Perspectives 1.4
Thirty-Eight Minutes: John

Orithain

August 2005

Disclaimers: Do you think Iíd be sitting here if I actually owned them?

I am so fucked. So completely and utterly, seriously fucked. Actually, Iím so far beyond fucked that they donít have a word for how bad off I am. I canít believe it. Iíd shake my head at lifeís little ironies if I could, but thereís this damn bug attached to my neck, sucking my life out, that wonít let me.

But thatís not bad enough, not for John Sheppard in the Pegasus galaxy. Oh hell no. Letís make life even more interesting. Now my puddle jumperís stuck in the damn gate. Oh, and letís not forget that a wormhole canít be maintained for longer than thirty-eight minutes. Thank you, Rodney, for reminding us all of that salient detail.

Nope, fucked doesnít even begin to cover this situation.

Gotta love this galaxy; just when you think things have gotten as bad as they possibly can get, it finds a way to screw you over some more. But it made one mistake. My secret weapon. Rodney McKay.

He freaked for a while there, perfectly understandable really, but thereís something I figured out a while back. He worries about me. About everyone really, though heíd never admit it, but me especially. As soon as I reminded him about my little parasitic friend, he calmed down so fast it nearly gave me whiplash watching him.

I shouldnít be thinking about him right now, but hell, when a manís got less than half an hour to live, maybe a lot less in my case, heís allowed to stop lying to himself. I think about McKay a lot. Too bad Iím never going to get the chance to decide if I want to do something about that.

Theyíre all trying so hard, the people back on Atlantis trying to help us all, Rodney trying to do the impossible and figure out a way to control the jumper from back here, Teyla and Ford trying to get this damn bug off me, but things just keep getting worse.

I donít want to die, but I almost wish theyíd stop trying. That hurt, which is some trick considering I canít feel much of anything. And now we have no way of preventing explosive decompression when the wormhole shuts down, not that itís going to matter to me. Iíll be dead.

Wait a minute.

Iíll be dead.

Well, they didnít like it, but Carson agreed with me. Itís the only thing to do. I just wish... Damn, his eyes are blue.

 

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