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Erm, I'm working really I am.
Just taking a breather and got a ficlet idea. So, here, have some afternoon angst. Unbetaed and possibly riddled with weird grammar. (Feel free to point out any weirdness.)
Title: Missing beat
Author: Starrylizard
Fandom: SGA
Rating: Teen, angst
Wordcount: ~520
Characters: John/Rodney, Aiden, Teyla, Carson
Summary: John’s fingers felt numb, his hands cramped, as he continued the steady ‘push release, push release’. Come back to me. Don’t leave me
“Come on, buddy. Breathe for me, okay. Just breathe. Come on, come on. You can do it, buddy…”
The words tumbled from his mouth in a continuous stream, almost a prayer; the meaning had become lost to him in the general run-on of stumbling words. A voice in his head was screaming Come back to me. Don’t leave me - louder than the blood rushing, pounding in his ears; louder than the sound of his own ragged breathing - just the same thought over and over again. Come back to me. Don’t leave me.
John’s fingers felt numb, his hands cramped, as he continued the steady ‘push release, push release’. The motion had become almost a reflex by now, regularly pumping down on Rodney’s chest. For John, it was a mockery, a parody of the pounding heartbeat John had always found so comforting. All the times he’d pressed his face up against Rodney’s back or chest, listening to the steady rhythm as it slowed with his own, coming down from an erratic staccato beat and calming to a gentle thud thud as they both drifted over into sleep. It didn’t seem possible for that to be gone, for that steady rhythm to have stopped.
He reached for Rodney’s neck again; fingers pressed to the carotid artery, but could find no familiar throb of a pulse. Back to the rhythm, the steady ‘push release, push release,’ then Aiden would breathe and the chest beneath his hands would rise and fall, rise and fall.
John hit the radio. How many times he’d done it already, he wasn’t sure anymore. His voice came out a low growl, surprising himself and, from the look he got, surprising Aiden too. “Atlantis. Where the hell is that med. Team?”
“This is jumper 1; ETA five minutes. Hang in there, Major. We’re on the way.”
There was so much blood - crimson against the crisp white snow, fading to brown in large patches on his uniform, drying and crusted on John’s hands as they continued to pump on the pale chest beneath him. Up down, up down. Push release, push release.
Aiden breathed air into bloodless lips, so different from the soft lips John knew so well, so silent without the continuous chatter that was Rodney McKay. There was just the litany of words falling like a prayer from John’s mouth and the steady screaming in his mind, Come back to me. Don’t leave me. In John’s mind, everything had slowed down to this moment, anguish frozen in time, sharp as crystal clear.
“We’ve got him now. Let us work.” Carson’s voice. A swarm of medical personnel.
Strong hands and bodies a part of him recognized as Aiden and Teyla, pulling him away, holding him back. His back was pressed against a muscled chest, his arms held firmly, but without malice – holding carefully. His hands still formed fists, now clenched into someone’s jacket, and he watched the world spin slowly. Blue sky, white snow, red-brown blood, sweet blackness rushing up to greet him, and a voice pulling him back to reality.
Carson’s voice: “We’ve got a rhythm.”
Just taking a breather and got a ficlet idea. So, here, have some afternoon angst. Unbetaed and possibly riddled with weird grammar. (Feel free to point out any weirdness.)
Title: Missing beat
Author: Starrylizard
Fandom: SGA
Rating: Teen, angst
Wordcount: ~520
Characters: John/Rodney, Aiden, Teyla, Carson
Summary: John’s fingers felt numb, his hands cramped, as he continued the steady ‘push release, push release’. Come back to me. Don’t leave me
“Come on, buddy. Breathe for me, okay. Just breathe. Come on, come on. You can do it, buddy…”
The words tumbled from his mouth in a continuous stream, almost a prayer; the meaning had become lost to him in the general run-on of stumbling words. A voice in his head was screaming Come back to me. Don’t leave me - louder than the blood rushing, pounding in his ears; louder than the sound of his own ragged breathing - just the same thought over and over again. Come back to me. Don’t leave me.
John’s fingers felt numb, his hands cramped, as he continued the steady ‘push release, push release’. The motion had become almost a reflex by now, regularly pumping down on Rodney’s chest. For John, it was a mockery, a parody of the pounding heartbeat John had always found so comforting. All the times he’d pressed his face up against Rodney’s back or chest, listening to the steady rhythm as it slowed with his own, coming down from an erratic staccato beat and calming to a gentle thud thud as they both drifted over into sleep. It didn’t seem possible for that to be gone, for that steady rhythm to have stopped.
He reached for Rodney’s neck again; fingers pressed to the carotid artery, but could find no familiar throb of a pulse. Back to the rhythm, the steady ‘push release, push release,’ then Aiden would breathe and the chest beneath his hands would rise and fall, rise and fall.
John hit the radio. How many times he’d done it already, he wasn’t sure anymore. His voice came out a low growl, surprising himself and, from the look he got, surprising Aiden too. “Atlantis. Where the hell is that med. Team?”
“This is jumper 1; ETA five minutes. Hang in there, Major. We’re on the way.”
There was so much blood - crimson against the crisp white snow, fading to brown in large patches on his uniform, drying and crusted on John’s hands as they continued to pump on the pale chest beneath him. Up down, up down. Push release, push release.
Aiden breathed air into bloodless lips, so different from the soft lips John knew so well, so silent without the continuous chatter that was Rodney McKay. There was just the litany of words falling like a prayer from John’s mouth and the steady screaming in his mind, Come back to me. Don’t leave me. In John’s mind, everything had slowed down to this moment, anguish frozen in time, sharp as crystal clear.
“We’ve got him now. Let us work.” Carson’s voice. A swarm of medical personnel.
Strong hands and bodies a part of him recognized as Aiden and Teyla, pulling him away, holding him back. His back was pressed against a muscled chest, his arms held firmly, but without malice – holding carefully. His hands still formed fists, now clenched into someone’s jacket, and he watched the world spin slowly. Blue sky, white snow, red-brown blood, sweet blackness rushing up to greet him, and a voice pulling him back to reality.
Carson’s voice: “We’ve got a rhythm.”
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