Rated: T
Category: Angst, drama
Spoilers: Can't think of any
Author Notes: Sequel to Fortitude, which is somewhere here on this site. Written when there were several emails telling me I couldn't leave it at that. I think there's enough in this story to let you know what happened in that one, you don't need to read the other – but if you want to, I've no objection ;)
Woo hoo – learning how to do chapters, too, in response to other emails received. Sorry – I don't post a story till it's complete, so chapter breaks aren't something I think of off hand. Hope this makes it easier to read.
Again, with the grammar, it's been beta'd by two wonderful folk so anything left is intentional or Canadian.
Disclaimer: Not mine, wish they were. Don't sue me, you won't get anything out of it. But thanks to the producers for coming up with such amazing characters, and to the writers and actors for making them so compelling.
Fortitude Consequences
Excerpt from the letters of Dr. K. Heightmeyer
Dear Tony;
I always heard Joni was a genius. You made me realize it, and it's just so true. You don't know what you've got till it's gone.
When I was told Rodney McKay's body had been recovered from a cave-in on Deemas, I was surprised how distraught it made me feel. He's been coming to me, off and on, for several months now - a man who found himself in circumstances he'd never anticipated. The pressure of being the answer man, the rainmaker, the one you go to for solutions, it was wearing on him, but he was rising to the challenge in a way I never thought he'd be able to.
For almost a full day the entire city mourned him. I tried to speak to his team, but the rest of the gate teams closed ranks, and I couldn't blame them, really. I knew it would hit Elizabeth and John the hardest, professionally and personally, and it would throw a wrench into the command structure, causing immeasurable ripples. I did manage to speak to several of the recovery team.
I can see you shaking your head, Tony, but the way I practise here isn't like anywhere else. Firstly, I know these people, I live with them, eat with them, and I can't maintain the detachment I used to on Earth. Secondly, we're a city under siege, and as much as I don't want to admit it, psychology is a science of leisure. It takes time to get at underlying causes, and it's hard to get that commitment when the chief concerns are obtaining enough food, finding sources of energy, and preparing for imminent attack by a life-sucking alien species. I guess what I'm getting at, is that I don't just work in my office, a lot of what I end up doing is on the fly. It's not the way to do it right, but other requirements take precedence.
Anyway, I told you we mourned him for a day - because after that, the DNA tests proved the body wasn't McKay's. The Genii - I mentioned them before - had pulled a switch, and it meant that McKay was in the hands of some very nasty people.
Long story short, McKay was alive, but by the time he was recovered he'd been through some pretty vicious torture. I took that extra training because it was offered, never thinking I'd use it - but I've had three torture victims now, since joining SGC, and Rodney's my fourth.
Interesting choice of words, I suppose. My fourth. You always said I got too possessive of my patients.
But my point is, it's not just the - well, victim isn't the greatest word, maybe subject would be better…heck, we're in Pegasus, political correctness hasn't found us yet - it isn't the victim only that needs help. On Earth we had a team, here I'm the only one with experience in treatment, and I'm not letting anyone else practise on the head of science and the head of the military.
Yes, the head of the military. John Sheppard is losing it. Highly technical reference, I know. Thing is, he's had as many ghosts in his past as Rodney, just different shades. He lost two very good friends in Afghanistan, and his behaviour since seemed to have been dedicated to getting by. He'd avoided any close friendships since then, and if General O'Neil hadn't dragged him into the underground ofAntarcticawhen he did, I think he'd have spent the rest of his career in the butt-end of nowhere.
He and McKay struck up the most unlikely of friendships I've seen, and one of the closest. Tony, my first thought when I heard McKay was dead was 'damn, that means we've lost them both.' Unscientific, I know, and probably not strictly accurate, but honest. And McKay - he's the same way about Sheppard. Remember Professor Flynn, and those photos? How you were supposed to be able to tell relationships within families and groups by how the people stood in relation to each other? And all those hours of lectures about personal space?
If you were to take a photo of these two, you might not notice much. They'd stand there, smiling or frowning depending on the circumstance, but between them there is no personal space. No polite distance. It's like twins, like close siblings, or old married couples.
At least that's the way it was. McKay was recovered from the Genii, and began to mend, and we started working through the residue from the torture. And somehow, somewhere along the line Sheppard began to pull away again. He won't talk to me, missed an appointment we set, and now it's beginning to affect McKay again.
