The Knife Didn't by Ekaterinn (Postsecret)
The Knife Didn't
by ekaterinn
Summary: McKay, The knife didn't make him talk.
Warnings: Mature/dark themes. Not graphic, but also not for the faint of heart.
Notes: Based on this postcard by overchay. 287 words. Slight spoilers for The Storm/The Eye.
The knife didn’t make him talk. It was just blood, welling up from the jagged cut, the pain not even registering until a second later. He’d been horrified, at loss for words. Even the words they wanted. What had came after the knife, Rodney remembers only as a series of movements.
Pants being violently jerked down.
Hands holding him in place.
And his words spilling out, getting everywhere, even before that first spike of pain.
He told them about the plan, about their weapons, everything about Atlantis and the storm before they told him to stop. He would have told them anything, just to make this not be happening.
Rodney’s sitting on the edge of his bed now. He’s not quite sure how he got there. His hair is wet, so he hypothesizes that he must have showered. Hopes he didn’t scrub at his skin too hard, trying to wash away the day.
Rodney knows he should talk to Dr. Heightmeyer, knows in the deeply sensible part of his brain that he should tell her even if he doesn’t tell anyone else. But he can’t imagine ever having words to describe the - what had happened.
Besides, he didn’t fall apart directly afterwards and he’s not about to do so now. That holds true even if he can’t bear the thought of sleep. Rodney’s been having nightmares about the Wraith for months. The thought of his brain hellishly combining those dreams and the events of the day shakes him to his core. He’ll go to the lab instead; there will be work to do there now, after the storm has passed.
And maybe the knife didn’t make him talk. But he’ll tell the others that it did.
by ekaterinn
Summary: McKay, The knife didn't make him talk.
Warnings: Mature/dark themes. Not graphic, but also not for the faint of heart.
Notes: Based on this postcard by overchay. 287 words. Slight spoilers for The Storm/The Eye.
The knife didn’t make him talk. It was just blood, welling up from the jagged cut, the pain not even registering until a second later. He’d been horrified, at loss for words. Even the words they wanted. What had came after the knife, Rodney remembers only as a series of movements.
Pants being violently jerked down.
Hands holding him in place.
And his words spilling out, getting everywhere, even before that first spike of pain.
He told them about the plan, about their weapons, everything about Atlantis and the storm before they told him to stop. He would have told them anything, just to make this not be happening.
Rodney’s sitting on the edge of his bed now. He’s not quite sure how he got there. His hair is wet, so he hypothesizes that he must have showered. Hopes he didn’t scrub at his skin too hard, trying to wash away the day.
Rodney knows he should talk to Dr. Heightmeyer, knows in the deeply sensible part of his brain that he should tell her even if he doesn’t tell anyone else. But he can’t imagine ever having words to describe the - what had happened.
Besides, he didn’t fall apart directly afterwards and he’s not about to do so now. That holds true even if he can’t bear the thought of sleep. Rodney’s been having nightmares about the Wraith for months. The thought of his brain hellishly combining those dreams and the events of the day shakes him to his core. He’ll go to the lab instead; there will be work to do there now, after the storm has passed.
And maybe the knife didn’t make him talk. But he’ll tell the others that it did.