sga_flashfic | Those Damn Amnesiac Blues, by Nataliadarimini (villains challenge)

nataliadarimini.livejournal.com posting in

Title: Those Damn Amnesiac Blues
Author:nataliadarimini
Words:2246
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Summary: Being the villain of the piece was giving him an ulcer.

Dorn tentatively believes them when they tell him his name. After all, what good would it do to tell him his name's Dorn if it was really Raoul, or, you know, Bob? But when they tell him he's their resident nuclear expert and that he's promised to have a working model for them in six months, well, then he starts to smell something really off. Not least because even though he knows that he's lost a lot he's still pretty sure that he could have it done in one.

So. Either he was tricking them before, or else they are lying to him now. Or maybe even both, he shouldn't rule that out.

Another thing that's bugging him is the strange guy that he keeps seeing. He's a prisoner, but Dorn doesn't know what he did or why his brain's telling him he's important. He just feels connected, somehow. He thinks about him a lot while he's stalling in the lab. Hey, if they aren't going to expect their bomb for another six months then he's going to take his sweet time.

His brain is his best friend and his worst enemy right now because he knows so much he's sure that he'll be able to cut through all the crap and figure out what's going on, but also his brain has lost all the really important bits. The bits like "who am I?" and "who are all these crazies around me?" and "why do I feel like I've killed a kitten every time I see that guy?" And even "what the hell is going on that these idiots all claim not to know who Heisenberg is?" Because they don't know. All these supposedly brilliant scientists and, yeah, they seem to be grasping the principle, but they keep calling it Keele's Theory. Dorn may have forgotten his name, date of birth, and hometown, but he's pretty damn sure that he's right about Heisenberg's uncertainty principle. Pretty sure.

There's a scientist, female, long blonde hair, that talks to him sometimes. Her name is lyrical, Irina, and she tells him that he lost his memory when the outlaw Sheppard tried to kidnap him. Sheppard? he asks, and she tells him that's the guy with the hair that they can sometimes see being taken somewhere. Oh, he says, and then doesn't say anything for a while.

He tries not to talk a whole lot, to mostly listen and try to figure out what's going on, but trying not to talk is like trying not to breathe sometimes. Especially when they're all doing something very, very stupid or something that could maybe even blow up the lab. It's not so much that Dorn would mind that but he doesn't want to be in the lab when they do it, thanks.

And it was while he was thinking that particularly uncharitable thought that he realized: he didn't give a damn about any of these people. It seemed odd to him that he was more drawn to the guy who tried to kidnap him and gave him amnesia than to his own colleagues. That was when he started getting ideas.

He'd kind of like to believe her when she tells him that they've been friends for years. He can't, though. He also doesn't believe her when she tells him that Sheppard hit him hard enough to lose all his memories. Sheppard is such a nice name, carrying with it a picture of someone trying their best to keep a herd of willful animals from hurting themselves. He can't help but think that he would go wherever Sheppard wanted him to go, and maybe even go willingly.

He'd almost like to think that Sheppard was trying to rescue him. From what, though? They aren't hurting him, far from it. Except for the part where he isn't allowed to leave the compound, but, seriously, he just had major brain trauma so that isn't so outlandish.

He's fed, housed, and there are piles of intriguing things that he gets to play with. These people seem okay. Except, you know, that he doesn't think he would care at all if they all died.

Then, through some organizational cock up, Dorn is headed, herded, down a main hallway to see a higher-up for his fifth weekly status meeting at the same time that Sheppard is being dragged the opposite direction for God only knows what. Dorn sees him and Sheppard's eyes are terrible to behold. But then Sheppard sees him and it is as though clouds are parting to reveal heaven to this scraped and dirty man and he whispers something that Dorn can't hear. Which is for the best, because if he can't then the guards can't and he's pretty sure they shouldn't hear whatever that was. And he stops in the middle of the hallway and looks at him for what feels like years but can't be more than two seconds before their respective handlers are yanking them away and out of sight.

Dorn thinks that maybe he's seen heaven, too.

***

It is at this point that Dorn begins to think again. He's never stopped, really, but now he goes at it with actual purpose. He's going to save Sheppard. He'd almost bought into what they were selling for a little while, but now it's not just him against the machine, it's him and it's Sheppard and somewhere in the deeps of his soul he has an idea that together they might be unstoppable.

And if he's having remarkably little trouble adjusting to the idea that he was a traitor to his people and a rebel and a badguy before he got bonked on the head, well that just lends credence to the theory that he is a man of very loose morals, doesn't it?

***

During the sixth week of stalling, Dorn finally gets his act together and make his first theft from the labs. He's sure that he could have just asked and they would have given it to him, something so innocuous as a book with blank pages and a pencil, but he doesn't want them to know he has them. He also takes a small piece of rough, raspy paper, to sharpen his pencil. He isn't sure why they don't have reliable pens, but after how irrationally angry Irina got over the whole Heisenberg/Keele thing he's not going to call them on it.

