SGA FIC: Hurry for Life
Aug. 12th, 2009 02:45 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
x_erikah_xTitle: Hurry for Life
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
x_erikah_x
Rating: PG
Word count: 670
Characters: John Sheppard and Ronon Dex
Genre: H/C, Friendship
Disclaimer: Stargate and characters are property of Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Inc.
Author’s Note: I was in the mood to write something with Ronon and John, but instead of whumping Shep, I went the other way around. This is just a short fling of sudden inspiration. Unbeta-ed.
HURRY FOR LIFE
By erikaHK
He first notices something moving. Something like a flash of dark green or some dark tone too close to black to be distinguished. It is quick, but it is in plain sight.
John narrows his eyes on the scope of the P90, adjusts his grip and shifts on the ground. His knees are hurting, rocks and twigs digging into his bones, but he remains unmoving.
Another flash of movement makes John jerk his head to the right. Snapping branches follow ahead but fade quickly. John steadies his breathing as he scans the dark field for any clue of that thing.
John snaps around at the whooshing sound going past his left ear and fires, the loud noise of his P90 shaking the stillness around. John hears the deaf sound of bullet hitting flesh and hopes it is injured enough to slow down.
Darkness and silence surrounds him once more. A faint breeze touches the grass and makes John shudder.
Nothing.
John waits and shifts, searching the meadow. His heart rate goes back to normal as the seconds stretch and stillness remains.
He slowly rises to his feet, careful not to make any noise and still keeping his gun up and finger on the trigger. Stepping ahead, John now focus his eyes on the ground.
When he sees the slow rise and fall of a dark scaled chest, John freezes in place and finally turns on the lamp of his P90. The creature is about two feet tall, lizard like but not quite. Its yellow eyes are only half open and its breathing is failing.
John aims and shoots one single bullet right in the middle of its forehead, quickly putting it out of its misery. He leans closer and sheds the light on the chest, seeing the lucky shot that almost pierced the heart. He kneels and uses his knife to open its mouth, seeing sharp teeth still covered in red blood and torn pieces of dark leather.
John nods and trails the tip of the blade down its neck, searching for the crease and lump that Ronon described. He carves the knife into the hard shell and slices through it until the skin pops and reveals the small red sack. John cuts it out carefully and wraps it in a field bandage.
He leaves the dead creature behind and runs back to the forest, his P90 now bouncing on his chest as he carries the bag of anti-venom. He doesn’t have much time.
The forest seems incredibly far, each step bringing John closer to saving his friend. He just hopes he isn’t too late. He shakes his head and dismisses the thought, knowing that the big guy was tough enough to survive longer than any ordinary human.
He would be okay.
Please, let him be okay.
The sparse trees give way to denser vegetation that smacks him on the face. John doesn’t have time and is not going to risk dropping or slicing the bag open by protecting his face with his arms, so he just continues ahead, jogging and puffing until his legs ache and his lungs burn, and even then he doesn’t stop.
John crashes on the ground next to Ronon’s slumped figure and taps his face repeatedly until he stirs and groans. John smiles slightly when sleepy eyes open and blink blearily. Ronon’s uncoordinated hands grab the small sack and he swallows the whole thing down before John had time to wonder if it was a good idea.
Ronon makes a face suggesting that the vile liquid tastes as bad as it looks and his already pale face goes paler. When Ronon’s breathing settles down to an almost normal level and his eyes start to droop, John almost hurries to jerk him awake, but the faint smile that creeps up Ronon lips is enough to assure John that the diminishing tremors and sweating is a good sign.
John lets his body collapse on the ground and crawls to sit by the same tree while he waits for Rodney and Teyla.
\o/
Author:
x_erikah_xRating: PG
Word count: 670
Characters: John Sheppard and Ronon Dex
Genre: H/C, Friendship
Disclaimer: Stargate and characters are property of Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Inc.
Author’s Note: I was in the mood to write something with Ronon and John, but instead of whumping Shep, I went the other way around. This is just a short fling of sudden inspiration. Unbeta-ed.
By erikaHK
He first notices something moving. Something like a flash of dark green or some dark tone too close to black to be distinguished. It is quick, but it is in plain sight.
John narrows his eyes on the scope of the P90, adjusts his grip and shifts on the ground. His knees are hurting, rocks and twigs digging into his bones, but he remains unmoving.
Another flash of movement makes John jerk his head to the right. Snapping branches follow ahead but fade quickly. John steadies his breathing as he scans the dark field for any clue of that thing.
John snaps around at the whooshing sound going past his left ear and fires, the loud noise of his P90 shaking the stillness around. John hears the deaf sound of bullet hitting flesh and hopes it is injured enough to slow down.
Darkness and silence surrounds him once more. A faint breeze touches the grass and makes John shudder.
Nothing.
John waits and shifts, searching the meadow. His heart rate goes back to normal as the seconds stretch and stillness remains.
He slowly rises to his feet, careful not to make any noise and still keeping his gun up and finger on the trigger. Stepping ahead, John now focus his eyes on the ground.
When he sees the slow rise and fall of a dark scaled chest, John freezes in place and finally turns on the lamp of his P90. The creature is about two feet tall, lizard like but not quite. Its yellow eyes are only half open and its breathing is failing.
John aims and shoots one single bullet right in the middle of its forehead, quickly putting it out of its misery. He leans closer and sheds the light on the chest, seeing the lucky shot that almost pierced the heart. He kneels and uses his knife to open its mouth, seeing sharp teeth still covered in red blood and torn pieces of dark leather.
John nods and trails the tip of the blade down its neck, searching for the crease and lump that Ronon described. He carves the knife into the hard shell and slices through it until the skin pops and reveals the small red sack. John cuts it out carefully and wraps it in a field bandage.
He leaves the dead creature behind and runs back to the forest, his P90 now bouncing on his chest as he carries the bag of anti-venom. He doesn’t have much time.
The forest seems incredibly far, each step bringing John closer to saving his friend. He just hopes he isn’t too late. He shakes his head and dismisses the thought, knowing that the big guy was tough enough to survive longer than any ordinary human.
He would be okay.
Please, let him be okay.
The sparse trees give way to denser vegetation that smacks him on the face. John doesn’t have time and is not going to risk dropping or slicing the bag open by protecting his face with his arms, so he just continues ahead, jogging and puffing until his legs ache and his lungs burn, and even then he doesn’t stop.
John crashes on the ground next to Ronon’s slumped figure and taps his face repeatedly until he stirs and groans. John smiles slightly when sleepy eyes open and blink blearily. Ronon’s uncoordinated hands grab the small sack and he swallows the whole thing down before John had time to wonder if it was a good idea.
Ronon makes a face suggesting that the vile liquid tastes as bad as it looks and his already pale face goes paler. When Ronon’s breathing settles down to an almost normal level and his eyes start to droop, John almost hurries to jerk him awake, but the faint smile that creeps up Ronon lips is enough to assure John that the diminishing tremors and sweating is a good sign.
John lets his body collapse on the ground and crawls to sit by the same tree while he waits for Rodney and Teyla.
