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Rap, rap, rapping in Rodney's head jolted him awake with a snort. He blinked filmy eyes until they cleared and tried to twitch the gentle knocking from his skull. It was persistent. Rubbing his now-clear eyes, he scooted more upright in the chair he'd apparently dozed off in. The room was lighter, gray and cool in the early morning hours. Rodney hadn't even realized he'd fallen asleep. The last thing he remembered was continuing his debate against himself on what to do about Sheppard.
The rapping sounded again, the same as last night when John had shown up like an abandoned puppy on McKay's doorstep, except lighter and less urgent.
The man in question who'd done the previous knocking stirred, groaning with a shudder, then propped himself unsteadily up on his elbows to stare at Rodney like a groggy child.
“McKay,” he croaked, eyelids fluttering in the fight to stay open.
Rodney stretched and yawned, joints popping and muscles loosening. He winced at the tight twinge in his neck and tried to massage it out. “When the hell am I going to learn not to fall asleep in a chair?”
“Never,” Sheppard rasped. He yawned, the yawn morphing into a ragged cough halfway through.
Rodney paused in his kneading. “You okay?”
John waved him off with one hand, drinking from his water bottle with the other. When the knocking came again, Sheppard lowered the bottle and looked toward the bedroom door as though someone unpleasant were about to walk through at any moment.
“Expecting anyone?” he asked. He had that dark look on his face, the one that always let Rodney know when the lieutenant colonel – former lieutenant colonel was prepped to kick ass, weakened state be damned.
More joints and ligaments popped when Rodney pushed himself from the chair. “Probably just the neighbor asking about her damn cat again. Every dang morning, and the stupid thing's always back at her house by the time she stops looking.”
“People love their pets, McKay,” John said, flopping back onto the bed.
“Yes, well, why must they make the rest of us suffer for it?” Rodney shuffled from the room to the hall then the door and squinted through the peephole.
His breath caught in his throat on seeing, not the iron-gray hair of a distraught woman looking for her precious Mr. Squiggles, but the mildly impatient and bespectacled face of Dr. Daniel Jackson.
Rodney yelped, “Oh, crap!”
“McKay?” Sheppard called. Rodney rushed back into the room, palms out in immediate consolation.
“It's all right; it's cool. No big deal. Just someone I need to get rid of.”
Sheppard, clearly skeptical and getting agitated because of it, stared at Rodney, pinning him to the spot with silent suspicion.
Rodney patted the air. “I said it's cool, no big deal -”
The gentle knock became a not-so-gentle thudding. “Dr. McKay? You home? It's Daniel Jackson.”
Sheppard's eyes narrowed dangerously. “Dr. Jackson?”
Rodney, heart hammering, grimaced. “Uh, yeah. He drops by now and then -”
“At six in the morning?”
Rodney shrugged weakly. “We sometimes carpool.”
“Dr. McKay? I need to talk to you about that email you sent me last night.”
If looks could call down the wrath of the heavens then Rodney McKay would have been struck by lightening – three times. He knew that expression on John's face, a step up from about to kick ass to ready to kill, a look that had once been reserved for Kolya, all Genii in general, and the Wraith. Hands still out, Rodney took a terrified step back.
“I can explain,” he said.
Sheppard tossed back the covers, pushing himself up onto unsteady legs and freezing Rodney in place with his hellfire glare. “You emailed Dr. Jackson?”
Rodney took another step back. “Yes, yes I did, okay? But it was an innocuous question, I swear. Jackson was once admitted to a psyche ward when it was believed the 'gate was causing schizophrenia. I just asked what it had been like for him. As far as he knows, you're still locked up yourself. I didn't tell him about you, I swear.”
If it were possible, Sheppard's gaze went even darker. “Why should I believe you, McKay? Just two minutes ago you were lying your ass off!”
“That's because you scare the hell out of me! You know what a terrible liar I am. And I'm not lying about this. I mean, come on, you escape a mental hospital, show up on my doorstep looking for help, and expect me to have all the answers – which I don't. I had no idea what the hell to do, and I was freaking out and needed someone to talk to.... Like I said, Jackson spent time in a psyche ward. I thought, maybe, he might have an insight or two that, you know,” Rodney lifted one shoulder in a weak shrug, “might help us out.”
More thudding reached them, a lot harder than before. “Dr. McKay, we really, really need to talk.”
Rodney patted the air. “It's just Dr. Jackson. No one else.”
“Dr. McKay!”
Sheppard sucked in a breath, dark and dangerous melting into skittish and one more knock away from panic. “Can you get rid of him?”
“I sure as hell am going to try. Just stay here, try not to make any noise. And for heaven's sake, do not take off. I said I wouldn't turn you in, and I meant it. Besides, I doubt General O'Neill would appreciate you breaking the neck of one of his former team members.” With that said and established, Rodney hurried from the room. “I'm coming; I'm coming! Hold on!”
