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sga_flashficTitle: Above All Else
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif){kind=small}
badwolf36
Pairing: McShep- can be read as friendship
Rating: R
Warnings: Mentioned torture
Summary: Surviving was the number one rule in the Pegasus galaxy. And that meant surviving not just the physical wounds.
Notes: New to
The privacy lock was engaged on Rodney’s door when John waved his hand over the door panel and heard the resulting pleasant chime within. He knew Rodney was in his room, without even having to run his normal circuit of the labs, the mess, and the control room.
Ronon and Teyla had escorted the scientist to his quarters from the infirmary an hour ago; the pair of them tenderly frog-marching him to his room and settling him before they went to inform Zelenka and the other scientists that they were to report to them immediately if McKay was spotted in the labs. They had then calmly explained to John that he wasn’t to disturb the other man unless a Wraith was knocking at his door- Teyla had done this with the bit if steel in her voice that reminded John that she had led the Athosians for many years; Ronon had merely thumbed the switch on his gun to “stun”. Normally, his team’s protectiveness of one of their members would have made John’s heart swell with pride.
This time, it frustrated him to all hell.
He waved his hand over the door panel again, once again hearing the chime. When his calls weren’t answered, he asked Atlantis to open the door for him- and it would never stop being cool that he could open doors with his mind- but to his surprise, she refused to do so.
“Ronon and Teyla get to you too?” he asked aloud, tugging down his black T-shirt in order to resist flipping off the inanimate console.
There was no response, although he did get a feeling of unease in the back of his mind.
“Please? It’s Rodney.” The unease lingered, but he felt the moment when Atlantis acquiesced to his request. There was a metallic click and then the familiar whoosh as Rodney’s door slid open. John stepped just inside the doorframe, allowing his eyes to adjust to the partial darkness. The lights were off, but weak sunlight still streamed in through the gauzy window coverings.
It highlighted the pale, curled figure on the bed, who hadn’t even acknowledged John’s presence.
“Rodney?”
John didn’t move from his spot, taking the time and the silence to study his friend. Rodney had abandoned his scrubs for a threadbare, short-sleeved Northwestern T-shirt and a well-loved pair of gray sweats. He hadn’t even bothered to get under the covers of his bed. The flickering sunlight deepened the circles under his eyes and made the matching pair of stark white bandages that encircled his crossed wrists stand out all the more.
“Rodney?”
“Go away,” he heard Rodney whisper.
“It’s John, buddy.”
“I know that. Who else would Atlantis roll over like a whore for?” Rodney snapped without passion.
“I think you’re mixing metaphors there a bit, but point taken.”
“Good. Point taken. That means you’ll go away.” Rodney hadn’t opened his eyes for the entire exchange, but he cracked them now, waiting for the moment when John actually went away.
It gave John another observation to base his friend’s condition on, because even with just a slight peek of the blue irises, he could see how dull and glassy they were.
John shuddered. He’d seen those eyes before. And they’d always belonged to men who were dead or dieing.
“You aren’t going away,” Rodney said, trying to inject a note of arrogance into his voice and failing.
“I’m glad to see your genius isn’t failing you,” John snarked, expecting to receive the standard jibe in return. He didn’t expect to see the look of absolute disgust on McKay’s face before the other man shut his eyes again.
“Just leave, Colonel. You can harass me another day. Go let Ronon and Teyla beat you with sticks.” It was a last ditch attempt to get him to leave and they both knew it. John walked further into the room and sat down in the “V” of space between Rodney’s legs and his chest.
“I think there’s something you’re not telling me about the mission McKay.”
“The debrief is tomorrow, Colonel. Is that not soon enough for you? Besides, Ronon and Teyla already told you what happened.”
“They gave me the bare outline. They didn’t explain…this.” John lightly trailed his forefinger over the bandage on Rodney’s left wrist until the other man jerked away from him. All Ronon and Teyla had said was that McKay had saved their lives and been hurt in the process.
“I’m under infirmary orders to rest. This is not restful.”
John snorted; couldn’t stop himself. “You’ve never followed infirmary orders McKay. Ever. So don’t use that excuse.”
“John. Please.” And the request was so plaintive, so un-Rodney-like that John almost walked out of the room, an apology ready on his lips.
The apology stayed, but so did he. “I’m sorry Rodney, but I have to know. Wounds like these…they don’t just happen.”
