Title: Braced
Author: [livejournal.com profile] kellifer_fic
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue. Yadda.
Category: Action/humour - Atlantis Gen with leanings of Weir/Sheppard

Notes: Written as backup for [livejournal.com profile] her_xcelncy for [livejournal.com profile] swficathon who wanted... anything. Boy, I wish all my ficathon assignments were so easy... *grins*

Summary: “No. We need you to be able to walk after this,” she said, trying to shimmy up further as well.



Her legs were aching.

Elizabeth was amazed that John had done this before. She’d heard the screams and shouts of he’s in the room before he took out the Genii raiders. He’d been above them then, and he was above their enemy now.

Pressed up against her and holding her steady, one leg bracing underneath her, arms on either side of her head and mouth pressed against her ear. They were over open space, three stories up and yet she felt completely safe, because he was bracing her.

“Are you okay?” he whispered and she cursed herself, knowing he had probably felt the slight tremor through her legs that meant she was weakening. She was trying desperately to not put more weight on him that she already was.

She was strong but this? This was ridiculous.

She moved her head so her own mouth came into contact with his ear. She’d always had the urge to touch his ears, pointy to the extreme of nearly being elvish. Ridiculously cute on such a dangerous man.

“I’m doing okay. How long do we have to stay up here?”

His head pulled away and one of his arms disappeared from beside her head as he dug the motion sensor out of his breast pocket. He flipped it on and the tiny glow lit his eyes for a second. She watched as he canted his head and his tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth in the way it did when he was really concentrating.

“There’s still about fifteen of them in the immediate area. We can’t risk it.”

“Okay,” she sighed, knowing she probably wasn’t going to last much longer and if she had to put her full weight on him then he would be bearing both of them up and she figured even super-Colonels must have a breaking point.

“Are we the only ones left?” she whispered urgently, wondering if he was able to tell such a thing from the motion detector. John had once more deposited the little palm device safely in his pocket and had re-planted his arm firmly beside her head.

She resisted the urge to move the few centimetres it would take to rest her temple against his forearm.

She told herself it would only be to give her neck a rest.

Yeah, right.

“I’m pretty sure, yeah,” he said in a neutral tone but his eyes were searching her face in the darkness and she smiled bravely, mostly for his benefit.

“You could get further by yourself. Why don’t-“

“No,” he said simply, no room for argument in his tone.

“I don’t think I can do this for much longer,” she sighed. Her legs were trembling badly, small tremors travelling up her spine. She wondered how John could look so relaxed about the whole thing, like he was slouching on a couch and not jammed between bits of scaffolding, way above Atlantis.

“Rest on me for a few minutes,” he offered and she felt his legs move up a little, front of his thighs brushing the backs of hers. It would be so easy to just drop that half a centimetre and have him be completely supporting her.

“No. We need you to be able to walk after this,” she said, trying to shimmy up further as well.

Her movement was their undoing.

Her right foot slid just as she moved it upwards and all of a sudden there was no wall between the sole of her shoe and air. Her leg swung bonelessly, no strength left in it after so long and she managed to collect John in the shin pretty sharply. If he hadn’t just moved and not been completely settled yet, they might have still recovered, but with a loud squeak his boot lost purchase as well.

He tried to firm his arms, as if that was going to stop them sliding but caught Elizabeth a glancing blow in the side of the neck when he jerked his arms and she wrenched sideways, taking out one of John’s bracing arms and now all that was holding them was one arm and one leg.

Not enough for two people.

John scrabbled desperately but couldn’t get the foot that had swung free back underneath him while Elizabeth’s leg was in the way and besides, their struggles were loud and they heard shouts and booted feet below.

John took a second to look into Elizabeth’s eyes, stricken.

“Aw, hell!” he yelped as their desperate slide reached the point of no return and they both dropped.

Their fall was gracelessly arrested only half a foot off the floor by John’s safety line that he had attached to both of them and they swung free, defenceless and exposed. Elizabeth swung around just in time to see the elongated muzzle of a rifle level at John’s head and then a single shot rang out.

~ ~ ~

“In the face!”

John’s protest could be heard from the other side of the infirmary where Elizabeth was being tended to by Carson for the bruising on her neck. She grinned as she glanced over, seeing John Sheppard sitting on one of the infirmary beds, one leg on either side and an ice pack held up to his eye. He pulled it away for a moment and there was brilliant red and black bruising surrounding the whole area, from eyebrow to cheek bone.

A very contrite Rodney was standing in front of him.

“The whole point of the exercise was to take you out!” Rodney protested, crossing his arms and lifting his chin in defiance. "And it was only a paintball."

“I understand that, but let me say again, you shot me in the face!” John exclaimed, leaning forward to solidly smack Rodney in the jaw with the icepack.

“Ow, my face!” Rodney howled and Elizabeth couldn’t help but laugh as John smirked.

“Now you know how I feel.”

“That was pretty tricky of yeh,” Carson said as he gave Elizabeth her own icepack. “We must have searched that room five times and we never saw yeh.”

“I wouldn’t have been able to stay up there alone. John’s like a monkey.”

Carson chuckled. “I tell yeh what, we’re very lucky he’s on our side.”

Elizabeth watched as Rodney stomped towards them, holding a hand to his jaw and with indignation writ large on his features. She looked passed his shoulder to where John had lain back on the infirmary bed, legs crossed at the ankle, casual and graceful in every line of his body.

“Yes, Carson. Yes we are.”
.

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