A little swearing is all...
oOo
A clock was ticking in Rodney McKay's room. There was a soft drip, drip coming from the bathroom. The door chimed once... twice...
Then everything was quiet and still.. including one unconscious scientist, laid out on the floor like a corpse.
The minutes ticked by... the tap went on dripping... and then...
His eyes flickered open. He found he was now lying on his side, facing the bed.
Hmm, still here then. Not dead... yet.
There was blood, next to his head... a lot of blood. He imagined he was only still alive due to the fact he was now on his side. The phrase, "coughed up half a lung", sprang to his mind.
The thought came to him again that he really should get help, but...he remembered...
No radio.
And shouting was so not gonna happen.
Already knowing it was pointless, he tried to force his aching body to function, to get his ass up and moving. But it just hurt too much, bringing angry tears to his eyes.
Blinking rapidly, he again took inventory of his under-bed kingdom: There was the tantalising and familiar shaped puzzle piece; the bust dunnies grazing peacefully on the prairie; his shoe, sitting...
No, wait... not a shoe.. squinting his watery eyes, he could see it was the wrong shape.
It was... his handgun.
He'd dropped it on the bed after the mission, it must have slipped off. Now it was lying next to the bed, pretty much like he was, but on the other side.
If he could reach that, then he could fire it, bring help... yes, it would work. He rolled painfully to his back once more, realising that staying on his side was probably a good idea if he wanted to go on breathing. For some reason, his whole body was not only aching, but was also slow in responding to his orders.
He tried to slide his left arm out and under the bed. His shoulder muscles spasmed and screamed, but Rodney pushed through it, knowing this was probably his only chance.
After all that agony, he succeeded in moving his arm barely half way.
At least now I can reach the jigsaw piece..., he thought miserably.
oOo
She raised her hand to the door chime, but stopped just short of it. Her arm dropped to her side.
She had been angry and hurt. Now she was puzzled and not a little concerned. Rodney could be the most infuriating and petty man alive, but she had never known him to be cruel.
Something was 'off', as John would say.
Not giving herself time to reconsider, she leant on the button.
The chime could be heard ringing faintly inside the room, muted by the heavy door.
She waited, then pressed again...
Sighing, Teyla folded her arms across her chest, the fingers restlessly tapping.
He was probably off licking his wounds, as she knew her other team mates were. In her experience, if Dr McKay didn't want to be found, it was no use trying to find him.
Checking her watch, she realised she had an appointment in ten minutes. If she stopped by the infirmary and talked to Carson on the way there, she would still be on time.
Turning on her heel, she walked quickly away.
oOo
Inch by inch, Rodney worked his arm slowly towards his goal. He found he could 'walk' his fingers back without too much pain, and then, of course, his arm just followed right along. Sweat ran from his face and stung his already sore eyes. His arm was beginning to tremble and his shoulder felt it would seize up any second, but he was almost there - victory would soon be his.
There... he could no longer see his gun, because his arm was in the way, his hand was right there... then why did his fingers feel nothing?
Rodney groaned in frustration: It was too far away.
Of course his arm wouldn't reach all the way under... he wasn't a baboon.
He made the mistake of trying to shout, "shit" at the top of his voice. He squeaked out the "shi..." part and then had a severe attack of choking and wheezing, which left him once more spitting blood from his mouth.
Think, McKay... come on, you're answerman, aren't you?
Somehow he would have to hook it, and drag it... but with what. He closed his eyes, despair threatened to overwhelm him.
That he felt terrible, was an understatement; he felt like his body was welded to the floor; cold and damp, his mud stained clothes clung to him; his eyes burned and chills ran up and down his back. He also had the feeling that his thinking was, and probably had been, a bit off.
It was hazy, but he thought maybe he and John had argued at lunch, he knew that John had said things, but when he really thought about it, he couldn't remember him actually saying them...
He'd called him useless... pathetic... always complaining, always... or had he?
Not now, McKay, and he dragged his sluggish brain back to the problem in hand.
Sheppard would say, "What do you have? What do you need?"
A belt! He had his belt... He could take it off, re-buckle it and "lasso" his gun... Yee-hah...!
Wait, wait, wait...
He looked down at himself; he had his right arm, but his left was stuck under the bed... his brain seemed to short-circuit at that little logistical problem. Maybe if his body was working half properly he could manage it.
He let out a frustrated, gurgling sigh.
So there he was... he couldn't reach the gun, he was feeling like death again, and his arm was all the way under the bed where it could do no good, and he couldn't find the strength to pull it back out.
