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“Damn it Rodney, breathe.” John pleaded as he pulled back for the fourth time, starting the compressions again and desperately willing his scientist to take a breath.
They were so close to the Gate, had almost made it back, when Rodney had stopped breathing completely. So close, but too far to just carry on and hope for the best.
Ronon had run on to dial the Gate and request a medical team but John knew it was down to him. Either he got Rodney to start breathing again or it was going to be too late. Even the most efficient offworld medical team took at least eight minutes to grab their gear and get through the Gate and Rodney didn’t have eight minutes.
Once again he took a deep breath and pushed air into Rodney’s lungs before starting up the compression again, not even stopping to wipe the moisture running down his cheeks, if he even realized it was there.
***
Six hours later and John was finally allowed to sit by Rodney’s bed, weak and shaky with a combination of fear, relief and hunger. He took a deep breath to steady himself and gently took Rodney’s left hand, holding it closely in both his own.
Rodney was sleeping naturally now, his chest rising and falling rhythmically as he slept peacefully on, completely unaware of the level of trauma suffered by the man sitting beside his bed.
John watched the rise and fall, muttering a silent prayer of thanks for the life of his friend. He’d almost lost Rodney today, again. This time he was determined to tell Rodney the truth, no longer would he stay silent and hide his true feelings.