Fic: Sacrifice (PG)
Title: Sacrifice
Author: SGAtlantisLight
Characters: McKay, Sheppard, Beckett, Zelenka, Kavanaugh, Weir, Dex
Relationships: McKay/Sheppard, Zelenka/Beckett
Rating: PG for this part, but the series as a whole is NC-17
Warnings: Angst, angst, cliffhanger, and did I mention angst?
Spoilers: Duet reference
Summary: Part 57 of the Broken Series
Disclaimer: The characters, the setting, etc. are NOT mine, even if I wish they were.
John was dead.
Rodney sat staring at the wall, wrung out and left bereft of all emotion. The world seemed very distant and unreal and strangely grey as if all the colour had been leeched from it.
Ronon shifted uncomfortably and Rodney realised he still had a hand fisted in Ronon's shirt from his last crying jag. He unclenched it with some effort, as if his body was being operated by remote control.
"Food?" Ronon asked.
Rodney blinked and took a moment to remember how to work his mouth. "No thanks." He was hoarse and his throat ached.
"Maybe you should sleep some."
Sleep. At least then the world would fade away for a while. Maybe he'd wake up and discover it had all been some nightmare. Maybe he'd never wake up. He nodded mutely.
Ronon stood and pulled him to his feet. "We need to get this off you," he said, indicating the dark jacket Rodney was wearing.
Numbly, he looked down and realised there were places that were darker than the fabric and clots of something... His mind slipped sideways and the next thing he knew, he was leaning over the sink in the bathroom watching his vomit run down the drain.
"Breathe, McKay," Ronon said.
"Get it off me! Ronon, get it off me!" He was flailing now, horrified but unable to touch. "Get it off! Get it off! Getitoff!"
"Hold still. McKay! Hold still."
He was screaming, trying to fold into himself, away from his clothes, away from John's blood and... "Off! God, off now!"
Desperate, Ronon fisted the front of his jacket and pushed him back into the shower, hand slamming over the controls. Rodney spluttered as the water hit him, nearly choking. Ronon shook him as if he were a rag doll. "Stop it, now."
Rodney squeaked, but shut up, gasping for air.
"Okay. Now, I can take your clothes off you or I can cut them off, but either way you have to hold still."
Rodney nodded, the world spinning.
Ronon pushed him back against the wall and held him there with one hand while the other drew a knife and made quick work of his clothes, then gently lowered him to the shower floor. "Stay here."
Rodney sat in shock watching Ronon gather the shredded, bloodstained remains of his clothes. A minute later, the Satedan returned and studied the bottles of shampoo and conditioner. "Which one of these is yours?"
"Amber one."
Ronon grunted, picked up the bottle, then sat on the floor and gathered Rodney in his arms, back to front. "Relax," he ordered, then squirted some shampoo in his large hand and began working it into Rodney's hair.
"You're still dressed," Rodney said. "Your clothes..."
"They'll dry. Relax."
Rodney did as he was told, too exhausted to fight. Ronon's fingers worked quickly through his hair and then Rodney felt the washcloth on his face, moving carefully. Ronon worked swiftly and surprisingly gently, shifting Rodney as he needed, removing the traces of blood from Rodney's body. It was strangely relaxing, but completely unerotic.
"Think you can stand?"
Rodney nodded and shakily stood up. He didn't know how long he stood under the spray, willing it to wash away the horrors of the day before Ronon turned the shower off and led him out where he stood and let Ronon wrap a towel around him.
Ronon ran a towel through his own hair and over his clothes. "Wait here," he instructed and left. A moment later, he returned with 2 pairs of Rodney's boxers and 2 tee shirts. He tossed one set to Rodney. "Do you mind?" he asked, waving the other set.
"Huh? Ah. No."
Ronon grunted and unselfconsciously stripped, then pulled on the boxers and shirt. Rodney was surprised to see they fit. "Do you need help with those?" he asked, nodding at the clothes still in Rodney's hands.
Rodney blinked, then shook his head and pulled on the clothes, feeling like the world was made of molasses.
"Okay. Bed now," Ronon instructed.
Rodney let his teammate lead him into the bedroom and sit him down on the bed. Ronon quirked an eyebrow and Rodney laid down obediently. As Ronon pulled the covers over him, Rodney was overwhelmed with the scent of John in the bed.