Jackson's next round of knocking rattled the door on its hinges enough to throw Rodney off and make him fumble with the deadbolt and chain. The next rap almost landed on his skull when he yanked the door open.
“What!” Rodney snapped and was quite proud of himself for the annoyance he managed to inflect.
Daniel's look was flat when he said, “We need to talk.”
Rodney feigned checking his watch. “At six in the morning?”
“Aren't you supposed to be at the SGC at seven?” Jackson countered. It was a mighty touché that left Rodney momentarily speechless, fumbling for excuses until he stumbled upon the tried but true method of....
“Not feeling well. I was going to call in sick when you woke me up.”
Daniel, whom Rodney had deemed the moment they met as a man impossible to read, looked Rodney up and down without hiding his doubt.
“Fell asleep in my clothes,” Rodney explained, which was actually the truth as he'd been too tired to change last night. “Like I said, not feeling well. Now what do you want? It's early, my head hurts, and I would like nothing more than to sleep it off.”
Daniel arched a very dubious eyebrow. “Aren't you supposed to go off-world today?”
Rodney fought to keep a smile from breaking out on his face. So Daniel most likely thought he was just playing hooky for that reason. Good. It gave Rodney something to work with.
“Yeah, so? Seriously, what do you want? This is too hellish an hour to be bothering someone who feels like crap.”
Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his brown leather jacket, Jackson sighed in obvious controlled irritation. “We need to have a little chat about that email you sent me.”
“A task that couldn't have been accomplished over email?”
“Evidently not or I wouldn't be here,” Daniel said tightly. “Look, I'm as thrilled about this as you are, but when I made the mistake of talking to Teal'c about it over breakfast - who thought you'd offended me so told General Landry - General Landry talked to Dr. Lam and both thought it a good idea that I come talk to you in person. Talk to you about a very personal and very, very unpleasant moment in my life. One part in a long list that I would rather forget about.”
Guilt was like a kick to Rodney's stomach, and he sagged. He knew this would happen – not Jackson getting miffed in person, just getting miffed – and now would either talk himself out of their “little chat” or attempt to play shrink and get Rodney to open up. By the rather longsuffering look on Jackson's face, it would be the former which was a good thing although it didn't stop Rodney from feeling like a bit of an ass for contacting Jackson in the first place.
However, if Rodney could get Jackson to shed some light on a few matters during the process of politely kicking the man out then it might just be worth it.
On the other hand, why rush? It would probably be better to hold off until Sheppard wasn't within hearing range to give his paranoia even the smallest bit of fodder.
“You think we can talk about this tomorrow?” Rodney tried.
“I would think it more prudent to get this over with now. No sense in prolonging the inevitable.”
Rodney sagged even more and whined, “But I don't feel well.”
Jackson's expression read loud and clear about how much bull that excuse was. Sagging another inch in defeat, Rodney stepped aside. “Okay, fine, but don't take forever,” he said, loud without yelling. “I'm not kidding about not feeling well.”
Daniel stepped inside and ambled casually over to the couch, dropping into it while looking around.
“Want anything to drink?” Rodney asked, shuffling to the kitchen, constantly reminding himself over and over that he was supposed to be sick.
“No thanks,” Daniel said, sounding a lot more amiable. “And I apologize if I sounded a little... tetchy.”
“A little?” Rodney muttered, pouring himself a glass of water and tossing it back like it was a Tequila shot.
“It's not about the email,” Daniel went on. “Well, not entirely. It's just... Landry and Lam have this idea that me having some experience with psychiatric hospitals makes me the right candidate for counseling you or whatever. Then you sent that email, and it was kind of the final straw, you know? I spent a short time in that hospital. A very short time, which doesn't make me an expert. And I was kind of a little too distracted by visions of undead Goa’uld to pay much attention to how I was being treated. Although, I will concede, some of those orderlies had rather uncomfortable grips.”
Rodney heard the soft rustle of cloth and the gentle creak of floorboards and looked up to see Daniel sitting at the counter on the middle stool.
“The email did piss me off, I will confess, but you had a valid question. You're worried about Colonel Sheppard, and that I respect which was why I didn't fight Landry and Lam as hard when they pushed me to talk to you. So why is it you think Sheppard is being mistreated? You said because of bruising....”
Rodney nodded stiffly. “Uh, yes. Along his arms. Like you kind of said though – some orderlies have tight grips, and Sheppard... well, obviously he's a fighter and a good one, especially when delirious. I think I was just tired at the time, frustrated.”
Daniel nodded. “Understandable. You do understand that that VA hospital is where the SGC sends its wounded to recover, and that includes the people who end up with mental health issues? It's....” He lifted his hand then let it flop back to the table. “It's where I ended up.”
