mass of hateful faces closing in on his team.
He staggered when his feet hit the gateroom floor, turning to stare anxiously at the Gate, ignoring Elizabeth's demands to know what was going on. For an agonisingly long moment nothing happened, then Sheppard all but jumped backwards out of the shimmering non-surface of the Stargate, then Teyla, then Ronon. The Gate closed down with a soft whoosh, and for a second the four of them just looked each other up and down as if to make sure everyone was safe and unhurt, before they turned around. Elizabeth was halfway down the steps by then, frowning at their flushed faces.
"What happened?"
"Wraith worshippers," Sheppard told her, still slightly breathless, "stole the remote control," and by the time they agreed on sending a team to try and recover the lost jumper, the air came slow and easy to Rodney's lungs, and his sweaty uniform had begun to dry.
~~~
In the end, the jumper was chalked up as a lost cause. The Gate had turned out to be heavily guarded, the MALP they'd sent instantly destroyed before it had even activated its video feed. The planet was marked as hostile, and the team resumed their standard missions. If Radek bitched over the lost remote and Rodney told him to either suck it up or go and see if he could convince the insane Wraith worshippers to give it back, well… that was simply business as usual and not in any way important.
~~~
Except the next time they were busy outwitting the Wraith, their jumper uncloaked mid-flight, leaving them exposed to the four Darts that were following them.
"What the hell are you doing?!" Rodney yelled at Sheppard, who yelled right back, "It wasn't me, I didn't do anything!"
The jumper shook and spun as they took a hit, and Rodney was thrown out of the co-pilot's seat, crying out as he landed on the floor behind Sheppard, his head missing the hard base of Sheppard's chair only by millimetres, his entire left side throbbing with pain from the impact.
"Brace yourselves, we're going down!" Sheppard's voice was frantic, and Rodney curled into a tight ball, kicking at the floor to scoot under Sheppard's seat.
The impact was brutal. Rodney heard Teyla's pained shout even as his back slammed against Sheppard's leg and into the control console. Sheppard jerked against him, booted foot knocking painfully into the back of Rodney's knee, and he would have cried out if there'd been any air left in his lungs. The jumper's hull creaked and groaned as the ship spun and burrowed into the ground, bumping with each tree it felled before it finally, finally, skidded to a stop.
For a moment, there was utter silence, only broken by the soft hiss of a coolant leak. Then Ronon groaned, staggering heavily to his feet, his voice holding something Rodney had never heard before when he said, too softly, "Teyla."
Rodney uncurled and scrabbled out from under Sheppard's knees, brushing against Sheppard's limp hand as he rose. His eyes flickered to the dark head resting on the console, to the blood trickling down one pale temple, but then his gaze was drawn to Teyla's slumped figure in the rear compartment, and he couldn't help the gasp that escaped him. Teyla looked broken, one arm bent at an angle that was in no way natural, blood running freely from her hair into her eyes, down her cheek, staining the side of her uniform jacket. Her eyes were closed and her skin was almost colourless, and they needed to get her back to Atlantis, now. A brief look at Ronon's grim face confirmed that he knew that, too.
"Go," Rodney told him, his hands clenching and unclenching as Ronon bent down to pick Teyla up, cautiously, carefully, cradling her like something precious. She was. "The jumper is broken and she doesn't have the time, we don't have the time... I'll take care of Sheppard, just go, the Gate shouldn't be far from here." He nudged Sheppard's slumped figure to the side and hit the switch that would open the rear hatch. Ronon was out before the ramp had even fully lowered, and Rodney was left to swallow hard, to take a deep breath and then lean forward to gently shake Sheppard's shoulder.
"Come on," he said, "Sheppard, come on, we need to-" and Sheppard jerked upright with a wild look in his eyes, forcefully knocking Rodney's hand away.
"What?" He stared at the dirt and dead plants covering the wind shield, then up at Rodney. "Rodney? What happened?"
"We crashed. Teyla's hurt, Ronon is taking her to the Gate. And we need to get out of here, because this jumper isn't going to fly again unless you find a way to switch off gravity and I presume the Wraith are already on their way."
Sheppard started at that, eyes growing wide, and before Rodney knew it his data pad was shoved at him and Sheppard was dragging him out of the jumper and into the open. They had crashed on a plateau halfway up a long, low hill; rocks and boulders and trees leading up on one side, a ravine leading down into the woods on the other. The ground behind the jumper was torn, trees strewn across the ground like toothpicks. Sheppard grabbed Rodney's arm and yanked him along as they started toward the narrow end of the plateau about a hundred feet ahead, where a path started to wind its way down toward the huge clearing that held the Stargate. Ronon was well ahead, Teyla's arm flopping limply as he ran, barely visible through the trees, and Sheppard's grip tightened as he urged Rodney to pick up speed.
"How bad?" he asked, and Rodney knew that he meant Teyla.
"I don't know. Bad," he replied, feet falling into the far too familiar rhythm of running. As much as he loved his team and their missions - though he'd never, ever say that out loud - this was the part he well and truly hated. He hadn't been made for running, unlike Sheppard, with his lean limbs and easy stride. Rodney was more of a Hockey kind of guy, broad-shouldered and strong. Not that Sheppard wasn't strong... but this was hardly the time to ponder their differences, was it?
