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It was supposed to be a nice, quiet mission, probably more boring than anything. Hike to the village, meet the leaders, negotiate a trade agreement, maybe get invited to a feast if they were lucky. The Lusians were said to be a peaceful people, and there should be no problems with them.
Of course, all this was before they reached the planet and discovered that civil war had broken out between the villages, and that the first people they encountered were more than ready to take them for enemy spies.
So much for peaceful.
Ronon swore and ducked as another bullet whizzed by, inches from his head. He popped up above the rocks and fired off a round of blasts from his Particle Magnum, then dropped back behind cover.
Beside him, Sheppard slammed a fresh clip into his P-90. “How much longer do ya think we can hold them off?”
Ronon shook his head, risking a quick peek over the tops of the rocks. “They outnumber us by at least twenty to one. They’ll reach us long before backup does.”
Sheppard’s expression was grim. “That’s what I thought.”
“We cannot stay here,” Teyla spoke up from the other side of John.
“Yeah, no kidding!” Rodney squawked, huddling as low as possible as another burst of gunfire exploded nearby. “You could’ve tried a little harder to convince them we weren’t spies, you know!”
“Little late for that, McKay,” John answered, shifting into a crouch, P-90 at the ready. “Okay, we need a plan. Any suggestions?”
Ronon glanced around. “Our best hope is getting to that treeline,” he said, pointing. “If we can get into the woods, we can find our way back to the gate from there.”
“That’s twenty-five yards, in the open!” Rodney objected. “It’d be suicide to even try it!”
“Maybe, but it’s our best shot. Everyone agreed?” Sheppard asked.
“Ready when you are,” Ronon answered.
“So am I,” Teyla added.
“We are all going to die,” Rodney moaned, putting his hands over his face.
Sheppard ignored him. “Okay, on my mark. Three, two, one—mark!”
They broke cover, bolting across the field. Ronon and Sheppard provided cover fire, hoping it would hold off the hostiles long enough for them to get out of range.
Out of the corner of his eye, Ronon thought he saw something flying through the air towards them, but before he could identify it, the object thudded to the ground just behind him and Sheppard.
And then the world exploded.
Ronon hit the ground hard, ears ringing and the taste of blood on his tongue from where he’d bitten his lip. He spat out a mouthful of dirt, along with a few choice words, as he struggled to his feet. Where did these people get grenades, anyway?
And then he saw Teyla lying in a limp, silent heap a few feet away, and all other thoughts fled his mind. He rushed over, dropping to his knees beside her and reaching to check her pulse.
Sheppard and McKay were suddenly beside him.
“How is she?” Sheppard shouted above the gunfire.
“She’s alive,” Ronon answered. He glanced down at Teyla, knowing she might have a spinal injury and that moving her might make it worse, but also knowing they couldn’t afford to wait.
In the end, a bullet flying dangerously close to his head made the decision for him. He reached down, scooped the Athosian into his arms, and started running.
McKay was to his left, and Sheppard was behind them, covering their six. A few more yards, and they were out of gunshot range, but Ronon didn’t slow down until they reached the treeline.
The trees and underbrush gave them cover, and they stopped for a moment to get their bearings. Ronon laid Teyla down at the base of a tree as gently as he could and checked her pulse again.
“Pulse is steady, but she’s out cold,” he informed the others.
John nodded, glancing around. “Stargate’s about twenty klicks that way,” he said, pointing. “If we stay on a straight course, we should be able to find the clearing.”
Rodney had an LSD and was peering at the screen. “Uh, guys?” he said, looking up with a panicky expression, “There are at least thirty life signs coming our way, fast.”
Ronon and John exchanged looks, and Ronon reached down to scoop Teyla up again.
His knees wobbled slightly as he lifted the Athosian into his arms, and he wondered for the briefest of seconds if that should worry him. He decided to blame it on being blown up just minutes before and set off at a run in the direction of the Stargate.
The trek through the woods wasn’t an experience Ronon was eager to repeat, ever. Darkness was falling, making it difficult to see where they were going. They couldn’t use lights for fear of leading their pursuers straight to them. Low-hanging tree limbs lashed at their faces, and once McKay tripped on an exposed root and would have fallen if Sheppard hadn’t been close enough to grab him.
