Worst-Case Scenario Fic: Toxicology

[kageygirl]

Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Rating: G (except for a little swearing)
Scenario: How to Survive a Poisonous Snakebite

Huge thanks to wickdzoot for essentially handing me the plot and mmmchelle for the super-short-notice beta. (docmichelle helped me flip the imaginary coin for the title, but I assured her the blame would ultimately be mine. *g*)


Toxicology

The fabric of their uniforms was surprisingly resilient, even when--or, maybe, especially when it was soaking wet. John Sheppard was still kneeling on the muddy streambed, carefully cutting away the torn and bloody mess around Rodney McKay's right ankle, when his radio clicked on.

Teyla's voice was clipped. "Colonel Sheppard, we have spoken with Tamin."

The village apothecary. Good. John's hands were a little occupied, so Rodney pried his fingers off John's shoulder for a second to activate John's radio. John gave him a quick nod. "Great. What've you got?"

"Dr. McKay. You said that the snake that bit you was--black, with green stripes?"

Rodney tapped his own radio on. "That's right."

"You are certain?"

John cautiously peeled back a blood-soaked strip of fabric, wincing in sympathy as Rodney inhaled sharply, fingers tightening on John's shoulder. "What I saw as it swam off downriver, yes."

There was no response for a moment, just the faint hiss of the open connection. John looked up, meeting Rodney's eyes, and the thread of worry creeping into his stomach was reflected, full-grown, in Rodney's eyes.

"It is indeed poisonous."

Damn. John had really been hoping it was just the physical damage they had to deal with, here, from when Rodney's foot had punched through the rotting footbridge over the swampy little stream. He took a breath and said, "All right. What's the treatment?"

It was Ronon, not Teyla, who finally answered, his voice gruffer than usual. "There's no antidote."

"What?" Rodney sounded both freaked and personally offended.

"Okay, okay." John rested one hand on Rodney's knee and the other on his good ankle, giving him a long look to steady him. He kept his own expression calm as he said, "Well, there's lots of poisonous things on Earth that won't actually kill you--"

"Just make you wish you were dead," Rodney muttered, but his eyes were still too wide.

John let that go without answer and addressed his radio again. "What kind of symptoms are we talking about, here?"

"I am sorry, Colonel, Dr. McKay." That was Teyla again, her voice controlled, but strained, in that way that told John they were in some serious shit. "Tamin tells us that the bite of the reed snake is always fatal."

"Oh, no." Rodney stared at him in horror.

John forced his voice level, though he couldn't help the hard edge that crept into it. "How long?"

"Oh, god," Rodney whispered, his voice hollow.

"Shut up, Rodney," John said, stamping down hard on his own fear and angling his chin towards his radio. "How long does he have?"

He knew Teyla only paused for a second, but it seemed to crawl by. John felt Rodney still staring at him. "An hour. Perhaps two."

Shit. John tightened his grip on Rodney's knee--just in case Rodney tried to move. "I don't accept that. Teyla, Ronon--get back to the gate, as fast as you can. I want Beckett and Lorne here, on a Jumper, yesterday."

"Understood," Teyla snapped, breathy and sharp, and John knew they were already running, thank god.

"I don't believe this is happening again," Rodney said, his eyes tracking almost vacantly across John's face.

John wasn't sure what 'again' Rodney meant, but he ignored it for the moment. "Rodney. Rodney." Rodney blinked at him, focusing on John again, and John patted his good ankle. "I need you to calm down, and keep still. You get agitated, your heart beats faster, and the poison spreads quicker. So we're just going to sit here and be as bored as humanly possible, and I'm going to keep working on your leg."

"Right. Calm. I can be calm." Rodney's voice was still high and thin. "It's just--this is completely unfair. I've already done this. You--you've already done this. The whole 'sitting around, waiting to die' thing has lost all the cachet it never had."

Oh, that 'again.' If John had been letting himself feel anything, he might have thought it was almost funny that Rodney still took impending death so personally, after however many times it'd been now. Instead, he kept his voice controlled and combat-level. "You're not going to die. You know how good Beckett is at his job, and we have all kinds of drugs they've never seen on this world. I'm sure you'll be fine."

"I just can't believe it's come down to death by alien reptile. I was sure it was either going to be quick and violent or lingering and radiation-related."

John nodded vaguely, not at the words, but at the way Rodney's breathing was slowing down. He'd take fatalistic over panicking by a mile right now. "Plus, there's that--what is it, Corrigan keeps going on about it--ecological contamination. I'm sure you've been exposed to way more toxic things on Earth than they even have on this planet, so your immunity's probably higher. Like the Spaniards, when they landed in South America and made the indigenous people sick."

Rodney gave him an incredulous frown. "Wait, wait--are you trying to argue that I should stop worrying, because of cultural imperialism? Ow, watch it."

John grimaced as he finished uncovering the gashes Rodney had gotten, either from the splintered wood or the rocks in the streambed. Blood still oozed from a few of them, and John shifted his arm a little to try to block Rodney's view. "I'm saying you need to stay positive. And calm."

"Easy for you to say," Rodney muttered. John shot him a glare, and Rodney subsided. "Sorry. I'm calm."

"Good." John tipped water from his canteen onto Rodney's wounds to clean them out a little, tightening his jaw when Rodney gasped. He pulled out an alcohol swab and ripped it open, glancing up at Rodney. "This is going to hurt even more."

"I know. I know. Just--do what you have to."

John swabbed the gashes as quickly and gently as he could. Rodney went rigid, fingers clenching on John's shoulder--John might have bruises tomorrow, but he hadn't said anything when Rodney first grabbed him, using him as a bullet to bite on, and he damn well wasn't going to stop him now. John was glad to see that Rodney stayed upright; keeping the bite below the level of his heart would also slow the spread of the poison.

He cleaned away the blood and the muddy stream goop. Aside from the deep gouges, John could tell that Rodney was going to have some pretty spectacular bruises, himself.

And he would, goddamnit, because Rodney was going to live to get those bruises, and he would bitch and moan about them to everyone in earshot. The alternative just wasn't an option.

With that in mind, John explored Rodney's skin around the wounds, delicately, looking for the bite itself, just to make sure that he'd cleaned it. But he couldn't find anything that was recognizable as a fang mark, or any signs of inflammation. He'd seen a few snake bites in Afghanistan, and they'd all been nasty and obvious.

Anything that killed as quickly as this venom did would leave some kind of evidence, right?

He looked up at Rodney, who was white-faced and grimacing, but aside from all that, was looking unaccountably--healthy. "Rodney? Can you tell me where the snake bit you, exactly?"

"Actually, I'm not quite sure." Rodney gave him a quick, embarrassed ghost of a smile. "It all happened a little too fast."

"But--you're feeling okay, right?" John realized he was stroking his thumb absently over an undamaged patch of skin, and stopped that right the hell now. "No dizziness, tingling, numbness, nothing like that?"

Rodney looked back at him--pain, annoyance, worry, questions about John's intelligence and possibly his parentage, too, all those were present on Rodney's face, but he really just didn't look like he was dying. "Well, it does hurt like hell, of course. Though I suppose that would mean it's not numb."

"Rodney." John forced himself not to shake Rodney's knee, but it was a near thing. "Are you sure you got bitten?"

Rodney opened his mouth and closed it without saying anything, blinking rapidly, then said, "I didn't see it, if that's what you're asking--I was a little preoccupied with the falling and bleeding and trying not to drown..."

John was trying to be patient, he really was, but everything he wasn't letting himself feel right now had just taken a sharp one-eighty, and he was barely holding onto his control. "Are you absolutely positive that it bit you?"

"And pain, did I mention the pain? Because I was--and still am, by the way--in quite a bit of it." John stared at him, just stared, and Rodney finally shook his head. "No, I--I just assumed, what with falling on top of it, and the pain...." John let his head drop, taking a deep, calming breath, and Rodney went on, "You don't have to look so disappointed."

John snapped his head up in disbelief. "I'm not disappointed, you--" He stopped, taking another deep breath. "I don't see a bite here. Rodney. No swelling, or--well, you're pretty banged up, but... I think you might be okay."

"Really?" Rodney's eyes lit up, the corner of his mouth lifting, before he cut himself off with a frown. "Wait, wait--why should I listen to you? What, are you getting your medical degree through a correspondence course? Is the Daedalus bringing you a pretty little blank certificate?"

"Colonel Sheppard." Teyla's voice came over the radio, just as John was opening his mouth to say--he wasn't sure what, but there probably would have been some pretty strong language involved. "Major Lorne and Dr. Beckett have arrived through the Stargate, and are on their way to you now."

"Thank you, Teyla. We'll be right here," he said, giving his voice an edge as he gave Rodney a seriously displeased look. It was still better to be safe than sorry--he knew you couldn't always spot a snakebite all that easily, even under good conditions. But with Beckett on the way and Rodney sitting there looking just fine, a little defensively annoyed, sure, but not, say, writhing in agony, John felt like maybe he could let go a little bit. "And we're going to continue to be right here, aren't we, Rodney?"

Rodney twitched, looking guilty and angry and still a little nervous, then burst out, "Oh, like I was supposed to know!"

The Jumper appeared over the trees, announcing itself with its usual modulated hum, and John narrowed his eyes at Rodney. "Damn it, don't scare me like that," he said, smacking Rodney's good thigh with the back of his hand.

As it landed, the Jumper kicked up a gust of loose debris. John turned his head away, using the movement as cover to allow himself a heavy, shuddering sigh, his hand clenching hard for a second on Rodney's uninjured ankle.

***