He'd thought he couldn't cry anymore, but he buried his face in John's pillow, breathing in the scent of him, and wept.
***
Kavanaugh sat and stared at Beckett, Biro and Weir. "You're telling me that Colonel Sheppard... is... inside Deyn?"
Beckett nodded. "Aye, that's it exactly."
"Have... have you told Doctor McKay yet?"
Beckett shook his head. "We don't want to raise his hopes up."
Kavanaugh considered this. "The time with McKay and Cadman... They can't both coexist, can they?"
"No, son, they can't. If Deyn is to live, Colonel Sheppard's going to have to let go... and Deyn's going to have to let him go."
Kavanaugh hugged himself to try to hide the trembling. "Let him go? You think... you think Deyn's keeping him... Oh, God! That's why I can't feel him. He's protecting me... because if he..."
"We don't know that," Weir said.
"I do," he answered. "He wasn't allowed to do what came naturally to him because it would hurt me, so he's done the only thing he can do... and it's going to kill him."
"If Colonel Sheppard lets go..." Beckett said.
"It'll still kill him. He's connected. He can't not heal him, but he's not allowed to heal him, won't heal him because of me. So he's doing the only thing he can do." Kavanaugh buried his face in his hands. "I'm losing him. God, I can't do this again."
***
Ronon looked up as the door to Rodney's apartment slid open. Carson blinked at the sight of the man in boxers and a tee shirt. "How is he?" Carson asked, deciding against asking.
"He's asleep now."
"Good... That's good... How was he before?"
Ronon shrugged. "About normal for this kind of thing. I threw away his clothes."
Carson shuddered at the image that brought back to him. "That's probably for the best."
Ronon stood and padded into the bathroom, coming out with his own clothes-- wet, Carson noted. "Tell McKay I'll return these in a couple days."
"All right," Carson answered, bemused, and watched the man stalk out of the room and into the corridor where Carson saw, for just a brief second, a female Marine startle and then look appreciative before the door slid shut.
Sighing, he made his way to the bedroom and looked down on Rodney's face. Some of the blotchiness had cleared, but the grieving man's eyes were still red and puffy and Carson could make out tear tracks. He pulled up a chair and sat down. On the bedside table was a copy of War and Peace. Carson picked it up and opened it at random.
"You know," said the princess in the same tone of voice and still in French, turning to a general, "my husband is deserting me? He is going to get himself killed. Tell me what this wretched war is for?"
Feeling tears spring to his eyes, Carson replaced the book. "Ah, Rodney... I'm so sorry."
***
Gilchrist sat down beside him. "Hey."
"Hello," Kavanaugh answered.
"Dr. Weir told me what was happening. I'm... so sorry."
"I can't do this again, Nelson. I lost my dad, my wife, and just this year my mother, not to mention friends and colleagues here on Atlantis. I just... can't."
The chaplain considered the man beside him. "He's made his choice, Mass. 'Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.'"
Kavanaugh looked at him, tears glimmering in his eyes. "He's not a man, Nelson. He's a child! He's my child. And I refuse... I won't let him."
Gilchrist shook his head. "How are you going to stop him?"
And Kavanaugh was silent.
***
"Milácku?" Radek's voice called from the doorway.
Carson stepped to the entrance of the bedroom. "In here, love."
Radek stepped forward, saw Rodney asleep, and stole a quick kiss from Carson, hurrying lest Rodney would awake and be grieved to see such affection after his loss. "How is he?"
"He's been sleeping, fitfully."
As if to demonstrate, Rodney turned over then, his hand groping out around him. His eyes shot open then and he sat up and stared at the empty pillow beside him. "Oh, God!" he gasped, and curled in on himself.
In unison, both men moved to him, slipping onto the bed to surround him. "It's okay, Rodney," Carson soothed.
"It's not okay," Rodney answered, voice breaking with grief. "John's dead. It's never going to be okay again."
***
As soon as Gilchrist left them, Kavanaugh reached out and gathered Deyn into his arms. "Come on, buddy," he whispered as he carried the boy through the room and into the cold back hallway that led to the morgue.
Deyn's eyes shot open and he began struggling.
"No, shhh. It's okay. It's okay," Kavanaugh soothed, holding him closer.
