SGA Ficlet
Feb. 13th, 2006 11:07 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
piploverOk, its not LoTR. I have to admit, I have been sucked into the world of Stargate Atlantis, and have been for some time. However, do not worry, my LoTR friends, I am still writing Pippin fanfic. But the depression I've been battling agianst for the past year has made it increasingly hard to write Pippin in situatins that aren't all doom and gloom.
So, as an alternative, I am writing SGA fic, allowing me to keep Pippin as I envision him: still innocent despite all he has seen and done.
That being said, for those of you brave enough, here is one of the few SGA fics I've been brave enough to write and post over on Wraithbait: Fading.
Enjoy!
He was one of the new ones from the Daedalus, only in Atlantis for a month. Beckett had to wonder how the hell he had ever made it past the screenings.
“Lad, I know yer stressed right now, but this isn’t the way to go about-“
“Stop talking!” the young man shouted, pulling the hammer back on the gun he held to his temple, the whites of his eyes clear as he stared about his quarters wildly. “Everyone just shut up! Leave me alone!”
“We can’t do that,” Kate Heightmeyer murmured soothingly, inching forward with an upraised arm, her movements slow and cautious.
Outside the doorway, the young man could see Colonel Sheppard and three marines standing by, weapons ready in case the gun was turned on anyone but himself. He shifted slightly, gripping the gun tighter. They didn’t have anything to worry about. His was the only life he wanted to end.
“What the hell is going on?” a strident voice demanded, and the young scientist could see identical winces appear on every face. It was almost enough to make him laugh.
“Not now, McKay!” he heard Sheppard hiss.
He thought the Colonel should have known better. Even he knew better, and he had only been on Atlantis a short time.
“Dr. McKay, please do not interfere!” Heightmeyer growled.
He knew they were all thinking the same thing: that it was partly McKay’s fault he was in this position, and having him enter the situation was like adding gas to a fire. But he had never found Dr. McKay stressful. He always knew where he stood with the man, for good or bad.
“Let him stay,” the young man managed to quaver out, his grip tightening on the gun as McKay came into sight, elbowing past Sheppard with a scowl.
“Edding?” McKay asked, squinting slightly into the darkness of the room, moving forward slowly.
“Edwards,” the young man whispered, his lips twitching slightly into a small smile. McKay never got anyone’s name right.
“Whatever. What are you doing?” McKay demanded, crossing his arms over his chest. He seemed more angry than anything else.
Outside the room, Edwards saw Sheppard cover his eyes with his hand, mouthing a curse.
“Well, I was going to blow my brains out, but someone found out and now everyone is trying to stop me,” Edwards replied. He had learned the first day that brutal honesty was the one thing that McKay respected in a person, whether he liked them or not, and was the most likely thing to get a response from the other man that didn’t involve foul language.
“Oh, for the love of – “ McKay sighed, glaring around the room. “Are you all just going to stand there?” he demanded. When no one moved he pursed his lips, glaring at Heightmeyer and Beckett before turning back to Edwards, snapping his fingers. “Give me the gun.”
Edwards’ mouth dropped open, his grip relaxing a fraction in shock before he tightened
it once more.
“I can’t,” he managed to mumble, backing up a step. “Please, Dr. McKay, just leave. You don’t understand –“
“The hell I don’t!” McKay growled, taking another step forward. “What? You think you’re the only one who ever felt like they were standing on the edge of a cliff? That one word, one *thought* would tip you over? I don’t think so. Now give me the gun right now or they’re never going to leave you alone.”
“Dr. McKay – “ Edwards tried again, then stopped, uncertain what he was going to say.
“That’s it. Everybody out!” Rodney bellowed, startling everyone within the room. When neither Heightmeyer nor Beckett made to leave, he grabbed both their arms and forcefully dragged them out the door. “And stay out until I tell you to come back in,” he snapped, closing the door in their faces before removing the crystals from the door lock and turning back to face the young man.
“Now that the peanut gallery is gone,” he said, crossing his arms and glaring at Edwards.
“Would you mind putting the gun down? You haven’t exactly had a lot of practice with firearms and I would really hate to be shot by accident.”
Too stunned to do anything else, Edwards complied, gazing at the other man in shocked silence.
“Now sit,” McKay ordered, snapping his fingers once more and pointing to the bed. Edwards sat, the handgun hanging loosely from his suddenly lax fingers. Before he could gather his thoughts, though, McKay had moved so that he was only a few feet from the young man’s legs, bending at the waist so the two of them were practically nose to nose.
“I’m only going to say this once, so listen well.” Rodney’s voice was soft, no trace of his earlier impatience or sarcasm in the serious tone. “If you really wanted to kill yourself, then a few spectators wouldn’t have made a difference and you would have pulled that trigger. As you’re still breathing, then you obviously had second thoughts. So let’s clear something up right now.”
Rodney’s eyes bored into Edwards’, the intensity causing the young man to swallow audibly.
“The next time you get it into your head to kill yourself, you had better do it right, or I’ll do it for you. I’ve lost too many people to have to deal with a brain-dead vegetable, and I’m too busy to be talking you down every time you get it into your skull that the world is too much.”
Edwards felt himself bending backward as McKay leaned forward, unable to take his eyes off the other man.
“I know that dealing with Heightmeyer is enough to make anyone think about killing themselves, and she probably doesn’t have a clue what you’re going through, which is why you didn’t go to her. Beckett and Sheppard, on the other hand, actually give a damn about the people around here, and you can bet I’m going to get a lecture the likes of which even I would be proud of when we open that door again. But for right now, it’s just you and me. So I’m going to talk, and you are going to listen, is that understood?”
