Title: Barriers
Author: Goatcheese
Rating: M
Warnings: torture, violence
Characters: Beckett, McKay
Spoilers: Small one for Poisoning the Well
Summary: Beckett and McKay are kidnapped.
Disclaimer: All things Stargate related I do not own. Please don't sue. Then how would I feed my cats?
Acknowledgments: Thanks again to TJ for the Beta. You're my hero...but if you ever show up at my place with your knickers on the outside of your trousers, wearing a cape...I'm never speaking to you again. Love ya!
Barriers
Dr. Carson Beckett awoke to pain filled screams. His shoulders ached horribly but he didn't know why until trying to move and rub his bleary eyes. He found his hands were shackled above his head to a very solid wall. After taking the pressure off his shoulders by getting his thankfully unbound feet squarely under him, Beckett looked around the room trying to figure out what was going on.
The room wasn't very large. There was only one door and a few windows positioned very high on the walls that seemed to be the only things letting light seep into in the dingy room. Looking around he saw a few people restrained as he was but the majority of the prisoners were just sitting on the dirt floor, trying to look small and insignificant, huddled into the corners.
Trying to figure out a possible avenue for escape, the door that Carson had been starring at was flung open with a great deal of force and a limp body unceremoniously tossed in. People whimpered in shock and scurried as far away from the arrival as possible. Carson shut his eyes to block out the extremely bright light that had flooded the room.
The newest prisoner groaned as he fought his way back to consciousness. He sat up muttering curses under his breath. Swiveling his head around, inspecting his new surroundings and spotted a familiar face.
"Carson?"
At the sound of his name Beckett snapped his eyes open, he didn't want anyone else to be a prisoner in this place, but he felt a small amount of relief to know that he wasn't alone.
"Hey Rodney, so kind of you to visit."
"Well, I had some free time. I have to tell you, I really like what you've done with the place."
The two friends shared a small smile despite their situation. Rodney looked at Carson's position, studying the manacles. Carson had seen the look many times.
"I think I might be able to get those off," Rodney said as he reached for the restraints. He pulled back with a cocky grin, "That is of course, if you don't mind?"
"Funny," Carson replied sarcastically.
McKay started tweaking with the restraints, carefully poking and prodding at every little part that looked like it might be a release mechanism. He'd almost figured it out when suddenly four tiny spikes shot out from the inside of each restraint and embedded themselves into Carson's wrists. McKay immediately stopped what he was doing, but it was too late.
Beckett tried to hold back a scream as pain exploded through his arms and slow rivulets of blood made their way down the doctor's arms into his customary shirt. Rodney looked utterly horrified as his friend tried to control his harsh breathing.
"Oh God Carson, I'm so sorry. I didn't know that was going to happen. I didn't think...I'm so sorry," the scientist kept babbling apologies until Carson's pain filled voice broke in.
"Rodney, it wasn't your fault. It's ok, I'm ok." Carson's accented words seemed to calm the stricken man.
They had been in their prison for hours; every once in a while a guard would come in and grab people, taking then to other parts of the compound. So far none of the removed prisoners had returned. Rodney desperately wanted to sit down feeling fatigue throughout his body, but he wouldn't allow himself the luxury, Carson had no choice but to stand painfully still.
McKay kept a close eye on Beckett, hoping he wasn't going to collapse and be injured further. He wanted to offer any comfort, no matter how small, still feeling what happened was his fault. He ripped the left sleeve off of his shirt and mopped Carson brow with it. The man didn't need sweat running into his eyes on top of everything else.
McKay jumped when the door suddenly opened again, causing the Canadian to cease his administrations. The guard scanned the room with his eyes and stopped on Rodney. As their latest captor entered, he summoned more men to follow him into the room. The remaining prisoners scattered like roaches from a light.
The leader stopped right in front of Rodney, taking a sideways glance at Carson then focused his attention fully on Rodney.
"Move," he pointed towards the door.
