Fic: Preferential Treatment (Sheppard/McKay, PG-13, H/c)
Title: Preferential Treatment
Author: Rachael Sabotini (wickedwords)
Original Story: Entanglements by Barb G (troutkitty)
Other Info: Sheppard/McKay, PG-13, H/c, 4750 words
Summary: Sometimes being rescued isn't all it's cracked up to be.
A/N: Many thanks to my wonderful team of betas for this story: elynross, sherrold, and movies_michelle. All the remaining errors are my own. Written for the 2007 gateverse_remix challenge. The original story was written early season 2, and this version sticks with that alternate timeline.
Preferential Treatment
"Move! Move! Move!" Rodney yells at the medical team as they push John's gurney down the Daedelus gangway. "Come on, we don't have all day." He stabs at the hallway with his good hand, aborting the move mid-gesture as the room begins to white out on him; he grabs the rail on the cargo rack instead. "He needs to be in the infirmary now!"
"As do you," Carson says gruffly, coming up beside him. "Come on, Rodney. We brought a second gurney for you. It wouldn't hurt you to use it."
"I'm fine," Rodney grinds out, his heart thumping hard against his chest. "Food and water have just been a little scarce, lately."
"What about this?" Carson points at Rodney's bandaged hand. "This doesn't look like not enough food and water."
"Oh. That. Yes, well, there's a funny story about that--"
"Really?"
"No." Rodney swallows and glances at the hallway where Sheppard was taken.
Carson's hand rests gently on his shoulder, reassuring and demanding in equal measure. "You're coming with me to the infirmary, Rodney. It's your choice whether it's under your own power or not."
Rodney opts for the gurney when he realizes that his legs are wobbly and won't hold him up for much longer; he's angry with himself for not being able to walk. He watches the ceiling as he's sped through the halls of Atlantis, annoyed at all of the fussing. He's not some gentle flower that needs to be coddled--the Genii did enough of that, using his privileges to try and turn Sheppard against him. John was the one who had taken most of the punishment.
Well, okay. Except for the dislocated fingers, and the foot-thing, and the attempted drug addiction. Those had all been his own.
During the initial exam, Carson frowns a lot, and finally tells him they will need to reset his hand. The Genii had withheld their painkillers for the last few days, hoping that withdrawal would make Rodney cooperate, but ha! More fools them. Carson dopes him right then and there, once they verify that his blood work is clean. Then he's stripped, tied into a gown, and taken into surgery.
Was John in here? Rodney tries to get up to see, but Carson shakes his head.
"Rodney, lie down before I have to restrain you." He pushes gently on Rodney's chest, and Rodney lets himself be pressed him back onto the bed.
"Where's John?" He can't keep the anxiety out of his voice.
"Dr. Singh is still working on him."
"Which one of your witchdoctors is that?"
"The neurosurgeon." Huh. Rodney didn't even know they had someone like that on staff.
Carson takes a syringe from Halverson, and injects it into Rodney's IV. "This will dull the pain, but you'll still be awake. We'll need you conscious for this procedure."
"I'm not sure I like the sound of that."
"It's called conscious sedation, and you'll be fine. There's no reason to resort to a general anesthetic for this." Carson pats him on the shoulder, and Rodney can tell from the warm, glowy feeling it gives him that the anesthetic is already taking affect.
He drifts in and out while they work, bright flashes of memory overlaying the infirmary around him. He's back on the planet, where fading sunlight casts dim shadows in the crevasse, revealing little to Rodney's eye. He can hear John struggling, the faint rustling sound of paper and leaves in the wind brushing up the steep walls toward them--but there is no wind, just the plant, its tendrils lovingly wrapped around its latest sacrifice in a parody of an embrace.
If he looks carefully when the light is just right, Rodney is able to see John's eyes; Kolya steps forward, blocking the sight. "Where is Major Sheppard, Doctor? I was told you went through the Stargate together."
"It's Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard." Swallowing, Rodney thrusts out his chin, deliberately not looking into the crevasse and not intending to answer. "He went back to the gate with Teyla and Ronon, for reinforcements. He's probably asleep right now. We try to time our offworld missions in sync with Atlantian time, but he might be watching a movie."
Kolya shook his head. "The villagers said that only two went back. I doubt Sheppard would leave you here on your own. And since you are here," he waves his hands expansively, taking in the willowy trees, the gnarly bushes, and the valley of the man-eating plant, "He will be somewhere in the vicinity." He nods at two of his guards. "I'm sure my men can help you remember where you left him."
One of the goons seizes his right wrist while the other twists his left up behind his back, pain and pressure forcing Rodney to the ground. Rodney blinks, tears already forming in his eyes as he looks around for the knife. Oh, God, he really didn’t want to do this again.
Kolya steps in front of him, looming over where he's stretched out on the ground, and Rodney glances up at a painful angle to see Kolya's face. "Now, Dr. McKay, where did you last see Colonel Sheppard?"
***
The infirmary's a depressingly familiar sight when he comes to, a few hours later. Elizabeth is leaning against a table near Rodney's bed, while Carson fusses with an IV, double-checking the set-up on Rodney's good hand. The other one is immobilized.
He glances around, but he doesn't see John anywhere. His whole body feels slow, like he's made of mercury, and he can barely hear himself when he asks: "Where's John?"
The noise must have been enough, as Carson glances over at him. "Ah, good," says Carson. "You're back with us." He finishes fussing with the tubes, then turns to look at both Rodney and Elizabeth. "It took longer than we thought, but you should be all right in a few weeks time to start physical therapy."
"I can be treated here?" Rodney asks, his voice stronger, but wow, his lips feel swollen and his mouth is incredibly dry.
"Aye," Carson says, and hands Rodney a glass with some ice chips. "One at a time, please."
"That's good news." Elizabeth lets out a heavy sigh, and Rodney can see some of the worry drop from her face.
"Tell me about it," Rodney mumbles around his ice. His skin feels prickly, and he can't relax. He twists the fingers of his good hand into the bedding. "Where's John?"