Rodney attempted to curl further into himself, but John was in the way. He stopped moving, but left his thighs butted up against the side of John’s own. Keeping his eyes clenched shut, he started speaking in the hollow voice that John had come to know intimately; as Rodney’s voice always slipped into that range after one of their colleagues had died.
“The Plinarians tried to take you away once all hell broke loose. I remember that. They grabbed us as hostages to use against you. Stunned us immediately. They dragged us to this little armory room, although it had a bit of a different purpose.”
Rodney shifted his hands, trying to illustrate his story with the flailing motions he was accustomed to, but he stopped when the bandages rubbed against one another. “They stunned us all then. When I woke up, Teyla and Ronon were both in manacles. You believe that, Colonel? Freaking manacles. If Pegasus gets anymore happy with the old Earth playbook, we’ll be volunteered for gladiator duty on our next mission. They had me chained to this pedestal thing. And the way it was set up…apparently the Plinarians like their prisoners to share in the fun of their own torture and…”
There was a soft choking noise and Rodney took a long moment to catch his breath. John let his hand rest against the kneecap closest to him, his thumb brushing back and forth rhythmically.
“Two knives set into the pedestal and I don’t know how they figured out the positioning of the wrists and hands but they did and any little movement put enough pressure to split skin and we didn’t know what had happened to you and they put me in that thing because they figured I was the weakest when it came to pain and…”
“Jesus, Rodney,” John whispered.
“And then Tek came into the room. You know, the one you said reminded you of a “Batman” villain reject? He came into the room with this little contingent of followers. All the important people. Come to see the valuable hostages from off-world. And he said they were hunting you down. And then this message gets piped into the room and we all thought you were dead.”
It had been a poor move at the time, since John had then managed to pull a McKay and trace the radio signal back to its source, knocking out communications for the whole city. He hadn’t realized who the message had really been for.
“And I asked myself what you would do and I couldn’t come up with anything. I knew you’d do something heroic if it was you, but I just couldn’t think. And Tek just kept repeating that you were dead, over and over, and how he was going to keep Teyla for his very own and they were going to, God, I think they were going to dismember Ronon and I, I, oh God.”
John Sheppard had taken care of enough people in his lifetime to recognize the sound of imminent retching. Looking around frantically, he was grateful to find a half-empty metal waste bin within reach. Rodney didn’t bring up much, but the dry heaving left him shaking for several minutes. It was only after John had retrieved a glass of water and a few pain pills from the bathroom that Rodney even started to calm.
Rodney took them both, sipping the water slowly to avoid a repeat vomiting. He handed the glass back to John and collapsed back onto the bed, resuming his former position, this time staring blankly at the wall across from him. John sat down again, resuming his stroking of McKay’s knee and using his other hand to get-what he hoped- was a comforting grip on the man’s bicep.
“He kept asking me what Atlantis’ gate address was and how much Teyla and Ronon meant to me. He started to move on Teyla and the others were just watching and you want to know the stupid thing? All I could think of was Kolya and why all these bastards like to use sharp things and other people to make me do whatever the hell it is they want this week!”
“Rodney, it’s okay,” John said, squeezing McKay’s arm.
“No, it is not okay!” Rodney yelled, twisting in John’s grip and slamming his fists into the mattress. “It is not okay when I think you’re dead, again. It is not okay when people threaten my team and try to get me to betray my home, again. It is not okay when I can’t think of a solution that won’t get us hurt, again. It. Is. Not. Okay!” Rodney punctuated each word of the last statement with another pound of his fists.
“Rodney…”
“Oww,” Rodney whimpered, curling up again.
“Shit,” John said succinctly as he saw the pink seeping through Rodney’s wrist bandages, the center of the stain already deepening to crimson. “Where’s your first aid kit?”
“Bathroom,” Rodney said, picking at the edge of the bandage on his right wrist.
Retrieving it, John returned to the bedroom and knelt down on the floor. “Sit up buddy.”
“I really didn’t know what else to do,” Rodney said, presenting his hands palm up to John, although whether in supplication or to make it easier for John to re-bandage neither of them were sure.
“It’s oka…well, it’s not okay, but it will be, right?” John amended.
Rodney just snorted, eyes fixed firmly in John’s hair as John unwound the gauze from around his left wrist.
