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Title: Voices In The Haze
Word Count: ~950
Genre: Gen, H/C, Whump Without Plot
Character: John Sheppard, Team
Spoilers: General spoiler for Season 5
Disclaimer: Stargate belongs to MGM, SciFi Network, Brad Wright and Robert Cooper, not me. I'm just making better use of it and the characters instead of canceling it.
It started as a drabble, but ended up too long to be one. I was sleepy and in the mood to whump Shep. This is what happened.
Summary: Sheppard escapes from a sleep deprivation torture.
VOICES IN THE HAZE
Where was he again? He froze suddenly. He swayed and looked around in confusion. His head pounded. Exhaustion burned his limbs. The world blurred momentarily but he shook it off. He resumed his blundering through the jungle, stumbling on roots and rocks. He tripped and almost fell, but didn't stop. His legs would collapse from under him any moment, but he pushed them further ahead, the gate not too far now.
Sometimes they decided to give up and he would fall on his knees. Getting up was the hardest part. He squeezed his eyes, caught his breath and felt trembling muscles hurting too much to sustain him for much longer. Each time he resumed his pacing it came weaker and slower and the next fall quicker and harder to resist.
His body and brain wanted him to stop, but it only took one second of clarity, the only one he had left, to make him realize how stupid that was. He could not stop. He would not stop. Stopping was going back. Going back was not in his book.
When he finally spotted the gate, relief almost made him forget what he should do next, but movement in the trees behind reminded him. Flashes of pain, light and loud noises shot through his mind, mixed with flashes of symbols, and a wooshy sound.
The sights and sounds of the gate room filled his senses. Trotting steps and surprised relieved faces received him. Warm hands touched him, but they weren't bad. They didn't hurt. They were gentle and supported him. He welcomed the haze the warmness was bringing. Voices buzzed in his ears. Familiar voices that made him happy and sounded like a lullaby. He just wished he could understand what they were saying. He tried to hold on to them. He wanted to see them and be with them a bit longer, just to make sure he wasn't seeing things again, but his body melted under their touch and his eyes closed despite his fight.
Maybe when he woke up they would still be there.
~o~
Rodney watched the still figure breathe evenly. The rhythmic raise and fall of Sheppard’s chest was hypnotic and almost relaxing. If it wasn’t for the colorful bruises showing from under the white scrubs, the paleness and the huge dark circles under John’s eyes, Rodney would be able to think his friend was just resting peacefully after a particularly tiring mission.
He snapped out of it and continued, “Maybe if I hadn’t lost that cat I wouldn’t be here right now. But as you know, I was already a genius before, so maybe I would have ended up here anyway.” He shrugged. “Funny how life is, isn’t it? Such a tiny event,” Rodney joined index finger and thumb and pressed both together, “in a man’s life can change the course of the galaxy. The theory of chaos ruling the universe.” He smiled. “I still remember how my aunt used to come with that plastered face pretending nothing had happened. I didn’t care the least, actually. For all I knew, she could just show up with a clown costume and I still wouldn’t mind her at all, but…”
~o~
“Shhhh…” Teyla soothed the tiny bundle in her arms. The baby silenced under the rhythm of her arms, replacing the sounds of discomfort to ones of sleepiness.
She continued to walk around the infirmary bed singing a soft melody she learned long ago. She looked down at her son, a peaceful smile forming in her lips when the tune ended and the baby continued asleep. She then turned her head to look at the other figure sleeping in the room. His hair, a little messier than normal, spiked from the pillow and was a contrast to the paleness surrounding it.
She turned her gaze back at Torren, “one day I will tell you how you got your middle name,” she said softly.
~o~
The stone touched the metal leaving a brilliant surface behind and a long sound hovered in the air. Ronon lifted the blade against the faint light and saw it reflected on the edge. He turned it to the other side and started the same process again. The sound must have alerted Jennifer, because she had come a few moments ago saying she wished he wouldn’t be sharpening knifes and swords in the infirmary. He just smiled and continued. He noticed her leaving but didn’t bother acknowledging it.
He cleaned the metal surface on a cloth and put the dagger back into its place, removing another one and re-starting the process. He looked up to check on Sheppard and noticed a faint stir. He put the blade away to approach the bed.
Sluggish eyelids slowly tried to be pried open. When they finally did, they were just slits looking glassily at the ceiling. Ronon put his face in between both.
“Hey,” he said smiling.
A slow blinking motion responded, “I hope this isn’t a dream.” The rough voice was almost too low to be heard.
Ronon gave Sheppard an ice chip. “Not a dream.”
Sheppard finished his ice and spoke again, “How long?”
“You’ve been sleeping for over a day.”
“Hmmm…” Ronon watched droopy eyelids wanting to go back to their previous state after being open for so long.
He patted Sheppard’s shoulder. “That means you still got four days of catching up.” Ronon sat back in his chair and continued sharpening, luring his friend back to sleep.
Fin
Word Count: ~950
Genre: Gen, H/C, Whump Without Plot
Character: John Sheppard, Team
Spoilers: General spoiler for Season 5
Disclaimer: Stargate belongs to MGM, SciFi Network, Brad Wright and Robert Cooper, not me. I'm just making better use of it and the characters instead of canceling it.
It started as a drabble, but ended up too long to be one. I was sleepy and in the mood to whump Shep. This is what happened.
Summary: Sheppard escapes from a sleep deprivation torture.
Where was he again? He froze suddenly. He swayed and looked around in confusion. His head pounded. Exhaustion burned his limbs. The world blurred momentarily but he shook it off. He resumed his blundering through the jungle, stumbling on roots and rocks. He tripped and almost fell, but didn't stop. His legs would collapse from under him any moment, but he pushed them further ahead, the gate not too far now.
Sometimes they decided to give up and he would fall on his knees. Getting up was the hardest part. He squeezed his eyes, caught his breath and felt trembling muscles hurting too much to sustain him for much longer. Each time he resumed his pacing it came weaker and slower and the next fall quicker and harder to resist.
His body and brain wanted him to stop, but it only took one second of clarity, the only one he had left, to make him realize how stupid that was. He could not stop. He would not stop. Stopping was going back. Going back was not in his book.
When he finally spotted the gate, relief almost made him forget what he should do next, but movement in the trees behind reminded him. Flashes of pain, light and loud noises shot through his mind, mixed with flashes of symbols, and a wooshy sound.
The sights and sounds of the gate room filled his senses. Trotting steps and surprised relieved faces received him. Warm hands touched him, but they weren't bad. They didn't hurt. They were gentle and supported him. He welcomed the haze the warmness was bringing. Voices buzzed in his ears. Familiar voices that made him happy and sounded like a lullaby. He just wished he could understand what they were saying. He tried to hold on to them. He wanted to see them and be with them a bit longer, just to make sure he wasn't seeing things again, but his body melted under their touch and his eyes closed despite his fight.
Maybe when he woke up they would still be there.
Rodney watched the still figure breathe evenly. The rhythmic raise and fall of Sheppard’s chest was hypnotic and almost relaxing. If it wasn’t for the colorful bruises showing from under the white scrubs, the paleness and the huge dark circles under John’s eyes, Rodney would be able to think his friend was just resting peacefully after a particularly tiring mission.
He snapped out of it and continued, “Maybe if I hadn’t lost that cat I wouldn’t be here right now. But as you know, I was already a genius before, so maybe I would have ended up here anyway.” He shrugged. “Funny how life is, isn’t it? Such a tiny event,” Rodney joined index finger and thumb and pressed both together, “in a man’s life can change the course of the galaxy. The theory of chaos ruling the universe.” He smiled. “I still remember how my aunt used to come with that plastered face pretending nothing had happened. I didn’t care the least, actually. For all I knew, she could just show up with a clown costume and I still wouldn’t mind her at all, but…”
“Shhhh…” Teyla soothed the tiny bundle in her arms. The baby silenced under the rhythm of her arms, replacing the sounds of discomfort to ones of sleepiness.
She continued to walk around the infirmary bed singing a soft melody she learned long ago. She looked down at her son, a peaceful smile forming in her lips when the tune ended and the baby continued asleep. She then turned her head to look at the other figure sleeping in the room. His hair, a little messier than normal, spiked from the pillow and was a contrast to the paleness surrounding it.
She turned her gaze back at Torren, “one day I will tell you how you got your middle name,” she said softly.
The stone touched the metal leaving a brilliant surface behind and a long sound hovered in the air. Ronon lifted the blade against the faint light and saw it reflected on the edge. He turned it to the other side and started the same process again. The sound must have alerted Jennifer, because she had come a few moments ago saying she wished he wouldn’t be sharpening knifes and swords in the infirmary. He just smiled and continued. He noticed her leaving but didn’t bother acknowledging it.
He cleaned the metal surface on a cloth and put the dagger back into its place, removing another one and re-starting the process. He looked up to check on Sheppard and noticed a faint stir. He put the blade away to approach the bed.
Sluggish eyelids slowly tried to be pried open. When they finally did, they were just slits looking glassily at the ceiling. Ronon put his face in between both.
“Hey,” he said smiling.
A slow blinking motion responded, “I hope this isn’t a dream.” The rough voice was almost too low to be heard.
Ronon gave Sheppard an ice chip. “Not a dream.”
Sheppard finished his ice and spoke again, “How long?”
“You’ve been sleeping for over a day.”
“Hmmm…” Ronon watched droopy eyelids wanting to go back to their previous state after being open for so long.
He patted Sheppard’s shoulder. “That means you still got four days of catching up.” Ronon sat back in his chair and continued sharpening, luring his friend back to sleep.
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