SELFLESS ACTS OF MISUNDERSTANDING BY linziday [LFWS #1 ROUND 15]
Title: Selfless Acts of Misunderstanding
Author: linziday
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Stargate belongs to Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Studios Inc., no infringements of any rights is intended.
Spoilers: None
Prompt for the Round: Your story must be told from a bad guy's POV, OC or canon, and must feature at least two members of the team, plus any other characters.
SELFLESS ACTS OF MISUNDERSTANDING by linziday
Ketras did not understand.
“You will not help?” He frowned. They had pledged assistance. Had. Now -
The four visitors stood. Three drew closer to one.
“Listen,” Visitor Sheppard said, tone even but eyes snapping with anger, “we agreed to repair your harvest machine in exchange for a look at the energy readings in your temple. And we’ll do that. Or we can forget the trade altogether if you want. But McKay won’t - ”
Ketras’ guards secured them before he finished his sentence.
--
The harvest machine sat in honor in the village center, a reminder of a better past. A wish for a better future.
“Sure, we can get it running for you,” Visitor Sheppard had said during trade talk.
“We?” Visitor McKay huffed.
“You,” Visitor Sheppard amended. Then he turned to Ketras and said, “McKay fixes everything.”
For a moment, Ketras had trouble speaking. “Everything?”
Visitor Sheppard grinned. “You name it.”
Not only the harvest machine, then. The old water system, damaged energy generators, broken medical machines. Everything. He had offered Visitor McKay to fix everything.
But the next morning, Visitor McKay would not stay.
It was a breach of trade Ketras could not allow. His village feared the Wraith, but it needed that technology. They could not stand another famine. They could not suffer another sickness without cure.
They needed McKay.
--
Ketras neither beat the visitors nor threatened their lives, though others said he should. He separated them instead, secured in dwellings far apart.
“No, no, no. You only want me. Let them go,” McKay said, twisting around to look back at his companions with panicked eyes as the guards hauled them apart. “They can’t fix anything! They’ll just take up space!”
“I am no fool,” Ketras spat. “Your companions would return for you and destroy the village in retribution. They will remain until you agree to honor the trade, McKay.”
McKay suddenly stopped. The guards propelled him forward. “Wait, wait, you dropped the ‘Visitor’ thing. Why - ” McKay snapped his jaws shut, as if afraid the answer would escape his own lips.
“You are no longer a visitor,” Ketras said. “Agree now or later, you will stay with us.”
And McKay would be treated that way. An able adult who did not work, did not eat. McKay would change his mind about the repairs in time.
--
After missing mid-day and evening meals, McKay wanted to talk.
Ketras found him pacing the length of the dwelling. Sweat beaded on his forehead.
“I know you don’t want to feed me,” McKay said. “Why waste food on a prisoner, right? But the thing is, I get sick when I don’t eat. Hypoglycemia. I’ve already got the headache and nausea and I’ll only get sicker and eventually - ” He stumbled, catching himself with a hand on the wall. He straightened, turned around. “I need to eat.”
Ketras was unconvinced and unmoved. “Will you stay and help?”
McKay lifted his chin. “I’ll fix the harvest machine. We agreed and I. . . but I can’t stay. My friends need me.”
“My village needs you.”
“I can’t.”
Ketras left.
--
The moon was high when a guard woke him. “McKay complains of sickness, Elder.”
Ketras was up and pulling a tunic over his sleep clothes before his mind cleared. He paused. “Complains of sickness or is sick?”
The guard looked uncertain. “He has not moved in hours.”
“It’s night,” Ketras reasoned. “He is tired.”
“His hands shake.”
“Fear.”
“His words do not always make sense.”
“That is not new!” Ketras returned to bed.
--
In the morning, McKay told his guards he would stay.
Ketras strode to the dwelling, pleased. He settled the matter without violence or injury. And with McKay’s help, his village would have a future. He entered the dwelling with a feeling of celebration.
Then he saw McKay.
He sat hunched on the floor, back against the bed, head dropped forward. Trembling. He looked up with effort.
“I’ll w’rk,” he slurred. “Let ’em go.”
Ketras signaled the guard. “Get his leader,” he instructed. “Get him now.”
--
McKay would not to eat.
Not the sweet bread Ketras carried from his interrupted morning meal. Not the stew Ketras ordered brought. McKay mumbled about freeing his team, then turned his clouded gaze to the floor.
Ketras was more relieved to see Sheppard than he would admit.
