Title: Burdens Of Conscience
Summary: A simple mission has terrible consequences for Atlantis. Implied character death.
Spoilers: A small reference to The Storm, and The Eye.
Disclaimer: It's still not mine, though I wish it were, but I'd settle for Sheppard, lol.
A/N: I don't usually write horror. I'm a fan of Supernatural, but I've never even really written horror for that, and it's a horror show. But, this little bunny was incredibly persistent, and I finally gave in and decided to write it. :)
As always, the credit for this all goes to my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, who is the source of all inspiration. I can never praise Him enough for all He's done. :)
Burdens of Conscience
Rodney was pretty sure that he would never be an athlete. He'd actually lost a lot of weight in the last couple years, and put on some actual muscle - running for your life was apparently an effective form of exercise, though he didn't recommend it - but an athlete he was most definitely not.
That probably explained why after running for the last half an hour, his heart was beating so hard that it hurt. Or was that the first sign of a heart-attack?
Rodney slowed down, doubling over, putting a hand to his chest. His gasping breaths sounded incredibly loud in the empty corridor, and he cringed, the thought spurring him forward again.
Impending heart-attack or not, he had to keep moving.
He couldn't get caught. He knew the systems in Atlantis better than anyone, and he had the best chance of stopping this.
And he had to stop it - before anybody else got hurt.
Ronon had been first. Keller had been able to remove the bullet - Ronon had somehow twisted away at the last second, so the bullet had missed his heart - but it had still nicked an artery. He'd lost a lot of blood. Keller said she was hopeful, but Rodney had seen the sad, hollow look in her eyes.
Teyla had been the second. They'd tried to warn her, but it had all happened so fast, and even after Ronon they hadn't wanted to believe…
Rodney had expected to be next, but he hadn't been. Part of him was a little insulted that he hadn't been seen as a bigger threat, actually. Of course, that had changed once he'd starting locking down sections of the city, and shutting down the computers. He'd jumped to number one on the hit-list after that.
Sam had assigned a detail of Marines to his lab.
Rodney cringed, remembering the quick, precise shots he'd heard, and the absolute silence that had followed.
Six men, all taken out in seconds.
"Hey, Rodney."
Rodney jumped and spun around.
"Oh, um…hey, Sheppard."
He was proud of how steady his voice sounded, considering.
Sheppard had Ronon's blaster. He twirled it absently, like a gunslinger would, before looking at Rodney again.
"You know," Sheppard said offhandedly, "you've been making this a lot harder than it has to be."
Rodney swallowed thickly, his breath catching in his throat.
Sheppard looked like…Sheppard looked like Sheppard. That same ridiculous hair, that same deceptively-lazy tilt to his shoulders…the only real difference was his eyes.
He'd seen that look in Sheppard's eyes before, the cold, dead look he sometimes got when he went into super-soldier, kill or be killed, black-ops mode, but Rodney had never seen it aimed at him before.
He unconsciously backed up a step.
"Harder? Really?" he managed, his voice not sounding quite so steady this time. "Sorry about that."
Sheppard shrugged. "I don't mind a challenge. Keeps things interesting."
Rodney's gaze darted around the corridor, searching for an escape route or something he could use as a weapon. He'd lost his 9mm when he'd run from his lab. But he probably wouldn't have been able to make himself use it, anyway.
This was still Sheppard…it was just Sheppard with a big chunk of his mind - soul? - missing.
They weren't really sure what had happened. The people they'd met on P2X-829 hadn't seemed like much of a threat, just the typical, primitive Pegasus natives. Their level of technology had barely even been up to Dark Age standards, and the only energy readings Rodney had been able to detect were from the planet's magnetic field.
But, Sheppard had decided that they should stay and make nice with the locals, saying that allies could be just as valuable as new tech. Things had gone surprisingly well - maybe that should have been their first clue - until the village shaman had insisted that Sheppard go through a ritual to "lift the burdens of his conscience" before they left.
Sheppard had agreed. It wasn't the first time that locals had asked them to participate in a ceremony of some kind. They were pretty common in Pegasus, usually steeped in traditions or superstitions, and a total and complete waste of time, in Rodney's opinion.
Sheppard had gone through with the ceremony, and then they'd headed home. They'd all known something had been off, but they hadn't realized how off until Ronon…
Rodney edged back another step, trying to put more distance between himself and Sheppard. Not that it would make a lot of difference.
"It won't work, you know."
Rodney froze. "What won't work?"
"Whatever you're planning."
"What makes you think I'm planning something?"
Sheppard smirked, but the expression was empty. "Come on, Rodney. You're always planning something."
The thing was, he was right, Rodney did have a plan, one that depended on him getting to the city's central tower, where the computer core was located. If he could pull the main control crystals, he'd be able to shut down all the primary systems at once, take away Sheppard's biggest advantage. It was quick and dirty, and they'd probably spend months trying to straighten things out again, but compared to the alternative-
Sheppard switched Ronon's blaster to his other hand, pulled his sidearm and fired.
Rodney literally felt the breeze from the bullet before it imbedded itself in the wall behind him, just over his shoulder. He dropped to the floor, ducking instinctively. Sheppard's dead gaze grew amused.
"So, about that plan. Care to fill me in?" he asked, like this was just another mission, like he hadn't just fired a gun at Rodney point-blank. He sounded so absolutely normal, but so absolutely wrong, and Rodney suddenly felt sick.
He was going to die, and Sheppard was going to be the one to kill him, and all he could think about was the college football game Sheppard had made him watch last night, and the popcorn Sheppard had let him have even though it was the last batch 'till the Daedalus brought more, and the way he'd somehow still had fun, even if he had been forced to watch a stupid, pointless game against his will…
"McKay."
Sheppard's voice had taken on an irritated edge, one that usually meant, "stop talking and start working," or "we are not doomed, quit saying that we are," or "this is humanly impossible, but I want you to do it anyway."
It meant something different now.
"I'm starting to lose my patience here."
Rodney swallowed hard. "I…I don't know what you're talking about."
All of the remaining amusement drained from Sheppard's expression. "You're not very good at lying, Rodney."
"I'm not lying." It might have been more convincing if that sentence hadn't hitched in the middle.
Sheppard's eyes narrowed, cold and calculating, and for a second, it reminded Rodney of the look Kolya had worn holding that knife, the one that had left the scar on Rodney's arm.
"You're not going to tell me anything, are you?" Sheppard said at last.
It wasn't easy to force the word past his throat, and for a second, Rodney wanted to tell Sheppard everything, but he couldn't. Sam knew what he'd been trying to do, and there was a chance she'd be able to send someone else. But if Sheppard was there waiting for them…they'd never make it.
"No."
"Didn't think so."
Sheppard raised his gun again, and Rodney stared at it, the barrel suddenly incredibly long and dark.
That's when it hit him. This was really it. The end.
"Why?" he asked hoarsely.
Sheppard shrugged. "Why not?"
And then he pulled the trigger.
Fin
A/N: I don't usually explain what I was thinking when I wrote a fic, but I thought this was a good one to do that with, since it's pretty different from what I normally write. (Especially because the most common comment I've gotten on other sites so far has been "Yikes!" lol.) If you'd like to know what I was thinking, please keep reading. :)
The fic was in large part inspired by the idea that Sheppard without a conscience would be very dangerous. (I have to admit, I like reading about a dangerous Sheppard, but that's not the only reason I wanted to write this, lol.) His conscience is such a large part of who he is, it's hard to imagine him any other way. But without a conscience to hold him back, what would stop him? It reminds me of a discussion we had about morality in an honors class I took. A number of the kids in the class were trying to argue that there's no right or wrong, except in the eye of the beholder. I didn't agree with them at all. Right and wrong don't change, they're constant, no matter what a person believes. This was partly my way of trying to show that. I just used Sheppard to do it, poor guy, lol.
In this fic, Sheppard didn't see anything wrong with what he was doing because he'd lost the ability to see the difference between right and wrong. Like he says to Rodney, "Why not?" The idea of a world like that is frightening, so this naturally lent itself to horror.
Anyway, thank you for reading, I hope that you enjoyed it, and of course, please let me know what you think!
Take care and God bless! :)
Ani-maniac494 :)