I think I'm gonna have to ambush him.
xxxxx
She took her tray and scanned the room. It was shift change, and the seats were fairly full, as she'd known they'd be. Her usual choice was to eat off-shift, when the place was quieter, but she'd chosen this meal for a specific reason.
And there he was, on the edge of the group of tables.
"Teyla. Major. May I join you?" she said.
She didn't miss the reaction her simple question garnered, and sighed to herself as Sheppard blinked and drew away a hair. It was a subtle movement, if she hadn't been looking for it she wouldn't have seen it, would have had just a small feeling of being unwelcome. She smiled at them both and sat.
It wasn't Teyla's way to make conversation for the sake of it, and Sheppard's attention was, apparently, on his food - though not much of it was eaten - so it was they sat in silence for a few moments.
She didn't mind. Much of her work was done in silence. People seldom came right out and spoke about what was bothering them, but a good tactic was to ask a leading question and then simply listen. The person would talk for a few moments, she would smile and wait, and the silence would tease out more and more information as her subject would try to fill the quiet.
This was no exception. "Sorry I didn't make it to the appointment." Sheppard said. "I had a couple urgent things come up."
She finished her bite of sandwich, nodded. "We should re-schedule."
Sheppard grunted non-committally.
She glanced around the room, seeing McKay at the center of a group of scientists. He was holding forth on some obscure bit of gate dynamics, with contributions from Zelenka.
"Good to see him back." she observed.
"Yeah." It was a chink in the armour of disinterest he was trying to project, but it didn't last. He glanced over, eyes warming briefly, then turned his attention back to his plate which, for all the cutting and moving of food, seemed still rather full.
She caught Teyla's eye, and the Athosian understood, standing and taking her tray. For all she didn't know Heightmeyer, or really understand her place in the hierarchy, she knew that Elizabeth spoke to her occasionally, and could see Kate's real concern for Sheppard. She nodded to the others, and left. For a second it seemed as if Sheppard would do the same, but good manners won out and he just exchanged a few words with her, referencing the return to Deemas.
"You're going back?" she asked offhandedly.
"We promised to help them come up with a warning system. And install it."
"What do you think about going back there?"
He cut his eyes up to her. "Wondered when you'd start."
"What?"
"Asking questions."
She sighed. "It's kind of my job, John." She waited. "Well?"
"We have to go back. We promised. I don't have to like it."
"You don't like it?"
He placed his hands on either side of the tray with deliberation. "No. I don't. I'm not looking forward to it, but it's got to be done."
"They seem like nice enough people."
"That's not the point. Listen - let's call it bad memories and leave it at that, huh?" He was beginning to lose his temper.
"Really?"
"Really!" He spoke loudly, too loudly, and conversation at the tables nearest them lulled slightly.
"I've told you. I've told Liz. I'm fine. I'm used to this, I've done it before." He spoke quietly, but the tension reverberated in each sentence.
"Used to what?"
His jaw clenched. "Used to having people die. I'm in the military, Doctor. That's something that comes with the territory. You grow close to people, and then they die. Usually in various horrifying ways. It's something you learn to deal with."
She took a sip of her drink. "Rodney's not military," she observed quietly. "And he's not dead."
It hit a nerve. She saw, for an instant, fury and terror in his eyes - before he stood, without retrieving his tray, and stalked out.
Again the conversation paused, but she merely slid his tray under hers, re-arranged the plates, and continued eating. Her composure betrayed nothing of her worry.
xxxxx
"Elizabeth, if we were on Earth I'd ground him."
Weir blinked. The question had been simple, an offhand 'how's John?' - she'd heard they'd lunched together, and was curious. Heightmeyer's arrival in her office had her concerned for McKay, but Sheppard?
"I think maybe you'd better start at the beginning." She gestured Kate to sit, and dropped into her own chair.
"Protocol..."the psychologist started "would dictate that every single member of that recovery team should have had at least one session with me." She raised her hands, forestalling the reply Weir was shaping. "I know, because of the limits to our manpower it wasn't enforceable. Most of them have been by anyway, just for a chat, even Aiden. But as the Lieutenant left, he asked if the Major had been in. I asked why. He said that he didn't think John was sleeping that well, he seemed very ill tempered, and the team had only gotten together socially once since Rodney's release from the infirmary."