Elizabeth glances at Carson. "Rodney, can you tell us what happened? Teyla and Ronon mentioned something about a man-eating plant when they came through the gate, but Lorne says you were held at a Genii outpost. And John's injuries--" She shakes her head. "He's still in surgery."
The sharp edge of the ice chip stabs Rodney in his cheek, which feels a lot better than the way his stomach roils at the memories of their captivity, and he grimaces, wondering if he's going to need a basin to puke in. "We found Kolya." He laughs bitterly, the taste of bile on his tongue. "Actually, Kolya found us."
***
Kolya's man spots John before they can do more than dislocate a couple of fingers; Rodney's not too clear on what happens next, as the pain makes his thoughts a little foggy. They pour something into a cup of water and force Rodney to drink it; after that, it's walking, walking, walking, but at least John's at his side.
At last they reach a salt box of a building, the entrance to an underground bunker. The guards shove John into the cell first, and he lands on the floor in a heap. Rodney tries to protect his hand as he's pushed into the cell, but it painfully reminds him that all is not well as he stumbled over John. He doesn't land on the floor himself, but it's a near thing. Carefully tucking his hand into his shirt, Rodney immobilizes it to lessen the pain as he watches John crawl up to hands and knees. There's the clatter of a steel plate hitting the floor, and the door slams shut.
Rodney carefully looks around. Same ol' stuff. Doesn't matter if it's the brig on some ship or the deepest dungeon on some planet, being in a cell sucks. And the fact that it's a Genii cell sucks the worst of all. Rodney mentally lists all the ways that the single stone cot and condensation-streaked walls is better than being wrapped in a cocoon on a Wraith hive ship, but he's not buying it. His hand throbs, his fingers hurt, and his feet and wrists ache from the chains and forced marching. A plate of watery grey grain rests on the floor, most of the food miraculously contained in the bowl with a flask of liquid beside it.
At least they left some dinner; Kolya must want them alive. He squats down by John and lays his good hand on John's shoulder. His thighs are shaky, and he's not sure he'll be able to get back up. Still, he's in better shape than John, given that the Genii detangled him from a man-eating plant before Kolya kicked the shit out of him, then shackled them together.
He brushes John's hair away from his face, and that little movement hurts like hell. He hisses air through his teeth to keep from screaming. "Sheppard?" Rodney asks, pitching forward as his legs give out; he grabs John's shoulder with his other hand to prevent himself from falling over, and that's when he can't contain the pain anymore. "Fuck, oh, fuck. That hurts."
"R'dny?" John mumbles, rolling over slightly; his right eye is swollen, and there's dark bruising on his cheek; Rodney's sure there are other bruises to match hidden under his uniform.
Feeling a little more steady, Rodney pulls back and gives John room to rise; he can see more bruising and some blood on John's back and thighs, where the fabric is torn. He looks steady, though, and that's good, very good. One of them has to be steady on their feet for them both to escape.
"You okay?" John asks, then pushes his jaw from side to side. He's got a big bruise on his chin, and a fat lip, so he must have taken a punch there, as well.
"Eh." Rodney says, waving his good hand in the air. "I can't seem to stand up."
John steps around behind Rodney and puts an arm around his chest; Rodney feels the heat of him solid against his back. Then it's the ol' 'one-two-three,' and they're both standing. Panting a bit, white-faced, and a little freaked out, but standing.
It doesn't last long. John sags onto the cot with a heavy sigh, while Rodney eases himself down next to John. He looks the bed over and blinks. They can share if they lay sideways and spoon together, but Rodney thinks his ass might be left hanging off the edge.
"Should I get to work on the 'how screwed are we' report?'" Rodney says, unable to keep the pain or bitterness out of his voice. "Or can you add 'Genii,' 'Kolya,' and 'secret underground bunker' together?"
"Rodney, relax." John levers himself up on the bed. "He's going to let us stew for awhile. Try to rest."
"Rest, right. It's Kolya. There's no--" Rodney's up off the cot before he can think, which is saying something; they need to get out of here now. Doesn't John understand that? The pain in his hand slams him down hard, and Rodney ends up curled in on himself less than two steps from the cot. "Ow, God. Ow." He pants softly, wrapping his good hand around the twisted fingers, as if that will do any good.
John's on the floor with him by the time his vision clears, one hand reassuringly gentle against Rodney's back, the other solid on Rodney's wrist. Rodney nods at the look on John's face and opens his good hand, letting John see what had happened. His pinky and ring finger are crooked, and John takes Rodney's hand in his. Even though just the touch of skin-against-skin makes Rodney whimper, being near John, touching John, makes him feel like they're going to be okay.
John's face flickers with a dozen emotions as he carefully turns Rodney's hand, staring at the twisted fingers. "They're dislocated. I can fix it, but it's going to hurt."
"Yeah, tell me something I didn't know." Rodney snaps, the pain making his teeth ache. "I thought they were peachy-keen all crumpled up like that." He doesn't want to think about what this might mean, if they stay twisted like that. He also doesn't want to think about what it's going to feel like, to get them put right. Ronon may list setting dislocated joints as a hobby, but it's something Rodney never wanted to experience.
"This is going to hurt." John looks Rodney straight in the eyes, not hiding anything. "More than it does right now."
"Fuck," Rodney groans. "Okay, just go ease--"
He doesn't have time to finish the sentence before John pulls and straightens his fingers. Rodney keeps the scream tucked in his throat somehow, but he's sweating, and his hand trembles weakly; there's nothing he can do about that.
"Good going, tough guy," John says, stroking Rodney's hands, watching Rodney's face carefully. "I don't think you're going to pass out."
"Yay," Rodney says weakly. "Glad to know all of my time as a captive has been good for something. 'No longer faints when tortured.' Get Elizabeth to add that to my employee evaluation next time."
He stands, but his knees wobble, and he sinks toward the floor again. John scoops him up before he can hit the ground, wraps an arm around his back, and guides him to the bed. "Can you rest now?"