“Christ.” The jagged gash in the scientist’s wrist was enough to make John realize just why the man had started throwing up. He unwrapped the other bandage and found an even more jagged mess in the pale flesh.
“I jerked my wrists up,” Rodney said quietly. “I just kept jerking until the other restraints gave way. It hurt. God, it burned; like fire just racing everywhere. And the…I’m not really sure what happened in between. Ask Ronon. But I had one of the knives in my hand. I must have gotten it from the pedestal. I think they could change out the blades or something and Colonel, I think I’m bleeding on you.”
“What?” John looked up, torn away from the story by Rodney’s observation.
“Bleeding on you. Sorry.” And he did look genuinely sorry, trying to tug his wrists out of John’s hands. John tightened his grip minutely before letting go of one hand to grab an alcohol wipe.
“Cold water should get it out. Don’t worry about it.”
“Never could figure out the “cold” setting on the Ancient washing machines,” Rodney grumbled. He hissed slightly as John pressed the wipe to his wrist, trying to pull away from the sting.
“Stay still,” John said, unknowingly slipping a bit of his field command tone into the order. Rodney immediately stilled, practically going limp after a moment.
John had to strain to hear Rodney when he spoke again. “I held a knife against a woman’s throat.”
And John suddenly understood why his team, the infirmary staff, and Atlantis herself had tried to keep him away from Rodney.
“I held a knife against her throat and demanded that they let us go. And when they tried to get closer, I, I, I pressed the knife in until she bled Sheppard. I did that. Not Kolya or the Wraith or any other sick bastard. Me.”
“But they let you go,” John returned quietly as he neatly bound one wrist.
“Like it matters.”
“What’s the number one rule of the Pegasus galaxy, Rodney?” John asked as he started working on cleaning and wrapping the other wound. He looked up to see Rodney clenching his jaw. “Tell me what it is Rodney. I want to hear it from your mouth.”
“Survive,” Rodney said finally. “Above all else, survive.”
“Exactly. You did what you had to do to get your team out of a dangerous situation so you could survive. I could never ask more of that from you.”
“You weren’t around to ask,” Rodney reminded him. “You were dead.”
“I’m not dead, Rodney.”
“I know that,” he snapped. “Doesn’t mean that you don’t keep trying.”
Capturing Rodney’s re-bandaged wrists; John slid his hands down until they pressed both of Rodney’s hands between his own. “Listen to me McKay. I’m not dead. None of us are. You, me, Teyla, and Ronon. We all made it off that damn planet alive. And I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you. I’m sorry you felt that that was the only choice you could make. But Rodney,” he said, waiting until Rodney lifted his head and looked him in the eye, “you did what you had to do to save your team. I can say it over and over again until it finally penetrates that big brain of yours. You did what you had to do to survive. And yeah, you hurt someone to do it. But you didn’t kill her, right?”
John suffered an intense moment of vertigo when he realized he didn’t know the answer to that question. Rodney had been covered in blood when he found Ronon carrying him to the gate, Teyla fending off their pursuers with her recovered P-90. He had been so high on the adrenaline of his own escape that it hadn’t even occurred to him to question if the blood was only Rodney’s. And then the world abruptly righted itself when he heard a small “no”.
He released Rodney and the scientist flopped down and curled into himself again, his back facing John. Neither of them acknowledged the fact that his breath was hitching unsteadily and he kept wiping at his face with the corner of his pillowcase. John cleaned up the medical wrappers and put the first aid kit back in the bathroom, taking extra time to empty and rinse the waste bin that had served as an emesis basin.
By the time he returned to Rodney’s side, the man’s breathing had settled into a rhythm nearing sleep. John made to slip out, but couldn’t quite bring himself to, knowing that he’d broken McKay and hadn’t put him back together. Rodney took the choice out of his hands.
“I miss my cat,” he said, apropos of nothing.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Stupid, right?”
John sat down on the edge of the bed, in the crook of Rodney’s legs. “It’s not stupid Rodney. It’s really not.”
“I don’t miss Earth. Not really.”
“Me either. Atlantis is home. Huh, never thought I’d say that sentence in my lifetime.”
“Yeah. This is home now, isn’t it?” He sighed softly. “I still miss my cat. And you want to know the funniest part?”
“What’s that?”
“His name was Kirk because he was such a ladies’ cat. And now I’ve got you.”
John chuckled, moving his arm so he could rest a hand on Rodney’s elbow. “Don’t expect me to meow.”