"That's unusual. It's been a week and a half."
"Exactly. Ford said they would normally have met up at least five or six times by now. He said it was like Sheppard was avoiding them."
"And that's what the lunch with the Major was about."
"Precisely. I'd managed to get him to agree to see me, we even had an appointment, but he blew me off. Lunch was a way to get a sense of where he is." She leaned forward. "Elizabeth, I know this trip back to Deemas is important, but I don't feel it's in John's best interests right now."
Weir recognized it as a request, but she shook her head. "I'm sorry, Kate, but it's key to our trading relationships with these people. There's supposed to be some sort of ceremony of gratitude."
Kate sighed. "I understand. But in return, I'd ask a favour."
"Order him to speak to you."
She cocked her head. "Forcefully request."
Weir nodded. "Consider it done. Now, how about Rodney?"
"He's reached a bit of a plateau, I think he'll be ready for the return trip, though. After that, I should be able to clear him for the team again." She smiled a bit. "He's remarkably resilient."
"Remarkably." Her tone was resigned.
"Something else?" Heightmeyer raised an eyebrow.
"I've just…been thinking. I never really wanted Rodney to be on a team, having the head of science and the military on the same one struck me as putting too many eggs in one basket. I never thought he'd be so good at it." She grinned sadly. "I figured I'd indulge them, maybe give it a month before they drove each other nuts and one or the other was at my door demanding he be grounded."
"You didn't anticipate their friendship, either."
"No."
"One thing I've learned in my job, Elizabeth, is that people surprise you."
xxxxx
Excerpt from the letters of Dr. K. Heightmeyer
I told her I thought the trip was a mistake, but as usual the needs of the many outweighed the needs of the few. The Deemas are good people, they also grow something that's as close to wheat as I think we'll ever get. Again, Tony, with the food. It's a fixation here. We still have about two weeks worth left if things get tight, but we always hoped to become more-or-less self-sufficient.
All I can do is hope it doesn't set either of them back too badly. Aiden has become my eyes and ears in that team, and what I hear doesn't fill me with confidence.
xxxxx
"Are we ready, people?" Sheppard bellowed over the bustle. The materials were on crude carts, and the honorary, first stone stood on a small riser. It had a bow on it. Ford felt it should look festive.
"Waiting on the doc!" the Lieutenant called back. He glanced around the group, smiled a bit. Teyla was beside him, and she was grinning, too. Somehow, some of the tension that had been developing since they'd returned the first time had dissipated. It wasn't back to normal, but for the first time he thought it might have a chance to get that way.
He saw Sheppard pacing, stop as McKay appeared, and he took a half-step towards his CO at the expression on the man's face. The animation drained away. He looked lost, for just a moment, then he was the Major again, berating McKay for being late, and McKay was snarking back, but there was no sense of normalcy to it.
The tension was back. He glanced at Sheppard, wondering what had caused his reaction, then at McKay. And at what he was wearing.
"I believed that jacket destroyed." Teyla whispered to him.
"He had two, I guess."
"It is a small thing, but I find it - somewhat distressing."
"It looks like the Major does too."
And then the gate was open, someone tossed the stone through, with far less ceremony than originally intended, and they were following.
xxxxx
"So." McKay wiped his hands with a scrap of cloth, gesturing at the windmill. "That will power the batteries. The batteries will power the sensors. The sensors will read any incoming wormhole and trigger the siren, and the siren will warn your advance guard you've got company."
He grinned. "Then, the Major's simple, but elegant solution" he glanced over, but Sheppard's face was impassive, as if he hadn't heard "to your uninvited guests - if you see a stone come through first, it's friendly. If you don't, beware." He tucked the greasy cloth into his back pocket absently, then laid down on the ground and reached behind the panel where the sensors were. Merya peered in, her small head almost touching McKay's.
"Pretty," she commented, drawn to the colours as most children would be.
"It is, isn't it?" McKay agreed. "Crystals are the most amazing shapes sometimes, and the colours…"
He made a final adjustment and sat up, moving Merya carefully out of the way.
Ford watched, grinning. The six year old had appointed herself McKay's guardian, fetching things for him, staring at him as he explained things that there was no way she understood, and just staying nearby. Taran said she felt responsible for him, ever since their first meeting days before, when both were captives. For McKay's part, he had been uncommonly patient, particularly given his oft-stated dislike for children. It was just as his grandma had said. Never trust a man that kids and dogs didn't like. Kids and dogs know.