Rodney settles himself on the bed. "Probably."
John looks at the floor, then at the bed, his brow furrowing; Rodney moves back as best he can, and yes, his ass is hanging off the edge. John sprawls out next to him, the only warmth in the room. There's an uncomfortable silence as Rodney tried to hold himself back from snuggling up against John's back.
"Come on, pull it into hug harbor," John mutters, rolling over and pulling Rodney against his chest.
Yes. Okay. So the sound of John's heartbeat is something that might be nice outside of a prison sometime, but the rest of it is for shit. Rodney threads his good hand in John's and just listens awhile as John stretches out in sleep.
***
"Kolya?" Elizabeth sits upright, her hand flying to her radio, but Rodney shakes his head.
"He was killed during the rescue." He can still see John pulling the trigger in his mind, and the way Kolya's blood splattered them both, before he grabbed John and the Daedelus beamed them up together. "I'm not sure if anyone else knew it was him, though. He was a little...disfigured, when he died."
Glancing at Carson, Elizabeth nods, her lips a line of grim determination. "Make sure Dr. Brio knows that, when examining the bodies."
Elbowing himself up, Rodney checks the hall to see if John might be there. His whole body thrums with tension, and he can't just lay back and relax the way he should. He catches Elizabeth's look at Carson, and forces himself to lie back, processing what Elizabeth said. "You sent a team in?" Rodney blinks. "Huh."
"Several." Elizabeth's lips quirk in a half-smile, though her concern is still apparent. "Once we had you on the Daedelus, Major Lorne and the marines cleared out the rats' nest."
Rodney can't stand it any more. He has to know. "When's John getting out of surgery?" He can't stop himself from straining to look at the hall. "He's been in there for hours, hasn't he?" He glances at Elizabeth and then Carson. "It can't be too much longer." He shoves the covers off and tries to swing his legs out of the bed, before Carson catches him and pushes him back down.
"You can't be up and walking around just yet," Carson says worriedly.
"Okay, then get me a wheelchair. I'm fine." He uses his good hand to point at his bad one. "Doesn't hurt anymore."
"That's because we have you on painkillers." Carson says, tucking Rodney in firmly. "You can't be wandering the halls just yet."
"Rodney," Elizabeth folds her arms across her chest and looks intently at him. "Dr. Linden reported that she had trouble separating you and John while you were on the ship."
"Oh. Yes, well." Rodney shifts uncomfortably, looking at the ceiling rather than at either Carson or Elizabeth. This is a little weird, even for them. But he can't just not say anything, not with the way his skin feels, and the way his breath is tight in his chest. He's two steps away from a full fledged panic attack, and there's no way he wants that to happen. Closing his eyes, he takes a couple of deep breaths, imagining wide open fields, letting himself fall into the moment "You may need to call Heightmeyer about it. We, ah, have a little trouble when we can't see each other."
"I see." Carson says calmly. "I think maybe we better move the Colonel in with you, then, once he's out of surgery."
Rodney hadn't realized how tight his chest was until it relaxed. "Would you?"
"Of course."
Opening his eyes, Rodney looks at them, and neither Carson nor Elizabeth look like they think it's an odd request. He's getting tired, and he wants to sleep. But John's still in surgery, and Rodney doesn't know if he can--not until John's there with him, anyway.
So he keeps talking, the sound of his own voice reassuring. "Kolya wanted revenge." He plucks at the blanket and shifts back against his pillows. He has a flash of Kolya's warm expression as his sadistic voice echoes in Rodney's mind: "I think Dr. Weir needs to hear these screams."
"He went after John just because he could."
Elizabeth leans forward and squeezes Rodney's hand. "Maybe that was a part of it--"
"That was all of it. They broke my fingers and reset them, they--" He swallows, trying not to think about it too hard. "They pushed John a little harder every day, and they never asked any questions."
His voice sounds raw and shaky in his own ears, and Carson looks concerned. He checks something on the monitors and shakes his head at Elizabeth. "That's enough questions for now, I'm afraid." He pushes the ice chips at Rodney. "You need to have a few more of these, and then we can try some apple juice."
Rodney's stomach rumbles, and with a grimace, Rodney plucks one of the ice chips out of the paper cup and stuffs it in his mouth. "When's John--"
"Soon, Rodney, soon." He pats Rodney's shoulder and gestures to Elizabeth, who takes the hint and leaves. "You try to rest, and the Colonel will be here before you know it."
As the ice melts, the cool liquid spilling over his tongue, Rodney finds that he can't keep his eyes open and drifts off again to sleep.
The dreams are snips and bits of the last few days. Standing in Kolya's office, fresh bandage on his arm, eating the soft bread and sweet butter he's been given. He hasn't eaten anything this tasty in days. "What about Sheppard?" he asks, surreptitiously shoving a piece of the bread in his pocket.
Kolya arches his eyebrow. "If you both co-operate, he may live a little longer, but there are no plans for Colonel Sheppard to survive."
"What?" Rodney pulls back. That wasn't a part of his plan. "And if I don't cooperate?"
Kolya fills a glass with cool, clean water and drinks it slowly in front of Rodney, clearly relishing it. He sets it carefully down on his desk. "I haven't decided if you're going to live yet. Cooperate, and you may survive." He gestures at his men. "Empty Dr. McKay's pockets for him, and take him back to his cell."
He's invasively searched, the crusts of bread found and ground into the floor. When he's marched back to his cell, John is naked, kneeling on the floor, waiting for Kolya.
"What are you doing?" he yells as the door shuts behind him. "You're going to freeze to death like this!"
John shrugs, eyes downcast. "Kolya said I should, so, I thought I would."
"Kolya's going to kill you," Rodney says, his voice just as flat as he feels inside. "It doesn't matter if you do what he wants or not. He's not letting you out of here alive."
"I know, Rodney," John says quietly. "I'm just hoping it keeps you alive."