Edwards nodded, his throat suddenly tight and painful. It seemed to be enough, however, because McKay slowly straightened, taking a step back, then another, though his eyes never left those of the young scientist.
“I know what it feels like to be standing on that ledge.” Rodney’s voice had suddenly become very soft, forcing Edwards to lean forward to catch the words. “Only I tried to overdose on Trazodone. Luckily for both of us, I failed.”
McKay shifted, uncrossing and then crossing his arms once more. His expression was unreadable in the shadows.
“You graduated first in your class, spent two years at the SGC helping Dr. Jackson and Samantha Carter with their findings. You are, by all accounts, a genius.”
“IQ of 200,” Edwards whispered before he could stop himself. He was slightly surprised when Dr. McKay merely nodded his head, continuing in the same, soft voice.
“Those of us smarter than the rest of the apes we have to deal with on a daily basis don’t adjust well. We spend our whole lives seeking ways to fit in, trying to change our thoughts and patterns to suit those around us. Very seldom does it work.”
Now McKay moved, walking over to the closed window and slowly parting the curtains that had been a welcoming gift from one of the Athosians. For long moments the only sound in the room was Edwards’ harsh breathing, the young scientist valiantly trying to keep the sudden tears in his eyes from falling.
“It’s not easy being down in that hole, Edwards,” McKay said suddenly, startling him into looking up, wiping a hand hastily across his cheeks. “But you aren’t there alone. We all fall down sooner or later.” McKay moved again, letting the thick drapes fall closed before moving back to the door. “Next time, find somebody who knows the way out. It’s a lot easier than trying to climb the walls by yourself.”
There was a moment of silence, then a small click and the door whooshed open. Heightmeyer, Beckett and Sheppard all fell in, as though they had been leaning against the door, with Dr. Zelenka a few feet back, peering over their heads disdainfully. Edwards, stunned by the suddenly loud voices demanding to know what was going on and the people pressing around him, nearly missed the glance shared between the two scientists as McKay exited.
But when they turned that knowing gaze his way, he nodded, once, and for the first time remembered he was still holding the gun in his hand. He allowed it to drop to the floor with a heavy thump.
Without another glance, McKay turned his back and left the chaos behind him, Edwards watching his stiff figure disappear down the hall. It was only as he was being marched to the infirmary, Beckett on one side, Heightmeyer on the other, that he wondered how McKay had found his way out of the darkness.
Or if he was still trying to.
**************
The pills had been light in his hand; a fact oddly disappointing. Such small things, held jumbled together on his palm like so much candy. It had seemed wrong that something about to be the imminent cause of his death was no larger than the average M&M.
Then again, a sip of orange juice would have brought about the same result, only more painfully. He never had been one for pain.
The Trazodone had tasted bitter, the pills sticking to his tongue with chalk like consistency. It had taken a full glass to get them down, followed by another just to get rid of the taste. It had soothed some of his disappointment that at least the taste of death was not sweet.
Zelenka had found him, the peace offering of alcohol fresh from the still shattering into a million pieces from stunned fingers, puddles of amber liquid overlooked in the desperate search for a pulse.
Beckett had pumped his stomach, of course. Given him activated charcoal, among other treatments, and sat by his bed until the worst of the danger had passed. Rodney still wasn’t certain how Zelenka had managed to convince Beckett to respond to his frantic call by himself, but he was infinitely grateful that he had.
As far as he was aware, only Beckett, Zelenka, Weir and Heightmeyer knew the events of that night.
Now, sitting in the dim light of his quarters, arms crossed tightly around his chest, he waited, knowing it was only a matter of time before Beckett or Sheppard came to him, demanding to know what the hell he had been thinking.
“Dr. McKay, you are needed in the infirmary.”
Beckett first, then.
Sighing, he smoothed a hand over his shirt nervously before casting one last look about the room, though he could not say what he was looking for. He was unsurprised to find a marine waiting patiently outside his doorway when it opened.
***
The mood of the infirmary was subdued, the lights dimmed and the voices hushed. McKay found it irritating, as though the people were afraid to spook the mentally disturbed Eddings. Edwards. Whatever.
As if speaking in a soft voice and keeping the lights low was going to make him feel better about holding a gun to his head, McKay thought sourly.
The marine beside him said nothing as they made their way to Beckett’s office, where two forms could be seen moving behind the privacy blinds. One of the shadow figures was definitely Beckett, the doctor’s stocky form moving restlessly. The other had a distinctly recognizable mop of hair that would have put Sonic the Hedgehog to shame.
Uh – oh.
“Sir,” the marine murmured, opening the door to the office with a sympathetic wince, gesturing for Rodney to enter.
“Thanks,” Rodney muttered, swallowing hard as he left the shadows of the main infirmary for the harsh light of Beckett’s personal domain.
He had not been prepared to deal with both men at the same time, and found himself suddenly wary under their harsh glares. The door behind him closed quickly.
Coward, he thought, even if he did wish to join him.
“Rodney, sit down,” Beckett ordered, and there was no leeway in the doctor’s tone, or in the dark eyes that were boring into him. Beside him, Sheppard stood with arms crossed, his own glare sharp enough to draw blood.
Without speaking, figuring that silence was as good a self defense as any, he waited, fidgeting slightly when the silence lengthened, the two men before him shifting until both seemed to loom over him. When did he become the bad guy again?
“Look, I don’t know what the problem is. I stopped him from putting a bullet in his brain, I would have thought you would be appreciative, not go all Torquemada on me!” Rodney began, tossing his silent theory out the window.
“Shut up, McKay,” Sheppard growled, and something in the set of his jaw had Rodney swallowing hard, leaning back slightly in his chair. “Beckett and I have been talking, and there seems to be something you haven’t told me.”