Rodney was scared, but he didn't want to leave Carson, then he'd be all alone. So he didn't move. The guard saw he wasn't moving and made a gesture to one of the others. The requested man walked straight to the group and delivered a savage punch into the soft flesh of Carson's unprotected stomach. His body tried to double over, but the restrains held him upright, the spikes tearing even further into his wrists. Blood flowed more freely as Beckett tried desperately not to cry out, biting his lip.
"If you disobey my instructions, you will not be harmed," The leader grinned at McKay. The look on the man's face made Rodney's stomach tighten. He understood completely what was being implied. "Move," the same command was ordered but this time Rodney didn't hesitate.
The new room he was shoved into was very different then the previous dirt floored cell. This room was very clean, sterile, like a hospital. Everything was bright white; the walls, ceiling, the light almost blinding after the dingy room; it was very unnerving. McKay was alone for all of five minutes before the door opened and he was instructed to move to the far side of the room. When he complied, Carson was dragged in and dumped on the floor. His arms were bound tightly behind him, but the mechanical shackles had been replaced with a thick, course rope.
Rodney waited until the door was closed and all but sprinted to Carson's side. Or at least he tried to. He got to the middle of the room when his progress was halted by a force field.
"Damn it!" Rodney cursed. He couldn't get to his friend, stopped no less than a foot away.
Carson rolled over to face Rodney. He was conscious and seemed to be alert. He tried to move his hands without thinking and the rope rubbed against the already abused skin, slicking it with blood.
"Bloody hell," he muttered.
"Carson, are you ok?" McKay was ringing his hands, pacing back and forth in front of the invisible barrier.
"Aye, for the time being anyways," The Scot had very slowly, painstakingly maneuvered himself so that his back was resting against the closest wall. "What about you? Are you injured?" the doctor in him would never stop working.
"No, I'm fine," McKay sounded almost guilty that he wasn't injured.
"Why don't you try to get some sleep," Beckett suggested. "I think you could use some."
"Oh that's just rich coming from you, Carson," Rodney snorted. "You're bleeding and look like a kitten could take you in a fight."
Beckett gave Rodney his best 'I'm a doctor and I give the orders' look, which surprisingly worked.
"Ok, ok, fine. But you have to rest as well."
"Deal. See that wasn't so hard."
McKay hunkered down in the corner closest to Carson. The doctor opted to try and sleep propped up against the wall. They both fell into a restless sleep, hoping that they would wake up from this nightmare.
Thud...
A noise wormed its way into McKay's subconscious.
Thud...
The second time it was enough to rouse Rodney from sleep. He opened his eyes to see two men standing over Carson. His friend was helplessly lying on the floor, trying to curl into the fetal position, but his bound hands wouldn't allow him that particular range of motion. One of the guards savagely kicked Carson in his already tender stomach, smiling as the doctor cried out in pain.
McKay jumped to his feet, pleading to the guards, "Stop it! I didn't do anything. Stop, please."
The guard kicked Beckett again, while talking to Rodney, "You were never instructed to sleep."
"What! How was I supposed to know? You never even..." but he stopped his rant when the man pulled a knife and knelt down to get closer to the doctor. He grabbed a handful of Carson's hair and pulled the man's head back, exposing Beckett's sensitive throat.
"Did I say you could speak?" The guard asked ominously. McKay panicked; he couldn't take back the words he had said, no matter how hard he tried. He watched rooted to the spot as the man brought the weapon to Carson's neck, then very slowly, inch by inch, sliced the blade across Beckett's throat, tearing through the venerable flesh.
With one last kick and a smile to McKay, the two guards left the room. Carson was bleeding heavily from the knife wound, helpless, dying. Rodney was in his own personal hell. He was forced to watch his best friend die less then afoot away from him; unable to do anything to help. McKay pounded on the invisible barrier trying desperately to get through. He kept repeating an apologetic mantra over and over, his soul shattering into pieces.
"Rodn..." Carson tried to talk, but he choked on the blood rapidly filling his throat, cutting off his air supply; all that came out was a blood filled gurgle. Beckett coughed and sputtered, covering the ground with intricate scarlet patterns. He locked his eyes with Rodney's and held his gaze until he stopped struggling for breath and his body stilled losing its precious battle.
