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WARNING: This is a Work In Progress. I don't have a particular plan as to when the next parts will be posted. It isn't finished and I'll just be posting as I write. If you don't want to be left waiting, feel free not to read this. You have been suitably warned.
Now that I've said that, on with part 1.
Working title: A path through the blizzard (Part 1)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
starrylizard
Characters: Beckett, Weir
Rating: This part Teen, not sure for later parts. Probably won't go past Mature. There will most likely be some rather dark themes, hurt/comfort and angst.
Excerpt: Carson watched as Elizabeth balled her fists by her side, staring defiantly through the slats of the makeshift prison. She shook ever so slightly, the shivers running down her spine the only sign that she was as frightened as he was. From the other side of the cell, Carson paced, unable to sit still or rest. They hadn’t been here more than a few hours, but it already felt like an eternity.
Author notes: This story was started forceltic_sky's birthday. Then it started to get long and I stupidly joined many fic-a-thons and stopped writing it for a while. Sorry hon! I can try for a more succinct story later. Thanks to derry667 for helpful advice on this chapter and to rinkle for beta-reading.
A cry of pain rent the still night air. The cry could have come from anyone, but it made sense that it was one of their own. Was it Sheppard or McKay, or maybe Ronon? It sounded male, so not Teyla then. Just a solitary scream, punctuated by the eerie silence that came before it and followed in its wake.
Carson watched as Elizabeth balled her fists by her side, staring defiantly through the slats of the makeshift prison. She shook ever so slightly, the shivers running down her spine the only sign that she was as frightened as he was. From the other side of the cell, Carson paced, unable to sit still or rest. They hadn’t been here more than a few hours, but it already felt like an eternity.
When they came, there were several of them. Standing behind their leader, the men were scruffy, armed with clubs and rudimentary firearms. Elizabeth’s back straightened. She pulled her shoulders back, brought her chin up, forcing herself into a vision of calm control.
Carson found himself standing straighter as well, trying to look just as self-assured, though he doubted he was pulling it off half so well. He realised he was unconsciously drawing strength from Elizabeth. She was used to dealing with this sort of thing – used to keeping her cool when negotiations went sour. Of course, usually she had some common ground in which to negotiate, something to negotiate with, and her own military escort should things turn sour. This time they were definitely on the back foot.
“Gentlemen.” Weir nodded sharply, keeping her eyes on the leader the whole time.
“You demanded to see me, Dr. Weir.” Her name was said with a distinctly unfriendly sneer, voice dripping with disdain. The men behind him laughed.
“Don’t you think it’s time you let us out of here? You have what you wanted - food, medical supplies, C4. We traded fairly and you have treated us poorly in return. At this point, we’d be willing to let you keep the items in good faith. We’ll return peacefully through the Stargate and never come back.”
The large man laughed, making his double chin wobble under his dishevelled beard. “Hear that boys? She will return peacefully.” Weir took a deep breath, calmly staring him down, as the men laughed along with their leader once more.
“Stupid woman. You and your doctor are worth more than all the trinkets you brought us in trade.” He turned as if to leave, but Elizabeth stepped forward defiantly.
“You will release us. My people will come looking for us and when they do…” She was cut off as the man backhanded her. The impact to her face made a dull thud as she careened backward, impacting with the cell wall, before falling to the ground in obvious pain.
“We don’t want a fight now, lads.” His voice cracked slightly as Carson displayed his empty trembling hands, slowly backing his way to Elizabeth. But it wasn’t necessary; having already turned to leave, the men hardly took any notice of him. Their point had been made.
Rodney picked up the ZPM, a gleam of triumph lighting his eyes. “This was worth it! This was completely worth it!” He smiled, bouncing on his toes, looking for all the world like a giddy schoolchild with a new favourite toy.
As the door clanged shut, Carson was already kneeling down next to Elizabeth, where she lay against the wall; his hands now steady as he carefully cupped her face. “Elizabeth, talk to me.”
Elizabeth moaned, biting her lip in an obvious attempt not to cry out. “It hurts, Carson,” she managed to grate out, as she looked down to the arm she clutched uselessly by her side.