"Oh, for--" Rodney rolls his eyes and pulls John to his feet. "Come on, if you're not going to dress, at least get under the covers. Kolya didn't mention anything about the blankets when he gave his big 'you will learn to respect me' speech, right? And I can feel you shivering from here."
"I think that's low blood sugar."
"Did they feed you...? Of course not. I, uh, tried to bring you something, but--"
"It's okay, Rodney. It's really okay." He pauses, his gaze flickering across Rodney's face. "You know, that bed really does sound good right now." A spasm wracks him, making him hunch over; Rodney puts his hand on John's back, trying to think of what the hell he can do to help.
His hand feels incredibly warm against John's cold, damp skin. Frowning, Rodney rubs his fingers up John's spine. Is John running a fever? Is that why he doesn't notice the cold?
When the spasm passes, Rodney wraps his arm around John more tightly. "Come on, it's only another few feet."
"I can walk, you know."
Rodney snorts. "Yeah, right. That's why you're hobbling around like your knees have locked up on you." He shoves his shoulder under John's arm. "Hold on. It'll be easier for you." As they cross a brighter section of the room, Rodney can see John's skin clearly. Pale, yes, but also tinged blue. And black.
Fresh bruises, scrapes, and cuff marks mar John's skin, and Rodney curses himself for going to eat with Kolya in the first place.
Rodney gets him to the bed, then grabs their water cup and tears a strip of cloth from his uniform. He dips it in the water and tries to wash the worst of the cuts, hissing as he finally sees John's back.
"This is going to hurt," he mutters.
"Lot less than getting them did, I tell ya." John stays still as Rodney works.
"What happened?"
John shrugs. "The usual, I guess. Something."
"Fists and rubber hoses don't leave marks like this." Rodney doesn't touch the mark on John's thigh, though part of him wants to...wants to...erase it, like the wrong answer on a dry erase board. "It looks electrical."
"Kolya's trying to be creative, so it's something different every day. I don't worry too much about it."
"You're insane, you know. When people said you had a death wish, I stood up and defended you. This, this is something you should be worrying about."
"Not really. All this stuff, it's just to humiliate me, make me feel like less of a man. But the longer it takes, the better chance we have of figuring out an escape plan or of being rescued." John shrugs. "What's a little nudity among friends?"
"Does it?" Rodney asks, carefully not looking at John.
"Does it what?"
"Make you feel like less of a man."
"Oh." John tilts his head sideways as he thinks. "Not particularly. Now, dressing up in that pink lace thing on MX7-495, that made me feel like less of a man."
"What about the feathery thing on MJ6-979?"
"That just kinda itched."
Satisfied he's done what he can do to clean off the worst of it, Rodney pushes John down onto the bed, takes off his own shirt and pants, and crawls in behind him. Skin-to-skin doesn't lie, and it's not long before Rodney can feel both of them warming up. He can't help himself, and nuzzles his face into the back of John's neck; he's rewarded with a soft noise, and John pushes back into Rodney's warmth.
In the quiet dark, it's easy to let the outside world slip away; Rodney pulls John in tight, spooning around him and sliding his arms down around John's chest and stomach. It's not exactly how he used to imaging holding John and touching him, but he doesn't have the energy for anything more enthusiastic.
Besides, this is good. He can hear John's breathing, feel his muscles and skin, and just that brings the illusion of safety. At least until John speaks.
"It's going to take them a while to kill me, Rodney. Kolya wants to do it slow," John says, his back and ass pressing tight against Rodney. "That'll give the others a better chance to find us." He hesitates, then asks in a soft voice, "Zelenka can do it, right? Trace us back here."
Rodney's natural pessimism says no, but at the moment, here in the dark, he summons up as much optimism as he's ever seen Sheppard project. "I'm sure he can, Colonel. I'm sure he will."
And for that moment, in the dark, his arms wrapped tightly around John, he believes it too.
***
Rodney rouses as John's bed is pushed into position beside him, less than an arm's length between them. He's still foggy as they get John situated, but the fog clears enough that he's able to fumble his good hand out of the covers and over to John's bed, resting it awkwardly on the rail. His fingertips can just reach the hair on the back of John's wrist, and Rodney brushes against it as much as he can, just to feel that John's there.
Rodney can hear the smile in John's voice as he says, "Told you it'd be all right." John rolls his hand over, so he can touch Rodney's fingers with his own. Rodney wishes he could hold onto John, but the distance is too great and neither one can sustain it for long.
With a sigh, he pulls his arm back to the bed, and tries to sleep, but can't. He keeps jerking awake, and checking to make sure John's still there; from the number of times their eyes meet, Rodney's pretty sure that John's doing the exact same thing.
Grunting, Rodney heaves himself upright, his legs dangling over the edge of the bed. So far so good.
"Rodney? You okay?" John whispers, like there's anyone else in the room that they might wake up.
"Yes, yes, fine." Rodney checks himself over, but it doesn't look like he's connected to anything anymore. Holding onto the edge of the bed with his good arm, he slides his feet carefully onto the floor opposite John, his gown sticking to the bed as he does. After jerking the cloth free and making sure he's covered, he stands for a few seconds to get his bearings. Okay, good, he's stable. "Just. Be quiet, okay?"
He can hear John nod, but Rodney's focused on making his feet work, and he can't do everything at once. Sliding his hand along the bed as he circumnavigates it stabilizes him, but there's a tricky moment when he has to transfer his good hand to John's bed. He hears John's breath catch, and looks up; John's eyes are intent on him, and his tongue is caught between his lips, like he was the one doing the work.
His gaze stays fixed on Rodney for the rest of the trip, until Rodney is clutching the bed at John's side and breathing heavily. "Shift over."
John does, and Rodney's able to scoot the stepstool into position so he can climb onto the bed. John's arms are around him instantly, and he can feel John's breath at his back, warm and reassuring. They have to take it easy, but they manage to fit together under the covers, and neither of them hangs off the edge.
Rodney nods, smiling to himself as his eyes close, John's arm a heavy weight against his side. The visits to Heightmeyer would be worth it.