Before he could stop himself, Rodney found his gaze going to Beckett, the betrayal hitting him in the gut like a fist.
“I didn’t tell him what happened, Rodney,” Beckett answered the unspoken question, but there was no apology in his tone. “I did, however, tell him there were a few things you had neglected to inform your team leader about.”
Ok, that was a low blow, McKay decided. Using his position as a member of Sheppard’s team to make him feel guilty was really a crappy thing to do, even if it was a damned good opening gambit.
“So, McKay,” Sheppard drawled, moving slightly so he stood just out of Rodney’s personal space. “Want to fill me in on a few things? Or perhaps you would like to tell me just what the hell you were thinking, walking into a room with an armed man without any kind of protection?”
He had heard from some of the marines that when Sheppard was pissed, he didn’t yell. He had found it odd that they had considered that more frightening than his own patented form of leadership. Now, staring nervously from one man to the other, Sheppard’s gaze boring into him like an ice pick, he suddenly found himself understanding what they had meant.
“Look, Colonel,” he began, clenching his hands self consciously against the arms of the chair.
“No, Rodney.” Beckett’s voice was soft, yet sharp enough to cut through any argument the scientist may have used. “No more bullshite. You tell us the truth, or I put you in a bed right next to Edwards.”
“Wh- what?” Rodney demanded, looking from Sheppard to Beckett in sudden confusion, a knot of dread slowly forming in his stomach. “What do you mean by that?”
“Just what he said,” Sheppard growled. “Because, seriously, if you have a death wish, I really think I need to know about it before we go on any more missions. Or did you simply want to play the hero?” he added, a sudden gleam coming into the Colonel’s eyes that Rodney did not like at all. “What was it, McKay? Another chance to prove you were smarter than everyone else again?”
”Shut UP!” Rodney bellowed.
He was standing, fists clenched tightly at his sides, unaware of moving. A small part of him was thrilled when Sheppard took a step back, his eyes wary. Beside him, he could sense Beckett moving, perhaps to call for help, or to try and sedate him. Rage boiled up in his chest, tightening his throat and making it suddenly hard to breath.
“It wasn’t like that!” he managed to grit out, his gaze landing on Carson in half plea, half accusation. “How can you let him say that? How can you even think I would do that?” he demanded. Something wet trickled down his cheek, burning his skin. He rounded on Sheppard, wishing he was quicker, if just to land one solid punch on that scowling face. “I know you hate me, but do you really think I’m that petty?”
And just like that, all the rage and fight melted out of him, leaving him sitting in the chair with no idea how he got there, face in his hands as he struggled against the crushing weight in his chest.
“Rodney, calm down, lad,” Beckett murmured, cool fingers pressing lightly against his wrist, another touching his shoulder. “Sheppard was just trying to get a reaction out of you, that’s all. You scared the daylights out of us, lad, aye, and pissed us off right proper, too.”
McKay found himself bringing in a shuddering breath, wet and labored, even as a paper cup was pressed into his hand. He looked up, saw Sheppard staring down at him with anger and hurt conflicting in those hazel eyes.
“Tell me what I’m supposed to think, McKay,” he whispered, crouching down so his face was even with the scientist’s, the force of his gaze enough to draw another ragged, forced breath. “You barge in on a situation that you knew nothing about, manhandled the docs out of there, then slammed the door in our faces. How the hell am I not supposed to be upset about that, huh?”
“You could have trusted me,” McKay whispered brokenly, unable to meet either man’s gaze.
For a long moment the room was silent, filled only with the sound of McKay’s broken breathing and the soft hiss of material as Sheppard moved, not leaving his crouch but shifting so his weight was on his left knee.
“Rodney,” Beckett finally sighed, his grip tightening on his friend’s shoulder. “I think its time you trusted the Colonel, yourself.”
The water fell from his numb fingers, even as he buried his face in his hands. The breath he dragged into his lungs was more of a sob, shaking his whole body.
“I didn’t want you to know,” he finally whispered, hating how hoarse and raw his voice sounded, but unable to stop the words pouring from his mouth. “I didn’t want you to think that it was your fault, or, or, or that you should have known,” he stammered.
“Jesus, Rodney,” Sheppard hissed, and suddenly another hand was on his shoulder, squeezing so tightly it was almost painful. “What –“ Sheppard’s voice broke, and after a ragged breath of his own, he tried again. “What did you do?”
“Trazodone,” Rodney whispered. He lowered his hands, clenching them tightly against his thighs, unable to look up, to meet the other’s gaze. “Radek found me.”
“When was this?” Sheppard demanded, and now there was anger in his voice as well as hurt.
When Rodney didn’t answer right away, Beckett blew out a slow breath before saying, “Three months ago, after – “
“…Duranda,” Sheppard finished for him. “Jesus, Rodney!”
“Easy, John,” Beckett murmured.
There was more movement, whispers to low to make out, and the sound of the door opening. For a moment he thought they had left him, either too angry or hurt to continue the interrogation, or whatever this was. His chest ached, and a distant part of his brain wondered if he was having a heart attack. Then the door opened again, and something cool and wet touched the back of his neck, startling Rodney’s head up and away.
“Easy, Rodney,” Becket soothed, placing the washcloth back on Rodney’s neck. “John went to get you something to eat. Give you a few minutes to calm down.”
“He hates me,” Rodney rasped. He wondered tiredly how his world had gone downhill so fast.
“No, Rodney, he doesn’t,” Beckett assured him, with so much conviction in his voice that McKay had no choice but to believe him. “He’s worried and upset, and aye, probably a might pissed at you, but he doesn’t hate you.”