McKay fell to his knees, tears streaming down his face in despair. It was all his fault, he had killed Carson. In his head, the mantra started up again as he sat on the floor rocking himself into oblivion. McKay awoke covered in sweat and panting harshly. "What the hell..." he muttered to himself.
"Are you alright, lad?" Came Carson's worried question. McKay looked at his friend, his very alive friend. Carson was still propped up against the wall, looking like he hadn't slept at all. Rodney let out a shaky breath.
"I'm fine. Just a dream," Rodney was still very shaken by the events that his mind had played out for him. He flinched as a short thin door opened on his side of the room and a tray was pushed through. It appeared to be the equivalent of hospital food; perfect for consumption in McKay's opinion, but disgusting to everyone else. He eagerly dug into the food, not caring what it was, or what might be in it. Suddenly he stopped looking down at the food and then over to Beckett. Carson hadn't received any food, and even if he did, he didn't have the use of his hands to eat it.
Sensing what Rodney was thinking Carson responded, "Its ok, I'm not really hungry," He forced himself not to look longingly at the food, "and you need to eat or you might pass out again." Beckett added the last bit with a smile, causing McKay to relax a little. Truth be told, the doctor was starving, but didn't want Rodney to feel worse then he already did.
McKay polished off the meal in record time, fearing that it might be taken away at any moment. He noticed Carson shifting around against the wall, wincing at every movement.
"Hey Rodney, can you look at my hands and see if there's any way that I can untie myself?"
Rodney looked uncomfortable as the doctor turned his bound hands towards him, "Are you sure that's a good idea? I mean, why give them another reason to beat you?"
"I got hit once, I'd hardly call that a beating. Anyway, I've thought about it, but I need to see how badly I'm injured. Rodney please, I need to know."
The pleading look in the man's eyes, forced Rodney to comply. With a sigh, he sank down to one knee examining how the rope was tied. After a few minutes and asking Carson to move this way or that so he had different angles to work with, Rodney had talked Carson through getting the rope loosened enough that he could pull his right hand free. Beckett's hands ached terribly when the circulation was restored. With both hands now in front of him, he carefully extracted his left hand and stared at the damage.
Rodney had seen the wounds and let Beckett examine himself in silence. The puncture marks from the shackles were small but deep and extremely painful when Carson rotated his wrists. The rope had re-opened the scabs that had formed over the wounds, creating some new wounds of their own in the process. His wrists were bloody and raw, the returning circulation bringing more agony with every beat of his heart.
The one thing that Carson needed, almost more than life itself, was the use of his hands. He was a doctor, that's all that he knew and the only thing that he was truly good at. What would he do if practicing medicine was no longer an option? That was his greatest fear, there were so many more dangerous situations that he could face being in the Pegasus Galaxy. He was starting to regret the decision to join the expedition.
He was still pondering how long it would take for his wrist to heal when the door opened revealing a handful or guards.
"My, my, my. What have you two been up to?" Looking at Carson's free hands, the leader of the guards tuned to McKay, "You really shouldn't have helped him."
Carson broke in defending McKay, "Leave him alone. He didn't do anything."
"Oh, but he did. Now you will suffer."
McKay panicked remembering his dream, "No, it was all my fault. I made him do it. Punish me."
Beckett was surprised by Rodney's word. He wasn't usually the type to be the willing scapegoat. The guards ignored McKay's cries of protest and two of them roughly pulled the injured doctor to his feet. He struggled vainly against their grip, but they never budged. A third guard brought a wooden chair into the room. Beckett thought that was kind of funny. This seemingly advanced society using a wooden chair.
He was pushed into the chair and his arms tied to it, again with a thick rope. After admiring their handy-work, the nameless leader backhanded Beckett across the face, snapping his head to one side. He could feel his mouth filling with blood, and without thinking, he spit the copper tasking liquid at the man. This action caused the remaining guards to snicker, which in turn angered the man standing in front of Carson even more.
