Decent Enough Hero by Kridaydragon (Scars Challenge)

[kriadydragon.livejournal.com]

Title: Decent Enough Hero
Author: Kriadydragon
Rating: PG, Gen
Characters: McKay, Sheppard
Synopsis: Takes place in season one after The Storm and The Eye. McKay was tortured, now Sheppard's survived torture, so they talk.

A/N: I intitially intended to post this elsewhere, but it fit the challenge so I decided to post it here.

SGA

Rodney tried not to feel like an ass for wanting to turn around and let someone else drop off Major Sheppard's meal. There were many things he usually didn't want to do, even tasks so simple they seemed pointless – or at least pointless for him to be doing. Soup, crackers, and water on a tray: just slide it onto a desk or table and slink back out before Sheppard had a chance to realize he was there. Don't look at him, don't talk to him, just leave the tray and go.

McKay wasn't being selfish. At least he was pretty sure he wasn't. It was just that he had this little habit of opening his mouth and kicking his own teeth out during moments of shock, horror, anger, frustration or annoyance. It wasn't so much what he said but how he said it: in the loudest decibels and longest sentences he could. Rodney had never seen a man tortured. Beat up, yes, since he's been subject to it himself. Strapped to a chair so alien and diabolic Rodney kept having dreams of said chair chasing him down the hall - no.

That chair had reminded Rodney of a spider with all those mechanical arms and tangles of transparent and organic looking wiring. Sheppard had been tied down to it in nothing but his under shorts, with tubes and wires coming out of his arms, spine, skull and other unpleasant places. Multicolored fluids went in and red fluids came out. The ever-so-slightly advanced Garaadians had wanted Atlantis' gate address because they thought they could do what the Genii hadn't been unable to. What they got was a brain-fried Major and their spider-chair being shot to hell by Ford.

Rodney stopped in front of Sheppard's door.

He'd rambled up a storm over the sadism of Pegasus Galaxy-style torture, then shrilled at Carson to do something about Sheppard writhing and moaning in agony. Beckett's solution wasn't more pain-meds, it was kicking Rodney out so the Major could have some peace and quiet.

McKay swept his hand over the panel and clamped his mouth shut on entering. He thought he'd been talking at a reasonable level and rate in the infirmary, but his mouth had apparently detached itself from his thought processes. He didn't want a repeat of the infirmary since it didn't take much to get Sheppard to start squirming in pain.

The room was verging on dark except for the deep amber light of late-afternoon pouring warm across the floor. McKay searched around for a suitable spot to place the tray until finally giving in to clearing away the bedside table enough to put it there. He nudged the bottles of pills and water with the corner of the tray and set it down. He then glanced over at John who was on his side facing away, one bare arm on top of the covers and his upper back visible enough for Rodney to see the bruises and red scabs that may or may not leave scars.

Rodney flexed the muscle of his forearm and felt the pull of healed but misshapen skin. He turned to head out, involuntarily bumping the bed. He heard a sharp inhale and spun around in time to see Sheppard bolting upright with a nine-mil in hand pointed at him.

McKay's heart slammed and he yelped. “Sheppard!”

John flinched, chest heaving, and lowered the gun. “McKay.” His voice was rough as though he hadn't used it in a while. He slouched, his dog-tags swinging and tapping against his breastbone. “Crap, McKay, you scared the hell out of me.”

“Scared the hell out of you! What the crap, Major, I....!”

John cringed. “McKay.” It came out sounding weak but desperate, like a plea.

“You pointed a gun at me!” Rodney hissed at a level he was pretty sure wouldn't cause Sheppard's head to explode.

Sheppard flopped his hand over the gun and slid it back under his pillow. “It wasn't loaded. Just... makes me feel better having it there. Don't know why.”

Rodney let out a slow, lengthy breath, his heart relaxing along with the rest of his body. “Oh. Good. Although that seems to defeat the purpose of keeping a gun within reach...”

John hooked his thumb at the bedside table. “I've got a loaded one taped under the nightstand there.”

Rodney's eyebrows shot to his hairline. He wasn't sure whether to be impressed or nervous. “Wow, prepared much?”

Sheppard massaged his forehead. “You have no idea.”

“Try me. Bet you have a loaded P-90 somewhere.”

John smiled wanly. “That's for me to know and for you to hopefully never find out.”

Rodney snorted out an uneasy laugh that stuttered and died fast. Sheppard probably did have a P-90 stashed somewhere. What was funny was that Rodney had a taser hidden under his mattress, and was thinking that maybe they could start some kind of club or support group for paranoids.

Sheppard pulled his knees up and hunched over them with his hands behind his neck, his body shaking and slick with sweat. Rodney swallowed anxiously, wondering if he should call Beckett down or just leave. The areas of John's skin not bruised were so white there was no way it could be called “perfectly normal for his condition” no matter how much Carson kept insisting.

“You okay?” McKay whispered.

John lifted his pale face with its one bruise surrounding his swollen right eye like a patch. “No.” Both eyes would be like empty sockets once the last of the light left. They were pretty close now.

“Want me to get Beckett?”

John shook his head and grimaced. He dropped his head pressing it into his knees, moaning then whimpering. Suddenly, he clawed the covers aside and dashed from the bed to the bathroom, dropping to his knees in front of the toilet and heaving. Rodney followed, even more uncertain as to what to do than before. He would have radioed for a medical team except Beckett had said to expect spontaneous vomiting. The spider chair had all but turned John's skull inside out. It had been an unnatural form of torture. Not that Rodney knew if there was even such a thing as natural torture, but seeing as how similar technology existed no where on earth, he felt safe in his assumptions.

Yet Sheppard had come across as more pissed than shocked or terrified.

The muscles of John's back and flanks constricted pulling at the skin shrunken a little more tightly to his ribcage and spine. A week of expelling more food than taking in had unnecessarily stripped Sheppard of several needed pounds. He was less muscle and more bone, which was creepy when combined with the tight, withering looks of constant pain.

Two more dry heaves and Sheppard was done, slumped boneless over the toilet like a drunk after a binge and extra pathetic being dressed only in gray sweat-pants.

Rodney finally figured out what he could do to help and tried to talk himself out of it. But his body moved faster than his brain, sliding his hands beneath Sheppard's sweaty arms to help him rise enough to lurch over to the sink. He kept John upright for the man to rinse out his mouth and splash his face, then McKay pulled one languid arm across his shoulders to help the pilot back to bed.

“Maybe you should try to eat a little soup first,” Rodney said.

Sheppard flapped a limpid hand. “Maybe later.”

“How about water?”

John gave the A-okay sign rather than risk nodding. Rodney supported Sheppard's head for him take a few sips from the half-empty bottle. He set the Major's head back on the pillow, then just sat there staring at the patches of light fading from gold to blue-gray. Shadows swallowed shapes, softening their lines and morphing them into a single deformed mass, like spilling ink over an abstract painting.

“How do you do it?” he tenuously asked.

Rodney heard John pull in a shuddery breath. “Do what?”

“Keep your mouth shut when someone's trying to liquefy your brain.”

John was silent for a moment before answering. “Keep reminding yourself what's at stake. Friends, family, men under you command, civilians. Then find a little pleasure in being able to piss your tormentors off.”

Rodney snorted and glared at the floor. “That easy, huh?”

“Hell no.”

More silence followed. Rodney brushed his fingers across the sleeve hiding the marred skin underneath. “The military train you to handle... uh... the kind stuff you just went through?”

“Kind of. More like prepare you for it. Order you to keep quiet no matter what; tell you what happens if you don't as well as what happens when you do.” The blankets rustled and mattress dipped when Sheppard shifted. “They tell you you're gonna want to talk. They're right. You want to talk. They also tell you to remember what'll happen when you do. Who'll get hurt...” John's groggy voice trailed off.

Rodney pulled his sleeve up, exposing the now-scarred tissue of his flesh. “I suck at torture.”

The blankets rustled again and Rodney turned his head enough to see Sheppard roll onto his side, angling his head enough to look at him. “You weren't meant for it.”

McKay narrowed his eyes at John. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“You're a civilian. The whole reason for having military in this city is to protect civilians. What happened to you shouldn't have happened.”

Rodney snorted caustically. “Give me a break, Major. You are not going to take the guilt trip on this one. You get your brain scrambled and never say a word. I get a knife to the arm and squeal like a pig.”

Sheppard sighed heavily, wearily, and closed his eyes. “McKay... where are you going with this?”

“Uh, I think it's pretty obvious, Major.”

Sheppard grimaced, moaned, then relaxed. “Not... to the man with the scrambled brains.”

Rodney winced. “Oh, right, sorry. Okay, obvious to those with a clear head. What if it happens again? Only it's worse, like a brain-scrambling device, or... or... watching someone else get tortured. I took a psychology class once. The professor said that psychological torture has proved more effective than physical torture. What happens if I go through something like that, huh? There's no way I'll be able to keep my mouth shut.”

“Just keep in mind what's at stake. ”

“You just said it wasn't easy.”

John opened his eyes. “It isn't. Crap, Rodney, you have no idea how loud I kept screaming in my own head just to say something, anything, that would get them to stop. It's easy to focus on anger when they're yelling at you, but once their hand starts moving to the on switch...” the tendons of Sheppard's throat corded in a tight swallow. “I was so terrified I thought my heart was going to explode.”

“But you kept your mouth shut.”

“Kind of. Cussed a lot. Gave them false gate addresses that bought me some time. It was kind of like a really twisted game to see who would give up first.”

Rodney furrowed his brow. “Are you saying there was a chance you could have talked?”

John lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “Not if that machine killed me first. Think it was pretty close.” His eyes slammed shut and he squirmed, then relaxed, looking more exhausted than Rodney thought possible.

Rodney stood. “I should go.” And started moving toward the door.

“Elizabeth told me how you stood between her and Kolya when he was about to shoot her.”

