Chapter Text
“Rodney!” It was Sheppard’s voice, hoarse and gritty. “Rodney! Hey! I’m here! I’m here, I’m right here! How bad is it?”
“I can’t move,” Rodney stopped screaming long enough to pant, “I can’t, I can’t move, it’s, I’m trapped, it’s dark, it’s— I can’t— I can’t—“
“Breathe,” Sheppard said, intense but level. From the sound of him, he wasn’t far away. “Breathe, Rodney. Deep breath. Hold it in. Let it out slowly. Okay? Deep breath in. Hold it. Let it out.”
Rodney obeyed, sucking in a lungful as panic beat at him, holding it, letting it out. “Okay,” he panted.
“Deep breath in,” Sheppard repeated, “okay, okay now, deep breath out.”
“Okay,” Rodney said, a little more evenly. Breathing in, one two three, breathing out.
“Now,” Sheppard said. “Where are you injured?”
“I, I don’t,” Rodney said, staring up, eyes wide, at total darkness. “I don’t know!”
“Then check,” Sheppard said. “Start with your limbs. Can you wiggle fingers and toes?”
“Yes,” Rodney said, still breathing deep, one two three, breathing out, ten fingers, a bunch of toes inside sweaty boots.
“Move elbows and knees?”
“Yes,” Rodney said, breathing deep, one two three, breathing out, two elbows, two knees.
“Shoulders and hips?”
“There’s, there’s no room,” Rodney said, panic coming back up as he ran into rock on one side, dirt on the other, no room to move. Breathing deep breathing out breathing deep breathing out.
“Are you pinned down anywhere in particular, or are you just stuck?” Sheppard asked, as patient as if they were discussing the particulars of routine jumper maintenance and not trying to assess the aftermath of an avalanche.
“Just stuck,” Rodney said. “I’m not, I don’t think I’m hurt, just— oh God! I’m stuck. It’s really close. I can’t—“ Breathing! Breathing! Breathing!
“Breathe in,” Sheppard said, calm, eternally patient like he was when it mattered, and his voice was like a rope Rodney could climb out of the panic, could hold fast to, “and hold it, and no cheating. Now breathe out, and tell me, are you bleeding anywhere?”
“No,” Rodney said after a long moment of considering it, breathing deep and slow and clinging to Sheppard’s presence, just out of reach, everywhere in the darkness. “I don’t… I don’t think so.” He considered a little longer. “I’m kinda scraped up.”
“Internal injuries?” Sheppard asked. “Does it hurt badly anywhere in particular? Can you breathe all right?”
“No,” Rodney said, “or well, yes,” breathing deeply, forcing calm. “I think I’m all right. Just cuts and scrapes, I can breathe fine.”
“Good,” Sheppard said, and made a little grunting noise. “Good,” he repeated, voice strained. “There.” A little beam of light lanced through Rodney’s space, limning the edges of rocks and showing the gap Sheppard must be speaking through.
“I can see that!” Rodney exclaimed. “I see where you are!”
“Can you come this way at all?” Sheppard’s voice sounded strained.
In the light, Rodney could see now where the rocks were, instead of just running into them every time he tried to move and flying into a panic at how tight the space was. “Oh,” he said, “I think so, it’s, it looks like the wall held here, there’s just a chunk between us that has shifted.”
“Your radio working?” Sheppard asked.
Rodney crawled carefully through the narrow space to get closer to Sheppard’s voice. They’d only been walking a little ways apart when the collapse had started, and it had been his gamble that the wall would hold; he’d grabbed Sheppard and hauled him in, having already assessed the structure before they started walking. Sometimes paranoia paid off. He paused, and hit his radio. “Just static,” he said.
“Same here,” Sheppard said. Rodney started crawling again, and dislodged a small rock, which shifted and made a much larger rock settle with an ominous thunk. “Whoa!” The flashlight beam moved wildly.
“It’s okay,” Rodney said, freezing solid until the light steadied again. He could see Sheppard’s hand, he thought, but there was a big pile of dirt and rock between them. “I don’t think we’re down very far, if it weren’t night we’d be able to see daylight.”
“Oh,” Sheppard said, “I can see stars from here, that’s why I was asking if you could come this way.”
“Can you dig yourself out?” Rodney asked, moving more carefully until he was closer to Sheppard’s flashlight.
“No,” Sheppard said, “I don’t think— I might dislodge something if I try.”
“I don’t think I can come any farther this way,” Rodney said, but he wriggled a little more anyway, and stretched out his hand. “I can— I can almost reach you.”
“Oh, hey,” Sheppard said, and the flashlight moved a little. “You’re right there.” There was a rustle, and something cold grazed Rodney’s hand. Rodney wriggled a little bit more, and reached, and that cold thing was Sheppard’s fingers, freezing cold, even more so than usual. Rodney grabbed desperately, held on.
“There you are,” Rodney said.
“Hey, Rodney,” Sheppard said, his voice barely more than a breath. It was shockingly intimate.
“I never thought I’d be so excited just to touch your hand,” Rodney said.
Sheppard huffed a quiet little almost-laugh. “The way you were screaming I thought you were dying,” he said, and squeezed Rodney’s fingers.
“Sorry,” Rodney said.
“Don’t be,” Sheppard said. “God, don’t be sorry for bein’ okay. I know how you are in tight spaces.”
There was a crackle, and Rodney heard Sheppard’s radio crackle too. “—Please respond,” said the radio.
“This is Sheppard, do you copy?” Sheppard answered.
“Sheppard! Acknowledged. Looks like you guys had a little geological event.” It was most likely Lorne’s voice. “Status?”
“Buried under a bunch of rocks and some dirt,” Sheppard said drily. “I have McKay here, he seems to be uninjured.”
“Unfortunately we don’t have any beaming technology in range,” Lorne said. “The Daedalus won’t be back for some days. So we’re assembling combat engineers. You say you’re uninjured?”
“Eh,” Sheppard said, “McKay just has some bruises and scrapes. He’s bein’ a trooper.”
“And you, Colonel?” Lorne asked.
“Not so good,” Sheppard admitted.
“What?” Rodney yelped, though he had the sense not to key his radio.
“Ah,” Sheppard said, “I got a bit smushed. Don’t think I’ve broken any limbs but there’s some internal bleeding, feels like.”
“Why didn’t you say something?” Rodney demanded.
“How’s me tellin’ you that gonna help you handle a panic attack?” Sheppard answered Rodney, off-radio.
“We’ve got help on the way,” Lorne said, “and Zelenka’s getting the jumper’s sensors configured for your transmitters now, so it won’t be long. I’ll get the medical team on standby.”
“Roger that,” Sheppard said. “We’ll sit tight.”
Rodney made himself let go of Sheppard’s hand and pulled back a little, carefully feeling at the various chunks of rock to see if any were loose enough to move without bringing bigger ones down. He dug a couple out of the way, cursing absently as the grit tore up his fingers, but there was no help for it. It only gained him a few inches, but it opened a slightly wider opening and he could see Sheppard’s face now. He wriggled back in and took Sheppard’s hand back between both of his.
“How bad is it?” he asked.
“It’s fine,” Sheppard said, but he was lying completely motionless, face white in the reflected flashlight. “Just, you know.” He looked pained.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Rodney asked again, quieter, reaching in until he could touch Sheppard’s cheekbone with the backs of his fingers.
“I figured talkin’ you out of panicking might keep me from panicking,” Sheppard said. He let his eyes close, breathing shallowly.
“Where are you hurt?” Rodney asked, brushing his fingers over Sheppard’s face, pushing his hair back. He was clammy, sweating, face tight with pain.
Sheppard shook his head slightly. “Kinda,” he said, “left side, ish.”
“Is it bad?” Rodney asked, careful to keep his voice as calm as he could.
“Hard to say,” Sheppard said, eyes still closed. “I can feel my fingers and toes, and wiggle them, so that’s good, but I’m startin’ to, y’know. Not feel so good.”
“Can you breathe?” Rodney asked, unable to keep a little spike of panic out of his voice.
“Yeah,” Sheppard said, “well enough.”
“You’re freezing,” Rodney pointed out, holding his fingers against Sheppard’s cheek.
“Yeah,” Sheppard said. “Shock or blood loss or both. Not… not so great.”
“Already?” They’d only been down here a matter of minutes.
“Yeah,” Sheppard said. “Doesn’t take long.”
“You can’t,” Rodney said, suddenly desperate, and he clutched at Sheppard’s hand with both of his. “You can’t die, Sheppard. You can’t. Not— I only just got back from Beckett’s funeral, I can’t, I can’t lose you too.”
“Aw,” Sheppard said awkwardly, opening his eyes, “Rodney, don’t— hey.” He never knew what to do when Rodney cried, but at least he wasn’t mocking him. “It’s all right. They’ll get here in time.”
“You have to hang on,” Rodney said. “Don’t go into shock. Don’t die. Don’t do this to me.”
“I’ll try not to wreck your day like that,” Sheppard said, lips twisting in amusement.
“It would wreck more than my day,” Rodney said, dredging deep to find the emotional fortitude to come up with a good rant for Sheppard’s amusement, instead of sitting and crying over him. “Do you know how miserable it was to visit his family? The way his mother, and his hundred thousand relatives, and everyone in his small town, all wanted me to talk about it, to talk about him— it was awful, Sheppard, I couldn’t do that again.”
“No worries,” Sheppard said. “I don’t have a family. All you’d have to do is e-mail an obituary to the hometown newspaper. You wouldn’t even have to go through the ‘gate.”