The high-pitched whine warned them, and the first Wraith Dart shot over their heads with its culling beam harmlessly stabbing the ground as Sheppard tackled Rodney to the side. He flailed, arms paddling the air to keep his balance, and then they were running again, trying to make it to the end of the plateau and to the denser foliage. Hopefully those woods harboured enough animals to confuse the Darts' life signs detectors. The second Dart approached them, much too fast, and it was pure chance that had Rodney's foot catching on a root, sending him sprawling to the ground.
The culling beam passed a hair's breadth from his nose, and then Sheppard was yanking him up again, pushing him toward the plateau's end.
"Run!"
"What the hell does it look like I'm doing?!" Rodney shot back, running as well as he could with his aching body. Next to him, Sheppard's breath was coming in harsh pants that somehow made the situation more real.
They weren't going to make it. This was going to be the mission he'd been dreading, the one where their insane luck would finally run out. The last two Darts were rapidly coming up from behind while the first ones had turned and were already heading back in their direction. Four culling beams were racing toward them and they were still too far from the path that led down to the Gate. A violent push against his arm made him stagger. Too late he realised that he was far too close to the plateau's edge.
With a startled cry, Rodney toppled down the ravine. The slope was steep and the rocky ground thinly covered with moss, making his feet slip when he tried to regain his footing. His tumbling descent was halted when his back slammed into a tree stump, pushing the air out of his lungs with a small, "Oof!" That was going to hurt like a bitch, but Rodney ignored the pain and forced himself up on his elbows, staring with wide eyes up at the edge of the ravine.
"Sheppard? Sheppard!" There was no answer. Above him, the Darts made a sharp turn toward the sky and disappeared from the atmosphere. Rodney was left alone with his own panting breath and his bruised body and his scraped palms and the soft rustling of leaves overhead, treetops swaying softly in the gentle breeze. Somewhere to his left, he could hear the Stargate shut down.
At least Teyla would be okay. That was something to cling to.
~~~
Back on Atlantis, Rodney didn't even go to the infirmary, impatiently brushing away his concerns. Instead, he got into a four-way shouting match with Radek, Elizabeth and Lorne.
"Yes, yes, yes, clearly the Wraith reverse-engineered the remote control for the jumper and figured out a way to broadcast it, most likely via radio transmitter- What? No, that is not just a myth, where do you- We're lucky they didn't just open the rear hatch and vent us all into space! Explosive decompression is not pretty! No, I don't know how they- Look, will you all just stop screwing around and mount a damn rescue mission already?!"
~~~
Rodney's voice was still hoarse from yelling at Elizabeth, at Lorne, at his scientists, at the marine who had been patrolling in the corridor, when they finally agreed on a plan: find the Hive ship in question, infiltrate it, make sure those particular Wraith were the only ones to have figured out the remote control frequency, rescue Sheppard, get the hell out of Dodge. Oh, and blow the Hive ship up when they left. Impossible, really, but then again the impossible was something they did every week.
Rodney huffed and uncrossed his arms, satisfied that finally there would be something to do, and went back to yelling at everyone to move faster, damn it, feeling better than he had all day.
~~~
Getting into the Hive ship was easier than anticipated: apparently, none of the Wraith had thought to continuously broadcast the uncloaking signal for the jumpers, something which Rodney would have made his first priority after obtaining the remote control. Then again, it was entirely possible that the Wraith wanted to be infiltrated. Willingly flying into the landing bay of a Hive ship was going to be like a twisted version of meals on wheels, if they were caught.
Rodney had no intention of being caught.
Once they had parked the still-cloaked jumper safely in a remote corner where no Wraith was likely to wander, Lorne and two marines headed out to set explosive charges at three predetermined locations. Rodney and Radek had agreed that three charges, if placed right, would be entirely sufficient to make sure that nothing was left of that particular Hive but space rubble and bits of dead Wraith. Rodney couldn't find it in him to be grossed out by the thought. Sheppard had been in the hands of these creatures for nearly twenty-four hours; God knew what they had done to him. Even if they had just stunned the man and put him into a cocoon for later, Rodney found that he wanted the Wraith gone for daring to take Sheppard in the first place. The intensity of that wish scared him a little. Apparently, he wasn't as much of a rational man as he had thought.
While Lorne's small team was busy sneaking through the ship and setting explosives - and hopefully avoiding discovery - Ronon and two other marines went to retrieve Sheppard. His subcutaneous transmitter was still active, so they wouldn't have to search the entire ship for him. Hopefully, the signal wouldn't lead them to a... a dead body.
Rodney swallowed. He resolved to make Carson upgrade their implants to a version that would also transmit a heart rate. He'd make him upgrade Sheppard's first, too.
Accompanied by his own set of soldiers, he stayed close to the landing bay. They had found an access terminal for the Hive ships computer system only a few corridors down, and Rodney was trying to concentrate on hacking his way into the system, to force his thoughts away from Sheppard and the many, many bad things that might have happened to him. His throat was aching from all the yelling he'd done; it distracted him, but he kept his focus. The marines were eyeing the corridor nervously, P-90s raised and ready, but the halls were eerily quiet. Perhaps the Wraith were on lunch break.
Oh God, he really shouldn't have thought that.
The strangely intuitive Wraith system was starting to become familiar enough to make handling easy, and Rodney didn't need all that long to find what he was looking for. While the communications logs showed several recent communications between the Hive and at least one other ship, it didn't seem like they had shared the remote control frequency for the jumpers. He breathed a sigh of relief. Bless the Wraith's territoriality and their constant infighting. At least Atlantis' problem would be solved once they blew up this ship. Now they just had to-
Footsteps were approaching at a fast pace, and one of the marines dragged Rodney away from the console to push him into a tiny alcove. Rodney watched, wide-eyed, as the soldiers took position on either side of the corridor, ready to defend him. The footsteps came closer, the heavy thump of boots promising... Rodney didn't know what, but surely it couldn't be good, and then-
And then Ronon and his entourage of two rounded the corner, and Rodney relaxed a little, before he realised that Ronon had someone slung across one shoulder. It was of course impossible to tell from only a set of limp, dark-clad legs and two booted feet, but... "Sheppard?"
Rodney's voice came out as little more than a croak, his throat raw and aching, but Ronon nodded shortly and strode past him toward where they'd parked the jumper. Rodney couldn't see much of Sheppard, only his slackly dangling arms and head, the hair streaked with silver. Rodney clenched a fist in front of his stomach, feeling nauseous as he hurried after Ronon, trying to fix his gaze on anything but Sheppard's unconscious figure and failing.
The Wraith had fed on him. How much had they taken? Memories rose unbidden in his mind: staring in horror at a grainy screen and watching as a man he considered his friend was drained of his years; as wrinkles deepened and furrowed through previously smooth skin; as a life grew so much shorter.
He tried to see how badly Sheppard's hands were aged but Ronon's stride was too fast for him to catch a good look. They reached the jumper and Rodney pulled out the remote control, lowered the ramp and hurried inside to clear one of the benches in the rear compartment from their scattered equipment. Carefully, Ronon lowered Sheppard onto the bench and stepped back after squeezing the unconscious man's shoulder. The other soldiers stayed outside to guard the jumper.
Sheppard was in a bad way. His skin was pale and covered with a thin sheen of sweat, his t-shirt torn and his chest bloody, his breathing laboured. His hair was more grey than black and his face looked haggard. Rodney swallowed.
"Can't be more than four years," Ronon said abruptly.
Rodney startled and jerked back the hand he'd been reaching out toward the claw marks on Sheppard's chest, to do what he had no idea. "What?"
The question came out as a painful rasp and he winced.
"No wrinkles in his cheeks." Ronon gestured at Sheppard's face. "And his hair had some grey before. Don't think they've taken more than four years."
"Really?" Rodney asked hopefully, his visions of a hideously aged Sheppard being carried back to Earth on a stretcher fading. Ronon had lived with the Wraith for his entire life; he'd know how serious Sheppard's condition was.
"Yeah."
They both looked down at Sheppard for a moment. Then Rodney cleared his throat, not for the first time that day wishing for a lozenge, and dug out one of the first aid boxes secured to the jumper's interior. He pulled out a few antiseptic wipes and crouched down, dabbing at the dried blood spattered on Sheppard's chest as he asked, "Where did you find him?"
"Some kind of lab, face down on the table. Don't know what they were going to do with him."
Rodney stared up in horror. "What, and the Wraith just left him there, alone?"
"Didn't say that." Ronon bared his teeth in a feral grin, and Rodney found that he didn't even want to know.
Outside, more footsteps approached and Ronon drew his gun, only to lower it again. At Rodney's questioning look, he shrugged. "Lorne."
Moments later, Lorne jogged into the jumper, doing a brief double-take when he noticed Sheppard lying unconsciously on the bench. "How is he?"
"Not as bad as he could be," Ronon said, and Lorne nodded.
"The charges are planted." He waved his men inside and dropped into the pilot's chair, bringing up the HUD. "Let's get the hell out of here."
Of course, that was when the alarms started to blare.
~~~
"McKay, the jumper shut down!"
"Yes, thank you for pointing out the obvious!"
"Well do something about it!"
"And what do you suggest, going outside and pulling the crank lever?" Rodney's throat hurt like hell and he was sure he could taste blood, and seriously, what was Lorne yelling at him for, it wasn't his fault that the Wraith were broadcasting on the same frequency-
Damn. "Give me your radio! No, not your headset, the other, the square one, the... yes, thank you, now give me your headset and... well I need it now, would you just... I'm disrupting the signal, what does it look like I'm doing, and have you by any chance noticed that there are Wraith approaching outside?! Cover your ears!"
Rodney would have loved to cover his ears as well, but he needed both hands to switch the radios on. The screech from the back coupling was deafening. All around him people flinched - except for Sheppard, but he was... no, concentrate - and it seemed like hours went by before the jumper activated with a reassuring hum that he more felt than heard, though in reality it couldn't have taken more than a few seconds. Outside, Wraith were firing at the jumper, Darts were rising from their stations, and Rodney screamed at Lorne to get them out, out, out!
Lorne glared and fired at the closed bay doors and dodged Darts and made it all look easy, but Rodney still mostly held his breath until they were well away from the Hive. One of the marines pressed a button on a remote control - oh, sweet irony - and the Hive exploded. Everyone grinned, riding a wave of triumph and adrenaline, and Rodney was sure he had lost his voice forever.
