Word Count: 769
Rating: PG-13 – one bad word ;)
Summary: A mission gone bad.
Prompt: For October 11th challenge at slashing_lorne: ‘injury’. And ‘096: Writer's Choice’ for fanfic100.
Disclaimer: If they were mine I could die happy, as it is I’ll just have to be miserable.
Notes: Thanks to azicrow for the beta, the title and everything that’s good in this fic.
He didn’t feel the gunshot at all. Didn’t even notice there was anything wrong until Parrish started shouting about blood. He looked around at the other members of his team, trying to assess who was hurt and how badly. That’s when he saw the deep red blood oozing out of his thigh.
The other soldiers were still hot on their tails though, so he kept running. He shouted at Billick to dial up the ‘gate and rounded up the two scientists, practically tossing them through the swirling blue mass.
It was only when they were on the other side, and the gate was safely closed that the shooting pain actually registered. It was only moments after that that he passed out. He doesn’t remember hitting the ground.
He awoke in a bed that didn’t feel his own. His head throbbed and moving seemed like a really bad idea. It took a few long moments to convince his eyes to open in which time he’d already surmised he was in the infirmary. The low, background hum of the machines. The steady beep beep beep of his cardiac monitor. The distinctive smell of chlorine and antiseptic. Those were all far more familiar than he’d like them to be.
His suspicions were confirmed when he finally opened his eyes. Doc Beckett towered over him, face empathic and caring but within the limits of his professional mask. “Welcome back son. You gave us quite a scare back there, lost a fair bit of blood. But you’ll be just fine.” He only had the energy to nod, before the darkness claimed him again.
The next time he awoke, the lights were turned down low but he could sense someone hovering around the edges of the bed.
“Hey Cal,” he croaked, without turning his head.
“You’re such an idiot! You realise that? Everyone heard what happened! You just have to play the hero, don’t you? What kind of a moron doesn’t stop himself from bleeding anyway? I thought they taught you grunts at least basic first aid. Common sense would be a damn fine thing too.” Kavanagh’s voice is whispered but full of concern in sharp contrast to the harshness of his words.
Lorne just let him rant. He knew his lover had been pacing in his quarters for hours, waiting until it was late enough that most of the staff were in bed, to come and visit him in secret. It wasn’t the first time. The least he felt he could do was let the man get it off his chest.
When Cal eventually ran out of steam, Nick grasped his hand and pulled him to sit on the bed. “Water?” He whispered, his voice raspy from disuse.
Kavanagh pressed a light kiss to his forehead and, very reluctantly, moved away to the small table, attached to the other side of the bed. His eyes stayed on Lorne the whole time. He glanced down at the glass only as he poured the water and took it back to the airman.
“Sip slowly,” he ordered as if they hadn’t played this same scene out dozens of times. He gently cradled Lorne’s head in his arm and brought the glass close to his mouth.
There was movement a few beds over and they both knew that meant Shelly, the night nurse, was doing her round. Carefully, Kavanagh laid Lorne’s head back on the pillow and kissed him again, on the lips this time. It was just as tender as the first one, until it grew; Kavanagh’s worry and fear equating to a desperate need. He pulled away only when Lorne’s oxygen sat probe sent out its warning alarm.
“Get some sleep. I’ll come back later.” He breathed onto his cheek before leaving silently.
Shelly came, did her observations, frowned slightly at the dip in saturation. He smiled, flirted weakly and convinced her he was fine.
The next day brought more of the same - tests and medics and needles, lots of needles. And visitors. Colonel Sheppard was the first to come see him, he always was. He teased Lorne’s slowing reflexes, attributing them to age until Nick reminded him which one of them was younger. He was followed shortly by Dr. Weir. She made a point of visiting everyone hurt on a mission and he feigned sleep. He’d always liked the woman, but that had changed pretty quickly after what she’d done to Cal and he wasn’t in the mood to BS. His team popped in several times too. But throughout it, all he was alone.
Beckett declared him fit to return back to his quarters the next day. But he didn’t really start to feel better until he was in bed with Cal – still bitching - in his arms.