They sat in silence for several minutes, though there was nothing awkward or uncomfortable between them. Rodney used the washcloth to wipe the remaining tear stains from his cheeks; thankful Beckett ignored the silent ablutions. By the time Sheppard returned, a trey filled with fruit, cheese, and crackers in his hands, McKay had himself mostly composed.
None of them spoke as they ate, the air heavy with all the things unsaid. Only when the trey was empty and set aside did Sheppard speak, his voice tight and controlled.
“I’m not gonna tell you I understand why you did it,” he began. “Or that I’m not pretty pissed about it. But I am going to say this.” He paused, waiting until Rodney met his gaze, his own deadly serious. “I don’t ever want you to think that something is so bad between us that you can’t come to me. Or that I wouldn’t miss you a hell of a lot if you suddenly disappeared. Ok?”
Rodney swallowed thickly, unable to force the words past the lump in his throat, nodding his head instead.
“Ok,” Sheppard sighed. He sat back slightly, giving Rodney a bit more space. “Now, you want to tell me what the hell you were thinking earlier?”
“Aye, I think I’d like to know that as well,” Beckett grumped, scowling at his friend as the doctor crossed his arms. “As if having one suicidal man wasn’t enough, I suddenly had to deal with the possibility of two!”
“Oh, please,” Rodney sighed, some of his earlier irritation returning. “I already told you I wouldn’t try again. And I’ve been seeing Heightmeyer,” he added, shuddering. “If that doesn’t convince you, I don’t know what will. Although, seriously, she hasn’t got a clue!”
“Oh, I don’t know, McKay,” Sheppard sighed, drawing his friend’s name out. “Seems that’s kind of what she gets paid for.”
The look McKay turned on the other man would have melted ice.
“Please. Why do you think I shoved Tweedledee and – “
“Hey!” Beckett protested, earning a slightly apologetic look and a grumbled “sorry.”
“Anyway, trust me on this. The last thing Eddings –“
“Edwards,” Sheppard and Beckett corrected simultaneously.
“Whatever. The last thing he needed was to be talked to like he was ten. He was thinking of blowing his brains out, not piddling on the carpet.”
“Did you just say piddling on the carpet?” Sheppard asked, a slight gleam of humor in his eye earning a smile.
“Yes, I did. And if you listened to the way that woman talks, you’d know what I mean. It’s enough to make anyone want to blow their brains out, let alone someone with a gun in their hand.”
“Don’t you think you’re being a bit cruel?” Beckett asked, though in all honestly, he had been having the same thoughts himself while in the room.
“He didn’t need condescension, Carson,” McKay snapped. “He needed somebody who understood where he was coming from and didn’t talk to him like he was a simpering moron. The man has an IQ of 200, for crying out loud. Do you really think talking to him like he was an idiot was going to get anywhere?”
“And you, of course, never talk to him like he’s an idiot,” Sheppard muttered, earning another dark glare.
“That’s different. That’s me letting him know that if he doesn’t get his calculations correct whole sections of the city can blow up. I never once treated him like he didn’t understand what I was saying,” Rodney growled defensively. “And no offense to you, Carson, but you were trying to treat him like he was a sick puppy, not a human who knew damn well what he was doing. I did, which is why I kicked you both out.”
Rodney took a deep breath, closing his eyes against the slightly hurt look Beckett cast his way.
“Neither one of you, as far as I know, has ever been on that ledge, wondering if the wind is going to be enough to hold you up. What Edwards needed was someone to let him know that it wasn’t. That he needs to hold on with both hands and his teeth if he wants to keep from falling.”
Rodney looked up once more, the dark circles under his eyes accentuating the red flush to his cheeks.
“Sometimes, all it takes is knowing that someone is standing on that ledge with you. That’s what I offered him. I’m sorry I scared you, but really, there wasn’t –“
“It’s ok, Rodney,” Sheppard murmured, startling McKay into closing his mouth and staring at the Colonel with something close to confusion. “Just – “ Sheppard ran a hand through his hair as he stood, though his gaze did not leave that of the scientist. “Just don’t go falling off that ledge with him, ok?”
Rodney nodded, stunned, and watched as his friend nodded once to Beckett before leaving, the door closing with a whispered hiss behind him.
“Is that it?” Rodney finally asked after a minute had passed in which neither of them had moved. “Am I free to go?”
“Aye, you can go. Just don’t forget to talk to Heightmeyer tomorrow, or I’ll have to drag you down there myself,” Beckett sighed. “And no argument. I’m tired, Rodney.”
“Ok,” McKay sighed, standing with a groan. “Just don’t expect me to like it, ok?”
“All right. Now out with you, I have paperwork to finish before I can get some sleep.” Beckett clasped Rodney’s shoulder once more before ushering him out of the room, watching as his friend made his way past the bed with the sedated Edwards before turning back to his desk.
McKay paused at the entrance to the infirmary, noticing for the first time that the marine was nowhere to be seen. He found himself smiling, a turn of the lips that felt odd, and made his way back to his quarters.
He was not surprised to find Sheppard waiting for him, expression blank as he held up a bottle of Zelenka’s homebrew.
“Thought you might want a drink,” Sheppard murmured softly. “Talk about a few things.”
Rodney hesitated only a moment before he nodded, motioning for Sheppard to follow him in. He watched as his friend poured them both glasses, taking the one offered him with a nod of thanks. The two of them stood there awkwardly, uncertain what to say.
Then Rodney tipped his glass back, swallowing the burning liquid in a quick gulp. When John followed suite, taking a seat easily on Rodney’s bed and waiting patiently for him to begin, Rodney sat beside him.
