Mise-en-Scene - carleton97

Knives. It always had to be knives, didn't it?

Rodney ducked the branches whipping towards his face in Ford's wake and heard the thunk of a blade sinking into a tree trunk right next to his head. It was worse than the usual spears and arrows this time, though. Instead of developing guns like every other relatively developed culture in this Wraith-infested galaxy, the unfriendly natives of J7V-988 had decided that using knives as their projectile of choice was a much better option.

He flinched at the sound of a knife whizzing by his ear and almost tripped over a tangle of roots, but managed to stay on his feet. Teyla sprinted past him and he knew she'd have the gate address for home ready to go by the time they caught up with her. If his lungs hadn't been burning with exertion, he might have sighed. He was in better shape than he'd ever been in, but Teyla just sailed past him like he was standing still. He knew he'd be paying for it for the rest of the week, but he pushed his body for just a little more speed, just a little more endurance. He could hear John a few yards behind him and knew he'd been in the field too often when the sound of a P-90 firing was comforting.

He had to dodge one final, wildly swinging branch as he broke through the treeline and into the small clearing surrounding the gate - Teyla dialing and sending through her IDC as he did - and then he was sprinting through the event horizon and down the ramp, automatically taking cover behind one of the consoles in case one of the rocket-powered knives followed them through. Teyla and Ford were next through the gate, both choosing to jump off the sides of the ramp rather than court disaster and flying knives.

one...two...three

John dove through the gate, rolling gracefully as three of the sharp projectiles followed him and shouting "Iris up!" in a weird chorus with Rodney, Ford, and Teyla. The iris flared to life and several more knives crashed into it before the gate shut down.

Rodney collapsed onto the floor as soon as the blue glow faded from the gateroom, gasping for breath and generally thanking a non-existent god that he wasn't bleeding.

"Report?" John's voice was only a little breathless and it echoed strangely from Rodney's position on the floor.

"Fine, sir." "I am unharmed, Major." Neither Ford nor Teyla sounded like they had just run a couple of miles.

"McKay?"

Rodney managed to raise his arm up to indicate his position and gave a little wave. "Just peachy."

He let his arm flop back down to the floor and stared up at the patterns on the ceiling until John blocked his view. "You're looming, Major."

"Come on. You know the drill; decontamination, debrief, decompress." John reached down and levered him to his feet.

"And by decompress you mean..." Rodney staggered a bit as the blood rushed from his head and John steadied him with a hand around his upper arm.

"Oh, you know, the usual." Hidden between their bodies, fingers danced over the delicate skin on the inside of his elbow and down to the palm of his hand before sliding away.

The usual, indeed.

The End

disclaimer: SGA isn't mine, but sometimes I like to pretend it is.