McKay, you are so screwed...
oOo
She had come as far as the infirmary door and... there was Carson striding briskly towards her, he looked like a man on a mission.
"Doctor Beckett..?"
His head came up, a smile on his lips.
"Hello, Teyla, how are you?" She really liked the soft-spoken doctor, he always had time for her.
"I am well.. thankyou." Looking down she realised he was carrying a field pack - a dirty, yellowy field pack.
Carson asked, "Have you seen Rodney? I need to talk to him and he didn't report with the others after the mission."
Teyla looked back the way she had come and said, "I just came from his quarters... I rang but there was no reply."
"Hmm... maybe he's with the colonel."
Teyla looked at her feet for a moment.
She began carefully, "I think not, Carson. I'm afraid the colonel and the doctor parted on bad terms not half an hour ago"
She saw Carson's eyes roll up and he tutted irritably, "Aach, they are such boys, the pair o' them..."
She went on, "Actually... I was coming to speak to you, Carson. I believe Dr McKay is not himself, and I am worried for him."
Carson looked closely at her, "Well, now, that puts a different spin on it."
He fixed her with an intense look, "Tell me."
She sighed, folding her arms, the same way she had at Rodney's door, "Well... he had come straight from the mission to the mess hall, he was covered in...something... it was mud... from the planet. He hadn't even changed his clothes. At lunch he was quiet... I thought he looked exhausted. He was sweating, seemed uncomfortable... he ate nothing."
Carson was shaking his head slowly.
"Something's amiss here, I can feel it. You see this?" and he gave the field pack a shake, "It was found in the gate room... it's Rodney's. There's something about this mud... something that's bothering me. I was considering doing an analysis... after what you just told me, I definitely will."
Carson seemed to notice for the first time her worried frown, and he dropped a warm hand on Teyla's shoulder,
"But first we have to find the lad... "
Teyla did not hesitate, "I will help you, Carson."
She would miss her appointment after all.
oOo
"Dr Weir, I'm getting reports of shots fired...", the gate operator paused for a second, and then gave the expedition leader a confused look, " ...in Dr McKay's quarters."
Elizabeth immediately touched her ear, "Dr McKay, respond..."
When she heard no reply, she tapped again, "Colonel Sheppard, did you...?"
"Yeah, I'm getting reports too. I'm on my way there... and Beckett's with me."
oOo
Firstly, he couldn't believe how loud it had been; secondly, how the glass had shattered so spectacularly with the first shot; and thirdly, that he had managed to get the gun in his hand in the first place.
Taking off the belt turned out to be the easy part. His right arm and hand were doing better, not quite so weak, not quite so stiff. Re-fastening it with one hand took a horrible length of time, time that Rodney realised he had little of.
He had sweated and panted his arm slowly back towards his body, just far enough to grab at the belt, catching it. Then he began the tortuous ascent once again. He had begun to feel light-headed half way there, like he was going to pass out... only the thought of rescue had kept him focussed.
Now, after firing off three shots, and sending up a tiny prayer - to someone - he could see whisps of smoke curling beneath the bed. His index finger still rested on the trigger. The belt trick had worked, and he had got the weapon a good fifteen inches closer. He had got the gun into his left hand underneath the bed, and had screwed his eyes up in order to sight towards the balcony window. Flicking of the safety had been tricky, firing the gun had been easy.
A small smile lifted the corners of his mouth, as he began to realise exactly what he had accomplished.
He felt ecstatic... he was going to be rescued.
Carson would come, they'd all come...
He rolled his head, and looked expectantly at the door...
Long moments passed... something was niggling at him... a little worry had crept into his muddled mind... something he needed to remember...
Then came a terrible realisation.
Several months ago he had become convinced that some person or persons were sneaking into his room. He didn't know who, he had his suspicions. As a result he had made some 'special' modifications to his door. He put in a lock that not even the strongest ancient gene could override. As well as being easy to set manually from outside the door, it was rigged to set automatically when the scientist was inside, ensuring no unwanted interruptions.
Rodney let his eyes close, and he could do nothing to prevent the sob that escaped his throat.
They would try the door... and it would not open... others would try, Sheppard, Carson...Then last of all, Radek would come... he would shake his head sadly... he would say that it was impossible... the great Rodney McKay had let paranoia go too far...
...and it had killed him.
oOo
TBC and thanks for reading...
I haven't forgotten 'perf. sk.'... honestly! But this one won't let me write anything else!
(A baboon has long arms... right?)