“Nice kitty,” Rodney said, unable to stop John from feeling the suppressed mirth that ran through his body. They sat in silence for a few moments, the air still thick but at least tolerable now.
“Sheppard?”
“Yeah?” And John just knew from the hesitant tone he wasn’t going to like what he heard next.
Rodney held up his wrists in a helpless gesture. “I’m so tired, John. I can’t…maybe I meant…”
John stiffened, catching all the extra implications of that little statement. “Don’t Rodney. Don’t you dare.”
“I hurt her Sheppard. She was just someone in the crowd and I made her bleed; just kept pressing and pressing and pressing and…”
“Rodney!”
And the other man was shaking, fine tremors that vibrated up John’s arm. “I didn’t want to die. I don’t want to die. But I keep trying so hard and it’s not enough, it’s never enough, and you keep getting hurt and everyone we know keeps dieing and I can’t protect you, I can’t save any of you and it’s so hard to not beabletofixthisandIthinkIhonestlytriedtokillmyselfJohn.”
The last bit came out in a jumbled rush which only stopped because it was choked by sobs.
It took John only one moment of seeing his friend broken and sobbing before he made a decision. Unbidden, memories of a discussion that seemed ages ago surfaced in his mind, of a time when his best friend had been trapped on the bottom of the ocean in a puddlejumper that could have very well been his casket. He heard
He shucked his boots in record time and grabbed the folded Athosian blanket from the foot of Rodney’s bed. The latter he shook out over the sobbing man before he slipped under the blanket behind him, spooning up to Rodney’s back.
“It’s not okay Rodney. I get that.” Rodney gasped and John slung a hand over his chest, seeking out Rodney’s hand until the scientist threaded his fingers through John’s wandering ones. “But scars heal,” John said, pressing his forearm firmly against Rodney’s own, knowing exactly where the thin white scar from Kolya was. “People heal. Skin knits back together and we move on with our lives.
“But what if I was really trying to…?”
“You weren’t.”
“But…”
“You weren’t Rodney. I know you. You weren’t. You did what you did because you were trying to save your team. And you did. Nothing else beyond that matters.”
John waited until Rodney’s sobs subsided into hiccups and his hiccups subsided into quiet breathing, interjecting soothing words and reassurances to any of the weak protests Rodney managed to raise. John was again thinking of slipping out and leaving Rodney to get some sleep when he spoke.
“John?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you,” Rodney whispered.
“You’re welcome,” John said, just as quietly.
“John?”
“Yeah?”
“Could I…do you think I could borrow some wristbands from you? I mean, if you have any extras? I don’t want anyone else to see these and start getting ideas.” He started picking nervously at the edge of one of the bandages. “I mean, well, you know, and Teyla and Ronon, and everyone who was in the infirmary and everyone who was in the Gate room but…”
John decided to take mercy and cut him off, flexing the fingers that were still threaded with Rodney’s own to stop his babble. “It’s fine Rodney. I’ve got a few spares in my quarters. I’ll bring them to you. That is, if you think you can stand the humiliation of being accused of copying my style.” John grinned, and then held his breath, waiting to see if he had his Rodney back.
And he was relieved when he could practically feel Rodney’s answering grin. “Shut up and be a nice kitty, Kirk.”
John stopped thinking of leaving, snuggling further into the warm, alive- so alive- body next to him. “Good night Rodney.”
“Good night John.”
(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-25 08:41 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-29 01:01 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-25 09:16 am (UTC)Poor Rodney. No wonder he was traumatised.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-29 01:02 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-25 12:34 pm (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 2008-06-25 12:59 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-29 01:04 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-25 04:26 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-29 01:06 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-25 11:37 pm (UTC)(But excellent story!)
(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-29 01:06 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-26 12:41 am (UTC)I love this:
“You weren’t around to ask,” Rodney reminded him. “You were dead.”
“I’m not dead, Rodney.”
“I know that,” he snapped. “Doesn’t mean that you don’t keep trying.”
(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-29 01:09 am (UTC)P.S. And yeah, that bit of dialogue kind of wrote itself.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-26 12:14 pm (UTC)Very beautiful and heartbreaking. I loved how broken Rodney was and John's care of him.
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Date: 2008-06-29 01:11 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-11-21 05:46 am (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 2010-07-21 05:40 am (UTC)