~~~
Back on Atlantis, after the debriefing was over and Carson had assured Rodney that while his throat was sore and would probably ache for a few days he hadn't lost his voice, Rodney pulled up a chair and sat down at Sheppard's bedside, waiting for him to wake up. He'd been visiting Teyla earlier, who'd had her arm in plaster and a bandage around her head and had smiled at his awkward best wishes. She had asked him to check in on Sheppard, but he had planned on staying with him in any case. He needed to make sure that Sheppard would be all right.
Carson had said that there wasn't any lasting damage from whatever experiments the Wraith had been preparing to conduct - if they hadn't done so already - but in Rodney's opinion, that was nonsense and once again proved that medicine was more about taking shots in the dark than actual science. He needed only to look at Sheppard to see the lasting damage in the other man's silver-streaked hair, in the deepened lines around his eyes.
He just hoped that was all the damage there was.
Sheppard awoke some time around noon, eyes flickering toward Rodney's face. Rodney tried to school his expression, but knew he'd failed when Sheppard's gaze turned wary. Sheppard licked his lips.
"So. Didn't dream that, huh?" His voice sounded hoarse, and Rodney wasn't entirely sure it was just from a dry throat. Mutely, he shook his head, wishing that Teyla was there beside him. Or Ronon. Sheppard frowned. "How much?"
Speaking hurt, but Rodney guessed he wouldn't get around it. "It's not really possible to tell-" he started, only to have Sheppard interrupt him.
"McKay. How much?"
Rodney sighed and mumbled, "Ronon thinks four years."
Sheppard pressed his lips together. And suddenly, Rodney was angry at him. Angry that Sheppard had pushed him down a ravine, that he'd let himself be captured, that he was sulking over the loss of four years when no one had even seriously expected to find him still alive.
"Oh, stop it!" he snapped hoarsely, not caring that Carson had told him to shut up for a while. "Do you even know what we went through to get you out of there? Yes, you've lost a few years, but that's better than being dead! And besides, it's not like you're not still-" Horrified, he broke off, snapping his mouth shut.
"Still what, McKay?" Sheppard sneered, and Rodney looked away. There had to be a word that a friend would use; a word that wasn't 'hot' or 'too attractive for your own good' or 'rakish'.
'Beautiful'.
He was still floundering when Sheppard unexpectedly nudged his fingers against his arm and asked again, softly this time, "Rodney. Still what?"
Rodney swallowed and forced himself to meet Sheppard's eyes. Honesty. He could do honesty, and after the day he'd had, Sheppard deserved as much.
"Everything I ever-" he croaked, except his voice failed him, his words failed him, cracking and breaking and lost within the space between them. Sheppard's mouth hung open and Rodney wanted to run away, but then Sheppard's face brightened, just a little, anger giving way to awe.
"Really?"
Rodney nodded, and they both stared at each other for a long moment. Rodney fumbled for Sheppard's hand, squeezing it far too tightly, and Sheppard squeezed back, still staring, not quite smiling, and Rodney leaned forward and-
And Carson came in. Rodney jerked back so hard that he knocked his chair over with a loud clatter.
"Rodney! This is an infirmary, not a demolition company!"
"Sorry," Rodney rasped, wincing again at the pain and Carson's dark look.
"Your throat won't get any better if you don't stop speaking, you know that. Now off you go! The Colonel needs his privacy."
Righting the chair, Rodney nodded, hurrying to get out of Carson's way. His heart was thumping loudly in his ears and he blinked, still uncertain of what had just happened. At the infirmary door, he hesitated, and turned around. Sheppard was watching him intently, even as Carson fiddled with his IV. He met Rodney's gaze and smiled, unexpectedly shy, settling back against the pillows and closing his eyes. Rodney blinked again, and turned, and walked, all the way back to the labs, sitting down in front of his laptop and not yelling at anyone.
It wasn't all because of his throat, either.
~~~
End.
Author: lavvyan. Duh.
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard (pre-slash)
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Briefly hints at possible off-screen torture.
Notes: Written for the Stargate Atlantis Urban Legend Slash Challenge 2007. My prompt was this: Any car equipped with a remote keyless entry system can be unlocked via cell phone.
Since we're completely ignoring how remote controls work, why not ignore how radios work, too? In other words: the science in this is complete bogus.
Thanks to houseinrlyeh, villainny and broet_chan for beta - you know you've got their attention when they all point out the same missing full stop. ♥ All mistakes still in here are from my meddling and not their responsibility.
Pre-Sunday, slight spoilers for Common Ground.
~~~
Not in the Manual
Rodney would have liked to yell at Sheppard that this was all his fault. Except that it wasn't, not really, and he was too busy huffing in as much air as he could to keep his body going to keep running, for once knowing better than to waste his breath on pointless accusations. Even if they would have made him feel better.
When they'd reached the stack of boulders where they'd parked the jumper, he'd thought they were safe. Then Sheppard had started patting his pockets with a look of dawning horror - or mild confusion and increasing worry, which on Sheppard was much the same thing - on his face and Rodney had known that on a scale of one to bad, their day had just reached complete and utter disaster. And he probably should have anticipated as much, what with the Wraith-worshipping natives raising pick-pocketing kids who would have put the Artful Dodger to shame. Losing the jumper's remote control had been practically a given.