At Rodney's perplexed eyebrow-lift, he added, “Easier than dealing with security issues and waivers. So I know that hospital and know that I couldn't have ended up at a better place.”
Rodney's grip on his water glass tightened until his fingers paled. “I – I know. It's just... I worry. That's all. And the bruising, it's mostly going to show up along the arms, right? Just the arms?”
“Occasionally you might get something on the back if they're forced to pin you down.”
“With their foot?”
“Knee.” Daniel narrowed his eyes, frowning. “What kind of bruising are we talking about here?”
Rodney waved his hand dismissively. “Nothing, nothing. More paranoia. I, uh, watched this movie.” He gestured lamely toward the plasma screen. “It got me thinking too much is all. So the bruising is usually minimal?”
“With me it was,” Daniel said. “Then again I was drugged halfway to the moon most of the time. Jack had mentioned something about me about being too weak to wrestle a wet sock... or something.” He shrugged in that way that said 'you know Jack', which Rodney didn't. Though he was acquainted with the general's rather unusual view on life which made Rodney wonder if Sheppard had taken a few pointers from him before heading to Pegasus.
Rodney nodded absently in agreement all the same, refilling his glass and taking a sip of water. When he glanced up he nearly choked on seeing Sheppard skulking in the shadows of the hallway. Those shadows, however, weren't dark enough to hide Sheppard's look that clearly stated “get your ass over here, McKay,” emphasized by a firm backwards jerk of his head.
It took a moment of stuttering before Rodney was able to blurt out an excuse for taking momentary leave. “Uh, I gotta... check on something real quick.” He took off at what he felt was a reasonable, albeit fast, walk to the bedroom that Sheppard slunk back to.
Once inside, Sheppard whirled around and had to drop on the edge of the bed or fall to the floor when he wavered.
“I was drugged too,” John hissed with a lot of venom. “And it sure as hell didn't make me docile.”
“Maybe it was a side effect?” Rodney whispered lamely. At Sheppard's heavy-lidded stare, Rodney slumped. “Look, I'm not trying to justify what happened to you. I'm a logical guy; you know that. I like logical, reasonable explanations, and right now, the logical explanation is,” he waved his hand toward Sheppard, “either you have a high tolerance for brain medication or something's seriously wrong at that hospital.”
“The last part,” John quickly stated. “Something's wrong. You heard what Jackson said – he was treated pretty good, with minimal bruising. Me on the other hand....” He lifted up the sweater, flashing Rodney with dark bruises against colorless skin, way too many to be an accident or coincidence.
Rodney swallowed. “Yes, yes, I get it. No more reminders, please.” He sighed heavily, his shoulders sloping, buckling under the heavy load Sheppard was putting on him. “So what the hell do we do, huh?” Straightening in a perk of epiphany, he arched his thumb over his shoulder. “Maybe -”
“No,” John said sharply.
“But he could help.”
“No.”
“He knows -”
“No.”
Rodney fumed. “Okay, now you're just being unreasonable.”
“No, I'm not, McKay. We're not getting him involved. Hell, it's bad enough I got you involved in the first place, and I'd really rather keep my list of accomplices short, if you don't mind.”
Something in Rodney's chest tightened, making it hard to speak as he stood in the face of pure Sheppardism. It was a painful reminder of what once was, but the bigger pain was the realization of the man himself and his actions that were totally antithesis of that man. Sheppard had escaped from a mental hospital, making him akin to a fugitive. He'd come to Rodney for help, making Rodney akin to an accomplice, and when the fugitive went down, so did the accomplice.
Logic laughed and whispered that Sheppard would never do such a thing, not in a million years. Not unless....
Not unless the situation was just that bad. Not unless something had happened, something had been done, to reduce John down to the most basic of instincts – fight or flight, pure terror narrowing his world to run or die, find help or be hurt, and shoving consideration for the well-being of others right out of his mind.
In other words, turning John Sheppard into everything he wasn't – everything he hated.
Rodney gaped and almost asked out loud, ‘What the hell did they do to you?’ Instead he said, “So... get rid of him?”
Air bounced from John in a quiet laugh. “That was the original plan.”
“Right, right,” Rodney said, nodding spasmodically and arching his thumb over his shoulder. “I'll go do that. You lay down before you fall down.” He backed out of the room, not really anxious to get back to Jackson but not really comfortable about sticking around either. There would be no getting used to a vulnerable and helpless Sheppard, and the continuing thought of a terrified-to-self-centered Sheppard made him physically nauseous.
Seriously, what had those bastards done to him?
Rodney hurried back into the kitchen while pointing behind him. “I have something running. A simulation, I have this simulation running. Gotta check on it every so often or else the stupid screensaver goes up and the whole things starts over again.” Once on the other side of the counter, he slapped his palms on the plastic surface with a popping slap. “So, what were we talking about?”