The End
Author: Rachael Sabotini (wickedwords)
Original Story: Entanglements by Barb G (troutkitty)
Other Info: Sheppard/McKay, PG-13, H/c, 4750 words
Summary: Sometimes being rescued isn't all it's cracked up to be.
A/N: Many thanks to my wonderful team of betas for this story: elynross, sherrold, and movies_michelle. All the remaining errors are my own. Written for the 2007 gateverse_remix challenge. The original story was written early season 2, and this version sticks with that alternate timeline.
Preferential Treatment
"Move! Move! Move!" Rodney yells at the medical team as they push John's gurney down the Daedelus gangway. "Come on, we don't have all day." He stabs at the hallway with his good hand, aborting the move mid-gesture as the room begins to white out on him; he grabs the rail on the cargo rack instead. "He needs to be in the infirmary now!"
"As do you," Carson says gruffly, coming up beside him. "Come on, Rodney. We brought a second gurney for you. It wouldn't hurt you to use it."
"I'm fine," Rodney grinds out, his heart thumping hard against his chest. "Food and water have just been a little scarce, lately."
"What about this?" Carson points at Rodney's bandaged hand. "This doesn't look like not enough food and water."
"Oh. That. Yes, well, there's a funny story about that--"
"Really?"
"No." Rodney swallows and glances at the hallway where Sheppard was taken.
Carson's hand rests gently on his shoulder, reassuring and demanding in equal measure. "You're coming with me to the infirmary, Rodney. It's your choice whether it's under your own power or not."
Rodney opts for the gurney when he realizes that his legs are wobbly and won't hold him up for much longer; he's angry with himself for not being able to walk. He watches the ceiling as he's sped through the halls of Atlantis, annoyed at all of the fussing. He's not some gentle flower that needs to be coddled--the Genii did enough of that, using his privileges to try and turn Sheppard against him. John was the one who had taken most of the punishment.
Well, okay. Except for the dislocated fingers, and the foot-thing, and the attempted drug addiction. Those had all been his own.
During the initial exam, Carson frowns a lot, and finally tells him they will need to reset his hand. The Genii had withheld their painkillers for the last few days, hoping that withdrawal would make Rodney cooperate, but ha! More fools them. Carson dopes him right then and there, once they verify that his blood work is clean. Then he's stripped, tied into a gown, and taken into surgery.
Was John in here? Rodney tries to get up to see, but Carson shakes his head.
"Rodney, lie down before I have to restrain you." He pushes gently on Rodney's chest, and Rodney lets himself be pressed him back onto the bed.
"Where's John?" He can't keep the anxiety out of his voice.
"Dr. Singh is still working on him."
"Which one of your witchdoctors is that?"
"The neurosurgeon." Huh. Rodney didn't even know they had someone like that on staff.
Carson takes a syringe from Halverson, and injects it into Rodney's IV. "This will dull the pain, but you'll still be awake. We'll need you conscious for this procedure."
"I'm not sure I like the sound of that."
"It's called conscious sedation, and you'll be fine. There's no reason to resort to a general anesthetic for this." Carson pats him on the shoulder, and Rodney can tell from the warm, glowy feeling it gives him that the anesthetic is already taking affect.
He drifts in and out while they work, bright flashes of memory overlaying the infirmary around him. He's back on the planet, where fading sunlight casts dim shadows in the crevasse, revealing little to Rodney's eye. He can hear John struggling, the faint rustling sound of paper and leaves in the wind brushing up the steep walls toward them--but there is no wind, just the plant, its tendrils lovingly wrapped around its latest sacrifice in a parody of an embrace.
If he looks carefully when the light is just right, Rodney is able to see John's eyes; Kolya steps forward, blocking the sight. "Where is Major Sheppard, Doctor? I was told you went through the Stargate together."
"It's Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard." Swallowing, Rodney thrusts out his chin, deliberately not looking into the crevasse and not intending to answer. "He went back to the gate with Teyla and Ronon, for reinforcements. He's probably asleep right now. We try to time our offworld missions in sync with Atlantian time, but he might be watching a movie."
Kolya shook his head. "The villagers said that only two went back. I doubt Sheppard would leave you here on your own. And since you are here," he waves his hands expansively, taking in the willowy trees, the gnarly bushes, and the valley of the man-eating plant, "He will be somewhere in the vicinity." He nods at two of his guards. "I'm sure my men can help you remember where you left him."
One of the goons seizes his right wrist while the other twists his left up behind his back, pain and pressure forcing Rodney to the ground. Rodney blinks, tears already forming in his eyes as he looks around for the knife. Oh, God, he really didn’t want to do this again.
Kolya steps in front of him, looming over where he's stretched out on the ground, and Rodney glances up at a painful angle to see Kolya's face. "Now, Dr. McKay, where did you last see Colonel Sheppard?"
***
The infirmary's a depressingly familiar sight when he comes to, a few hours later. Elizabeth is leaning against a table near Rodney's bed, while Carson fusses with an IV, double-checking the set-up on Rodney's good hand. The other one is immobilized.
He glances around, but he doesn't see John anywhere. His whole body feels slow, like he's made of mercury, and he can barely hear himself when he asks: "Where's John?"
The noise must have been enough, as Carson glances over at him. "Ah, good," says Carson. "You're back with us." He finishes fussing with the tubes, then turns to look at both Rodney and Elizabeth. "It took longer than we thought, but you should be all right in a few weeks time to start physical therapy."
"I can be treated here?" Rodney asks, his voice stronger, but wow, his lips feel swollen and his mouth is incredibly dry.
"Aye," Carson says, and hands Rodney a glass with some ice chips. "One at a time, please."
"That's good news." Elizabeth lets out a heavy sigh, and Rodney can see some of the worry drop from her face.
"Tell me about it," Rodney mumbles around his ice. His skin feels prickly, and he can't relax. He twists the fingers of his good hand into the bedding. "Where's John?"