“You really don’t have any family?” Rodney asked. He’d just sort of assumed Sheppard had one he wasn’t on good terms with. “What, were you grown in a lab?”
Sheppard smiled and shook his head a tiny bit. “No,” he said, “believe it or not, I came out of a human woman at one point, but she’s been dead since I was a kid and there’s nobody else I’ve spoken to in at least a decade.”
“Is your dad alive?” Rodney asked. “Or were you an immaculate conception?”
Sheppard snorted at that, then looked pained. “That was mean,” he said mournfully. “Don’t make me laugh.”
“Sorry,” Rodney said.
“I have, or had, a father, at least technically,” Sheppard said. “But he disowned me a while back, so I figured he doesn’t really need updates on my condition real often. I guess you could send him a copy of the obituary.”
“People still get disowned?” Rodney asked. “That’s still a thing?”
“I dunno,” Sheppard said. “Dad was always kind of old-fashioned. Has a lot of money, y’know? Money makes people conservative.”
“Really,” Rodney said. “I definitely had you confused with somebody because I swear you told me about growin’ up poor.”
“Yeah,” Sheppard said, “that wasn’t me. Dad owns a, I dunno, a collection of utilities companies at this point. He’s pretty up there in the money stakes. I was raised by a nanny, went to boarding school, rode horses, the whole nine yards.”
“Really,” Rodney said.
“Oh yeah,” Sheppard said, making an abortive attempt at a nod and breaking off, face tight.
“And you were an only child?” Rodney asked, fascinated.
“No,” Sheppard said. “I have a brother. Couple years older. Does whatever Dad says, stopped speaking to me when Dad did, and all.” Sheppard was doing that thing with his face where he was trying to breathe through pain, and it was terribly distracting.
“If I could make peace with my sister,” Rodney began.
“Don’t even,” Sheppard interrupted. “It’s not the same thing at all. We weren’t close, we were never close.” He closed his eyes. “I don’t need anything from them and they don’t want anything from me.”
“Be that as it may,” Rodney said, “I’m all out of eulogy ideas. You gotta hang on a couple years more, at least.”
Sheppard nodded, a tiny gesture, silently, and Rodney could hear how shallow and rapid his breathing was getting. “Fuckin’ freezin’ in here,” Sheppard said after a few minutes.
“You’ve gotta hang on,” Rodney said. “Come on, Sheppard.”
“Yeah,” Sheppard said. He drew breath. “Hey, so listen, there’s some things— my paperwork’s pretty up to date and all, I just—“
“Don’t talk like that,” Rodney said. “Sheppard, don’t talk like that.”
“We’ve been friends like three years,” Sheppard said. “It feels like longer than that. It’s been pretty intense, Rodney.” He opened his eyes and looked over at Rodney, looking… unnervingly, he looked afraid.
“It has,” Rodney said, reaching over and smoothing Sheppard’s hair away from his face.
“I, you’ve been, you’ve been really good to me,” Sheppard said, “all that time.”
“Like a friend loves another friend,” Rodney said.
Sheppard grinned, at that, and Rodney noted with horror that his lips were bluish. “Yeah,” he said. He looked down, then back up at Rodney. “Might not’ve fooled Elizabeth with that one.”
“Seeing as she’s actually watched us fuck,” Rodney said.
“Yeah,” Sheppard said. His gaze went a little distant. “That was hot.”
“It was weird,” Rodney said, “but yeah, hot.”
Sheppard smiled almost sheepishly, and looked away again. “So um,” he said, face tightening again, “you know we’re good, right?”
“Yes,” Rodney said, “I do.” He slid his hand down to cradle the side of Sheppard’s face, rubbing a thumb along his cheekbone. Tears came again. “Sheppard, you’ve got to hang on.”
“Doin’ my best,” Sheppard said, squeezing his eyes shut.
“Hurts pretty bad?” Rodney asked, not even trying to keep the tears from running down his face.
“Eh,” Sheppard said, “yeah. Pretty bad.”
“It can’t take them much longer to get here,” Rodney said.
“Mm,” Sheppard answered absently. He’d left his eyes shut this time. “Hey Rodney,” he said in a moment, and his voice was really quiet.
“Yes,” Rodney answered.
“There’s somethin’ that’s really been buggin’ me,” Sheppard said. “For, for years now.”
“What?” Rodney asked, nervous.
“No matter how close we got, you and me,” Sheppard said, and he was really laboring for breath by now. “No matter what happened… God, even when you were coming, Rodney… You never, you never—“ He stopped to breathe. “You never called me by my name.”
“What?” Rodney blinked in startlement. “I call you by your name all the time! I just did, like a minute ago!”
Sheppard rolled his head a little, tilting his head back— he was visibly having trouble breathing, and Rodney could see the blood running from the lower corner of his mouth, and that was bad, it was really really bad.
“My name,” Sheppard managed, eyes open now, looking right at him, “is John.”