So now they were running again, following a narrow path through dense undergrowth, strangely-leafed trees looming up left and right. The ground was uneven, trampled dirt, and Rodney kept stumbling, saved from falling only by Sheppard's hand under his elbow, firm grip keeping him upright. Behind them, he could hear Teyla's quieter footsteps over the sound of his own harsh breathing, Ronon's gun discharging whenever the furiously roaring natives got too close. He was sweating, thighs burning and sides aching, and he hated running, and he wanted to be home already: back in his lab, or in his quarters, or in the mess hall.
"Dial!" Sheppard yelled when they reached the Gate, shoving him roughly in the direction of the half-overgrown DHD and bringing his P-90 up to fire a round of warning shots over the natives' heads, making them jerk back. Rodney braced himself against the DHD, his lungs on fire as he tried to catch his breath, punching in Atlantis' address and fumbling for his GDO as the wormhole flashed into being. His fingers shook with adrenaline as he punched in his IDC and waited for the little light to signal that the shield was down.
"Clear!" he shouted when it blinked on, running toward the Gate. The natives had clearly overcome their fear of Sheppard and Teyla's automatic weapons, and the last thing Rodney saw before Sheppard shoved him into the event horizon was a mass of hateful faces closing in on his team.
He staggered when his feet hit the gateroom floor, turning to stare anxiously at the Gate, ignoring Elizabeth's demands to know what was going on. For an agonisingly long moment nothing happened, then Sheppard all but jumped backwards out of the shimmering non-surface of the Stargate, then Teyla, then Ronon. The Gate closed down with a soft whoosh, and for a second the four of them just looked each other up and down as if to make sure everyone was safe and unhurt, before they turned around. Elizabeth was halfway down the steps by then, frowning at their flushed faces.
"What happened?"
"Wraith worshippers," Sheppard told her, still slightly breathless, "stole the remote control," and by the time they agreed on sending a team to try and recover the lost jumper, the air came slow and easy to Rodney's lungs, and his sweaty uniform had begun to dry.
~~~
In the end, the jumper was chalked up as a lost cause. The Gate had turned out to be heavily guarded, the MALP they'd sent instantly destroyed before it had even activated its video feed. The planet was marked as hostile, and the team resumed their standard missions. If Radek bitched over the lost remote and Rodney told him to either suck it up or go and see if he could convince the insane Wraith worshippers to give it back, well… that was simply business as usual and not in any way important.
~~~
Except the next time they were busy outwitting the Wraith, their jumper uncloaked mid-flight, leaving them exposed to the four Darts that were following them.
"What the hell are you doing?!" Rodney yelled at Sheppard, who yelled right back, "It wasn't me, I didn't do anything!"
The jumper shook and spun as they took a hit, and Rodney was thrown out of the co-pilot's seat, crying out as he landed on the floor behind Sheppard, his head missing the hard base of Sheppard's chair only by millimetres, his entire left side throbbing with pain from the impact.
"Brace yourselves, we're going down!" Sheppard's voice was frantic, and Rodney curled into a tight ball, kicking at the floor to scoot under Sheppard's seat.
The impact was brutal. Rodney heard Teyla's pained shout even as his back slammed against Sheppard's leg and into the control console. Sheppard jerked against him, booted foot knocking painfully into the back of Rodney's knee, and he would have cried out if there'd been any air left in his lungs. The jumper's hull creaked and groaned as the ship spun and burrowed into the ground, bumping with each tree it felled before it finally, finally, skidded to a stop.
For a moment, there was utter silence, only broken by the soft hiss of a coolant leak. Then Ronon groaned, staggering heavily to his feet, his voice holding something Rodney had never heard before when he said, too softly, "Teyla."
Rodney uncurled and scrabbled out from under Sheppard's knees, brushing against Sheppard's limp hand as he rose. His eyes flickered to the dark head resting on the console, to the blood trickling down one pale temple, but then his gaze was drawn to Teyla's slumped figure in the rear compartment, and he couldn't help the gasp that escaped him. Teyla looked broken, one arm bent at an angle that was in no way natural, blood running freely from her hair into her eyes, down her cheek, staining the side of her uniform jacket. Her eyes were closed and her skin was almost colourless, and they needed to get her back to Atlantis, now. A brief look at Ronon's grim face confirmed that he knew that, too.
"Go," Rodney told him, his hands clenching and unclenching as Ronon bent down to pick Teyla up, cautiously, carefully, cradling her like something precious. She was. "The jumper is broken and she doesn't have the time, we don't have the time... I'll take care of Sheppard, just go, the Gate shouldn't be far from here." He nudged Sheppard's slumped figure to the side and hit the switch that would open the rear hatch. Ronon was out before the ramp had even fully lowered, and Rodney was left to swallow hard, to take a deep breath and then lean forward to gently shake Sheppard's shoulder.
"Come on," he said, "Sheppard, come on, we need to-" and Sheppard jerked upright with a wild look in his eyes, forcefully knocking Rodney's hand away.
"What?" He stared at the dirt and dead plants covering the wind shield, then up at Rodney. "Rodney? What happened?"
"We crashed. Teyla's hurt, Ronon is taking her to the Gate. And we need to get out of here, because this jumper isn't going to fly again unless you find a way to switch off gravity and I presume the Wraith are already on their way."
Sheppard started at that, eyes growing wide, and before Rodney knew it his data pad was shoved at him and Sheppard was dragging him out of the jumper and into the open. They had crashed on a plateau halfway up a long, low hill; rocks and boulders and trees leading up on one side, a ravine leading down into the woods on the other. The ground behind the jumper was torn, trees strewn across the ground like toothpicks. Sheppard grabbed Rodney's arm and yanked him along as they started toward the narrow end of the plateau about a hundred feet ahead, where a path started to wind its way down toward the huge clearing that held the Stargate. Ronon was well ahead, Teyla's arm flopping limply as he ran, barely visible through the trees, and Sheppard's grip tightened as he urged Rodney to pick up speed.
"How bad?" he asked, and Rodney knew that he meant Teyla.
"I don't know. Bad," he replied, feet falling into the far too familiar rhythm of running. As much as he loved his team and their missions - though he'd never, ever say that out loud - this was the part he well and truly hated. He hadn't been made for running, unlike Sheppard, with his lean limbs and easy stride. Rodney was more of a Hockey kind of guy, broad-shouldered and strong. Not that Sheppard wasn't strong... but this was hardly the time to ponder their differences, was it?
The high-pitched whine warned them, and the first Wraith Dart shot over their heads with its culling beam harmlessly stabbing the ground as Sheppard tackled Rodney to the side. He flailed, arms paddling the air to keep his balance, and then they were running again, trying to make it to the end of the plateau and to the denser foliage. Hopefully those woods harboured enough animals to confuse the Darts' life signs detectors. The second Dart approached them, much too fast, and it was pure chance that had Rodney's foot catching on a root, sending him sprawling to the ground.
The culling beam passed a hair's breadth from his nose, and then Sheppard was yanking him up again, pushing him toward the plateau's end.
"Run!"
"What the hell does it look like I'm doing?!" Rodney shot back, running as well as he could with his aching body. Next to him, Sheppard's breath was coming in harsh pants that somehow made the situation more real.
They weren't going to make it. This was going to be the mission he'd been dreading, the one where their insane luck would finally run out. The last two Darts were rapidly coming up from behind while the first ones had turned and were already heading back in their direction. Four culling beams were racing toward them and they were still too far from the path that led down to the Gate. A violent push against his arm made him stagger. Too late he realised that he was far too close to the plateau's edge.
With a startled cry, Rodney toppled down the ravine. The slope was steep and the rocky ground thinly covered with moss, making his feet slip when he tried to regain his footing. His tumbling descent was halted when his back slammed into a tree stump, pushing the air out of his lungs with a small, "Oof!" That was going to hurt like a bitch, but Rodney ignored the pain and forced himself up on his elbows, staring with wide eyes up at the edge of the ravine.
"Sheppard? Sheppard!" There was no answer. Above him, the Darts made a sharp turn toward the sky and disappeared from the atmosphere. Rodney was left alone with his own panting breath and his bruised body and his scraped palms and the soft rustling of leaves overhead, treetops swaying softly in the gentle breeze. Somewhere to his left, he could hear the Stargate shut down.
At least Teyla would be okay. That was something to cling to.
~~~
Back on Atlantis, Rodney didn't even go to the infirmary, impatiently brushing away his concerns. Instead, he got into a four-way shouting match with Radek, Elizabeth and Lorne.
"Yes, yes, yes, clearly the Wraith reverse-engineered the remote control for the jumper and figured out a way to broadcast it, most likely via radio transmitter- What? No, that is not just a myth, where do you- We're lucky they didn't just open the rear hatch and vent us all into space! Explosive decompression is not pretty! No, I don't know how they- Look, will you all just stop screwing around and mount a damn rescue mission already?!"
~~~
Rodney's voice was still hoarse from yelling at Elizabeth, at Lorne, at his scientists, at the marine who had been patrolling in the corridor, when they finally agreed on a plan: find the Hive ship in question, infiltrate it, make sure those particular Wraith were the only ones to have figured out the remote control frequency, rescue Sheppard, get the hell out of Dodge. Oh, and blow the Hive ship up when they left. Impossible, really, but then again the impossible was something they did every week.
Rodney huffed and uncrossed his arms, satisfied that finally there would be something to do, and went back to yelling at everyone to move faster, damn it, feeling better than he had all day.
~~~
Getting into the Hive ship was easier than anticipated: apparently, none of the Wraith had thought to continuously broadcast the uncloaking signal for the jumpers, something which Rodney would have made his first priority after obtaining the remote control. Then again, it was entirely possible that the Wraith wanted to be infiltrated. Willingly flying into the landing bay of a Hive ship was going to be like a twisted version of meals on wheels, if they were caught.
Rodney had no intention of being caught.
Once they had parked the still-cloaked jumper safely in a remote corner where no Wraith was likely to wander, Lorne and two marines headed out to set explosive charges at three predetermined locations. Rodney and Radek had agreed that three charges, if placed right, would be entirely sufficient to make sure that nothing was left of that particular Hive but space rubble and bits of dead Wraith. Rodney couldn't find it in him to be grossed out by the thought. Sheppard had been in the hands of these creatures for nearly twenty-four hours; God knew what they had done to him. Even if they had just stunned the man and put him into a cocoon for later, Rodney found that he wanted the Wraith gone for daring to take Sheppard in the first place. The intensity of that wish scared him a little. Apparently, he wasn't as much of a rational man as he had thought.