Jackson furrowed his brow. “My time in a mental health facility. Were you talking to someone in there?”
Rodney stilled. “Huh?”
“In your room. I thought I heard you talking to someone.”
After four seconds of staring dumbly and about to panic thinking the jig was up, Rodney jolted. “Oh! Oh, talking, yes. I was, uh... talking to myself. I do that when frustrated.” He gave a nervous chuckle. “Yes, I'm rather accustomed to having plenty of assistants around to complain to and yell at. Kind of a habit, really – venting like that. You wouldn't believe how helpful it is, even at the risk of sounding a little insane.”
Daniel lifted his head, then, slowly, moved it up and down in a reluctant, uncertain nod. “Oooo-kaaay.”
Rodney drummed his fingers nervously as he wracked his brain for a change of topic.
“Anyways,” he said after a time. “I appreciate you coming by and having this little talk with me. Really you didn't have to, but... it helped; it did. A lot. The bruises on Sheppard had me worried, and Ronon and Teyla keep asking for updates on him. Wouldn't want a six-foot and then some Satedan barging his way to Earth, wreaking lots of Satedan style justice on us because he thought Sheppard was abused. Ronon's pretty scary when he's mad. Kind of makes Teal'c look like a pussy-cat.” Rodney ended on a tittering little laugh that he was sure Daniel could see right through. The ever increasing discomfort on the archeologist's face confirmed as much.
“I suppose,” Jackson said. “But if that's all you nee-” He was cut off by a muffled thud coming from the bedroom.
Rodney's heart shot into his throat. “Uh, excuse me... again. Gotta... make sure the cat didn't knock my laptop over.” He hurried off, hoping Daniel didn't take notice of the complete lack of cat toys and a food dish.
McKay stormed into the room to find Sheppard half off the bed as his body shivered and convulsed with dry heaves. The liquid chokes didn't produce much except a thin stream of bile that puddled on the floor. Rodney curled his lip in disgust.
“Oh, crap, Sheppard. What the hell....” He grabbed the bucket and shoved it under John just as another stream was heaved up. “Seriously, you really couldn't make that four inch shift toward the bucket?”
“Kind of... hit me....” Sheppard rasped, did another shuddery heave, and flopped boneless over the bedside.
Rodney, rolling his eyes, set the bucket aside to help John back into bed. After which, snatching the bucket back up, he turned to go fill it and clean away Sheppard's little surprise.
Daniel stood in the doorway, his hands in his pockets and his jaw hanging to the floor.
TBC...
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no subject
Date: 2008-06-12 12:50 am (UTC)From:They've got some explaining to do! Although I think this is probably for the best, I really can't see Daniel turning Sheppard in once he sees the condition he's in.
This is such a good story. Can't wait to see Daniel's reaction!
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Date: 2008-06-12 01:15 am (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2008-06-12 01:45 am (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2008-06-12 01:47 am (UTC)From:*waits to see what happens next*
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Date: 2008-06-12 01:49 am (UTC)From:Sheppard's eyes narrowed dangerously. “Dr. Jackson?”
Rodney, heart hammering, grimaced. “Uh, yeah. He drops by now and then -”
“At six in the morning?”
Rodney shrugged weakly. “We sometimes carpool.”
“Dr. McKay? I need to talk to you about that email you sent me last night.”
Timing really is everything. :)
Say, wouldn't it be, um, easier on you to post the rest, say, every hour? Maybe every half hour? Every 10 minutes? Seriously, I don't know if I can wait a whole day for the next part! *ahem* I mean, I'm just thinking it would make your life easier to post it all. You know, NOW. ;0)
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Date: 2008-06-12 02:13 am (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2008-06-12 02:25 am (UTC)From:I was waiting for him to find Sheppard there. I'll bet he has some opinions on what is going on.
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Date: 2008-06-12 03:11 am (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2008-06-12 03:15 am (UTC)From:Glad Daniel's there and I'm sure after some arguing, Rodney ranting and seeing John's shape, we'll see some team work.
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Date: 2008-06-12 03:43 am (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2008-06-12 04:07 am (UTC)From:I don't think Daniel will give John up, but end up being a much needed help for them.
Update soon!
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Date: 2008-06-12 04:22 am (UTC)From:You have Daniel down very well, although I am ashamed to admit, fan tho i am, i dont remember the eppy with danieljackson in a psych ward! which season was it?
I am eeping at the thought of danieljackson helping. oh, can you have Teal'c show up and kick some butt if Ronon can't? lol.
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Date: 2008-06-12 04:26 am (UTC)From:no subject
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Date: 2008-06-12 04:45 am (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2008-06-12 04:47 am (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2008-06-12 04:49 am (UTC)From: