Save Me-ForCryinOutLoud-Bloody Challenge
Apr. 28th, 2005 09:24 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
forcryinoutloud.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
sga_flashficTitle: Save Me
Author: ForCryinOutLoud
Pairing: McShep (Pre-slash)
Rating: PG-R
Category: Dark
Summary: He stopped believing in Heaven a long time ago.
Notes: I didn't actually write this specifically for this challenge but it seemed to fit.
He sat staring as his vision blurred red—it was everywhere, he felt like he was drowning in it. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, this wasn’t supposed to happen—god damned natives! Why couldn’t they go to a planet that actually had friendly natives on it for once!? He rubbed his sweaty palms on his thighs, the dirt coated pants turning his hands brown.
Another whimper escaped the man in front of him and he felt the bile rise—he’d been sick twice already and there hadn’t been anything in his stomach the first time. He couldn’t deal with this anymore and wished desperately for it to be over. He gagged on the thought because he knew what that would mean—if it ended, if he no longer had to watch it would mean that Major Sheppard was dead…
He had long ago screamed himself hoarse, trying to get them to stop to take him instead, to distract them from what they were doing with such joyous abandon. They ignored him, only paying attention when he tried to get to Sheppard. The open wound on his arm was nothing compared to the pain that was still being inflicted on his best friend.
Sheppard had ordered him to back off, to stop trying to help him—still protecting him even when he was so obviously barely hanging on. He’d ignored him as he usually did when he gave an order he thought was ridiculous. And it was ridiculous to think that McKay would just sit there and not try and stop them from killing Sheppard…slowly.
And yet here he sat, again trying to throw up his stomach lining but not venturing any nearer to the man laying tied to a stone slab—tied and bleeding…everywhere. He watched as another slice was pulled across Sheppard’s torso, just deep enough to make him bleed freely but not enough to kill him outright.
He wondered with a sudden detachment if Sheppard wished they would just end it and stop playing with him. Rodney shuddered at the thought—he didn’t want to think of Sheppard giving up. He couldn’t give up because Rodney knew that the moment he did nothing would save him. And Rodney was still naïve enough to believe that somehow, someway Ford and Teyla would arrive with help and save them both.
Sheppard was looking at him, pain evident in his eyes as he tried desperately to cling to life, to keep himself grounded. Rodney tried to keep his eyes locked on the Major’s, tried to give silent comfort and reassurances. He tried not to see the blood coating his best friend’s body, tried not to watch as once again those bastards slit him open causing Sheppard to scream in agony.
He wiped angrily at the tears sliding unbidden down his cheeks—he had to be strong, couldn’t let the Major see how damn weak he was—how all he wanted to do was curl up in a ball and cry until there were no more tears left—but he was afraid when there were no more tears there would be no more Sheppard.
He silently chanted ‘I’m sorry’ as he rocked back and forth, his arms wrapped protectively around his drawn up knees. It was his fault that Sheppard was here, that he was going to die by the hands of these…people, and in the end that would be all he was left with. The guilt and memories of Sheppard being tortured before his very eyes, watching as he died painfully slow.
He closed his eyes no longer able to watch knowing he couldn’t save the one person who meant more to him than his own life. Hearing another whimpered cry he balled his fists, reaching the end of his very thin rope. He lunged forward, shoving away the knife wielding natives, his hands carefully wrapping around Sheppard’s bleeding body. He buried his head in Sheppard’s neck whispering against the coppery tasting skin, “I’m sorry, John—I’m so sorry.”
The pain didn’t register at first, his mind so focused on the man beneath him. He gasped as the man behind him twisted the knife sticking out of his back. The pain shot through him like white hot lightning and he cried out, falling to his knees. He distantly heard Sheppard’s hoarse voice trying to scream his name. He watched the world around him begin to fade from the red haze he had come to despise to a dull grey. The last thing he remembered was the slow trickle of Sheppard’s blood coating the back of his hand.
He awoke to white noise surrounding him, suffocating him. His eyes wouldn’t cooperate and open and the rest of his body was joining in the revolt so he was forced to lay still desperately trying to hear around the noise and figure out where the hell he was. He stopped believing in Heaven a long time ago and hoped to whatever passed as God in this world that he wasn’t in hell because despite not believing in Heaven anymore he was sure there was a hell. Sure there was because he could still see his best friend’s body and knowing he was gone and knowing he was still here proved hell existed.
The white noise increased and the blackness behind his lids encroached even closer—his body felt numb—no pain…nothing. He suddenly felt as if he were buried alive, his heart hammering in his chest, his lungs painfully trying to suck in more precious oxygen. That’s when he felt it—a hand on his arm, holding him down. Panic filled him and he tried frantically to escape the touch fearing he was still on the planet, still in the clutches of the people who had murdered his best friend, but his body was still numb and wouldn’t respond to his mind screaming for his limbs to move, God Dammit!
Then he was floating the panic he felt moments before being replaced by a numbness of not only body but mind as well. He felt himself being pulled towards the darkness and he welcomed it. He didn’t want to be awake in his mind, thinking about who he lost, about the things he would never have the chance to say—he didn’t want to be awake…he wished he had died that day instead, wished whoever was hovering over him would just let him go…
Author: ForCryinOutLoud
Pairing: McShep (Pre-slash)
Rating: PG-R
Category: Dark
Summary: He stopped believing in Heaven a long time ago.
Notes: I didn't actually write this specifically for this challenge but it seemed to fit.
He sat staring as his vision blurred red—it was everywhere, he felt like he was drowning in it. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, this wasn’t supposed to happen—god damned natives! Why couldn’t they go to a planet that actually had friendly natives on it for once!? He rubbed his sweaty palms on his thighs, the dirt coated pants turning his hands brown.
Another whimper escaped the man in front of him and he felt the bile rise—he’d been sick twice already and there hadn’t been anything in his stomach the first time. He couldn’t deal with this anymore and wished desperately for it to be over. He gagged on the thought because he knew what that would mean—if it ended, if he no longer had to watch it would mean that Major Sheppard was dead…
He had long ago screamed himself hoarse, trying to get them to stop to take him instead, to distract them from what they were doing with such joyous abandon. They ignored him, only paying attention when he tried to get to Sheppard. The open wound on his arm was nothing compared to the pain that was still being inflicted on his best friend.
Sheppard had ordered him to back off, to stop trying to help him—still protecting him even when he was so obviously barely hanging on. He’d ignored him as he usually did when he gave an order he thought was ridiculous. And it was ridiculous to think that McKay would just sit there and not try and stop them from killing Sheppard…slowly.
And yet here he sat, again trying to throw up his stomach lining but not venturing any nearer to the man laying tied to a stone slab—tied and bleeding…everywhere. He watched as another slice was pulled across Sheppard’s torso, just deep enough to make him bleed freely but not enough to kill him outright.
He wondered with a sudden detachment if Sheppard wished they would just end it and stop playing with him. Rodney shuddered at the thought—he didn’t want to think of Sheppard giving up. He couldn’t give up because Rodney knew that the moment he did nothing would save him. And Rodney was still naïve enough to believe that somehow, someway Ford and Teyla would arrive with help and save them both.
Sheppard was looking at him, pain evident in his eyes as he tried desperately to cling to life, to keep himself grounded. Rodney tried to keep his eyes locked on the Major’s, tried to give silent comfort and reassurances. He tried not to see the blood coating his best friend’s body, tried not to watch as once again those bastards slit him open causing Sheppard to scream in agony.
He wiped angrily at the tears sliding unbidden down his cheeks—he had to be strong, couldn’t let the Major see how damn weak he was—how all he wanted to do was curl up in a ball and cry until there were no more tears left—but he was afraid when there were no more tears there would be no more Sheppard.
He silently chanted ‘I’m sorry’ as he rocked back and forth, his arms wrapped protectively around his drawn up knees. It was his fault that Sheppard was here, that he was going to die by the hands of these…people, and in the end that would be all he was left with. The guilt and memories of Sheppard being tortured before his very eyes, watching as he died painfully slow.
He closed his eyes no longer able to watch knowing he couldn’t save the one person who meant more to him than his own life. Hearing another whimpered cry he balled his fists, reaching the end of his very thin rope. He lunged forward, shoving away the knife wielding natives, his hands carefully wrapping around Sheppard’s bleeding body. He buried his head in Sheppard’s neck whispering against the coppery tasting skin, “I’m sorry, John—I’m so sorry.”
The pain didn’t register at first, his mind so focused on the man beneath him. He gasped as the man behind him twisted the knife sticking out of his back. The pain shot through him like white hot lightning and he cried out, falling to his knees. He distantly heard Sheppard’s hoarse voice trying to scream his name. He watched the world around him begin to fade from the red haze he had come to despise to a dull grey. The last thing he remembered was the slow trickle of Sheppard’s blood coating the back of his hand.
He awoke to white noise surrounding him, suffocating him. His eyes wouldn’t cooperate and open and the rest of his body was joining in the revolt so he was forced to lay still desperately trying to hear around the noise and figure out where the hell he was. He stopped believing in Heaven a long time ago and hoped to whatever passed as God in this world that he wasn’t in hell because despite not believing in Heaven anymore he was sure there was a hell. Sure there was because he could still see his best friend’s body and knowing he was gone and knowing he was still here proved hell existed.
The white noise increased and the blackness behind his lids encroached even closer—his body felt numb—no pain…nothing. He suddenly felt as if he were buried alive, his heart hammering in his chest, his lungs painfully trying to suck in more precious oxygen. That’s when he felt it—a hand on his arm, holding him down. Panic filled him and he tried frantically to escape the touch fearing he was still on the planet, still in the clutches of the people who had murdered his best friend, but his body was still numb and wouldn’t respond to his mind screaming for his limbs to move, God Dammit!
Then he was floating the panic he felt moments before being replaced by a numbness of not only body but mind as well. He felt himself being pulled towards the darkness and he welcomed it. He didn’t want to be awake in his mind, thinking about who he lost, about the things he would never have the chance to say—he didn’t want to be awake…he wished he had died that day instead, wished whoever was hovering over him would just let him go…
Very nice!
Date: 2005-04-28 12:58 pm (UTC)You know, I'm really coming to love darkfic in this universe. I'm kind of sick of it in the SG-1 uni, but Rodney... man, that boy needs dark, I think. The untapped darkness of Rodney McKay *g*.
This was wonderful! Very compact and painful and self-contained, while still leaving ample room for it to be expanded both forward and backward. I hope you do expand it, by the way--I for one would love to read it!
Thanks for brightening (or, you know, darkening) my morning!
Re: Very nice!
Date: 2005-04-28 01:17 pm (UTC)I do hope to expand it--perhaps when I finish the rest of my WIPs:P
I agree--Rodney just entices the dark bunnies ;)
(no subject)
Date: 2005-04-29 09:09 am (UTC)Jo
(no subject)
Date: 2005-04-29 09:56 am (UTC)