It wasn’t easy, letting the words out. But as John listened quietly, nodding every now and then, pouring them more drinks, he knew, without a doubt, that should he ever find himself on that ledge again…he wouldn’t be alone.
So, as an alternative, I am writing SGA fic, allowing me to keep Pippin as I envision him: still innocent despite all he has seen and done.
That being said, for those of you brave enough, here is one of the few SGA fics I've been brave enough to write and post over on Wraithbait: Fading.
Enjoy!
He was one of the new ones from the Daedalus, only in Atlantis for a month. Beckett had to wonder how the hell he had ever made it past the screenings.
“Lad, I know yer stressed right now, but this isn’t the way to go about-“
“Stop talking!” the young man shouted, pulling the hammer back on the gun he held to his temple, the whites of his eyes clear as he stared about his quarters wildly. “Everyone just shut up! Leave me alone!”
“We can’t do that,” Kate Heightmeyer murmured soothingly, inching forward with an upraised arm, her movements slow and cautious.
Outside the doorway, the young man could see Colonel Sheppard and three marines standing by, weapons ready in case the gun was turned on anyone but himself. He shifted slightly, gripping the gun tighter. They didn’t have anything to worry about. His was the only life he wanted to end.
“What the hell is going on?” a strident voice demanded, and the young scientist could see identical winces appear on every face. It was almost enough to make him laugh.
“Not now, McKay!” he heard Sheppard hiss.
He thought the Colonel should have known better. Even he knew better, and he had only been on Atlantis a short time.
“Dr. McKay, please do not interfere!” Heightmeyer growled.
He knew they were all thinking the same thing: that it was partly McKay’s fault he was in this position, and having him enter the situation was like adding gas to a fire. But he had never found Dr. McKay stressful. He always knew where he stood with the man, for good or bad.
“Let him stay,” the young man managed to quaver out, his grip tightening on the gun as McKay came into sight, elbowing past Sheppard with a scowl.
“Edding?” McKay asked, squinting slightly into the darkness of the room, moving forward slowly.
“Edwards,” the young man whispered, his lips twitching slightly into a small smile. McKay never got anyone’s name right.
“Whatever. What are you doing?” McKay demanded, crossing his arms over his chest. He seemed more angry than anything else.
Outside the room, Edwards saw Sheppard cover his eyes with his hand, mouthing a curse.
“Well, I was going to blow my brains out, but someone found out and now everyone is trying to stop me,” Edwards replied. He had learned the first day that brutal honesty was the one thing that McKay respected in a person, whether he liked them or not, and was the most likely thing to get a response from the other man that didn’t involve foul language.
“Oh, for the love of – “ McKay sighed, glaring around the room. “Are you all just going to stand there?” he demanded. When no one moved he pursed his lips, glaring at Heightmeyer and Beckett before turning back to Edwards, snapping his fingers. “Give me the gun.”
Edwards’ mouth dropped open, his grip relaxing a fraction in shock before he tightened
it once more.
“I can’t,” he managed to mumble, backing up a step. “Please, Dr. McKay, just leave. You don’t understand –“
“The hell I don’t!” McKay growled, taking another step forward. “What? You think you’re the only one who ever felt like they were standing on the edge of a cliff? That one word, one *thought* would tip you over? I don’t think so. Now give me the gun right now or they’re never going to leave you alone.”
“Dr. McKay – “ Edwards tried again, then stopped, uncertain what he was going to say.
“That’s it. Everybody out!” Rodney bellowed, startling everyone within the room. When neither Heightmeyer nor Beckett made to leave, he grabbed both their arms and forcefully dragged them out the door. “And stay out until I tell you to come back in,” he snapped, closing the door in their faces before removing the crystals from the door lock and turning back to face the young man.
“Now that the peanut gallery is gone,” he said, crossing his arms and glaring at Edwards.
“Would you mind putting the gun down? You haven’t exactly had a lot of practice with firearms and I would really hate to be shot by accident.”
Too stunned to do anything else, Edwards complied, gazing at the other man in shocked silence.
“Now sit,” McKay ordered, snapping his fingers once more and pointing to the bed. Edwards sat, the handgun hanging loosely from his suddenly lax fingers. Before he could gather his thoughts, though, McKay had moved so that he was only a few feet from the young man’s legs, bending at the waist so the two of them were practically nose to nose.
“I’m only going to say this once, so listen well.” Rodney’s voice was soft, no trace of his earlier impatience or sarcasm in the serious tone. “If you really wanted to kill yourself, then a few spectators wouldn’t have made a difference and you would have pulled that trigger. As you’re still breathing, then you obviously had second thoughts. So let’s clear something up right now.”
Rodney’s eyes bored into Edwards’, the intensity causing the young man to swallow audibly.
“The next time you get it into your head to kill yourself, you had better do it right, or I’ll do it for you. I’ve lost too many people to have to deal with a brain-dead vegetable, and I’m too busy to be talking you down every time you get it into your skull that the world is too much.”
Edwards felt himself bending backward as McKay leaned forward, unable to take his eyes off the other man.
“I know that dealing with Heightmeyer is enough to make anyone think about killing themselves, and she probably doesn’t have a clue what you’re going through, which is why you didn’t go to her. Beckett and Sheppard, on the other hand, actually give a damn about the people around here, and you can bet I’m going to get a lecture the likes of which even I would be proud of when we open that door again. But for right now, it’s just you and me. So I’m going to talk, and you are going to listen, is that understood?”
Edwards nodded, his throat suddenly tight and painful. It seemed to be enough, however, because McKay slowly straightened, taking a step back, then another, though his eyes never left those of the young scientist.