Actually, they don't have quite a few things that Dorn feel are integral to labwork. Namely, Coffee. There are other things, too: spiral bound notebooks, mechanical pencils, proper computers. There are a handful of laptops that are communally shared and they all are charged on a strange converter that Dorn hasn't ever been allowed near. He's sure that he could make it more efficient if he could be given a couple of hours alone with it, because, really, having to charge for three hours for every hour of use is just ridiculous.

This presents a perplexing dichotomy in his head. For a second he had joked to himself that it must mean these people are with the government, but then he'd had a strong almost-memory of government labs that were extravagantly well stocked, but when he'd blinked his eyes a couple of times it was gone.

His blank book is quickly filled with all of the things he wants to remember, because he's paranoid enough to suspect that whatever happened the first time could happen again and he'd be back to square one. Even if square one for him is still twice as knowledgeable as any of these idiots cluttering up his lab.

He works out a code and memorizes it, because even though these yahoos say that they trust him, it is clear that they do not and if he were in their position he would be searching his room. They must have been figuring out his duplicity before he was hurt. There are little tells all the time to indicate that he is being monitored. And thinking about that, Dorn can't help but snort. They'll never know what hit them.

***

In his book he writes things like, "there are scalpels in the fourth drawer of the second lab cabinet, but Helkne has the key" and "there's always at least two guards in the alcove beyond the room where you meet with the lab heads, so there must be something back there" and "be especially cautious around Kolya; he looks at you like he's dreaming about slicing you open."

Irina has an almost ridiculous adoration of Kolya and Cowen. He knows not to say anything, that could give the game away, but he has a harder time schooling his expression and sometimes... the looks she gives him...

He can't afford to screw this up. Sheppard, he thinks, must hold the key to who he was before and, yeah, he really doesn't want anything to happen to Irina, she seems so earnest when she talks about the years that they've been friends, but if it comes down to a choice he knows which one he'll choose.

In his book he also writes, "Sheppard is counting on you, hurry up and make with the heroics."

***

The thing is, he can't seem to do that part. The stalling, that he can do. The filching, that he can do. The saving of the day? Not so much. Dorn assumes that losing his memories didn't change his personality, so he has resigned himself to the fact that whoever he was before, he was not the guy who went out and made like an action hero. He tries to be stealthy, but he's sure they all know everything. That he's not trying his hardest on the bomb, that he's stockpiling food in the clothing drawers in his room/cell, that he's secretly a cat among the pigeons, a wolf among the lambs.

He can vaguely remember the feeling of a gun in his hands and wonders if he's killed people. He thinks he'd be too squeamish for that, but who knows, really.

The seventh week, he begins to have the first sparks of an actual plan. In their ridiculous misuse of lab-space, his superiors have shoved all manner of scientists into one large room to work, regardless of area of study and regardless of whether they need specialized space and equipment. So Dorn gets to observe two women who appear to be making some sort of biological weapon. They aren't really getting anywhere on it, but Dorn bets he could, if he had their notes. So he decides to become infatuated with the blonde one. He hangs around her desk and asks her stupid questions and generally demeans himself utterly. She is, at first, merely annoyed, but then apparently she warms up to him, or maybe someone gives her a talking to, because then she's just as happy as she could be to receive Dorn's attentions.

She’s pleasant to look at, but Dorn is on a mission. And while it's appealing to think of having sex with her, he’s afraid that would make him start thinking of her like a person, and he can’t afford that.

Right after that epiphany hits he pleads a headache and goes back to his room to hate himself for a while. He wonders if he was so mercenary before. Probably even more so, he decides.

Being the villain of the piece is giving him an ulcer. He hopes Sheppard is worth it.

He's pretty sure he is.

***

It's months later that Dorn finally finds himself stepping over the prone bodies of his colleagues to get into the hallway. The biological weapon angle hadn't panned out, but there was plenty of material to work with in a lab, even if he had to be ridiculously covert. He really didn't think he was cut out for all this cloak and dagger stuff. But the longer he'd been there, the more sure he'd been. These simply weren't his people. He had nothing in common with them.

Sheppard, he knows, will be unconscious, but unharmed by the gas, in his cell. The gas ought to have worked its way completely through the building by now. His own mask is secure around his face and a second one dangles at his belt for his partner in crime. He can count on at least a half-hour of unconsciousness for everyone left on the floor, and maybe ten minutes for Sheppard, once he's wearing the mask. He'll wait until Sheppard wakes up if he can't carry him, but if he can they will go straight to the exit point that Dorn has investigated. From there he thinks that there is a less than three mile journey to the gate, though he can't be absolutely sure, and maybe they could commandeer a vehicle of some sort.

He just hopes that Sheppard will be duly impressed with the amount that he's been able to get done with such amazing handicaps. And suitably grateful. And be willing to show him the ropes when they go off to be space pirates or assassins or whatever it is that they used to do. He hopes that his placement here wasn't absolutely necessary to some grand scheme, because he's just burned this bridge and burned it good.

He also hopes that nobody will be permanently damaged from the exposure to the gas. But he's certain that there will be at least a few. His hand is absolutely steady as he pries open Sheppard's door.

Current Mood: forgetful

Page 1 of 2 << [1] [2] >>

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

minnow1212.livejournal.com

Oooh, that was a lot of fun.

From:

Page Summary

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags