The Other Side of Never
Title: The Other Side of Never
Characters/Pairing: McKay/Sheppard but only in an abstract sense.
Rating: R
Genre: Angst/Character Study
Prompt: 'Whilom' for alphabetasoup.
Word Count: 1300
Notes: Mentions Torture, but nothing graphic. Again, something different for me. This isn't really a story per say... more like moments from one. Enjoy. As always, greatful thanks to my beta, world_president
Summary: A few moments of an aftermath
The Other Side of Never
The ride home is silent and John doesn't know what to say to Rodney. He wants to say; well done, thank you, you didn't break, you didn't tell them anything, I'm so proud of you.
He doesn't.
Instead he watches Rodney through lowered eyelids, and wonders how a man who never broke manages instead to look so... absent. John doesn't think about what it cost Rodney inside, the thing that kept him quiet, can't allow himself to think about the ways in which Rodney's soul must be stretched and torn.
But not broken. Rodney didn't talk, didn't give them what they wanted. He kept them both alive by his unnatural silence and John knows he should be grateful for that mercy.
He shouldn’t feel like this, he shouldn’t wish that Rodney gave in and told them everything they wanted to know.
John doesn’t know exactly what they did inside that room, doesn’t know the torment Rodney suffered over the course of the three days and it may make him a coward but he isn’t sure he wants the knowledge. He’s seen enough of war and torture and he knows that he’s seen deep inside tortured souls, seen way too much pain and blood but most of all, he’s seen too many broken people with their dead blank eyes. Rodney looks like that now and it sends a shiver down his spine, reminding him uncomfortably of men he saw newly released from war camps. They blinked and shivered and looked around as if they didn’t know what would happen now that it was all over.
He’s not fool enough to think it really is all over.
But maybe, John thinks as they land, Carson already rushing towards them with eyes only for Rodney, another doctor preparing to treat John, just maybe he could be fool enough and think it will someday be over.
And maybe, it was possible that he could help his friend, his something else, his… Rodney.
:::
Rodney escapes from the infirmary a day and night after he arrives, desperate to get away from Carson's pitying gaze. He knows that his friend means well but the infirmary feels like just another cell in his mind, the walls closing in until he thought he would suffocate. The well meaning visits from Elizabeth, the careful words and the underlying threat that he will soon have a visit from Heightmeyer and he had better cooperate doesn't help.
If he could be bothered, if he could summon up the energy to care, he could picture Heightmeyer in his head, with her long blond hair and eye pleasing curves, could predict her words, her actions, and her tricks. The way she shamelessly used her feminine appeal so she could sneak in under the surface, with her innocent questions and relentless 'why'. Forcing him into looking at himself in a way he hated. Poking at a wound still raw, red and gaping open. He thinks the wound might always be too raw and open. The thought is suffocating and he ends up thinking of wide open fields just to prevent panic.
The looks John keeps giving him makes him feel as if he is suffocating as well. Sideways glances of... something, the emotion hidden deep in those eyes. It's too deep and well hidden for him to define and right now, he doesn't even know if he wants it defined. Doesn't matter that he knows John's body intimately, he is a stranger where John's thoughts are concerned and that's something else he can't allow himself to think about deeply, won't let himself define the reasons why.
Defining something means bringing it out into the open, letting secrets loose into the air where they stay. It means whispering traitorous words and feelings. He's not ready for that. He's not ready for anything at the moment, still covered in sweat and grime from the planet. Most of the blood has been cleaned, the liquid that was pooled around the many cuts in his skin.
Weak flesh, blood rushing to the surface as though desperate to leave his body, to get away from him. Rodney doesn't blame it. He thinks that if he wasn't him - the living, thinking part of him, be it his brain or his soul - then he would want to get away from him as well. He doesn't think he has a soul.
Maybe once, before years of scorn and pain washed away any belief in the afterlife, in the spiritual soul.
Maybe once, before days of screams and pain, endless questions he doesn't answer and a resigned look from John.
He sheds the roomy clothes Carson had insisted he wear. Needing desperately to wash and try and scrub away all the memories of the past few days. Rodney can't really bring himself to care about the stitches and other marks that Carson told him he mustn’t get wet. The water feels cold on his skin, even though he knows he turned on the heat as high as he could normally stand it.
He tilts his head upwards, so that the spray is splashing over his face, trying to burn away the images that are repeating in a loop in his mind, screams, instruments of pain that flashed in the light, and endlessly repeated questions.
The same constant voice, a dull tone, which never rose or fell, never varied from its level pitch, no matter what Rodney said, no matter how much he ranted or screamed. He screamed so much, begged and swore and still the voice was unmoved, asking again and again for things Rodney couldn’t tell them, couldn’t give them.
Even though he claimed he didn’t know the answers, claimed to be unable to give them what they wanted.
He knew the answers to some of their questions, answers that would have condemned everyone in Atlantis, would have killed them all horribly and possibly those on Earth as well. And after an indeterminable time to him, he knew he would tell them everything, was trying to gather some courage so he could be a coward and betray everyone. Preparing to tell them everything - and they brought John into the room.
That changed everything. Rodney knows that John thinks he was strong, knows he is impressed with the way he didn’t tell them what they wanted, at the way he was… strong. It makes Rodney want to laugh, and not in the good way, but in the other way, the laughter that bubbles up uncontrollably and makes him sound like a crazed villain from some cheesy 60’s show.
Rodney thinks John can be so painfully blind sometimes.
Because he broke back in that room, the moment they dragged John into the hellish place with him. He broke into hundreds of little pieces, each one screaming out, begging for John to be safe. He remained silent though, even when they lifted the whip and let it sing across John's back. Kept silent because speaking wouldn't help. Speaking would hurt John even more and while he could be responsible for letting John be hurt physically, he couldn't handle hurting him mentally by failing. He wasn’t that big of a coward.
He steps out from the shower, cold outside and in. Part of him thinks he should get dressed or at least dry off, but the larger and more morbid part of him is drawn to the mirror. Looking at his reflection, staring to try and see everything he gave in order to keep John safe, even if he can't see everything now, or see the parts of him that are broken in ways he doesn't even understand.
Rodney stares into the glass and tries to remember what it felt like when someone he knew was staring back.
-Fin-
Characters/Pairing: McKay/Sheppard but only in an abstract sense.
Rating: R
Genre: Angst/Character Study
Prompt: 'Whilom' for alphabetasoup.
Word Count: 1300
Notes: Mentions Torture, but nothing graphic. Again, something different for me. This isn't really a story per say... more like moments from one. Enjoy. As always, greatful thanks to my beta, world_president
Summary: A few moments of an aftermath
The Other Side of Never
The ride home is silent and John doesn't know what to say to Rodney. He wants to say; well done, thank you, you didn't break, you didn't tell them anything, I'm so proud of you.
He doesn't.
Instead he watches Rodney through lowered eyelids, and wonders how a man who never broke manages instead to look so... absent. John doesn't think about what it cost Rodney inside, the thing that kept him quiet, can't allow himself to think about the ways in which Rodney's soul must be stretched and torn.
But not broken. Rodney didn't talk, didn't give them what they wanted. He kept them both alive by his unnatural silence and John knows he should be grateful for that mercy.
He shouldn’t feel like this, he shouldn’t wish that Rodney gave in and told them everything they wanted to know.
John doesn’t know exactly what they did inside that room, doesn’t know the torment Rodney suffered over the course of the three days and it may make him a coward but he isn’t sure he wants the knowledge. He’s seen enough of war and torture and he knows that he’s seen deep inside tortured souls, seen way too much pain and blood but most of all, he’s seen too many broken people with their dead blank eyes. Rodney looks like that now and it sends a shiver down his spine, reminding him uncomfortably of men he saw newly released from war camps. They blinked and shivered and looked around as if they didn’t know what would happen now that it was all over.
He’s not fool enough to think it really is all over.
But maybe, John thinks as they land, Carson already rushing towards them with eyes only for Rodney, another doctor preparing to treat John, just maybe he could be fool enough and think it will someday be over.
And maybe, it was possible that he could help his friend, his something else, his… Rodney.
:::
Rodney escapes from the infirmary a day and night after he arrives, desperate to get away from Carson's pitying gaze. He knows that his friend means well but the infirmary feels like just another cell in his mind, the walls closing in until he thought he would suffocate. The well meaning visits from Elizabeth, the careful words and the underlying threat that he will soon have a visit from Heightmeyer and he had better cooperate doesn't help.
If he could be bothered, if he could summon up the energy to care, he could picture Heightmeyer in his head, with her long blond hair and eye pleasing curves, could predict her words, her actions, and her tricks. The way she shamelessly used her feminine appeal so she could sneak in under the surface, with her innocent questions and relentless 'why'. Forcing him into looking at himself in a way he hated. Poking at a wound still raw, red and gaping open. He thinks the wound might always be too raw and open. The thought is suffocating and he ends up thinking of wide open fields just to prevent panic.
The looks John keeps giving him makes him feel as if he is suffocating as well. Sideways glances of... something, the emotion hidden deep in those eyes. It's too deep and well hidden for him to define and right now, he doesn't even know if he wants it defined. Doesn't matter that he knows John's body intimately, he is a stranger where John's thoughts are concerned and that's something else he can't allow himself to think about deeply, won't let himself define the reasons why.
Defining something means bringing it out into the open, letting secrets loose into the air where they stay. It means whispering traitorous words and feelings. He's not ready for that. He's not ready for anything at the moment, still covered in sweat and grime from the planet. Most of the blood has been cleaned, the liquid that was pooled around the many cuts in his skin.
Weak flesh, blood rushing to the surface as though desperate to leave his body, to get away from him. Rodney doesn't blame it. He thinks that if he wasn't him - the living, thinking part of him, be it his brain or his soul - then he would want to get away from him as well. He doesn't think he has a soul.
Maybe once, before years of scorn and pain washed away any belief in the afterlife, in the spiritual soul.
Maybe once, before days of screams and pain, endless questions he doesn't answer and a resigned look from John.
He sheds the roomy clothes Carson had insisted he wear. Needing desperately to wash and try and scrub away all the memories of the past few days. Rodney can't really bring himself to care about the stitches and other marks that Carson told him he mustn’t get wet. The water feels cold on his skin, even though he knows he turned on the heat as high as he could normally stand it.
He tilts his head upwards, so that the spray is splashing over his face, trying to burn away the images that are repeating in a loop in his mind, screams, instruments of pain that flashed in the light, and endlessly repeated questions.
The same constant voice, a dull tone, which never rose or fell, never varied from its level pitch, no matter what Rodney said, no matter how much he ranted or screamed. He screamed so much, begged and swore and still the voice was unmoved, asking again and again for things Rodney couldn’t tell them, couldn’t give them.
Even though he claimed he didn’t know the answers, claimed to be unable to give them what they wanted.
He knew the answers to some of their questions, answers that would have condemned everyone in Atlantis, would have killed them all horribly and possibly those on Earth as well. And after an indeterminable time to him, he knew he would tell them everything, was trying to gather some courage so he could be a coward and betray everyone. Preparing to tell them everything - and they brought John into the room.
That changed everything. Rodney knows that John thinks he was strong, knows he is impressed with the way he didn’t tell them what they wanted, at the way he was… strong. It makes Rodney want to laugh, and not in the good way, but in the other way, the laughter that bubbles up uncontrollably and makes him sound like a crazed villain from some cheesy 60’s show.
Rodney thinks John can be so painfully blind sometimes.
Because he broke back in that room, the moment they dragged John into the hellish place with him. He broke into hundreds of little pieces, each one screaming out, begging for John to be safe. He remained silent though, even when they lifted the whip and let it sing across John's back. Kept silent because speaking wouldn't help. Speaking would hurt John even more and while he could be responsible for letting John be hurt physically, he couldn't handle hurting him mentally by failing. He wasn’t that big of a coward.
He steps out from the shower, cold outside and in. Part of him thinks he should get dressed or at least dry off, but the larger and more morbid part of him is drawn to the mirror. Looking at his reflection, staring to try and see everything he gave in order to keep John safe, even if he can't see everything now, or see the parts of him that are broken in ways he doesn't even understand.
Rodney stares into the glass and tries to remember what it felt like when someone he knew was staring back.
-Fin-