“I know what it feels like to be standing on that ledge.” Rodney’s voice had suddenly become very soft, forcing Edwards to lean forward to catch the words. “Only I tried to overdose on Trazodone. Luckily for both of us, I failed.”
McKay shifted, uncrossing and then crossing his arms once more. His expression was unreadable in the shadows.
“You graduated first in your class, spent two years at the SGC helping Dr. Jackson and Samantha Carter with their findings. You are, by all accounts, a genius.”
“IQ of 200,” Edwards whispered before he could stop himself. He was slightly surprised when Dr. McKay merely nodded his head, continuing in the same, soft voice.
“Those of us smarter than the rest of the apes we have to deal with on a daily basis don’t adjust well. We spend our whole lives seeking ways to fit in, trying to change our thoughts and patterns to suit those around us. Very seldom does it work.”
Now McKay moved, walking over to the closed window and slowly parting the curtains that had been a welcoming gift from one of the Athosians. For long moments the only sound in the room was Edwards’ harsh breathing, the young scientist valiantly trying to keep the sudden tears in his eyes from falling.
“It’s not easy being down in that hole, Edwards,” McKay said suddenly, startling him into looking up, wiping a hand hastily across his cheeks. “But you aren’t there alone. We all fall down sooner or later.” McKay moved again, letting the thick drapes fall closed before moving back to the door. “Next time, find somebody who knows the way out. It’s a lot easier than trying to climb the walls by yourself.”
There was a moment of silence, then a small click and the door whooshed open. Heightmeyer, Beckett and Sheppard all fell in, as though they had been leaning against the door, with Dr. Zelenka a few feet back, peering over their heads disdainfully. Edwards, stunned by the suddenly loud voices demanding to know what was going on and the people pressing around him, nearly missed the glance shared between the two scientists as McKay exited.
But when they turned that knowing gaze his way, he nodded, once, and for the first time remembered he was still holding the gun in his hand. He allowed it to drop to the floor with a heavy thump.
Without another glance, McKay turned his back and left the chaos behind him, Edwards watching his stiff figure disappear down the hall. It was only as he was being marched to the infirmary, Beckett on one side, Heightmeyer on the other, that he wondered how McKay had found his way out of the darkness.
Or if he was still trying to.
**************
The pills had been light in his hand; a fact oddly disappointing. Such small things, held jumbled together on his palm like so much candy. It had seemed wrong that something about to be the imminent cause of his death was no larger than the average M&M.
Then again, a sip of orange juice would have brought about the same result, only more painfully. He never had been one for pain.
The Trazodone had tasted bitter, the pills sticking to his tongue with chalk like consistency. It had taken a full glass to get them down, followed by another just to get rid of the taste. It had soothed some of his disappointment that at least the taste of death was not sweet.
Zelenka had found him, the peace offering of alcohol fresh from the still shattering into a million pieces from stunned fingers, puddles of amber liquid overlooked in the desperate search for a pulse.
Beckett had pumped his stomach, of course. Given him activated charcoal, among other treatments, and sat by his bed until the worst of the danger had passed. Rodney still wasn’t certain how Zelenka had managed to convince Beckett to respond to his frantic call by himself, but he was infinitely grateful that he had.
As far as he was aware, only Beckett, Zelenka, Weir and Heightmeyer knew the events of that night.
Now, sitting in the dim light of his quarters, arms crossed tightly around his chest, he waited, knowing it was only a matter of time before Beckett or Sheppard came to him, demanding to know what the hell he had been thinking.
“Dr. McKay, you are needed in the infirmary.”
Beckett first, then.
Sighing, he smoothed a hand over his shirt nervously before casting one last look about the room, though he could not say what he was looking for. He was unsurprised to find a marine waiting patiently outside his doorway when it opened.
***
The mood of the infirmary was subdued, the lights dimmed and the voices hushed. McKay found it irritating, as though the people were afraid to spook the mentally disturbed Eddings. Edwards. Whatever.
As if speaking in a soft voice and keeping the lights low was going to make him feel better about holding a gun to his head, McKay thought sourly.
The marine beside him said nothing as they made their way to Beckett’s office, where two forms could be seen moving behind the privacy blinds. One of the shadow figures was definitely Beckett, the doctor’s stocky form moving restlessly. The other had a distinctly recognizable mop of hair that would have put Sonic the Hedgehog to shame.
Uh – oh.
“Sir,” the marine murmured, opening the door to the office with a sympathetic wince, gesturing for Rodney to enter.
“Thanks,” Rodney muttered, swallowing hard as he left the shadows of the main infirmary for the harsh light of Beckett’s personal domain.
He had not been prepared to deal with both men at the same time, and found himself suddenly wary under their harsh glares. The door behind him closed quickly.
Coward, he thought, even if he did wish to join him.
“Rodney, sit down,” Beckett ordered, and there was no leeway in the doctor’s tone, or in the dark eyes that were boring into him. Beside him, Sheppard stood with arms crossed, his own glare sharp enough to draw blood.
Without speaking, figuring that silence was as good a self defense as any, he waited, fidgeting slightly when the silence lengthened, the two men before him shifting until both seemed to loom over him. When did he become the bad guy again?
“Look, I don’t know what the problem is. I stopped him from putting a bullet in his brain, I would have thought you would be appreciative, not go all Torquemada on me!” Rodney began, tossing his silent theory out the window.
“Shut up, McKay,” Sheppard growled, and something in the set of his jaw had Rodney swallowing hard, leaning back slightly in his chair. “Beckett and I have been talking, and there seems to be something you haven’t told me.”
Before he could stop himself, Rodney found his gaze going to Beckett, the betrayal hitting him in the gut like a fist.
