Human Hearts (Men and Machines Challenge)
Aug. 21st, 2007 05:11 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
erda-3.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
sga_flashficLength: ~2500 words
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard
Rating: uh R or NC17 I don't know how to rate stuff
Summary: There be Cyborgs here
Note: This is my first story in any fandom. Or out of any fandom.
I figured I better get that excuse in because it only works once.
In the holy year 179 there fought Shia, Greth and Tenansa. And when the Wraith came to cull their homeworld, the three mighty warriors left their fortress and went forth to meet the Wraith in battle. Many hundreds of Wraith they slew and at last the Wraith withdrew before their tireless assault. And in this way their homeworld was spared in that age. And on that world are told many of the deeds of Shia, Greth and Tenansa.
John woke in a white room, white on white on white. Walls, ceiling, floor of the small room all constructed of some type of white tile. What seemed to be a door on one wall also made of the same tile material. Closed, with no visible control or knob for opening.
He was on the floor with no idea long he’d been there. He had a strange sensation in his head. He didn’t feel injured. Drugged perhaps, he thought vaguely. He was awake and alert, but detached somehow.
The door was open where it hadn’t been. Some nightmare cyborg creature was pointing an arm? gun? at him. Yes, one arm was definitely a weapon, though the other arm looked completely human. It seemed to have some sort of body armor on its torso, or more like its torso was made of armor, its head was all bizarre and cyborgy, really hideous in a way that had him glancing and glancing away. John decided the thing to do was to attack now, get past the guard or whatever he was if he could and sort out what it was all about on his way to the gate. If there was a gate. It was only a little surprising to realize the guard was dragging him somewhere. Then there was a table and thick, heavy straps came down over him.
When the pain began it went deep inside his legs straight down to the inside of his bones and he was so tightly strapped down that there was nowhere to go with it and no way to react at all. His stomach convulsed and he vomited and then gagged and spit, trying to clear his mouth. The pain went on and on past all his courage, past all mercy and long past where he was begging for unconsciousness.
When he reawakened he was back in the white room. There was a voice in his head, maybe some sort of public address system. The voice was reciting or reading something. He listened.
In the holy year 227 there fought Tosan and Bria. And together they penetrated and took control of an enemy ship. Using this ship they fought well and bravely against the Wraith for many years.
John moved his legs hesitantly. His throat was raw but the deep pain in his bones was gone. His legs were not right, numb and in some odd way they didn’t seem to completely belong to him anymore. He struggled to his feet, took a step like walking on stilts, stumbled, and fell. He pulled himself up again and stood, wobbling and uncertain. The voice went on intoning the deeds of Tosan and Bria and John stumbled, shuffled, then finally walked around the small room.
And on their home world many tales are told of the deeds of Tosan and Bria. And many are the songs sung in honor of them.
Then there was the cyborg guard and again he was being dragged. There were stray thoughts. Shouldn’t he be resisting? The room and the straps. He felt his arm suddenly, sickeningly being ripped from his body. His throat was so raw his screams were barely audible, his stomach so empty nothing came up when he wretched.
In the holy year 281 there fought Sha and Stalia. Across many worlds they traveled together, engaging small parties of the enemy with great cunning and ferocity. On a world far from their own they rallied their people and repelled the full force of the enemy, so that the Wraith drew back and trembled in fear of their courage in battle.
He lay quietly and listened to the voice.
And among their people many and long are the tales told of their deeds.
When the guard came he knew exactly how to raise his arm and shoot and he didn’t hesitate. It should have worked. He looked down at it, at the thing attached to him where his arm had been. It seemed to be in working order but no killing or even stunning beam emerged when he shot at the guard.
This time as he laid in the device on the operating table the pain was inside his head. He had thought it couldn’t get worse, but he was wrong.
He woke. The room was spinning and he was violently nauseous. He barely had time to turn to his side before he was vomiting, on and on, dry heaves. He hadn’t eaten, didn’t know how long since he had eaten. It seemed to take a long time for the dizziness to pass, to be able to stand without the room spinning, to straighten without losing his balance. In his head there were voices, conversations whispered, spoken, in pairs and small groups, and suddenly John was shouting, “McKay, MCKAY!” He sank down into the corner of the white room. “McKay, answer me, you fucking bastard.”
A familiar breath like a sob faint in his ear and the other voices grew soft and sibilant and retreated. “…Colonel?” The voice was low but close to him.
“McKay? You ok?”
“Ok? No, no not okay,” his voice shaking and then whispering, “They took my arm. I…
my arm is gone, Colonel, completely gone.” McKay drew in a ragged breath. “Where are you?”
“I’m here McKay. Close by.”
“Can you get me out?”
“We’ll get out.”
“You have a plan?”
John stomach turned, not with nausea this time. McKay. “Sure. Just calm down. We’ll get out of this.”
McKay sounded beyond panicked. “But my arm. It’s gone. I mean, it’s completely off, ripped off, taken away. How can we get it back?”
“It’ll be ok. Which arm is it?”
“What?”
“Which arm did they take?”
“Oh. My left, my left arm.”
“Ok.” That was… good… he supposed. Unlike him, McKay was right handed. He looked down. They had taken his right arm.
In the holy year 311 Dayline and Storn carried the battle into the nest of a Wraith queen and there destroyed her and all her progeny, which hung from the walls and ceiling in viscous strands. Their world was free of the Wraith. Their people celebrated with feasting and dancing and many were the songs sung in praise of their deliverers.
When the soldier came this time John studied him even more closely, examining his body. Gun arm, metallic band from armpit to waist, that impossible head.
The pain, not deep this time but sharp, centered on his stomach and back. A tearing pain as if he were being skinned alive. McKay was in his head the whole time, screaming, sobbing, begging for it to stop. As the pain began to fade, he was finally able to catch his breath and speak. “McKay.” He shifted to look down at his chest. Just below his armpits the skin ended. It was shiny, metallic. He sat up suddenly, peering down at the rest of his body, saw skin below, still human skin. “Rodney, calm down. Deep breath, buddy it’s over.”
Rodney was sobbing softly “Ohgodohgod. They’re hurting you too, they’re changing you. I thought, I didn’t know. Are you okay?” His sobbing was so unrestrained now it was hard to understand him.
“Rodney…hey.” He sank back down onto the floor, feeling sick and exhausted.
“Rodney…” Softly, intensely he whispered, “Rodney…I love you.”
“What?”
This time it came easily, naturally. “I said, I love you.”
“Yes yes, I knew that, I think I did. But why are you… why now…?” His voice went hard suddenly. “ Jesus, John, it’s not a skinned knee.”
“I know that, Rodney. My fucking arm is gone, too, in case you’ve forgotten.”
“Yes, I know, I know. Sorry. I just keep getting mixed up. ”
John sighed. “It’s the drugs, I think. Rodney, when we get out of here, I’m going to show you...” His voice went suddenly low and insinuating, “What are you wearing? Are you laying down?”
“Not kidding, Rodney. I’m pulling the zipper down on my pants.”
Rodney laughed outright. “You suck at this.”
John gave a smothered laugh. “Sorry, not so good with the words. But when we get out of here, I could show you. I’m better at showing, really.”
A long silence. John’s heart was pounding in both excitement and terror. He wasn’t really sure what he was doing, but it felt inevitable.
“John? Never thought I’d say this, but now’s really not a good time.”
John sighed. “Ok,” he whispered, then couldn’t resist adding, “But I’ve been waiting for a long time.” He lay back and let his eyes drift shut.
When the voice came it took over his head. All the other noises and voices retreated before it.
In the holy year 347 Kull and Herfa built together a device so powerful it blew three hive ships orbiting their planet out of the sky with such force only a fine dust was left to burn off in the atmosphere.