Elizabeth glances at Carson. "Rodney, can you tell us what happened? Teyla and Ronon mentioned something about a man-eating plant when they came through the gate, but Lorne says you were held at a Genii outpost. And John's injuries--" She shakes her head. "He's still in surgery."
The sharp edge of the ice chip stabs Rodney in his cheek, which feels a lot better than the way his stomach roils at the memories of their captivity, and he grimaces, wondering if he's going to need a basin to puke in. "We found Kolya." He laughs bitterly, the taste of bile on his tongue. "Actually, Kolya found us."
***
Kolya's man spots John before they can do more than dislocate a couple of fingers; Rodney's not too clear on what happens next, as the pain makes his thoughts a little foggy. They pour something into a cup of water and force Rodney to drink it; after that, it's walking, walking, walking, but at least John's at his side.
At last they reach a salt box of a building, the entrance to an underground bunker. The guards shove John into the cell first, and he lands on the floor in a heap. Rodney tries to protect his hand as he's pushed into the cell, but it painfully reminds him that all is not well as he stumbled over John. He doesn't land on the floor himself, but it's a near thing. Carefully tucking his hand into his shirt, Rodney immobilizes it to lessen the pain as he watches John crawl up to hands and knees. There's the clatter of a steel plate hitting the floor, and the door slams shut.
Rodney carefully looks around. Same ol' stuff. Doesn't matter if it's the brig on some ship or the deepest dungeon on some planet, being in a cell sucks. And the fact that it's a Genii cell sucks the worst of all. Rodney mentally lists all the ways that the single stone cot and condensation-streaked walls is better than being wrapped in a cocoon on a Wraith hive ship, but he's not buying it. His hand throbs, his fingers hurt, and his feet and wrists ache from the chains and forced marching. A plate of watery grey grain rests on the floor, most of the food miraculously contained in the bowl with a flask of liquid beside it.
At least they left some dinner; Kolya must want them alive. He squats down by John and lays his good hand on John's shoulder. His thighs are shaky, and he's not sure he'll be able to get back up. Still, he's in better shape than John, given that the Genii detangled him from a man-eating plant before Kolya kicked the shit out of him, then shackled them together.
He brushes John's hair away from his face, and that little movement hurts like hell. He hisses air through his teeth to keep from screaming. "Sheppard?" Rodney asks, pitching forward as his legs give out; he grabs John's shoulder with his other hand to prevent himself from falling over, and that's when he can't contain the pain anymore. "Fuck, oh, fuck. That hurts."
"R'dny?" John mumbles, rolling over slightly; his right eye is swollen, and there's dark bruising on his cheek; Rodney's sure there are other bruises to match hidden under his uniform.
Feeling a little more steady, Rodney pulls back and gives John room to rise; he can see more bruising and some blood on John's back and thighs, where the fabric is torn. He looks steady, though, and that's good, very good. One of them has to be steady on their feet for them both to escape.
"You okay?" John asks, then pushes his jaw from side to side. He's got a big bruise on his chin, and a fat lip, so he must have taken a punch there, as well.
"Eh." Rodney says, waving his good hand in the air. "I can't seem to stand up."
John steps around behind Rodney and puts an arm around his chest; Rodney feels the heat of him solid against his back. Then it's the ol' 'one-two-three,' and they're both standing. Panting a bit, white-faced, and a little freaked out, but standing.
It doesn't last long. John sags onto the cot with a heavy sigh, while Rodney eases himself down next to John. He looks the bed over and blinks. They can share if they lay sideways and spoon together, but Rodney thinks his ass might be left hanging off the edge.
"Should I get to work on the 'how screwed are we' report?'" Rodney says, unable to keep the pain or bitterness out of his voice. "Or can you add 'Genii,' 'Kolya,' and 'secret underground bunker' together?"
"Rodney, relax." John levers himself up on the bed. "He's going to let us stew for awhile. Try to rest."
"Rest, right. It's Kolya. There's no--" Rodney's up off the cot before he can think, which is saying something; they need to get out of here now. Doesn't John understand that? The pain in his hand slams him down hard, and Rodney ends up curled in on himself less than two steps from the cot. "Ow, God. Ow." He pants softly, wrapping his good hand around the twisted fingers, as if that will do any good.
John's on the floor with him by the time his vision clears, one hand reassuringly gentle against Rodney's back, the other solid on Rodney's wrist. Rodney nods at the look on John's face and opens his good hand, letting John see what had happened. His pinky and ring finger are crooked, and John takes Rodney's hand in his. Even though just the touch of skin-against-skin makes Rodney whimper, being near John, touching John, makes him feel like they're going to be okay.
John's face flickers with a dozen emotions as he carefully turns Rodney's hand, staring at the twisted fingers. "They're dislocated. I can fix it, but it's going to hurt."
"Yeah, tell me something I didn't know." Rodney snaps, the pain making his teeth ache. "I thought they were peachy-keen all crumpled up like that." He doesn't want to think about what this might mean, if they stay twisted like that. He also doesn't want to think about what it's going to feel like, to get them put right. Ronon may list setting dislocated joints as a hobby, but it's something Rodney never wanted to experience.
"This is going to hurt." John looks Rodney straight in the eyes, not hiding anything. "More than it does right now."
"Fuck," Rodney groans. "Okay, just go ease--"
He doesn't have time to finish the sentence before John pulls and straightens his fingers. Rodney keeps the scream tucked in his throat somehow, but he's sweating, and his hand trembles weakly; there's nothing he can do about that.
"Good going, tough guy," John says, stroking Rodney's hands, watching Rodney's face carefully. "I don't think you're going to pass out."
"Yay," Rodney says weakly. "Glad to know all of my time as a captive has been good for something. 'No longer faints when tortured.' Get Elizabeth to add that to my employee evaluation next time."
He stands, but his knees wobble, and he sinks toward the floor again. John scoops him up before he can hit the ground, wraps an arm around his back, and guides him to the bed. "Can you rest now?"