Rodney paused and glanced over his shoulder. “Yeah, so?” There was next to no light in the room, but McKay could still see Sheppard's colorless face within the shades of dark blue and gray.

“Cowards don't do stuff like that,” John said, then turned onto his other side with a groan and whimper. Rodney watched and waited until Sheppard's rapid breathing slowed and evened out, then padded softly over to pull the blankets up over the bare shoulder.

“Doesn't make me brave,” he whispered.

“Yyeeaah,” Sheppard croaked, “ doesss.”

“No, it doesn't.”

Sheppard didn't reply. Feeling victorious, Rodney turned and headed out for real this time. He stepped through the door when it hissed open.

“Does,” Sheppard called, still hoarse but loud enough to be heard.

Rodney whirled around for a retort, only to have the door slide shut in his face before he had a chance to.

The End

Comments

[splitbeak.livejournal.com]

Oh man, you kill me. You always right these stories that deal with the aftermath of torture and leave me dying to read the backstories! I absolutely love the fics you write, and you spin my imagination in so many wonderful ways, but ah! it's like holding the apple in front of my bound hands. I beg you, please write one of these torture stories! You always come up with the most amazing plots, and you do the recoveries so well!

[kriadydragon.livejournal.com]

For me, I like whump because I like the aftermath and the different forms of healing that come about, whether mental or physical. Usually it's both. But some stories just don't have the room for the whump scenes (it would overload the fic if I tried).

If it helps, I am working on a number of fics where the whump is front and center.

[ceitie.livejournal.com]

I like Sheppard making sure to get the last word, and Rodney being helpful almost despite himself. Also, I'm pretty sure there's a substantial chunk of Atlantis who would join that club for paranoids. *g*

[kriadydragon.livejournal.com]

Thus Rodney's reason for considering starting said club. That would be quite amusing.

"Hi, I'm Rodney, and I hide a taser under my bed. But at least it's not a P-90." And he smiles smugly at Sheppard when he says this.

[ceitie.livejournal.com]

Rodney totally, totally would. And then some tiny quiet linguist will put her hand up and say, "I hide a P-90 under my bed," and everyone will stare. And Sheppard will be like, "See? It's just good planning."

[kriadydragon.livejournal.com]

Hee-hee! that would so happen.

[gemmi999.livejournal.com]

I can't sleep for some reason, so I went online and I found this. And I read it.

Wow--I liked how you handled McKay's character and the torture conversation. I liked how you had him worrying about it, and John, and how John just says the right thing at the right time, and how it totally helps McKay.

I haven't thought a lot about what McKay must have gone through after The Storm/The Eye, and this is making me think about it. = ]

Thanks!

[kriadydragon.livejournal.com]

Thanks. There would have been guilt on McKay's part, I think, for giving up info after having his arm cut. But he wouldn't have said anything to Sheppard (most likely out of embarrasment or shame) unless there was a catalyst - namely Sheppard being tortured but not saying anything. That's what I like about Rodney. He's a good guy, he just needs help seeing it, and Sheppard's the man who helps him.

[leesa_perrie]

I thought this was very well written, and just right. Loved the way it dealt with Rodney's feelings about being tortured, and his fears of what would happen if tortured again in the future, and how Sheppard helps him, even though he is struggling himself.

The club for paraniods made me laugh!! And the way that Sheppard gets the last word in - LOL!!

Nice mix of humour/hurt/comfort/angst.

[kriadydragon.livejournal.com]

:) Thanks!

[kristen999.livejournal.com]

This was another wonderful piece. When you can hear and envision the conversations in your head, then you've hit the nail on the head for realism and characterization. I loved the little details. Sheppard's empty gun, though two more were hidden somewhere.

Descriptions:

Two more dry heaves and Sheppard was done, slumped boneless over the toilet like a drunk after a binge and extra pathetic being dressed only in gray sweat-pants.

Rodney's guilt and terror of talking if ever tortured again I'm sure is a very real fear. John talking about what was at stake and sharing with Rodney his own fears was poignant.

Also the snark and banter was spot on as was John's response

“Kind of. Cussed a lot. Gave them false gate addresses that bought me some time. It was kind of like a really twisted game to see who would give up first.”

Very nice.

[kriadydragon.livejournal.com]

Thanks. I love details. Nothing extensive that bores the crap out of the reader, but enough to get not just a picture but a clear picture.

[wildcat88.livejournal.com]

Very nice. I think McKay had layers that he doesn't even know about. And I think that he and John bring out the best in each other.

[kriadydragon.livejournal.com]

Thank you. And exactly. McKay is the kind of character with a lot of learning and growing potential, and Sheppard's the one to help that growth along. It's what I love about the whole Sheppard/McKay friendship thing.

[hugglewolf.livejournal.com]

And John gets the last word, for once.

This was painful, and moving. I ached at your description of what John had been though, so much more vivid for being described from Rodney's point of view. And, oh, John, back home and still not feeling like he is safe.

Thank you for sharing this.

[kriadydragon.livejournal.com]

Thank you. John needs to get in the last word once and a while ;).