chaps1870

Just when you think you know where this is headed I'm here to mess with you. Bwahahhaha. And yes, I am getting closer to the smut, so just chill, okay! ;)

Chapter Five

Returning from a mission, Rodney and John brought up the rear as they followed Lorne and his team to the infirmary. Major Lorne had mistakenly gotten into a tangle with the local plant life and had a reaction. He’d become increasing more irritable and was acting like a junkie in early stages of withdrawl, hence their early return and trip to the infirmary to get checked out. Rodney kept stride with Sheppard’s lazy walk as they took their time getting there.

“Have I mentioned how hot the thigh strap thing is?” mentioned Rodney as they walked.

“Would you stop?” John said as he unconsciously dropped his hand to his thigh. Rodney hadn’t really backed down from his mission to turn Sheppard around, but at least it wasn’t such a concentrated effort.

Rodney shot back, “What, you don’t think it’s hot?”

John sighed, “I didn’t say that.”

“Carson is hot in one too.” Rodney smiled and added, “Although he doesn’t wear one often enough to suit me.”

“Carson could be hot reading the phonebook, he doesn’t need a thigh strap,” John laughed.

Hands waving, Rodney retorted, “He has an unfair advantage with the accent. By the way, Carson wanted to know if you wanted to join us tonight?” John stumbled and Rodney rolled his eyes, “For dinner you moron.”

“Christ Rodney, you gotta stop jumping around in the conversation. I have a hard enough time following on a good day. And I could have sworn you said you could have patience.”

“I lost patience a week ago,” huffed McKay

John frowned. “It’s only been a week.”

“If you have a point, you should just say so,” Rodney rolled his hand in emphasis, “…again the patience thing.”

John flashed him a why-do-I-even-bother look. “Can we just get to the infirmary without all the innuendos?”

Rodney said matter of factly, “Probably not. I like to think I’m wearing you down.”

“Wearing on me is more like it,” muttered John, playfully nudging McKay with his shoulder. “How does Carson put up with you?”

“I’m good in bed,” shrugged Rodney, knowing it was more than that but it was fun to get a rise out of Sheppard.

“Thanks for the visual, Rodney. Now I have to explain to your boyfriend why I’m hard,” John sneered.

“I’m sure if you ask he’d help you out.”

Stopping, John gave him a lop-sided smile, “You know what, I need to go drop off my gear. Why don’t you go on without me?” He turned and walked the other way, calling over his shoulder, “Say hi for me.”

“Coward,” sneered Rodney. Heading towards the infirmary he smiled, not in the least bit scared of Carson. At least not this time, he wasn’t hurt.

Entering the infirmary, he found an empty bed to wait. Removing his vest, he was in the process of unstrapping his holster when a commotion on the other side of the infirmary caught his attention. Major Lorne was arguing rather loudly with Beckett, and Carson was trying in vain to keep him in bed. Rushing over, Rodney got to the bed just as Lorne backhanded Carson, sending him sprawling.

Intent on helping his lover, Rodney ignored Lorne, letting Ronon and the others restrain him. Carson lay on the floor unmoving, his cheek bleeding from the Major’s blow. Rodney’s heart sped up as he reached for him, cradling his head in his lap as he shouted above the noise, “Carson needs help here.”

Every thing went downhill from there and the next thing he heard was the sound of gunfire, followed by the explosion of pain in his arm. Without thought he dove forward, covering Carson with his body as chaos erupted around him, people moaning and screaming as the gunshots continued. It stopped as suddenly as it started, shouting and scuffling ensued but he ignored it, watching with morbid fascination at the spreading bloodstain on his shirt sleeve.

Suddenly he was dragged to his feet and a strong arm wrapped around his throat. He struggled briefly until the choke hold he was in threatened to cut off all his air and he stilled. It was then that he looked around the infirmary and realized he wasn’t the only one injured. Two nurses, a doctor and one of Lorne’s teammates were on the floor, bleeding from their own gunshot wounds.

Panicking, he grabbed for the arm choking him and tried to remove it only to feel the brush of cold metal press against his temple. “Stop or I’ll have to shoot you,” ground Lorne, his voice too enthusiastic to suit Rodney.

Rodney dropped his hand and tried to swallow the bile that threatened, asking frantically, “Why are you doing this?” His arm throbbed and he could feel blood trickling down his forearm as his eyes drifted to the stunned faces around him, everyone cowering behind beds and chairs as Lorne waved his gun wildly, his hold on McKay unwavering.

“I need to go back. I have to have more of the plant or I’ll die,” hissed Lorne, his hold tightening. Rodney twisted in Lorne’s grasp, red-faced and desperate for air when just as suddenly the arm around his throat loosened and fresh air rushed into his lungs in a great gasp. Closing his eyes, Rodney took in several breaths before opening them again. Ronon was standing across from them his sidearm raised, glaring evilly at the Major Lorne. “Let him go.”

The metal at his temple pushed forcibly and Rodney winced in pain. Ronon lowered his weapon. Lorne’s voice was loud and angry in Rodney’s ear, “Drop it.” The Major spun them both, the gun pressing harder. “All of you, drop your weapons.”

Tilting his head away from the pain, Rodney closed his eyes at the dizziness that assaulted him. Lorne continued to spin them both, first one direction then the other, covering all fronts in a drug-induced paranoia. When the room stopped spinning, Rodney slowly opened his eyes to see Colonel Sheppard standing in the doorway, his eyes dark and cold as he stared at Lorne. In a voice that Rodney only heard when Sheppard had blocked out all emotion and took on his hardened military persona, the Colonel stared at Lorne, “Stand down, Major.”

Lorne actually laughed, sending a chill up Rodney’s spine. Rodney begged timidly, “Please Major, just let me go.”

His air was gone again and Lorne was hissing in his ear, “Fuck you, McKay. I want you to shut up. Somebody should have shot your miserable ass a long time ago and spared us all your whining.”

Self preservation forced him to claw at the arm cutting of his air, but Rodney shut up, his legs buckling as his lungs screamed for oxygen. The darkness encroached only to stop as the arm loosened again. His head lolled as he filled his lungs. He was drifting now, the pain and blood loss taking away some of the earlier terror. Now he just let himself be dragged around at Lorne’s mercy. He occasionally lifted his eyes and each time he saw Sheppard, his eyes were imploring Rodney to stay with him.

Sheppard moved closer, his hands up, unthreatening. “Come on Lorne, let him go. We’ll help you. Holding McKay is only making things worse.” The Colonel kept talking, anything to distract Lorne from Rodney, who was sagging noticeably, blood dripping off his fingers onto the floor, leaving a trail. Carson was crouched next to the nearest bed, his eyes glued to the two men, fear reflecting in his eyes. Not for himself but for his lover. He watched John step closer and Lorne leveled the gun on him and Carson’s heart skipped a beat, fearful he would shoot the Colonel too.

Focusing attention on himself rather than John, Carson pleaded with Lorne, “Listen son, I need to help these people. You don’t want any one dying do you?”

That seemed to have some affect as Lorne looked around, realizing for the first time that there were injured people cowering against the walls or behind beds. He relented, “Okay, you can help.” He pointed his gun at him, “Only you though.”

Carson nodded and scrambled to the closest victim, one of his nurses. A quick check revealed only a flesh wound and he grabbed a bandage, instructing the soldier holding her to keep pressure on it. He moved around the room, working quickly but efficiently, his eyes darting to Rodney between each patient. None of the injuries were life-threatening and his mind raced, trying desperately to come up with a way to end this siege.

Major Lorne was obviously suffering from some sort of paranoia brought on by the plants he’d gotten into, but he showed no signs of letting go of Rodney. Glancing at the Colonel from behind Lorne’s back, Carson turned his head, drawing attention to dispensary door at his back. If he could get in and out unnoticed, he might be able to get close enough to Lorne on the pretext of taking care of Rodney.

With a barely discernible nod, Sheppard moved closer to Lorne and stepped to the right, drawing the major with him and away from Carson. He kept talking, “You know this won’t look good on your resume, Lorne. You gotta let McKay go. I know he’s a pain in the ass but we kinda got used to him.”

Rodney opened his eyes, glaring at Sheppard, but softened his expression when he saw the pain in John’s eyes, knowing it was for him. He bit off any response he was going to make, his eyes closing wearily. Sheppard kept moving closer, only stopping when Lorne pushed the gun to Rodney’s head. Frustrated and tired, McKay snapped open, “Stop poking me with the goddamn gun!”

John watched in horror as Lorne swept Rodney’s feet out from under him, and had him flat on the floor, his hand holding the scientist’s throat in a death grip. Rodney was dazed, but he flopped weakly as he fought for air. John immediately tried to rush in, but Lorne brought his gun up, point blank range at the Colonel’s chest. He stopped in his tracks, only to have Teyla and Ronon bump into him from behind. All three had reacted to Lorne’s sudden move, hoping to overpower him.

Rodney lay on the floor, his good hand scrabbling at Lorne’s trying desperately to pull it away from his throat as his eyes bulged and his lips began to turn blue. John screamed, “You’re killing him! Damn it, Lorne, let him go. He’s not hurting you.”

Coming out of the dispensary, syringe in hand, Carson snuck closer. Worried for Rodney, whose movements were turning sluggish, Carson made his move. One more step and he plunged the syringe into Lorne’s neck reaching over his back and grabbing the wrist that held the gun. It was the opening Sheppard and the other’s needed and they rushed the Major, tackling him away from McKay.

Carson dropped beside Rodney who was lying very still. “Rodney. Oh god, Rodney don’t you give up now.”

Checking for a pulse and finding one, Carson held his breath…waiting. His heart raced and his hands shook until finally Rodney stirred and gasped sharply, sucking air into his oxygen deprived lungs. Frantic for air, Rodney’s chest heaved as he reached for his battered throat. Rolling to his side, he coughed between breaths.

“Try to take deep breaths, luv. Come on that’s it.” He rubbed Rodney’s back while he snapped at his staff to get to work. “Someone grab me something to stop this bleeding.” He glanced at Lorne, who was now pinned to the floor by several marines, “And get that man in restraints.” Carson’s face was red-faced with anger and fear and he took several of his own deep breaths to calm his nerves. A warm hand rested on his back and soft voice made him turn and found Sheppard staring at him intently, nothing but concern in his eyes. “You okay, Doc?”

Carson nodded reassuringly and offered a small smile, wincing when it pulled at the cut on his cheek. “Aye, I’ll be fine. We need to get him onto a bed. Help me, would you?”

John nodded, and Carson noted his hands were shaking too as they helped Rodney onto the closest bed. “You okay, Rodney,” asked John, his voice quiet with worry.

“Hurts,” croaked Rodney, his throat sore from the abuse.

Carson was cutting off the sleeve to Rodney’s shirt to get to the damaged arm, sighing with relief to find the bullet had gone in and out. The bleeding had almost stopped so he applied a bandage to help. “Colonel, can you hold this until I can set up an IV. I want to irrigate that but I don’t want to do it without giving him something first.”

John shifted around the bed and wrapped a firm hand around Rodney’s forearm, holding the bandage firmly in place. His free hand slowly eased to Rodney’s, entangling his fingers, letting him grip tightly against the pain. Carson smiled affectionately, and nodded at John. He spoke tenderly to them both, as his own hand covered theirs, “You’ll be fine, Rodney. I just need to clean that out and I want to get you something for your throat so it doesn’t swell up on us.”

Rodney nodded tiredly and rasped, “Thanks.”

“Don’t try to talk now. I’ll get you something to drink in a moment. I’m sorry but I need to check on everyone.”

Reaching out, Rodney stopped him, staring at Carson’s face. “You’re hurt.”

Lightly touching his bruised cheek, Carson replied with a warm smile, “I’m fine. It’s worse than it looks, I’m sure.”

John spoke up, “Go ahead, Doc. I’ll stay with him.”

“I’ll be right back.” He left, looking back occasionally as he attended to his other duties.

Sheppard sat on the edge of the bed, uncaring what anyone thought. He watched Carson work, glad to see someone stop him long enough to take care of his face. This was as close as he ever wanted to come to losing his friends and it brought a lot of things into perspective. He glanced down at McKay and teased, “So, I leave you alone for a minute and you get into trouble.”

Rodney lifted one eye open, “Barrel of laughs for me.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” His voice wavered slightly, “Don’t do it again, okay?”

Beginning to drift, Rodney sighed groggily, “’kay.”