Not Left Behind
By K Hanna Korossy
"They're not coming for you."
John Sheppard did his best to make up for the deficit of his position by glowering at his captor. "They're coming," he ground out.
He got an amused smile for that. "Why, because you would?"
She had him there. Yes, he would go after any of his people left behind, no matter the cost to himself. That was what you did. But the others...
And where would they even find him? Even he didn't know where he was or how he'd gotten there, which was frightening enough in itself. From the way he ached, they'd clearly worked him over, and he was wracked with chills despite the warm room. Things weren't looking good. But they would come for him. They would. Right?
She smiled again, sensing his doubt, and moved in. His lungs seized, body shuddering in the wake of pain. He slipped a little further into cold nothing.
A cup was put to his mouth. Cool water: he could smell it, taste it, crave it. Probably drugged, and that was starting to sound like not such a bad thing. But he turned his face away, even though it took effort.
"They're not coming for you," she whispered again in his ear.
And why should they? Teyla was fine on her own, could lead just as well without him. Ford still needed some guidance, but he was a good kid and would flourish under any halfway decent leader. And Rodney...Rodney really should never have been in the field in the first place, if John were honest. He'd selfishly picked him for the team because he enjoyed the scientist's company and appreciated someone who could save their skin on a regular basis. But Rodney wouldn't know how to mount a search-and-retrieve, even if the thought wouldn't have given him a panic attack.
"You're alone." Again she approached, and again he couldn't breathe, struggling against his bonds, panic, and the certainty he couldn't stand this too much longer. He finally fell back gasping, strengthless. He was alone.
But...she didn't know them. Didn't know how McKay had put Zelenka in charge of the scientists and sat with him through a whole bout of pneumonia. Had no idea how Teyla had once tracked him through miles of enemy territory to come to his aid when he'd been ambushed. Wouldn't have believed how Ford had carried him, limping, through enemy fire back to that gate after a mission gone disastrously wrong. She was trying to break him without knowing him, and she'd picked the wrong tack. And as the certainty of that flowed through him, so did new strength.
"They're coming," he growled, wrenching hard against bonds he'd been working on for hours. One strand finally snapped under the strain, which was all it took.
They weren't prepared, and he took advantage of that. Thirty seconds later he was running out the door.
A jolt of something slammed into him from behind-he must've missed one-sending him falling into darkness. But his last thought was, they were coming for him, he just had to hang on.
*****
"Hang on, Major."
His mind was sluggish; he couldn't understand the words.
"He is trying-I can feel the struggle." Fingers through his own, but not demanding, squeezing almost kindly.
"Yeah, well, it's about time he was trying. Seemed kinda like he was giving up before."
"Ford, would you just...shut up."
"Sorry, Doc. I'm just...I don't like seein' him this way."
"Believe it or not, it's not one of my happiest experiences, either, Lieutenant, so-"
He stirred, knowing these voices even if he wasn't sure yet what they were saying.
"I believe he is waking up."
A shuffle of movement. Like his captors closing in...except it felt wrong. Even as he tensed in anticipation, this felt different. Safe.
"Be easy, Major Sheppard. You are safe here."
There was a touch of a cool hand on his face, but it didn't hurt. "His fever's still high. Major, can you hear me?"
"Has something changed?" A new voice.
"We think he's waking up, Carson."
His team. It was his team, his people. His heart lurched painfully, the last shred of uncertainty dissolving. They hadn't left him behind.
For them, he'd make the effort, and John pried open aching eyelids to blink at blurry light and blurry faces. It took more time for them to clear enough to recognize, then to see the lines of worry and fatigue. For him.
"You came," he whispered, throat feeling rough. He knew why as soon as the familiar heaviness settled on his lungs, crushing them.
But the hands that maneuvered him, lifting him so he could breathe, rubbing his back, holding his sagging head, brought relief, not more pain. And then they bundled him in warmth, curbing the chill, too. He sagged back to bed, utterly spent, and knowing down deep now he was safe.
He coughed tiredly, and wet metal touched his lips. He hesitated, remembering, then drank. Not a lot, as it turned out, his body too tired to handle much, but enough to refresh. It cleared his head enough to sort out the voices.
"Came where? What was he talking about?" Ford, puzzled.
"What do I look like, a mind reader? Of course we came, Major-we weren't going to leave you at Carson's mercy without any protection or back-up."
"I can have that ailing sense of humor removed for you, Rodney."
"We have been here all along, Major, since you fell ill. Do you remember?"
Ill? There was...something, waking up dizzy, staggering out to go to the infirmary, Rodney's anxious queries as he didn't quite make- But what about the room, the guard, the torture?
"You're probably a wee bit confused right now, Major-the mind plays tricks on us when we're sick. Maybe that's why you wouldn't drink for us before?"
Oh, God.
"Just rest now, lad. It'll make sense soon." A pat on his shoulder.
"Yeah, take it easy, Major, we've got your back."
"We will be right here."
"I think Radek's taken over my lab by now, anyway." A hand squeezed his arm, hard. "You're sure he's gonna be okay now, Carson?"
He drifted off on, "He will be."
He would be. There'd been no mission, no captors, no betrayal but that of his body.
But his team hadn't left him behind even there.