He woke to see the cyborg soldier standing over him. He rose shakily and followed him to the table, lay down and waited for the pain. He could hear the voices still, but muted. It was easier to move the sounds around in his head, turn his attention where he willed. He listened to the sounds of machinery whispering. He became aware of outside sounds further away, recognized a light wind, leaves rustling as they drifted to the ground. He could hear Rodney breathing, close to him, knew he was waiting, too. Suddenly feeling nervous, “Rodney? You and me… we’re ok, right?”
Rodney snorted, “Of course.”
Then the pain began, this time in his eyes, burning, intense. Rodney was screaming somewhere, and he couldn’t even try to be quiet himself. At least it didn’t seem to go on as long. Maybe he was getting used to it? Absurd thought, that.
When he opened his eyes there were colors everywhere, streaming down the walls, and across the ceiling. He couldn’t really see anything. There were no discernable shapes, or none his brain could interpret. He ran his hand along his neck, suddenly terrified, but there was still skin there, human, warm, alive. “Rodney?”
“John? John, I’m blind, they took my…I can’t see. I mean there’s ultraviolet stuff, so much information…I can’t make any sense.”
“Yeah, Matrix much. It’s confusing.”
“You too?”
“Of course.”
“I really I…I think I’ve always loved you. From the first moment.”
John laughed at the abrupt change of topic. “I think you just wanted my gene.”
“Well, that too. Knock it off, I’m trying to have a moment here.”
“You did that already.”
Now John really was pulling down his zipper and his hand was stroking his dick, feeling his sensitive skin, listening to Rodney shift his body. He could hear everything Rodney was doing as if they were side by side. Rodney was unzipping, Rodney was stroking himself and John groaned. Rodney was still a moment, listening, then they started again, together.
Later it was messy and he realized he had nothing to wipe off with. He took his human hand and swirled it into the wet come, then spread it across himself, flesh and machine, rubbing it in, making it reach as much of his body as he could. He could hear Rodney doing the same.
Much later Rodney said, “I haven’t eaten anything? Or had anything to drink? The whole time. Have you?” His voice getting panicky again, “Have you?”
“No, calm down. They must be giving us something intravenously when we’re unconscious. I’m sure if we can still do, uh, other stuff, we can still eat.”
He sat up. He still couldn’t really see. There were bands of color and other information he couldn’t decipher everywhere he turned his head. He felt around the room cautiously, touching the floor, the walls, himself. “It gets easier,” he told Rodney, “It’s getting easier.” After a bit he could stand. Then walk. He turned his head from side to side, up and down, getting used to the streams of data that turned and twisted with him.
After a while he grew tired and lay back down, remembering. He remembered Teyla, brave Teyla, trying to volunteer. And the cyborg soldier, in his metallic voice, managing somehow to sound apologetic, “You have your own people to defend. It is not for you to stand for Atlantis.”
There was some sort of plate on the floor next to him. Something on it like bread or cake. He picked it up and inspected it more closely, checking its composition until he was sure it was safe, then tasted it. It seemed ok, a bit bland. There was a drink too, also safe to consume and he drank, savoring the feeling of his physical body, listening to Rodney eat and drink just out of reach, but with him.
In the holy year 419 went out Renya , Kail and Stoss and fought in close quarters through all seventeen villages still inhabited on their homeworld until not one Wraith remained alive. And their people drew them close in song and dance. Their deeds are told among their people at every festival onto this day.
John was on his feet thrumming with eagerness when the door opened. The soldier led him out of the room, through the corridor and into some sort of transporter. He let the other man command the transport though he knew perfectly well how to do it himself.
From there he went straight to Rodney and together they left the compound and headed for the gate. There were others gathering too, some in small groups, most in pairs. He took Rodney’s hand, the left one, in his right hand as they got into the line forming at the gate. When it was their turn they held up their other arms together so their weapons could be activated. Then paused at the gate for the intoning from the Recorder of Warriors.
In this holy year 461 now go forth Sheppard and McKay for Atlantis.
John reached out and laid his hand gently on Rodney’s shining chest. “We will, buddy, we will. But first, let’s go kill some Wraith.”
(no subject)
Date: 2007-08-22 09:23 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-08-25 01:38 am (UTC)