The door slid open and Kavanaugh paused, heart pounding in his throat as he looked at the sheet-covered body lying in the room.
"No!" Deyn said. "No... nonono!"
"My mother always said the first word a Kavanaugh learns is 'no,'" Kavanaugh said, stepping into the room. "Okay, shh, buddy. Calm down."
Deyn whimpered, tears coming to his eyes. "No."
He stood Deyn up, then knelt down to his level. "I won't have you dying, especially to save me."
Deyn started to tremble, hands fisting into Kavanaugh's shirt.
"Listen to me, buddy. You and I both know what you need to do." Deyn started to shake his head, but Kavanaugh stopped him. "No, listen to me. I love you and I can't lose you. My heart couldn't stand it. So... you need to do this. Take what you can from the gene carriers. Use as much as you can of your own strength without hurting yourself. And then take what you need from me."
Deyn sobbed. "No!"
"You have to. I love you. But, please, you know other people here love you, too. Radek, Carson, even Rodney. Don't hurt them, please. Let them help you through this. Okay? I know this probably won't work, but if it doesn't, you'll be free of him. It's the only way." He hugged the boy tight and then pulled him back to look into his deep blue eyes. "Open up to me. Let me help."
And Deyn sobbed and clasped his father's face between his hands.
***
When Rodney gasped and sagged against him, Radek was somewhat concerned, but not too worried, putting it down to grief. Then Carson gasped and grabbed his head.
"Oh, God!" he gasped. "It's Deyn! Radek, ye've got to stop him. The morgue..."
Radek dashed for the door and out into the corridor. He ran for the transporter, grabbing Jack O'Neill as the young pilot collapsed against a wall.
He had made it to the door of the morgue when he was hit by grief and horror and fear and rage, like a sudden gale, stealing his breath. He stumbled as the door slid open, taking in the sight of the small boy holding the body in his arms, screaming and sobbing. Then suddenly, he could feel Carson's presence-- soothing, quiet, caring and calm. It was joined by another-- leaden with his own grief, mind leaping as the connection was made, questioning, answering, knowing, Rodney. And then a third mind touched his-- confused, alive... and he knew it, knew the touch, knew the mind...
John.
Author: SGAtlantisLight
Characters: McKay, Sheppard, Beckett, Zelenka, Kavanaugh, Weir, Dex
Relationships: McKay/Sheppard, Zelenka/Beckett
Rating: PG for this part, but the series as a whole is NC-17
Warnings: Angst, angst, cliffhanger, and did I mention angst?
Spoilers: Duet reference
Summary: Part 57 of the Broken Series
Disclaimer: The characters, the setting, etc. are NOT mine, even if I wish they were.
John was dead.
Rodney sat staring at the wall, wrung out and left bereft of all emotion. The world seemed very distant and unreal and strangely grey as if all the colour had been leeched from it.
Ronon shifted uncomfortably and Rodney realised he still had a hand fisted in Ronon's shirt from his last crying jag. He unclenched it with some effort, as if his body was being operated by remote control.
"Food?" Ronon asked.
Rodney blinked and took a moment to remember how to work his mouth. "No thanks." He was hoarse and his throat ached.
"Maybe you should sleep some."
Sleep. At least then the world would fade away for a while. Maybe he'd wake up and discover it had all been some nightmare. Maybe he'd never wake up. He nodded mutely.
Ronon stood and pulled him to his feet. "We need to get this off you," he said, indicating the dark jacket Rodney was wearing.
Numbly, he looked down and realised there were places that were darker than the fabric and clots of something... His mind slipped sideways and the next thing he knew, he was leaning over the sink in the bathroom watching his vomit run down the drain.
"Breathe, McKay," Ronon said.
"Get it off me! Ronon, get it off me!" He was flailing now, horrified but unable to touch. "Get it off! Get it off! Getitoff!"
"Hold still. McKay! Hold still."
He was screaming, trying to fold into himself, away from his clothes, away from John's blood and... "Off! God, off now!"
Desperate, Ronon fisted the front of his jacket and pushed him back into the shower, hand slamming over the controls. Rodney spluttered as the water hit him, nearly choking. Ronon shook him as if he were a rag doll. "Stop it, now."
Rodney squeaked, but shut up, gasping for air.
"Okay. Now, I can take your clothes off you or I can cut them off, but either way you have to hold still."
Rodney nodded, the world spinning.
Ronon pushed him back against the wall and held him there with one hand while the other drew a knife and made quick work of his clothes, then gently lowered him to the shower floor. "Stay here."
Rodney sat in shock watching Ronon gather the shredded, bloodstained remains of his clothes. A minute later, the Satedan returned and studied the bottles of shampoo and conditioner. "Which one of these is yours?"
"Amber one."
Ronon grunted, picked up the bottle, then sat on the floor and gathered Rodney in his arms, back to front. "Relax," he ordered, then squirted some shampoo in his large hand and began working it into Rodney's hair.
"You're still dressed," Rodney said. "Your clothes..."
"They'll dry. Relax."
Rodney did as he was told, too exhausted to fight. Ronon's fingers worked quickly through his hair and then Rodney felt the washcloth on his face, moving carefully. Ronon worked swiftly and surprisingly gently, shifting Rodney as he needed, removing the traces of blood from Rodney's body. It was strangely relaxing, but completely unerotic.
"Think you can stand?"
Rodney nodded and shakily stood up. He didn't know how long he stood under the spray, willing it to wash away the horrors of the day before Ronon turned the shower off and led him out where he stood and let Ronon wrap a towel around him.
Ronon ran a towel through his own hair and over his clothes. "Wait here," he instructed and left. A moment later, he returned with 2 pairs of Rodney's boxers and 2 tee shirts. He tossed one set to Rodney. "Do you mind?" he asked, waving the other set.
"Huh? Ah. No."
Ronon grunted and unselfconsciously stripped, then pulled on the boxers and shirt. Rodney was surprised to see they fit. "Do you need help with those?" he asked, nodding at the clothes still in Rodney's hands.
Rodney blinked, then shook his head and pulled on the clothes, feeling like the world was made of molasses.
"Okay. Bed now," Ronon instructed.
Rodney let his teammate lead him into the bedroom and sit him down on the bed. Ronon quirked an eyebrow and Rodney laid down obediently. As Ronon pulled the covers over him, Rodney was overwhelmed with the scent of John in the bed.
He'd thought he couldn't cry anymore, but he buried his face in John's pillow, breathing in the scent of him, and wept.
***
Kavanaugh sat and stared at Beckett, Biro and Weir. "You're telling me that Colonel Sheppard... is... inside Deyn?"
Beckett nodded. "Aye, that's it exactly."
"Have... have you told Doctor McKay yet?"
Beckett shook his head. "We don't want to raise his hopes up."
Kavanaugh considered this. "The time with McKay and Cadman... They can't both coexist, can they?"
"No, son, they can't. If Deyn is to live, Colonel Sheppard's going to have to let go... and Deyn's going to have to let him go."
Kavanaugh hugged himself to try to hide the trembling. "Let him go? You think... you think Deyn's keeping him... Oh, God! That's why I can't feel him. He's protecting me... because if he..."
"We don't know that," Weir said.
"I do," he answered. "He wasn't allowed to do what came naturally to him because it would hurt me, so he's done the only thing he can do... and it's going to kill him."
"If Colonel Sheppard lets go..." Beckett said.
"It'll still kill him. He's connected. He can't not heal him, but he's not allowed to heal him, won't heal him because of me. So he's doing the only thing he can do." Kavanaugh buried his face in his hands. "I'm losing him. God, I can't do this again."
***
Ronon looked up as the door to Rodney's apartment slid open. Carson blinked at the sight of the man in boxers and a tee shirt. "How is he?" Carson asked, deciding against asking.
"He's asleep now."
"Good... That's good... How was he before?"
Ronon shrugged. "About normal for this kind of thing. I threw away his clothes."
Carson shuddered at the image that brought back to him. "That's probably for the best."
Ronon stood and padded into the bathroom, coming out with his own clothes-- wet, Carson noted. "Tell McKay I'll return these in a couple days."
"All right," Carson answered, bemused, and watched the man stalk out of the room and into the corridor where Carson saw, for just a brief second, a female Marine startle and then look appreciative before the door slid shut.
Sighing, he made his way to the bedroom and looked down on Rodney's face. Some of the blotchiness had cleared, but the grieving man's eyes were still red and puffy and Carson could make out tear tracks. He pulled up a chair and sat down. On the bedside table was a copy of War and Peace. Carson picked it up and opened it at random.