At long last, they broke out into the clearing. The Stargate stood in the center, silhouetted against the fading sunset, and Ronon thought he’d never seen anything so wonderful.
“Dial!” John shouted at Rodney as they neared the gate.
Rodney rushed up to the DHD and started punching in the address, then flinched at the sound of gunshot—a gunshot that was far too close by.
“Crap,” John muttered, raising his P-90. “Hurry it up, McKay!”
Ronon laid Teyla down near the DHD and took up a defensive position in front of her, Particle Magnum at the ready.
Their pursuers burst from the woods seconds later, and the roar of John’s P-90 and the mechanical discharge of Ronon’s gun echoed through the clearing. Most of the Lusians scattered, while others returned fire.
The whoosh of the event horizon forming was music to Ronon’s ears. He fired off two last shots, then spun and scooped up Teyla once more. His back and shoulders screamed in protest, but he ignored them and bolted straight through the gate.
The dizzying sensation of traveling through the wormhole lasted only a second, and then his feet hit the gateroom floor.
Elizabeth dashed down the steps as the wormhole shut down behind them. “What happened?”
“Long story,” Sheppard answered tersely. “We need a med team, Teyla’s hurt.”
“I’m here, lad,” Carson announced, hurrying into the room with a group of medics rolling a stretcher close behind.
“There was an explosion,” John informed the doctor. “Pulse is steady, but she hasn’t regained consciousness.”
Carson nodded as he checked Teyla’s pulse for himself. “Right, then, lay her down here,” he said, moving aside to give Ronon clear access to the gurney.
Ronon laid Teyla down as gently as possible, then stepped out of the way to let the medics work.
“Let’s get her to the infirmary,” Carson ordered. “And I want to take a look at the rest of you as soon as I can. I suspect you were all involved in that explosion you mentioned,” he threw back over his shoulder as he left the room.
“You bet,” John answered.
Ronon heard the words that were being spoken, but the voices were muted, as if he was hearing them underwater. Now that they were finally safe and Teyla was being taken care of, he felt suddenly drained. A part of his brain was nagging at him, telling him that yes, that should concern him, but it was getting harder and harder to think for some reason.
He dimly registered that John and Rodney were walking out of the gateroom, and he knew he should follow, but he couldn’t seem to find enough energy to get his feet to move.
“Ronon?” Suddenly Sheppard was in front of him, which was odd because Ronon hadn’t noticed him approaching. “You okay?”
Ronon stared at him blankly, unsure of how to respond.
“Hey, Teyla’s gonna be fine. You know that, right? You did good.” John reached around him and patted him reassuringly on the shoulder—then froze and pulled his hand back, staring at his fingers. “Crap! Hey, Ronon, buddy, can you look at me?”
At that, it was as if the last bit of strength left Ronon’s body. His knees buckled without his permission, and he was falling.
He dimly registered Sheppard catching him, guiding him to the ground, rolling him onto his stomach and pressing down hard somewhere on his upper back.
“We need another gurney in here!” Sheppard was yelling, but his words were drowned out as fiery pain exploded through Ronon’s back. He thought he might have cried out, might have tried to get away from the hands pressing down on him, but everything had gone fuzzy and dark and he couldn’t be sure.
The last thing he heard before the darkness took him was John swearing violently and commanding, “Hang on, Ronon, hang on, you hear me? Ronon!”
And then there was nothing.
~SGA~
The next thing to penetrate his consciousness was a steady, insistent beeping. It was irritating, and he wanted to tell someone to turn it off so he could sleep, but he couldn’t form the words properly, and all that came out was a string of gibberish.
“He’s awake,” he heard someone say.
“Oh, thank God,” another voice replied, and Ronon finally dragged his eyes open to find out who was talking about him.
Sheppard was sitting in a chair next to the bed, watching him. “Hey, buddy, you back with us?” he asked when he saw Ronon looking at him.
Ronon made some sort of noise of acknowledgement. A movement at the foot of the bed attracted his attention, and he rolled his eyes in that direction to see Rodney standing there, shifting from one foot to the other. The scientist froze when he caught Ronon’s gaze, then broke out into a grin.
“You’re back!”
“Been somewhere?” Ronon was honestly surprised at how rough his voice sounded.