“I didn’t tell him what happened, Rodney,” Beckett answered the unspoken question, but there was no apology in his tone. “I did, however, tell him there were a few things you had neglected to inform your team leader about.”
Ok, that was a low blow, McKay decided. Using his position as a member of Sheppard’s team to make him feel guilty was really a crappy thing to do, even if it was a damned good opening gambit.
“So, McKay,” Sheppard drawled, moving slightly so he stood just out of Rodney’s personal space. “Want to fill me in on a few things? Or perhaps you would like to tell me just what the hell you were thinking, walking into a room with an armed man without any kind of protection?”
He had heard from some of the marines that when Sheppard was pissed, he didn’t yell. He had found it odd that they had considered that more frightening than his own patented form of leadership. Now, staring nervously from one man to the other, Sheppard’s gaze boring into him like an ice pick, he suddenly found himself understanding what they had meant.
“Look, Colonel,” he began, clenching his hands self consciously against the arms of the chair.
“No, Rodney.” Beckett’s voice was soft, yet sharp enough to cut through any argument the scientist may have used. “No more bullshite. You tell us the truth, or I put you in a bed right next to Edwards.”
“Wh- what?” Rodney demanded, looking from Sheppard to Beckett in sudden confusion, a knot of dread slowly forming in his stomach. “What do you mean by that?”
“Just what he said,” Sheppard growled. “Because, seriously, if you have a death wish, I really think I need to know about it before we go on any more missions. Or did you simply want to play the hero?” he added, a sudden gleam coming into the Colonel’s eyes that Rodney did not like at all. “What was it, McKay? Another chance to prove you were smarter than everyone else again?”
”Shut UP!” Rodney bellowed.
He was standing, fists clenched tightly at his sides, unaware of moving. A small part of him was thrilled when Sheppard took a step back, his eyes wary. Beside him, he could sense Beckett moving, perhaps to call for help, or to try and sedate him. Rage boiled up in his chest, tightening his throat and making it suddenly hard to breath.
“It wasn’t like that!” he managed to grit out, his gaze landing on Carson in half plea, half accusation. “How can you let him say that? How can you even think I would do that?” he demanded. Something wet trickled down his cheek, burning his skin. He rounded on Sheppard, wishing he was quicker, if just to land one solid punch on that scowling face. “I know you hate me, but do you really think I’m that petty?”
And just like that, all the rage and fight melted out of him, leaving him sitting in the chair with no idea how he got there, face in his hands as he struggled against the crushing weight in his chest.
“Rodney, calm down, lad,” Beckett murmured, cool fingers pressing lightly against his wrist, another touching his shoulder. “Sheppard was just trying to get a reaction out of you, that’s all. You scared the daylights out of us, lad, aye, and pissed us off right proper, too.”
McKay found himself bringing in a shuddering breath, wet and labored, even as a paper cup was pressed into his hand. He looked up, saw Sheppard staring down at him with anger and hurt conflicting in those hazel eyes.
“Tell me what I’m supposed to think, McKay,” he whispered, crouching down so his face was even with the scientist’s, the force of his gaze enough to draw another ragged, forced breath. “You barge in on a situation that you knew nothing about, manhandled the docs out of there, then slammed the door in our faces. How the hell am I not supposed to be upset about that, huh?”
“You could have trusted me,” McKay whispered brokenly, unable to meet either man’s gaze.
For a long moment the room was silent, filled only with the sound of McKay’s broken breathing and the soft hiss of material as Sheppard moved, not leaving his crouch but shifting so his weight was on his left knee.
“Rodney,” Beckett finally sighed, his grip tightening on his friend’s shoulder. “I think its time you trusted the Colonel, yourself.”
The water fell from his numb fingers, even as he buried his face in his hands. The breath he dragged into his lungs was more of a sob, shaking his whole body.
“I didn’t want you to know,” he finally whispered, hating how hoarse and raw his voice sounded, but unable to stop the words pouring from his mouth. “I didn’t want you to think that it was your fault, or, or, or that you should have known,” he stammered.
“Jesus, Rodney,” Sheppard hissed, and suddenly another hand was on his shoulder, squeezing so tightly it was almost painful. “What –“ Sheppard’s voice broke, and after a ragged breath of his own, he tried again. “What did you do?”
“Trazodone,” Rodney whispered. He lowered his hands, clenching them tightly against his thighs, unable to look up, to meet the other’s gaze. “Radek found me.”
“When was this?” Sheppard demanded, and now there was anger in his voice as well as hurt.
When Rodney didn’t answer right away, Beckett blew out a slow breath before saying, “Three months ago, after – “
“…Duranda,” Sheppard finished for him. “Jesus, Rodney!”
“Easy, John,” Beckett murmured.
There was more movement, whispers to low to make out, and the sound of the door opening. For a moment he thought they had left him, either too angry or hurt to continue the interrogation, or whatever this was. His chest ached, and a distant part of his brain wondered if he was having a heart attack. Then the door opened again, and something cool and wet touched the back of his neck, startling Rodney’s head up and away.
“Easy, Rodney,” Becket soothed, placing the washcloth back on Rodney’s neck. “John went to get you something to eat. Give you a few minutes to calm down.”
“He hates me,” Rodney rasped. He wondered tiredly how his world had gone downhill so fast.
“No, Rodney, he doesn’t,” Beckett assured him, with so much conviction in his voice that McKay had no choice but to believe him. “He’s worried and upset, and aye, probably a might pissed at you, but he doesn’t hate you.”
They sat in silence for several minutes, though there was nothing awkward or uncomfortable between them. Rodney used the washcloth to wipe the remaining tear stains from his cheeks; thankful Beckett ignored the silent ablutions. By the time Sheppard returned, a trey filled with fruit, cheese, and crackers in his hands, McKay had himself mostly composed.