"Done! Thank you, Merya." McKay took the small cover from her and replaced it over the access. She smiled broadly, and ran to her brother.
"Up," she requested. Taran lifted her over his head, and she squealed with delight as the whole group - less three, the first of the gate guards - headed back to the village.
xxxxx
"The resilience of youth." Sheppard muttered, as Ford and Teyla followed. Nowhere in the child's demeanour was there any indication she and her playmatesbeen kidnapped, held captive, and threatened, as part of the Genii plan to compel McKay to build a nuke.
He took McKay's jacket from where it had been folded carefully on a branch, and handed it to the physicist. It was an act of defiance, kicking sand in the face of his fear, though he was the only one who knew it as such. He'd known McKay had two uniform jackets, they all did, but it had been deja-vu when the man showed up in front of the gate, ready to go. He'd had to sit, firmly, on the sudden desire to order him off the expedition, send him back to his nice, safe lab. It was irrational, and he knew that. He didn't need any clinical psychologist to tell him rational from irrational, no matter how many times Heightmeyer asked him to come by.
The other jacket had been irreparable - not that he thought McKay would want to wear it again - and Weir had simply had Beckett place it back in the body bag. Now, reduced to its constituent atoms along with the unidentified body Kolya had arranged for them to find, it was gone.
Not forgotten. Just gone.
His thoughts were dark, and he missed the glance of worry McKay gave him. Instead, Sheppard turned and made for the path, following the others.
McKay wandered after him, and gave it a few moments before broaching the next subject.
"So. When you were digging out the decoy me, did you notice anything interesting?"
"Interesting?" disbelief coloured Sheppard's tone. "We still thought it was you, remember, we weren't looking at anything else."
"I understand, I do," McKay hastened to say. "It's just..."
"Just what?"
McKay hesitated. The tone was sharp.
"There was something there, Major. I swear," he appealed, following Sheppard along the path.
"Was it a power signature?" Sheppard asked.
"No."
"Was it possibly a cache of Ancient technology?" His voice was flat.
McKay frowned. "No."
"What was it, then?" Sheppard stopped suddenly, and McKay almost bumped into him. He took a half-step back. Sheppard's face was closed, neutral, and somewhere a small warning prodded him.
"It was - well - a rock. With carvings. The cable - well, that was part of the trap. But I remember seeing something - looked like Ancient letters on what might have been some kind of a small capstone…"
"No power means no ZPM. Which means we're not interested. End of discussion." Sheppard turned and strode off, shoulders set.
"Major?" McKay trotted to keep up. "Major, if we could just make a quick side trip - it wouldn't take long…"
Sheppard stopped and swung around again, and this time his face wasn't neutral. He was angry.
"What part of 'No' don't you comprehend, McKay? We are not going back to the ruins. We are going to have a nice lunch and a pleasant afternoon with our friends, and then we are going back home. We are not going back to a pile of rocks to look for another rock. We are most particularly not going back to THAT damned pile of rock. In fact, after today, I would be just as happy if I never had to set foot on this planet again! Clear enough?"
McKay glanced over Sheppard's shoulder, but the rest of the group was far enough away that they hadn't heard the Major's remarks. He looked at his friend, really looked closely, and saw - buried beneath the anger - fear. Pain remembered. Loss.
He shifted, sighed.
"You're right." he conceded. "Let my enthusiasm run away with me again. Sorry."
Any other time, the confusion on Sheppard's face would have been humourous, but McKay knew the man hadn't expected him to understand.
"Okay, then," Sheppard said, covering the lapse. "Now come on. I'm hungry."
xxxxx
The afternoon was drawing on. The children had romped and played with them, then Taran had gathered them together and they'd disappeared into the woods.
Ford found the forgiveness of the Deemas rather odd - he'd mentioned to Telya that he wasn't certain he'd trust his kids with the person who got them kidnapped - but she merely smiled at him and reminded him of the difference in the way people lived and thought. From the head man's point of view, Taran's reasons had been understandable, and everything had worked out. His place was teacher, and he filled it well.
There had been some bits of the sweet bars served for dessert left over, and he amused himself for a while by feeding them to the local version of squirrel. He'd managed to get one of them to almost take the scrap from his fingers when the animal scurried away at the approach of a shadow. He glanced up. It was Sheppard.