Rodney settles himself on the bed. "Probably."
John looks at the floor, then at the bed, his brow furrowing; Rodney moves back as best he can, and yes, his ass is hanging off the edge. John sprawls out next to him, the only warmth in the room. There's an uncomfortable silence as Rodney tried to hold himself back from snuggling up against John's back.
"Come on, pull it into hug harbor," John mutters, rolling over and pulling Rodney against his chest.
Yes. Okay. So the sound of John's heartbeat is something that might be nice outside of a prison sometime, but the rest of it is for shit. Rodney threads his good hand in John's and just listens awhile as John stretches out in sleep.
***
"Kolya?" Elizabeth sits upright, her hand flying to her radio, but Rodney shakes his head.
"He was killed during the rescue." He can still see John pulling the trigger in his mind, and the way Kolya's blood splattered them both, before he grabbed John and the Daedelus beamed them up together. "I'm not sure if anyone else knew it was him, though. He was a little...disfigured, when he died."
Glancing at Carson, Elizabeth nods, her lips a line of grim determination. "Make sure Dr. Brio knows that, when examining the bodies."
Elbowing himself up, Rodney checks the hall to see if John might be there. His whole body thrums with tension, and he can't just lay back and relax the way he should. He catches Elizabeth's look at Carson, and forces himself to lie back, processing what Elizabeth said. "You sent a team in?" Rodney blinks. "Huh."
"Several." Elizabeth's lips quirk in a half-smile, though her concern is still apparent. "Once we had you on the Daedelus, Major Lorne and the marines cleared out the rats' nest."
Rodney can't stand it any more. He has to know. "When's John getting out of surgery?" He can't stop himself from straining to look at the hall. "He's been in there for hours, hasn't he?" He glances at Elizabeth and then Carson. "It can't be too much longer." He shoves the covers off and tries to swing his legs out of the bed, before Carson catches him and pushes him back down.
"You can't be up and walking around just yet," Carson says worriedly.
"Okay, then get me a wheelchair. I'm fine." He uses his good hand to point at his bad one. "Doesn't hurt anymore."
"That's because we have you on painkillers." Carson says, tucking Rodney in firmly. "You can't be wandering the halls just yet."
"Rodney," Elizabeth folds her arms across her chest and looks intently at him. "Dr. Linden reported that she had trouble separating you and John while you were on the ship."
"Oh. Yes, well." Rodney shifts uncomfortably, looking at the ceiling rather than at either Carson or Elizabeth. This is a little weird, even for them. But he can't just not say anything, not with the way his skin feels, and the way his breath is tight in his chest. He's two steps away from a full fledged panic attack, and there's no way he wants that to happen. Closing his eyes, he takes a couple of deep breaths, imagining wide open fields, letting himself fall into the moment "You may need to call Heightmeyer about it. We, ah, have a little trouble when we can't see each other."
"I see." Carson says calmly. "I think maybe we better move the Colonel in with you, then, once he's out of surgery."
Rodney hadn't realized how tight his chest was until it relaxed. "Would you?"
"Of course."
Opening his eyes, Rodney looks at them, and neither Carson nor Elizabeth look like they think it's an odd request. He's getting tired, and he wants to sleep. But John's still in surgery, and Rodney doesn't know if he can--not until John's there with him, anyway.
So he keeps talking, the sound of his own voice reassuring. "Kolya wanted revenge." He plucks at the blanket and shifts back against his pillows. He has a flash of Kolya's warm expression as his sadistic voice echoes in Rodney's mind: "I think Dr. Weir needs to hear these screams."
"He went after John just because he could."
Elizabeth leans forward and squeezes Rodney's hand. "Maybe that was a part of it--"
"That was all of it. They broke my fingers and reset them, they--" He swallows, trying not to think about it too hard. "They pushed John a little harder every day, and they never asked any questions."
His voice sounds raw and shaky in his own ears, and Carson looks concerned. He checks something on the monitors and shakes his head at Elizabeth. "That's enough questions for now, I'm afraid." He pushes the ice chips at Rodney. "You need to have a few more of these, and then we can try some apple juice."
Rodney's stomach rumbles, and with a grimace, Rodney plucks one of the ice chips out of the paper cup and stuffs it in his mouth. "When's John--"
"Soon, Rodney, soon." He pats Rodney's shoulder and gestures to Elizabeth, who takes the hint and leaves. "You try to rest, and the Colonel will be here before you know it."
As the ice melts, the cool liquid spilling over his tongue, Rodney finds that he can't keep his eyes open and drifts off again to sleep.
The dreams are snips and bits of the last few days. Standing in Kolya's office, fresh bandage on his arm, eating the soft bread and sweet butter he's been given. He hasn't eaten anything this tasty in days. "What about Sheppard?" he asks, surreptitiously shoving a piece of the bread in his pocket.
Kolya arches his eyebrow. "If you both co-operate, he may live a little longer, but there are no plans for Colonel Sheppard to survive."
"What?" Rodney pulls back. That wasn't a part of his plan. "And if I don't cooperate?"
Kolya fills a glass with cool, clean water and drinks it slowly in front of Rodney, clearly relishing it. He sets it carefully down on his desk. "I haven't decided if you're going to live yet. Cooperate, and you may survive." He gestures at his men. "Empty Dr. McKay's pockets for him, and take him back to his cell."
He's invasively searched, the crusts of bread found and ground into the floor. When he's marched back to his cell, John is naked, kneeling on the floor, waiting for Kolya.
"What are you doing?" he yells as the door shuts behind him. "You're going to freeze to death like this!"
John shrugs, eyes downcast. "Kolya said I should, so, I thought I would."
"Kolya's going to kill you," Rodney says, his voice just as flat as he feels inside. "It doesn't matter if you do what he wants or not. He's not letting you out of here alive."
"I know, Rodney," John says quietly. "I'm just hoping it keeps you alive."
"Oh, for--" Rodney rolls his eyes and pulls John to his feet. "Come on, if you're not going to dress, at least get under the covers. Kolya didn't mention anything about the blankets when he gave his big 'you will learn to respect me' speech, right? And I can feel you shivering from here."
"I think that's low blood sugar."
"Did they feed you...? Of course not. I, uh, tried to bring you something, but--"
"It's okay, Rodney. It's really okay." He pauses, his gaze flickering across Rodney's face. "You know, that bed really does sound good right now." A spasm wracks him, making him hunch over; Rodney puts his hand on John's back, trying to think of what the hell he can do to help.
His hand feels incredibly warm against John's cold, damp skin. Frowning, Rodney rubs his fingers up John's spine. Is John running a fever? Is that why he doesn't notice the cold?
When the spasm passes, Rodney wraps his arm around John more tightly. "Come on, it's only another few feet."
"I can walk, you know."
Rodney snorts. "Yeah, right. That's why you're hobbling around like your knees have locked up on you." He shoves his shoulder under John's arm. "Hold on. It'll be easier for you." As they cross a brighter section of the room, Rodney can see John's skin clearly. Pale, yes, but also tinged blue. And black.
Fresh bruises, scrapes, and cuff marks mar John's skin, and Rodney curses himself for going to eat with Kolya in the first place.
Rodney gets him to the bed, then grabs their water cup and tears a strip of cloth from his uniform. He dips it in the water and tries to wash the worst of the cuts, hissing as he finally sees John's back.
"This is going to hurt," he mutters.
"Lot less than getting them did, I tell ya." John stays still as Rodney works.
"What happened?"
John shrugs. "The usual, I guess. Something."
"Fists and rubber hoses don't leave marks like this." Rodney doesn't touch the mark on John's thigh, though part of him wants to...wants to...erase it, like the wrong answer on a dry erase board. "It looks electrical."
"Kolya's trying to be creative, so it's something different every day. I don't worry too much about it."
"You're insane, you know. When people said you had a death wish, I stood up and defended you. This, this is something you should be worrying about."
"Not really. All this stuff, it's just to humiliate me, make me feel like less of a man. But the longer it takes, the better chance we have of figuring out an escape plan or of being rescued." John shrugs. "What's a little nudity among friends?"
"Does it?" Rodney asks, carefully not looking at John.
"Does it what?"
"Make you feel like less of a man."
"Oh." John tilts his head sideways as he thinks. "Not particularly. Now, dressing up in that pink lace thing on MX7-495, that made me feel like less of a man."
"What about the feathery thing on MJ6-979?"
"That just kinda itched."
Satisfied he's done what he can do to clean off the worst of it, Rodney pushes John down onto the bed, takes off his own shirt and pants, and crawls in behind him. Skin-to-skin doesn't lie, and it's not long before Rodney can feel both of them warming up. He can't help himself, and nuzzles his face into the back of John's neck; he's rewarded with a soft noise, and John pushes back into Rodney's warmth.
In the quiet dark, it's easy to let the outside world slip away; Rodney pulls John in tight, spooning around him and sliding his arms down around John's chest and stomach. It's not exactly how he used to imaging holding John and touching him, but he doesn't have the energy for anything more enthusiastic.
Besides, this is good. He can hear John's breathing, feel his muscles and skin, and just that brings the illusion of safety. At least until John speaks.
"It's going to take them a while to kill me, Rodney. Kolya wants to do it slow," John says, his back and ass pressing tight against Rodney. "That'll give the others a better chance to find us." He hesitates, then asks in a soft voice, "Zelenka can do it, right? Trace us back here."
Rodney's natural pessimism says no, but at the moment, here in the dark, he summons up as much optimism as he's ever seen Sheppard project. "I'm sure he can, Colonel. I'm sure he will."
And for that moment, in the dark, his arms wrapped tightly around John, he believes it too.
***
Rodney rouses as John's bed is pushed into position beside him, less than an arm's length between them. He's still foggy as they get John situated, but the fog clears enough that he's able to fumble his good hand out of the covers and over to John's bed, resting it awkwardly on the rail. His fingertips can just reach the hair on the back of John's wrist, and Rodney brushes against it as much as he can, just to feel that John's there.
Rodney can hear the smile in John's voice as he says, "Told you it'd be all right." John rolls his hand over, so he can touch Rodney's fingers with his own. Rodney wishes he could hold onto John, but the distance is too great and neither one can sustain it for long.
With a sigh, he pulls his arm back to the bed, and tries to sleep, but can't. He keeps jerking awake, and checking to make sure John's still there; from the number of times their eyes meet, Rodney's pretty sure that John's doing the exact same thing.
Grunting, Rodney heaves himself upright, his legs dangling over the edge of the bed. So far so good.
"Rodney? You okay?" John whispers, like there's anyone else in the room that they might wake up.
"Yes, yes, fine." Rodney checks himself over, but it doesn't look like he's connected to anything anymore. Holding onto the edge of the bed with his good arm, he slides his feet carefully onto the floor opposite John, his gown sticking to the bed as he does. After jerking the cloth free and making sure he's covered, he stands for a few seconds to get his bearings. Okay, good, he's stable. "Just. Be quiet, okay?"
He can hear John nod, but Rodney's focused on making his feet work, and he can't do everything at once. Sliding his hand along the bed as he circumnavigates it stabilizes him, but there's a tricky moment when he has to transfer his good hand to John's bed. He hears John's breath catch, and looks up; John's eyes are intent on him, and his tongue is caught between his lips, like he was the one doing the work.
His gaze stays fixed on Rodney for the rest of the trip, until Rodney is clutching the bed at John's side and breathing heavily. "Shift over."
John does, and Rodney's able to scoot the stepstool into position so he can climb onto the bed. John's arms are around him instantly, and he can feel John's breath at his back, warm and reassuring. They have to take it easy, but they manage to fit together under the covers, and neither of them hangs off the edge.
Rodney nods, smiling to himself as his eyes close, John's arm a heavy weight against his side. The visits to Heightmeyer would be worth it.
The End