Sheppard took pity on him and brought him a cup of water with a straw. “Slowly,” he admonished. “Don’t wanna make yourself sick. Carson would kill me.”
Ronon swallowed a few sips, then let his head fall back against the pillow, trying to recall what had happened to him. The last thing he remembered was the gateroom, John talking to him, Teyla…
He jolted up in the bed, then went stiff with a cut-off cry as a sharp pain shot through his back and down his arm.
“Whoa, whoa!” Sheppard’s hands were on him, helping him lie back against the mattress. “Easy, big guy. Rodney, get Carson.”
“Teyla,” Ronon rasped.
John heaved an exasperated sigh. “Teyla’s fine. Pretty nasty concussion, but she’ll be up and around in no time. You’re the one who really had us worried.”
Ronon looked at him in confusion.
“You don’t remember?” John asked.
Ronon shook his head, and John raised his eyebrows.
“Well,” he began, dropping back into the chair, “apparently when that grenade went off, you got some shrapnel lodged in your back." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "It’s funny; Beckett says it probably wasn’t even that bad at first, could’ve been easily treated, but all that running around you did while carrying Teyla made things about ten times worse. They had to rush you into emergency surgery. It was...kinda touch and go there for a while.”
“How long?”
“Two days,” John answered, rubbing a hand over his face—from the looks of it, he’d barely slept during those two days. “Why didn’t you say something, Ronon?”
“I didn’t know,” he mumbled, eyes downcast.
Sheppard looked as if he wanted to say more, but Rodney chose that moment to return with Carson in tow.
“Well, it’s good to see you awake at last,” Beckett greeted him, walking up to the bed. His expression became stern. “Rodney tells me you’ve been doing things you shouldn’t, so let’s check those stitches, shall we?”
Ronon shot a murderous look at McKay, but allowed Carson to lean him forward and examine his back.
“You’ve strained a few of the stitches, but fortunately you managed not to tear any,” Carson pronounced after a minute, letting Ronon lie back again. “How are you feeling?”
“Exhausted,” Ronon muttered.
Beckett nodded sympathetically. “That’s understandable. You’ve had quite the ordeal.”
“And by ‘ordeal’, he means ‘you almost died and I ought to kill you for scaring us like that’,” Rodney put in. “Seriously, why didn’t you tell us you were hurt before you collapsed like some damsel in distress and bled out all over the gateroom floor?”
“I didn’t know,” Ronon repeated, with slightly more force than before.
“Oh really? You’re telling me you were running around with multiple pieces of metal embedded in your back and blood running everywhere and you didn’t notice?”
“That’s actually not surprising,” Carson interrupted, giving Rodney a look. “Adrenaline is one of the most powerful drugs known to man, and you wouldn’t be the first not to notice an injury because of it.”
“How soon can I get out of here?”
Behind Carson, Rodney huffed in disbelief. “Excuse me? Did you miss what I just said about there being pieces of metal in your back? I’m telling you, you and Sheppard are cousins or something. You’re both total idiots.” A smacking sound and an offended noise followed. “Ow! What was that for, Sheppard?”
“Be quiet, McKay.”
“I’m afraid Rodney has a point,” Beckett said. “I want you to stay in that bed for another week, at least.”
“A week?!”
“Yes, a week. I don’t want you damaging the muscles in your back any further. It’s a miracle the surgery went as well as it did. Between you and Colonel Sheppard, it’s no wonder I have gray hairs.”
John rolled his eyes and addressed Ronon. “Don’t worry, Chewie. We’ll be here to keep you company. Carson’s making Teyla rest because of her concussion, but I can guarantee that once she’s up she won’t leave you alone for a minute.”
Ronon managed a nod, his eyes suddenly heavy. He let them slip closed, and heard Carson ordering John and Rodney to let him rest, heard them insisting they stay and promising to be quiet. He sensed the doctor adjusting something near the head of the bed, felt warmth enter his veins and smother the dull ache in his back and shoulder.
“If you two don’t stop with your life-threatening heroics, I’m going to die of a heart attack before I’m forty,” Rodney’s voice filtered into his fading consciousness.
“Aw, you do care about us,” came Sheppard’s reply.
“The things I put up with,” Rodney muttered, and then Ronon slipped away to dreamland.