“Jesus, McKay.” Sheppard dropped to a crouch and pressed his fingers to the inside of McKay’s wrist. He turned McKay’s face toward him. “Hey, buddy. When’s the last time you ate?”
“Last morning,” Ketras told him. “He would not work and - ”
Sheppard launched to his feet with such ferocity that Ketras automatically took a step back. The guards started forward, but Ketras waved them off.
“He needs to eat,” Sheppard gritted out.
“I tried.” Ketras gestured to a bowl on the table. “He refused.”
Sheppard snatched up the bowl and crouched in front of McKay again, stirring the stew. The scent of warm vegetables wafted through the room.
McKay’s head snapped up. Eyes wide, he scrambled back and onto the bed, pressing against the wall. “No, no, no. Won’t let you go if I eat.”
Ketras shook his head. “That is untrue. He is confused.”
Sheppard moved slowly forward. “C’mon, Rodney. You need food.”
“No!” With a quick motion, McKay knocked the bowl from Sheppard’s hand.
“Dammit.” The word was angry, but there was fear in Sheppard’s eyes. “I never thought I’d say this, but so help me, Rodney, if you don’t eat I’ll get Ronon to hold you down and I’ll force-feed you myself.”
McKay only pressed harder against the wall.
“Get his pack. I - ”
McKay seized, shaking the bed so hard it skittered along the floor. It lasted a few seconds. Then he fell still.
Ketras’ breath caught in his chest. “He is - ”
“Unconscious,” Sheppard growled, scooping McKay up and over his shoulder. “But unless you want him to die here. . . .”
“Go. Go!”
“Ronon and Teyla?”
Ketras looked to a guard, who ran off. “Being released now.”
Carrying McKay, Sheppard charged toward the ring. Ketras kept up for the first steps. “I am sorry. I would never. . . I just needed help for my people.”
Sheppard’s stride didn’t break.
Then they were gone.
--
The Atlanteans would want retribution.
Ketras sent everyone to the caves. McKay’s sickness was his fault. When the Atlanteans returned, they could have their vengeance with his blood.
Ketras waited two days before the ring lit to life, producing four people he knew. Then stranger after stranger carrying tools and equipment. The Atlanteans had returned.
With help.
Don’t forget to leave ONLY FEEDBACK in the comments and NOT VOTES. All comments will be screened until the voting closes.
Author: linziday
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Stargate belongs to Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Studios Inc., no infringements of any rights is intended.
Spoilers: None
Prompt for the Round: Your story must be told from a bad guy's POV, OC or canon, and must feature at least two members of the team, plus any other characters.
SELFLESS ACTS OF MISUNDERSTANDING by linziday
Ketras did not understand.
“You will not help?” He frowned. They had pledged assistance. Had. Now -
The four visitors stood. Three drew closer to one.
“Listen,” Visitor Sheppard said, tone even but eyes snapping with anger, “we agreed to repair your harvest machine in exchange for a look at the energy readings in your temple. And we’ll do that. Or we can forget the trade altogether if you want. But McKay won’t - ”
Ketras’ guards secured them before he finished his sentence.
--
The harvest machine sat in honor in the village center, a reminder of a better past. A wish for a better future.
“Sure, we can get it running for you,” Visitor Sheppard had said during trade talk.
“We?” Visitor McKay huffed.
“You,” Visitor Sheppard amended. Then he turned to Ketras and said, “McKay fixes everything.”
For a moment, Ketras had trouble speaking. “Everything?”
Visitor Sheppard grinned. “You name it.”
Not only the harvest machine, then. The old water system, damaged energy generators, broken medical machines. Everything. He had offered Visitor McKay to fix everything.
But the next morning, Visitor McKay would not stay.
It was a breach of trade Ketras could not allow. His village feared the Wraith, but it needed that technology. They could not stand another famine. They could not suffer another sickness without cure.
They needed McKay.
--
Ketras neither beat the visitors nor threatened their lives, though others said he should. He separated them instead, secured in dwellings far apart.
“No, no, no. You only want me. Let them go,” McKay said, twisting around to look back at his companions with panicked eyes as the guards hauled them apart. “They can’t fix anything! They’ll just take up space!”
“I am no fool,” Ketras spat. “Your companions would return for you and destroy the village in retribution. They will remain until you agree to honor the trade, McKay.”
McKay suddenly stopped. The guards propelled him forward. “Wait, wait, you dropped the ‘Visitor’ thing. Why - ” McKay snapped his jaws shut, as if afraid the answer would escape his own lips.
“You are no longer a visitor,” Ketras said. “Agree now or later, you will stay with us.”
And McKay would be treated that way. An able adult who did not work, did not eat. McKay would change his mind about the repairs in time.
--
After missing mid-day and evening meals, McKay wanted to talk.
Ketras found him pacing the length of the dwelling. Sweat beaded on his forehead.
“I know you don’t want to feed me,” McKay said. “Why waste food on a prisoner, right? But the thing is, I get sick when I don’t eat. Hypoglycemia. I’ve already got the headache and nausea and I’ll only get sicker and eventually - ” He stumbled, catching himself with a hand on the wall. He straightened, turned around. “I need to eat.”
Ketras was unconvinced and unmoved. “Will you stay and help?”
McKay lifted his chin. “I’ll fix the harvest machine. We agreed and I. . . but I can’t stay. My friends need me.”
“My village needs you.”
“I can’t.”
Ketras left.
--
The moon was high when a guard woke him. “McKay complains of sickness, Elder.”
Ketras was up and pulling a tunic over his sleep clothes before his mind cleared. He paused. “Complains of sickness or is sick?”
The guard looked uncertain. “He has not moved in hours.”
“It’s night,” Ketras reasoned. “He is tired.”
“His hands shake.”
“Fear.”
“His words do not always make sense.”
“That is not new!” Ketras returned to bed.
--
In the morning, McKay told his guards he would stay.
Ketras strode to the dwelling, pleased. He settled the matter without violence or injury. And with McKay’s help, his village would have a future. He entered the dwelling with a feeling of celebration.
Then he saw McKay.
He sat hunched on the floor, back against the bed, head dropped forward. Trembling. He looked up with effort.
“I’ll w’rk,” he slurred. “Let ’em go.”
Ketras signaled the guard. “Get his leader,” he instructed. “Get him now.”
--
McKay would not to eat.
Not the sweet bread Ketras carried from his interrupted morning meal. Not the stew Ketras ordered brought. McKay mumbled about freeing his team, then turned his clouded gaze to the floor.
Ketras was more relieved to see Sheppard than he would admit.
“Jesus, McKay.” Sheppard dropped to a crouch and pressed his fingers to the inside of McKay’s wrist. He turned McKay’s face toward him. “Hey, buddy. When’s the last time you ate?”
“Last morning,” Ketras told him. “He would not work and - ”
Sheppard launched to his feet with such ferocity that Ketras automatically took a step back. The guards started forward, but Ketras waved them off.
“He needs to eat,” Sheppard gritted out.
“I tried.” Ketras gestured to a bowl on the table. “He refused.”
Sheppard snatched up the bowl and crouched in front of McKay again, stirring the stew. The scent of warm vegetables wafted through the room.
McKay’s head snapped up. Eyes wide, he scrambled back and onto the bed, pressing against the wall. “No, no, no. Won’t let you go if I eat.”
Ketras shook his head. “That is untrue. He is confused.”
Sheppard moved slowly forward. “C’mon, Rodney. You need food.”
“No!” With a quick motion, McKay knocked the bowl from Sheppard’s hand.
“Dammit.” The word was angry, but there was fear in Sheppard’s eyes. “I never thought I’d say this, but so help me, Rodney, if you don’t eat I’ll get Ronon to hold you down and I’ll force-feed you myself.”
McKay only pressed harder against the wall.
“Get his pack. I - ”
McKay seized, shaking the bed so hard it skittered along the floor. It lasted a few seconds. Then he fell still.
Ketras’ breath caught in his chest. “He is - ”
“Unconscious,” Sheppard growled, scooping McKay up and over his shoulder. “But unless you want him to die here. . . .”
“Go. Go!”
“Ronon and Teyla?”
Ketras looked to a guard, who ran off. “Being released now.”
Carrying McKay, Sheppard charged toward the ring. Ketras kept up for the first steps. “I am sorry. I would never. . . I just needed help for my people.”
Sheppard’s stride didn’t break.
Then they were gone.
--
The Atlanteans would want retribution.
Ketras sent everyone to the caves. McKay’s sickness was his fault. When the Atlanteans returned, they could have their vengeance with his blood.
Ketras waited two days before the ring lit to life, producing four people he knew. Then stranger after stranger carrying tools and equipment. The Atlanteans had returned.
With help.
Don’t forget to leave ONLY FEEDBACK in the comments and NOT VOTES. All comments will be screened until the voting closes.