"You know," said the princess in the same tone of voice and still in French, turning to a general, "my husband is deserting me? He is going to get himself killed. Tell me what this wretched war is for?"
Feeling tears spring to his eyes, Carson replaced the book. "Ah, Rodney... I'm so sorry."
***
Gilchrist sat down beside him. "Hey."
"Hello," Kavanaugh answered.
"Dr. Weir told me what was happening. I'm... so sorry."
"I can't do this again, Nelson. I lost my dad, my wife, and just this year my mother, not to mention friends and colleagues here on Atlantis. I just... can't."
The chaplain considered the man beside him. "He's made his choice, Mass. 'Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.'"
Kavanaugh looked at him, tears glimmering in his eyes. "He's not a man, Nelson. He's a child! He's my child. And I refuse... I won't let him."
Gilchrist shook his head. "How are you going to stop him?"
And Kavanaugh was silent.
***
"Milácku?" Radek's voice called from the doorway.
Carson stepped to the entrance of the bedroom. "In here, love."
Radek stepped forward, saw Rodney asleep, and stole a quick kiss from Carson, hurrying lest Rodney would awake and be grieved to see such affection after his loss. "How is he?"
"He's been sleeping, fitfully."
As if to demonstrate, Rodney turned over then, his hand groping out around him. His eyes shot open then and he sat up and stared at the empty pillow beside him. "Oh, God!" he gasped, and curled in on himself.
In unison, both men moved to him, slipping onto the bed to surround him. "It's okay, Rodney," Carson soothed.
"It's not okay," Rodney answered, voice breaking with grief. "John's dead. It's never going to be okay again."
***
As soon as Gilchrist left them, Kavanaugh reached out and gathered Deyn into his arms. "Come on, buddy," he whispered as he carried the boy through the room and into the cold back hallway that led to the morgue.
Deyn's eyes shot open and he began struggling.
"No, shhh. It's okay. It's okay," Kavanaugh soothed, holding him closer.
The door slid open and Kavanaugh paused, heart pounding in his throat as he looked at the sheet-covered body lying in the room.
"No!" Deyn said. "No... nonono!"
"My mother always said the first word a Kavanaugh learns is 'no,'" Kavanaugh said, stepping into the room. "Okay, shh, buddy. Calm down."
Deyn whimpered, tears coming to his eyes. "No."
He stood Deyn up, then knelt down to his level. "I won't have you dying, especially to save me."
Deyn started to tremble, hands fisting into Kavanaugh's shirt.
"Listen to me, buddy. You and I both know what you need to do." Deyn started to shake his head, but Kavanaugh stopped him. "No, listen to me. I love you and I can't lose you. My heart couldn't stand it. So... you need to do this. Take what you can from the gene carriers. Use as much as you can of your own strength without hurting yourself. And then take what you need from me."
Deyn sobbed. "No!"
"You have to. I love you. But, please, you know other people here love you, too. Radek, Carson, even Rodney. Don't hurt them, please. Let them help you through this. Okay? I know this probably won't work, but if it doesn't, you'll be free of him. It's the only way." He hugged the boy tight and then pulled him back to look into his deep blue eyes. "Open up to me. Let me help."
And Deyn sobbed and clasped his father's face between his hands.
***
When Rodney gasped and sagged against him, Radek was somewhat concerned, but not too worried, putting it down to grief. Then Carson gasped and grabbed his head.
"Oh, God!" he gasped. "It's Deyn! Radek, ye've got to stop him. The morgue..."
Radek dashed for the door and out into the corridor. He ran for the transporter, grabbing Jack O'Neill as the young pilot collapsed against a wall.
He had made it to the door of the morgue when he was hit by grief and horror and fear and rage, like a sudden gale, stealing his breath. He stumbled as the door slid open, taking in the sight of the small boy holding the body in his arms, screaming and sobbing. Then suddenly, he could feel Carson's presence-- soothing, quiet, caring and calm. It was joined by another-- leaden with his own grief, mind leaping as the connection was made, questioning, answering, knowing, Rodney. And then a third mind touched his-- confused, alive... and he knew it, knew the touch, knew the mind...
John.