Carson took one look at the odd shape of her shoulder through the tight fabric of her tee-shirt and muttered a curse. “Your shoulder looks to be dislocated. I’ll have to pop it back into place.” His hands moved to feel the area around the dislocated joint, gaining more information about the type of damage that had been done and wincing at the pain it caused Elizabeth as he did it. She took it all stoically, trusting him completely and trying her best not to flinch.
He shifted Elizabeth so she lay flat on the floor of their dirty cell and placed his unbooted foot in her armpit for leverage, before he paused to look down at Elizabeth’s face. It was turned to him, her eyes studying his own. He was trying for sincere and comforting in his expression, but he knew his true feelings shone through loud enough that you didn’t need to be a trained negotiator to see his own discomfort. This was going to hurt and he was wishing for his clean infirmary, or at least the pain meds his field kit contained. His mother had always told him he was hopeless at lying. Even if he could manage to school his face, his eyes always told the truth. Obviously now was no exception.
Elizabeth sighed, resignation in her voice. “Carson, just do it.”
She cried out as he gently pulled and manoeuvred her shoulder until it shifted back into place. After it was done, both of them stayed completely still and silent for a while, just breathing, letting the beat of Elizabeth’s racing heart come down to normal, allowing some of the stress to leach away before facing their grim reality once more.
Elizabeth’s face was tired and pale, shaken, as she sat up and Carson gently tied her arm in place using her jacket as a makeshift sling. “Try not to bother your shoulder for the next few days, and then I can teach you some basic exercises to get it back up to strength.” He wasn’t sure what else to say, falling back on the safety of facts and practical advice, but his expression apparently conveyed his scattered thoughts for him.
He’d worked with the ever perceptive Dr Elizabeth Weir long enough to know that words weren’t always entirely necessary, though she would usually wait for him to say them anyway. Now she simply nodded tiredly. “Thank you, Carson. You did well. We’ll get out of this somehow.” They were simple words of encouragement and friendship, simple words of hope. She patted the floor next to her and Carson smiled sadly, settling more comfortably on the floor, his back against the bars. He lifted an arm in welcome and Elizabeth leaned in on him companionably. “Aye, we always do Elizabeth. Somehow, we always do.” Neither of them was sure if they truly believed what they said, but the words were comforting and necessary and they settled down to wait out the rest of the long, dark night.
TBC...
on to Part 2
Comments and chocolate feed the bunnies. :)
Now that I've said that, on with part 1.
Working title: A path through the blizzard (Part 1)
Author:
starrylizardCharacters: Beckett, Weir
Rating: This part Teen, not sure for later parts. Probably won't go past Mature. There will most likely be some rather dark themes, hurt/comfort and angst.
Excerpt: Carson watched as Elizabeth balled her fists by her side, staring defiantly through the slats of the makeshift prison. She shook ever so slightly, the shivers running down her spine the only sign that she was as frightened as he was. From the other side of the cell, Carson paced, unable to sit still or rest. They hadn’t been here more than a few hours, but it already felt like an eternity.
Author notes: This story was started for
celtic_sky's birthday. Then it started to get long and I stupidly joined many fic-a-thons and stopped writing it for a while. Sorry hon! I can try for a more succinct story later. Thanks to derry667 for helpful advice on this chapter and to rinkle for beta-reading. A cry of pain rent the still night air. The cry could have come from anyone, but it made sense that it was one of their own. Was it Sheppard or McKay, or maybe Ronon? It sounded male, so not Teyla then. Just a solitary scream, punctuated by the eerie silence that came before it and followed in its wake.
Carson watched as Elizabeth balled her fists by her side, staring defiantly through the slats of the makeshift prison. She shook ever so slightly, the shivers running down her spine the only sign that she was as frightened as he was. From the other side of the cell, Carson paced, unable to sit still or rest. They hadn’t been here more than a few hours, but it already felt like an eternity.
When they came, there were several of them. Standing behind their leader, the men were scruffy, armed with clubs and rudimentary firearms. Elizabeth’s back straightened. She pulled her shoulders back, brought her chin up, forcing herself into a vision of calm control.
Carson found himself standing straighter as well, trying to look just as self-assured, though he doubted he was pulling it off half so well. He realised he was unconsciously drawing strength from Elizabeth. She was used to dealing with this sort of thing – used to keeping her cool when negotiations went sour. Of course, usually she had some common ground in which to negotiate, something to negotiate with, and her own military escort should things turn sour. This time they were definitely on the back foot.
“Gentlemen.” Weir nodded sharply, keeping her eyes on the leader the whole time.
“You demanded to see me, Dr. Weir.” Her name was said with a distinctly unfriendly sneer, voice dripping with disdain. The men behind him laughed.
“Don’t you think it’s time you let us out of here? You have what you wanted - food, medical supplies, C4. We traded fairly and you have treated us poorly in return. At this point, we’d be willing to let you keep the items in good faith. We’ll return peacefully through the Stargate and never come back.”
The large man laughed, making his double chin wobble under his dishevelled beard. “Hear that boys? She will return peacefully.” Weir took a deep breath, calmly staring him down, as the men laughed along with their leader once more.
“Stupid woman. You and your doctor are worth more than all the trinkets you brought us in trade.” He turned as if to leave, but Elizabeth stepped forward defiantly.
“You will release us. My people will come looking for us and when they do…” She was cut off as the man backhanded her. The impact to her face made a dull thud as she careened backward, impacting with the cell wall, before falling to the ground in obvious pain.
“We don’t want a fight now, lads.” His voice cracked slightly as Carson displayed his empty trembling hands, slowly backing his way to Elizabeth. But it wasn’t necessary; having already turned to leave, the men hardly took any notice of him. Their point had been made.
Rodney picked up the ZPM, a gleam of triumph lighting his eyes. “This was worth it! This was completely worth it!” He smiled, bouncing on his toes, looking for all the world like a giddy schoolchild with a new favourite toy.
As the door clanged shut, Carson was already kneeling down next to Elizabeth, where she lay against the wall; his hands now steady as he carefully cupped her face. “Elizabeth, talk to me.”
Elizabeth moaned, biting her lip in an obvious attempt not to cry out. “It hurts, Carson,” she managed to grate out, as she looked down to the arm she clutched uselessly by her side.
Carson took one look at the odd shape of her shoulder through the tight fabric of her tee-shirt and muttered a curse. “Your shoulder looks to be dislocated. I’ll have to pop it back into place.” His hands moved to feel the area around the dislocated joint, gaining more information about the type of damage that had been done and wincing at the pain it caused Elizabeth as he did it. She took it all stoically, trusting him completely and trying her best not to flinch.
He shifted Elizabeth so she lay flat on the floor of their dirty cell and placed his unbooted foot in her armpit for leverage, before he paused to look down at Elizabeth’s face. It was turned to him, her eyes studying his own. He was trying for sincere and comforting in his expression, but he knew his true feelings shone through loud enough that you didn’t need to be a trained negotiator to see his own discomfort. This was going to hurt and he was wishing for his clean infirmary, or at least the pain meds his field kit contained. His mother had always told him he was hopeless at lying. Even if he could manage to school his face, his eyes always told the truth. Obviously now was no exception.
Elizabeth sighed, resignation in her voice. “Carson, just do it.”
She cried out as he gently pulled and manoeuvred her shoulder until it shifted back into place. After it was done, both of them stayed completely still and silent for a while, just breathing, letting the beat of Elizabeth’s racing heart come down to normal, allowing some of the stress to leach away before facing their grim reality once more.
Elizabeth’s face was tired and pale, shaken, as she sat up and Carson gently tied her arm in place using her jacket as a makeshift sling. “Try not to bother your shoulder for the next few days, and then I can teach you some basic exercises to get it back up to strength.” He wasn’t sure what else to say, falling back on the safety of facts and practical advice, but his expression apparently conveyed his scattered thoughts for him.
He’d worked with the ever perceptive Dr Elizabeth Weir long enough to know that words weren’t always entirely necessary, though she would usually wait for him to say them anyway. Now she simply nodded tiredly. “Thank you, Carson. You did well. We’ll get out of this somehow.” They were simple words of encouragement and friendship, simple words of hope. She patted the floor next to her and Carson smiled sadly, settling more comfortably on the floor, his back against the bars. He lifted an arm in welcome and Elizabeth leaned in on him companionably. “Aye, we always do Elizabeth. Somehow, we always do.” Neither of them was sure if they truly believed what they said, but the words were comforting and necessary and they settled down to wait out the rest of the long, dark night.
TBC...
on to Part 2
Comments and chocolate feed the bunnies. :)
