To Be Where Needed (Doppelganger Challenge)

[beth-green.livejournal.com]

Title: To Be Where Needed
Author: beth_green
Characters: John & Rodney
Rating: PG, for language
Spoilers: None
Word Count: 2632

(Rodney's world disappeared in a sudden explosion of light and sound as he was tossed across the room by the unexpected blast. His brief flight ended when his body slammed into a nearby wall ...)

*****
Rodney's world disappeared in a sudden explosion of light and sound as he was tossed across the room by the unexpected blast. His brief flight ended when his body slammed into a nearby wall. He remained conscious while what was left of the room's contents half buried him.

Rodney felt suffocated by the deluge of debris. He pushed himself away from the wall, broken unidentifiable remains of what had once been Ancient technology falling away as he crawled on hands and knees to free himself from the choking wreckage. He could not stop the coughs adding to his misery as he inhaled microscopic bits of drifting particles. The forcible expulsion of air from his lungs didn't cease long enough to allow him to take in a complete breath. Rodney began to panic.

His distress was compounded by his ability to remember medical factoids, in particular the information that when brain cells are deprived of oxygen for a long enough period of time, they begin to die. Rodney could feel his body's response to the lack of oxygen. He was unable to recall any further details as an ominous wheeze was added to his coughing. His vision faded from light to shades of gray.

"Oh God, I can't think! I've already lost more than a few IQ points! I'd be better off dead than brain damaged!" He let the grayness stealing his vision and thoughts continue on to draw him into total oblivion.

Despite his best efforts, Rodney did not die. At least, he didn't think that he had. His mind was a confused disorder of muddled thoughts and memories except for the comforting sight, sound, and touch of John Sheppard. It seemed Rodney responded to John's presence much in the manner of Pavlov's dog in reaction to the prompt of a bell as a conditioned response to food. The injured man instinctively obeyed a request when it was made by John.

Rodney's return to consciousness was not a gradual thing. He blinked his eyes open to the sight of John crouched by his side, to the touch of John's hands gently feeling along the length of his body as he assessed the extent of his injuries, and to the concerned sound of John asking, "Hey, buddy, you think you could wake up for me?"

Rodney thought, "Thank God!" but the words that came out his mouth were: "Ow, ow, ow!"

John's touch eased to become a one-handed comforting pat upon his shoulder. The Colonel sat back on his heels, voicing the apology evident in the furrows of his brow and the downward twist of his lips. "Sorry. It's just, I need you to do something for me."

Rodney thought, "Anything," but instead coughed out a weak, "Uh," in reply.

John freely interpreted, "I'll take that as an 'Okay.'"

Rodney nodded, coughed, and coughed again as the motion caused some of the dust surrounding him to become airborne. The coughing made him intensely aware of the multiple injuries he'd sustained when the room he'd been working in disintegrated. His body curled into a semi-fetal position in an attempt to ease the worst of the pain. He couldn't help the tears that escaped from behind tightly-closed eyelids.

John's arms wrapped around him, holding him until the spasms eased. After an indeterminate interval of time, the comforting touch allowed Rodney to ignore the pain sufficiently to allow his remaining brain cells to function.

Rodney's voice was a mere whisper of sound when he stated, "Let's not do that again."

He felt as well as heard John's agreement. "Yeah."

Rodney's thoughts began to drift away with his consciousness when John physically and verbally prodded a return to reality. "I'm really sorry, but I need you to do something for me."

The injured man could not help the pathetic whine in his tone when he responded, "I don't think so."

John laid the palm of his hand against the side of Rodney's face. Rodney sighed in relief at the cool and comforting sensation along his sweaty and dust-begrimed cheek, and could not help but turn his head so that the touch became a caress.

John continued to prod his friend. "Rodney, I need you to stay awake." When Rodney did not immediately respond, the Colonel became more insistent. "McKay. Open your eyes."

Rodney did. He wanted to make a cutting remark to appropriately express his feelings of irritation. However, one look into John's concerned face changed his response to a resigned, "Okay. Now what?"

John's response was matter-of-fact: "I need you to open the door."

Rodney's eyes opened wide at the order, silently asking, Are you insane? He closed his eyes again, silently refusing. "Sorry. I really think that you should do it."

John sighed. Rodney opened his eyes again when he heard and felt John moving beside him. Rather than head for the door, John had simply shifted his body so that he was sitting more comfortably on the floor next to his friend. When John saw that he had Rodney's attention, he stated, "Believe me, I tried. I can't." Apology evident in his eyes, John continued, "I wouldn't ask you if there was any other way."

Rodney's thinking was muddled enough that he did not press John for further details. He slowly repositioned himself from his back onto his side, so that he could face John more directly. All he needed to do was to observe the defeated slump of the man's shoulders to know John spoke the truth. Rodney declared, "I hate you," hoping that John knew that he was simply saying, 'I hate the idea of trying to move.'

Rodney initially thought that he'd be able to walk the relatively short distance. He used the wall to prop himself up. That was when he discovered that his right leg was broken. The moment that he put weight on the injured extremity it collapsed beneath him, sending him down to the floor with a heart-felt, "Fuck!"

Much as he wished for unconsciousness, the pain did not allow it. Rodney cursed while John crouched by his side, the man's arms offering insubstantial support while he verbally apologized. "Shit! God, Rodney, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, if there was any other way … Damn it! Damn it, damnit fucking DAMN IT!"

Rodney somehow made it to a crawling position, stopping John's stream of words with a sad declaration: "You're not really here, are you?"

John' s frustrated reply of, "Yes, no, fuck, we don't have time for this!" just added to Rodney's confusion. His head hurt when he tried to make sense of it, so he decided to follow up on John/NotJohn's order to open the door.

It was a lot harder than it should have been. His leg injury caused signals to scream along nerve pathways to his brain with each movement, offering insistent protests of pain, pain, PAIN! The only reason he did not give up was because John was with him every step of the way, offering nonstop words of encouragement. When Rodney had covered half the distance to the goal, he paused to catch his breath.

John continued to cheerlead. "C'mon, Rodney, you can't quit now! You're almost there!"

Rodney tried to calm his rapid breathing enough to speak. "I'm not … quitting … I'm trying … to catch … my breath."

John squatted down so that his face was mere inches from Rodney's own. After what seemed like only two minutes had passed, he stated, "Looks like you caught your breath. Get moving!"

Rodney's eyes narrowed to stare balefully at his nemesis. He replied, "I will … just so … I can … get out of here … and kill you!"

Rather than take appropriate offense, John seemed perversely cheered by his friend's words. "That’s the spirit!"

Rodney decided to save his breath for the effort of moving. He raised his middle finger in reply, then continued his laborious crawl.

Somewhere along the way, Rodney had closed his eyes as he continued to move. He'd managed to ignore the worst of the pain and shortness of breath by focusing all of his attention on the action of moving. Using the wall to support himself and keep heading in the appropriate direction, he'd mentally been chanting a mantra of silent directions to himself: "Right hand, left hand, left knee, right knee; right hand, left hand, left knee, right knee."

He continued on until John softly ordered: "Stop. We' re here."

Rodney opened his eyes and stared at the door he'd nearly crawled past. He whispered a heartfelt, "Oh thank God!" The door control seemed impossibly high from his position on the floor. With the last of his strength, he forced himself to a standing position, managing to avoid putting any pressure on his broken leg. He waved a hand over the door control. His eyes widened when nothing happened. He waved his hand again and again, and began to beat his hand repeatedly against the control when it stubbornly refused to activate. His voice caught on a sob as he repeated, "No, no, no, no, NO!" The last word broke him utterly. He slumped to the floor in defeat, allowing tears of pain and frustration to flow freely down his face.

He felt the air in the room close and thin around him. He was too exhausted to panic. John sat with him, holding him, looking more than a little panicked himself. "McKay, you can't give up now! You're almost there!"

Rodney turned to stare into John's green eyes, so close to his own. He gasped, "Do you think I don't know I'm running out of air? I'm not stupid. The lack of breathable air is no doubt adding to my brain damage, but I know I'm dying."

John angrily denied Rodney's truth. "You're not dying! Sure, there's not a whole lot of air left, but all you have to do is open the door and you'll have all the air you need!"

Rodney leaned his head back against the closed door, calmed by John's words and more importantly, his presence. He turned his head to again stare at John. Despite the fact that he was facing his impending death, his lips quirked up in a gentle smile. "I'm glad."

John stared, finally at a loss for words as Rodney continued. "What I fear most about dying …" He amended what he'd originally intended to say, "Well, I fear dying horribly and in pain, and considering the fact that I'm in a considerable amount of pain, and death by suffocation is a pretty horrible way to die, what I mean to say is … I'm glad you're here." John began to speak, but Rodney didn't let him get a word in. "Even though you're a hallucination, I'm glad you're here, because dying alone is one of the many things I fear." Rodney stopped in order to breathe, feeling his chest constrict as he used up the last of the oxygen in the room.

Instead of saying something heartwarming and comforting, John's voice was a combination of anger and fear as he stated, "I'm not a figment of your imagination! I'm right on the other side of this goddamn door, and I can't open it from my side, so I need you to open the goddamn fucking door!"

Rodney frowned. The John beside him seemed so very real. He decided to remind his hallucination of the facts. "I tried to open the door. It didn't work."

John shook his head. "You've obviously forgotten what you did to get into this room in the first place. You had to take the cover off of the control panel and switch the crystals around. I tried doing the same thing from this side, but it didn't work. The door seems to have some kind of emergency activation mechanism that sealed you in when the explosion hit."

Rodney began to nod. His vague memories took on solid form with John's words. "Oh. I think … Maybe if I …" He struggled to stand. He would have fallen if not for John's supportive presence behind him. He removed the control panel, exposing the inner workings of the door. The crystals glowed brightly in response to his touch. He closed his eyes, trying to remember what he'd done to the crystals on the other side of the door. He removed one of the crystals in order to use it to bridge a gap between two of the other crystals. He whispered with his last remaining breath, "I think …"

The door opened. His teammates were crowded around the entryway, but it was John whose presence filled his vision and whose strong arms caught him as he collapsed forward into the blessed fresh air of the corridor as his exhausted body gave out and consciousness fled.

*****

Rodney woke to the irritating feeling of an oxygen tube blowing dry air into his nose. He raised a hand to swipe at the annoying plastic. He opened his eyes to the familiar sight and sound of John Sheppard. The man felt the need to state the obvious: "Hey! You're awake!" The inane comment was followed by his friend's hand gently pulling his own hand away from the oxygen tubing. "You want to leave that alone."

Rodney wanted no such thing, but he was too tired to argue.

John's announcement of Rodney's return to consciousness was followed by a flurry of medical activity as the injured man was poked and prodded. Carson finally stepped back, nodded and declared, "You're gonna make a full recovery, although it was a near thing. It was bad enough you got thrown across the room by the force of the explosion. When the emergency ventilation system kicked in to remove to the toxins from the room that you were in, it didn't take into consideration the fact that you needed the oxygen in the room to breathe. Thank goodness John was able to help you to get yourself out of there."

Rodney turned a puzzled look in John's direction. "I seem to remember that I was alone in the room at the time of the explosion."

"Unfortunately, that's true." Sheppard rubbed a hand along the back of his head, causing his dark hair to stick out more than usual. He shrugged. "When we couldn't figure out a way to get the door open from the outside, I decided to see if I could get that thing that you thought might be a holographic thought projector to work. It was and it did."

Rodney stared at John. "Huh." He remembered the details of what had happened, and he'd actually been able to follow John's confusing statement. He was more than happy to discover that he hadn't lost any brain cells. He smiled as he also realized, "I was right."

Rodney became more cheerful as he considered the implications. "Cool; a holographic thought projector." He raised a hand into the air, pointing with his index finger. "Just think of the possibilities." The hand dropped to his side, suddenly too heavy to hold. Between one breath and the next, he was asleep.

Carson nodded. "We'll let the man rest."

John bit at his lower lip. "If you don't mind, I'd like to stay here for a bit."

Carson shrugged. "Suit yourself. No doubt he'll be sleepin' for a while."

John made himself comfortable in a chair at the bedside while Carson pulled the curtain around the bed to cut them off from the hum of activity in the rest if the infirmary. John waited until they were alone before he reached out to enfold Rodney's pale, cool hand within his own.

Rodney sighed, then turned his hand palm upward to return the comforting gesture as he drifted deeper into sleep.

*****

~end

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Comments

[iamrighthere.livejournal.com]

Nothing like a dose of H/C just before bed. Lovely story!

[beth-green.livejournal.com]

Thank you kindly! I do like putting the hurt on Rodney, as long as John is there in some way, shape, or form to offer comfort.

BTW, my RL kitty is more like the cat in your icon rather than the poor tabby in my own icon. (Beth pushes Bijou off of her computer for the tenth time tonight)

[iamrighthere.livejournal.com]

The World-Famous Obese Kipper(TM)! Here we see her meatloaf-style, having taken off her legs specifically to keep me from removing her from the bed. I really gotta get a new pic of her.

I saw your icon pic on "Rate My Kitten" a couple of years ago and still think its an absolute hoot.

Hey, we're you asked to write a spec script for a sci-fi TV show? If so, whatever happened with that?

[iamrighthere.livejournal.com]

And I meant to write "were you asked..." but I've had only six cups of coffee yet this morning.

[sgatazmy.livejournal.com]

Oh this was very nice. *claps*

[beth-green.livejournal.com]

Whee! How cool is it that you agree with me that it's nice to hand out abuse to poor Rodney? Mind you, can't have the hurt without the comfort.

[jmchau.livejournal.com]

I read this on my way home this evening and quite enjoyed it.

Thanks for that.

[beth-green.livejournal.com]

You're very welcome. When I first read the challenge, I had something kinder and gentler in mind but my muses decided to toss poor Rodney into a wall instead.

[nakedwesley.livejournal.com]

I like the twist that Rodney's not hallucinating. John really is there...sort of. :o)

[beth-green.livejournal.com]

Glad you liked it! The scientist in me would like to point out a possible explanation for Rodney's physical sensations of Doppelganger John. It could be that the Ancient device John used may have been more than a simple holographic projector. Or, Rodney may have imagined part of the physical 'reality' due to a combination of the toxins he'd been exposed to as well as a lack of oxygen. Or, it could be that I think too much about these things.