"Seen McKay?" he asked shortly.
"No sir." He thought for a moment. "Not for an hour or so."
"Damn." Sheppard swore. "Damn him. I said no, and of course he has to take off…" He let the sentence trail off. "Ford, get Teyla - and be quiet about it. If he's gone where I think he has, the fewer witnesses the better."
It raised the hair on the back of his neck, walking that path again. It had been widened by the rescue crew from Atlantis, and newly broken branches lay to the sides of it. The grass had the odd trampled look of a dirty carpet. Sheppard strode ahead, and fury was evident in every step. Teyla was a few steps back, watching the Major with concern.
He was tail end Charlie, as usual, but it kept him out of Sheppard's line of sight. Ford spared a moment to pray McKay wasn't at the ruins, because if he was, given the temper Sheppard was in, there was a good chance things would be said that wouldn't be meant.
And it seemed he'd been lucky. They got to the site, with the muddy, trampled ground showing no new traces.
"McKay!" Sheppard yelled. Ford thought to himself that if he heard the Major use that tone of voice when calling his name, he'd have to think seriously about whether or not to answer.
"Damnit! McKay! You get out here right damn now!"
Silence.
"McKay!" The shout had an edge of desperation. Ford wasn't used to hearing that particular edge. He glanced at Teyla, who stepped forward quickly.
"It would appear he is not here, Major. He would not have come here without your permission, am I correct?"
Sheppard was ranging around the site, reminding Ford of nothing so much as a hunting dog casting about for a scent. Teyla's question made him stop.
"Yes," he conceded.
"And you gave no such permission?"
Sheppard's glare was her answer.
"I do not recall Doctor McKay lying to us in the past," she said quietly.
Sheppard drew a deep breath, and Ford could almost see him pulling his command presence around him.
"You're right," he said.
Ford grinned encouragingly. "Back to the village?" he suggested. "I bet he went to find out how they made those dessert bars."
Sheppard nodded, and sighed. "He can't have gotten far."
xxxxx
They broke the tree line and heard the commotion before they saw it - all eleven children were laughing and chasing each other, covered in mud. They were being watched indulgently by the adults of the village, and by two equally muddy men - Taran and McKay.
Sheppard sauntered up.
"And you couldn't say 'by the way, I'm going to play in some mud, see you later'?" he asked, elaborately casual.
"What?" McKay shook his head, tapped his ear. "We were building a dam," he said. "Got mud in my ear. Where were you?"
Sheppard opened his mouth, but shut it a second later. This wasn't the place or the time. He cleared his throat. "McKay."
McKay looked up from the ground, where four very grubby youngsters had tackled him. "Major?"
"Time to go."
xxxxx
McKay had scraped off the worst of the mud by the time they made it to the gate, and Sheppard hadn't said a word. Teyla exchanged a glance with Ford as he dialled, and in answer he shrugged.
The wormhole established, they made their farewells, trouped through. On the other side, by unspoken agreement, Ford and Teyla went one way. Sheppard, though, grabbed McKay by a grubby elbow and steered him onto the balcony, closing the doors.
"What?" McKay glared. "I want a shower. Muddy, you know?"
"Don't do that again," Sheppard said flatly.
"What?"
"Take off like that! You should know better by now."
"What, so now I have to ask permission? What am I, twelve?"
"You sure behaved like it back there. Listen." He made a concentrated effort to control himself. "All I want is for the people on my team to just mention when they're taking off."
"Mother may I. Gee, Major, I haven't played that in years." Sarcasm was thick in the comment.
"Damnit! It's not a game! You took off there, and it was like…" he paused, drew a breath. "We went looking for you."
McKay stared at him. "And you went to the ruins, didn't you, even after I told you I wasn't going to go back. So now you don't trust my word, never mind letting me wander around on my own."
Sheppard stared at him. This was not how a leader behaved, a nasty little voice sang in his ear. This wasn't the way to deal with people he was responsible for.
McKay was waiting for an answer, arms folded, anger in his eyes.
"That's not it." He stopped, truly at a loss for words. He looked at the physicist, hoping McKay would understand, toss a sharp comment, and things would be normal again.
But he just stood there for a moment, then frowned. "Well, you be sure and let me know when you figure out what it is." He turned on his heel and strode into the city.