None of them spoke as they ate, the air heavy with all the things unsaid. Only when the trey was empty and set aside did Sheppard speak, his voice tight and controlled.
“I’m not gonna tell you I understand why you did it,” he began. “Or that I’m not pretty pissed about it. But I am going to say this.” He paused, waiting until Rodney met his gaze, his own deadly serious. “I don’t ever want you to think that something is so bad between us that you can’t come to me. Or that I wouldn’t miss you a hell of a lot if you suddenly disappeared. Ok?”
Rodney swallowed thickly, unable to force the words past the lump in his throat, nodding his head instead.
“Ok,” Sheppard sighed. He sat back slightly, giving Rodney a bit more space. “Now, you want to tell me what the hell you were thinking earlier?”
“Aye, I think I’d like to know that as well,” Beckett grumped, scowling at his friend as the doctor crossed his arms. “As if having one suicidal man wasn’t enough, I suddenly had to deal with the possibility of two!”
“Oh, please,” Rodney sighed, some of his earlier irritation returning. “I already told you I wouldn’t try again. And I’ve been seeing Heightmeyer,” he added, shuddering. “If that doesn’t convince you, I don’t know what will. Although, seriously, she hasn’t got a clue!”
“Oh, I don’t know, McKay,” Sheppard sighed, drawing his friend’s name out. “Seems that’s kind of what she gets paid for.”
The look McKay turned on the other man would have melted ice.
“Please. Why do you think I shoved Tweedledee and – “
“Hey!” Beckett protested, earning a slightly apologetic look and a grumbled “sorry.”
“Anyway, trust me on this. The last thing Eddings –“
“Edwards,” Sheppard and Beckett corrected simultaneously.
“Whatever. The last thing he needed was to be talked to like he was ten. He was thinking of blowing his brains out, not piddling on the carpet.”
“Did you just say piddling on the carpet?” Sheppard asked, a slight gleam of humor in his eye earning a smile.
“Yes, I did. And if you listened to the way that woman talks, you’d know what I mean. It’s enough to make anyone want to blow their brains out, let alone someone with a gun in their hand.”
“Don’t you think you’re being a bit cruel?” Beckett asked, though in all honestly, he had been having the same thoughts himself while in the room.
“He didn’t need condescension, Carson,” McKay snapped. “He needed somebody who understood where he was coming from and didn’t talk to him like he was a simpering moron. The man has an IQ of 200, for crying out loud. Do you really think talking to him like he was an idiot was going to get anywhere?”
“And you, of course, never talk to him like he’s an idiot,” Sheppard muttered, earning another dark glare.
“That’s different. That’s me letting him know that if he doesn’t get his calculations correct whole sections of the city can blow up. I never once treated him like he didn’t understand what I was saying,” Rodney growled defensively. “And no offense to you, Carson, but you were trying to treat him like he was a sick puppy, not a human who knew damn well what he was doing. I did, which is why I kicked you both out.”
Rodney took a deep breath, closing his eyes against the slightly hurt look Beckett cast his way.
“Neither one of you, as far as I know, has ever been on that ledge, wondering if the wind is going to be enough to hold you up. What Edwards needed was someone to let him know that it wasn’t. That he needs to hold on with both hands and his teeth if he wants to keep from falling.”
Rodney looked up once more, the dark circles under his eyes accentuating the red flush to his cheeks.
“Sometimes, all it takes is knowing that someone is standing on that ledge with you. That’s what I offered him. I’m sorry I scared you, but really, there wasn’t –“
“It’s ok, Rodney,” Sheppard murmured, startling McKay into closing his mouth and staring at the Colonel with something close to confusion. “Just – “ Sheppard ran a hand through his hair as he stood, though his gaze did not leave that of the scientist. “Just don’t go falling off that ledge with him, ok?”
Rodney nodded, stunned, and watched as his friend nodded once to Beckett before leaving, the door closing with a whispered hiss behind him.
“Is that it?” Rodney finally asked after a minute had passed in which neither of them had moved. “Am I free to go?”
“Aye, you can go. Just don’t forget to talk to Heightmeyer tomorrow, or I’ll have to drag you down there myself,” Beckett sighed. “And no argument. I’m tired, Rodney.”
“Ok,” McKay sighed, standing with a groan. “Just don’t expect me to like it, ok?”
“All right. Now out with you, I have paperwork to finish before I can get some sleep.” Beckett clasped Rodney’s shoulder once more before ushering him out of the room, watching as his friend made his way past the bed with the sedated Edwards before turning back to his desk.
McKay paused at the entrance to the infirmary, noticing for the first time that the marine was nowhere to be seen. He found himself smiling, a turn of the lips that felt odd, and made his way back to his quarters.
He was not surprised to find Sheppard waiting for him, expression blank as he held up a bottle of Zelenka’s homebrew.
“Thought you might want a drink,” Sheppard murmured softly. “Talk about a few things.”
Rodney hesitated only a moment before he nodded, motioning for Sheppard to follow him in. He watched as his friend poured them both glasses, taking the one offered him with a nod of thanks. The two of them stood there awkwardly, uncertain what to say.
Then Rodney tipped his glass back, swallowing the burning liquid in a quick gulp. When John followed suite, taking a seat easily on Rodney’s bed and waiting patiently for him to begin, Rodney sat beside him.
It wasn’t easy, letting the words out. But as John listened quietly, nodding every now and then, pouring them more drinks, he knew, without a doubt, that should he ever find himself on that ledge again…he wouldn’t be alone.
