donutsweeper (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
donutsweeper) wrote2008-11-24 01:21 pm
donutsweeper) wrote2008-11-24 01:21 pm
Entry tags:
Sweet Serenade
Title: Sweet Serenade
Pairing/Warning/Rating: SGA fandom, no spoilers, rated G
Word Count: 467
Beta:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mad_jaks
Summary: Sometimes it's the little things that make a difference.
Author's Note: Written for Last Fic Writer Standing Round three.
Lorne awoke to an entire brass band marching around in his skull, with a couple of shrilling piccolos and some booming bongo drums thrown in for good measure. To make matters worse someone was shaking him. Hard.
He licked his lips, about to ask whoever it was to quit it, when the shaking stopped abruptly and a hand clamped over his mouth. Opening his eyes, once the room stopped spinning, he saw that Zelenka was bent over him, gesturing wildly for him to stay quiet, flailing with his other hand in the direction of the bars on the far side of the cell. Listening for a moment he figured out why: he could hear some sort of ruckus coming from down the hall, an argument over who was supposed to be walking the perimeter on patrol. Right, let the guards have their little disagreement, no need to draw attention to the fact he’d regained consciousness.
As Zelenka helped him sit up and lean against the wall Lorne found his mind racing; what had happened, what had happened.... Okay, he remembered the mad scramble back to the gate, seeing the grenade flying through the air and jumping on top of Zelenka to shield him from the blast, then a vague memory of getting captured and being handcuffed... that was it.
Assessing the situation, he realized they’d been stripped of all their possessions, and that the two of them were the only prisoners. Zelenka caught his raised eyebrow and unspoken question and shook his head, quickly pointing to himself and Lorne and back again. So, the rest of the team escaped. Good. Lorne sighed, relaxing a little. Zelenka pointed to his wrist, where his watch should have been, and held up two fingers. They must have been here for about two hours. That meant help should be arriving soon.
Then he noticed the blood on Zelenka’s hands. His eyes narrowed, there wasn’t any injury that he could see, but he pulled him over to check anyway. Zelenka huffed slightly, allowing a quick look-see, before gesturing to the bandages neatly tied around Lorne’s own leg. Right. That would explain the throbbing. Lorne offered a sheepish smile to which Zelenka responded with a shrug.
A loud curse echoing down the hall, followed by the sound of a door slamming, signaled the end of the guards’ discussion. Someone would be coming to check on them soon. Lorne scanned the room, looking for something, anything, that could be used as a weapon; suddenly there was a massive explosion nearby followed by the sound of gunfire and then the guards were yelling at each other, trying to figure out what was going on.
Ah, the sweet sound of the cavalry arriving. Lorne grinned as Zelenka helped him up. Sheppard always did have impeccable timing.
Pairing/Warning/Rating: SGA fandom, no spoilers, rated G
Word Count: 467
Beta:
mad_jaks Summary: Sometimes it's the little things that make a difference.
Author's Note: Written for Last Fic Writer Standing Round three.
Lorne awoke to an entire brass band marching around in his skull, with a couple of shrilling piccolos and some booming bongo drums thrown in for good measure. To make matters worse someone was shaking him. Hard.
He licked his lips, about to ask whoever it was to quit it, when the shaking stopped abruptly and a hand clamped over his mouth. Opening his eyes, once the room stopped spinning, he saw that Zelenka was bent over him, gesturing wildly for him to stay quiet, flailing with his other hand in the direction of the bars on the far side of the cell. Listening for a moment he figured out why: he could hear some sort of ruckus coming from down the hall, an argument over who was supposed to be walking the perimeter on patrol. Right, let the guards have their little disagreement, no need to draw attention to the fact he’d regained consciousness.
As Zelenka helped him sit up and lean against the wall Lorne found his mind racing; what had happened, what had happened.... Okay, he remembered the mad scramble back to the gate, seeing the grenade flying through the air and jumping on top of Zelenka to shield him from the blast, then a vague memory of getting captured and being handcuffed... that was it.
Assessing the situation, he realized they’d been stripped of all their possessions, and that the two of them were the only prisoners. Zelenka caught his raised eyebrow and unspoken question and shook his head, quickly pointing to himself and Lorne and back again. So, the rest of the team escaped. Good. Lorne sighed, relaxing a little. Zelenka pointed to his wrist, where his watch should have been, and held up two fingers. They must have been here for about two hours. That meant help should be arriving soon.
Then he noticed the blood on Zelenka’s hands. His eyes narrowed, there wasn’t any injury that he could see, but he pulled him over to check anyway. Zelenka huffed slightly, allowing a quick look-see, before gesturing to the bandages neatly tied around Lorne’s own leg. Right. That would explain the throbbing. Lorne offered a sheepish smile to which Zelenka responded with a shrug.
A loud curse echoing down the hall, followed by the sound of a door slamming, signaled the end of the guards’ discussion. Someone would be coming to check on them soon. Lorne scanned the room, looking for something, anything, that could be used as a weapon; suddenly there was a massive explosion nearby followed by the sound of gunfire and then the guards were yelling at each other, trying to figure out what was going on.
Ah, the sweet sound of the cavalry arriving. Lorne grinned as Zelenka helped him up. Sheppard always did have impeccable timing.