While Lorne's small team was busy sneaking through the ship and setting explosives - and hopefully avoiding discovery - Ronon and two other marines went to retrieve Sheppard. His subcutaneous transmitter was still active, so they wouldn't have to search the entire ship for him. Hopefully, the signal wouldn't lead them to a... a dead body.
Rodney swallowed. He resolved to make Carson upgrade their implants to a version that would also transmit a heart rate. He'd make him upgrade Sheppard's first, too.
Accompanied by his own set of soldiers, he stayed close to the landing bay. They had found an access terminal for the Hive ships computer system only a few corridors down, and Rodney was trying to concentrate on hacking his way into the system, to force his thoughts away from Sheppard and the many, many bad things that might have happened to him. His throat was aching from all the yelling he'd done; it distracted him, but he kept his focus. The marines were eyeing the corridor nervously, P-90s raised and ready, but the halls were eerily quiet. Perhaps the Wraith were on lunch break.
Oh God, he really shouldn't have thought that.
The strangely intuitive Wraith system was starting to become familiar enough to make handling easy, and Rodney didn't need all that long to find what he was looking for. While the communications logs showed several recent communications between the Hive and at least one other ship, it didn't seem like they had shared the remote control frequency for the jumpers. He breathed a sigh of relief. Bless the Wraith's territoriality and their constant infighting. At least Atlantis' problem would be solved once they blew up this ship. Now they just had to-
Footsteps were approaching at a fast pace, and one of the marines dragged Rodney away from the console to push him into a tiny alcove. Rodney watched, wide-eyed, as the soldiers took position on either side of the corridor, ready to defend him. The footsteps came closer, the heavy thump of boots promising... Rodney didn't know what, but surely it couldn't be good, and then-
And then Ronon and his entourage of two rounded the corner, and Rodney relaxed a little, before he realised that Ronon had someone slung across one shoulder. It was of course impossible to tell from only a set of limp, dark-clad legs and two booted feet, but... "Sheppard?"
Rodney's voice came out as little more than a croak, his throat raw and aching, but Ronon nodded shortly and strode past him toward where they'd parked the jumper. Rodney couldn't see much of Sheppard, only his slackly dangling arms and head, the hair streaked with silver. Rodney clenched a fist in front of his stomach, feeling nauseous as he hurried after Ronon, trying to fix his gaze on anything but Sheppard's unconscious figure and failing.
The Wraith had fed on him. How much had they taken? Memories rose unbidden in his mind: staring in horror at a grainy screen and watching as a man he considered his friend was drained of his years; as wrinkles deepened and furrowed through previously smooth skin; as a life grew so much shorter.
He tried to see how badly Sheppard's hands were aged but Ronon's stride was too fast for him to catch a good look. They reached the jumper and Rodney pulled out the remote control, lowered the ramp and hurried inside to clear one of the benches in the rear compartment from their scattered equipment. Carefully, Ronon lowered Sheppard onto the bench and stepped back after squeezing the unconscious man's shoulder. The other soldiers stayed outside to guard the jumper.
Sheppard was in a bad way. His skin was pale and covered with a thin sheen of sweat, his t-shirt torn and his chest bloody, his breathing laboured. His hair was more grey than black and his face looked haggard. Rodney swallowed.
"Can't be more than four years," Ronon said abruptly.
Rodney startled and jerked back the hand he'd been reaching out toward the claw marks on Sheppard's chest, to do what he had no idea. "What?"
The question came out as a painful rasp and he winced.
"No wrinkles in his cheeks." Ronon gestured at Sheppard's face. "And his hair had some grey before. Don't think they've taken more than four years."
"Really?" Rodney asked hopefully, his visions of a hideously aged Sheppard being carried back to Earth on a stretcher fading. Ronon had lived with the Wraith for his entire life; he'd know how serious Sheppard's condition was.
"Yeah."
They both looked down at Sheppard for a moment. Then Rodney cleared his throat, not for the first time that day wishing for a lozenge, and dug out one of the first aid boxes secured to the jumper's interior. He pulled out a few antiseptic wipes and crouched down, dabbing at the dried blood spattered on Sheppard's chest as he asked, "Where did you find him?"
"Some kind of lab, face down on the table. Don't know what they were going to do with him."
Rodney stared up in horror. "What, and the Wraith just left him there, alone?"
"Didn't say that." Ronon bared his teeth in a feral grin, and Rodney found that he didn't even want to know.
Outside, more footsteps approached and Ronon drew his gun, only to lower it again. At Rodney's questioning look, he shrugged. "Lorne."
Moments later, Lorne jogged into the jumper, doing a brief double-take when he noticed Sheppard lying unconsciously on the bench. "How is he?"
"Not as bad as he could be," Ronon said, and Lorne nodded.
"The charges are planted." He waved his men inside and dropped into the pilot's chair, bringing up the HUD. "Let's get the hell out of here."
Of course, that was when the alarms started to blare.
~~~
"McKay, the jumper shut down!"
"Yes, thank you for pointing out the obvious!"
"Well do something about it!"
"And what do you suggest, going outside and pulling the crank lever?" Rodney's throat hurt like hell and he was sure he could taste blood, and seriously, what was Lorne yelling at him for, it wasn't his fault that the Wraith were broadcasting on the same frequency-
Damn. "Give me your radio! No, not your headset, the other, the square one, the... yes, thank you, now give me your headset and... well I need it now, would you just... I'm disrupting the signal, what does it look like I'm doing, and have you by any chance noticed that there are Wraith approaching outside?! Cover your ears!"
Rodney would have loved to cover his ears as well, but he needed both hands to switch the radios on. The screech from the back coupling was deafening. All around him people flinched - except for Sheppard, but he was... no, concentrate - and it seemed like hours went by before the jumper activated with a reassuring hum that he more felt than heard, though in reality it couldn't have taken more than a few seconds. Outside, Wraith were firing at the jumper, Darts were rising from their stations, and Rodney screamed at Lorne to get them out, out, out!
Lorne glared and fired at the closed bay doors and dodged Darts and made it all look easy, but Rodney still mostly held his breath until they were well away from the Hive. One of the marines pressed a button on a remote control - oh, sweet irony - and the Hive exploded. Everyone grinned, riding a wave of triumph and adrenaline, and Rodney was sure he had lost his voice forever.
~~~
Back on Atlantis, after the debriefing was over and Carson had assured Rodney that while his throat was sore and would probably ache for a few days he hadn't lost his voice, Rodney pulled up a chair and sat down at Sheppard's bedside, waiting for him to wake up. He'd been visiting Teyla earlier, who'd had her arm in plaster and a bandage around her head and had smiled at his awkward best wishes. She had asked him to check in on Sheppard, but he had planned on staying with him in any case. He needed to make sure that Sheppard would be all right.
Carson had said that there wasn't any lasting damage from whatever experiments the Wraith had been preparing to conduct - if they hadn't done so already - but in Rodney's opinion, that was nonsense and once again proved that medicine was more about taking shots in the dark than actual science. He needed only to look at Sheppard to see the lasting damage in the other man's silver-streaked hair, in the deepened lines around his eyes.
He just hoped that was all the damage there was.
Sheppard awoke some time around noon, eyes flickering toward Rodney's face. Rodney tried to school his expression, but knew he'd failed when Sheppard's gaze turned wary. Sheppard licked his lips.
"So. Didn't dream that, huh?" His voice sounded hoarse, and Rodney wasn't entirely sure it was just from a dry throat. Mutely, he shook his head, wishing that Teyla was there beside him. Or Ronon. Sheppard frowned. "How much?"
Speaking hurt, but Rodney guessed he wouldn't get around it. "It's not really possible to tell-" he started, only to have Sheppard interrupt him.
"McKay. How much?"
Rodney sighed and mumbled, "Ronon thinks four years."
Sheppard pressed his lips together. And suddenly, Rodney was angry at him. Angry that Sheppard had pushed him down a ravine, that he'd let himself be captured, that he was sulking over the loss of four years when no one had even seriously expected to find him still alive.
"Oh, stop it!" he snapped hoarsely, not caring that Carson had told him to shut up for a while. "Do you even know what we went through to get you out of there? Yes, you've lost a few years, but that's better than being dead! And besides, it's not like you're not still-" Horrified, he broke off, snapping his mouth shut.
"Still what, McKay?" Sheppard sneered, and Rodney looked away. There had to be a word that a friend would use; a word that wasn't 'hot' or 'too attractive for your own good' or 'rakish'.
'Beautiful'.
He was still floundering when Sheppard unexpectedly nudged his fingers against his arm and asked again, softly this time, "Rodney. Still what?"
Rodney swallowed and forced himself to meet Sheppard's eyes. Honesty. He could do honesty, and after the day he'd had, Sheppard deserved as much.
"Everything I ever-" he croaked, except his voice failed him, his words failed him, cracking and breaking and lost within the space between them. Sheppard's mouth hung open and Rodney wanted to run away, but then Sheppard's face brightened, just a little, anger giving way to awe.
"Really?"
Rodney nodded, and they both stared at each other for a long moment. Rodney fumbled for Sheppard's hand, squeezing it far too tightly, and Sheppard squeezed back, still staring, not quite smiling, and Rodney leaned forward and-
And Carson came in. Rodney jerked back so hard that he knocked his chair over with a loud clatter.
"Rodney! This is an infirmary, not a demolition company!"
"Sorry," Rodney rasped, wincing again at the pain and Carson's dark look.
"Your throat won't get any better if you don't stop speaking, you know that. Now off you go! The Colonel needs his privacy."
Righting the chair, Rodney nodded, hurrying to get out of Carson's way. His heart was thumping loudly in his ears and he blinked, still uncertain of what had just happened. At the infirmary door, he hesitated, and turned around. Sheppard was watching him intently, even as Carson fiddled with his IV. He met Rodney's gaze and smiled, unexpectedly shy, settling back against the pillows and closing his eyes. Rodney blinked again, and turned, and walked, all the way back to the labs, sitting down in front of his laptop and not yelling at anyone.
It wasn't all because of his throat, either.
~~~
End.