Beckett saw the blow coming, and tried to brace himself the best he could. Unfortunately, it caught him square in the face and there was a sickening crack as the bones in his nose snapped under the sudden force upon them. Blood ran down his face, staining the front of his shirt. The man was poised again to strike the cringing doctor, when one of the other guards whispered something into his ear. He angrily dropped his fist to his side and gave Beckett a sadistic smile.
"Don't worry, we'll continue this later." He exited the room, the other guards close behind.
"You shouldn't antagonize them like that." Rodney told Carson as he paced in front of the barrier. He looked worriedly at his friend's predicament, his mind thinking up all kinds of horrible situations that might occur.
"Aye, I'm starting to agree with you there," Carson responded, wincing when the slight movement of talking aggravated his injured lip. He experimentally flexed his arms testing the strength of the bonds. He seemed to be making slight progress with his left arm, when Rodney's voice broke his concentration.
"Stop!"
Carson looked confused but continued what he was doing, "Don't worry Rodney, it doesn't hurt that bad."
"Stop it...stop it now!" Rodney yelled, punching the barrier in desperation for his friend to cease his movements.
"Ok, ok, calm down. What the bloody hell has gotten into you?" Beckett asked as he watched Rodney's caged movements.
"Are you a complete idiot?" McKay spat angrily at the other man. "He will just hurt you more if you try to escape again."
"Are you daft man? He's going to do that anyway. If I can get loose, maybe I can gain the upper hand…or something."
McKay snorted at the last comment. "No offense Carson, but your not much of a fighter. You'd have a better chance of getting invited to a tea party by the wraith then you do of taking on the guards and wining. Hey I know, maybe you could spout medical jargon at them and they'd die of boredom."
Beckett just glared at the scientist. Neither of them was used to this kind of stress. They just sat in their respectful corners occasionally shooting annoyed looks at one another. Rodney was getting up the nerve to apologize when; once again the door was flung open. The same man that had punched Carson earlier, entered alone. The thing about the situation that frightened Carson the most was that the man had brought a prop with him. It looked like a hammer, but with a bigger head.
"I'm sorry to have kept you fellows waiting. I had some...items to get." With that said, he pulled from his pocket a long, thin nail.
"What are you going to do with that?" The question was out of McKay's mouth before he could stop it.
The man smiled at Rodney, "I'm glad you asked. I'd love to give you a demonstration." Rodney's face paled as the man walked up and stopped in front of Carson. He turned, addressing Rodney, "I'm a huge fan of audience participation. You will choose what part of your friend here, I shall inflict pain upon."
McKay stared at the man opened mouth, looking like a fish out of water. "What?" he asked in disbelief, "I can't do that. I won't."
His response made the man smile even larger, "Ok, I respect your decision; I guess I will have to choose for you. But remember, I did give you a chance to pick."
Turning back to Carson, he eyed the man as if trying to decide what to do with him. With one quick glance at Rodney, the guard placed the nail in the middle of Carson's right palm and without warning, smashed the hammer onto the head with enough force to drive the piece of metal through Carson's hand, embedding it into the chair beneath.
The scream torn from Beckett's throat went straight through Rodney, guilt weighing heavily upon him. He couldn't believe what had just happened. His friend was gasping for breath trying to keep his hand as immobile as possible to minimize the pain that radiated out from the nail up through his arm.
The man reached into his pocket and pulled out another nail identical to the one in Beckett's hand.
"No wait, stop...I'll pick," McKay said quickly, trying to stall the man.
"I'm sorry; I already gave you a chance. You did not accept it. Now, because of your cowardice, your friend here will suffer greatly."
He rested the other nail upon Beckett's other hand, but hesitated with the hammer blow. Carson was dying with anxiety of not knowing what was coming next. He was thinking to himself of the many different possibilities when his right hand exploded in fiery agony. He looked down to see that the second nail had been hammered in between his first two fingers, running through his hand parallel to the chair.
The man looked at Rodney, "Look at what you made me do," he said gesturing towards Beckett who was in a state of shock. "You forced my hand." He then took out yet another thin nail. Walking over to the barrier he showed it to McKay, "If you tell me what I want to know, this all stops." He just stood there looking at Rodney, waiting for an answer.
The scientist tried to think of something to say, but for once in his life, he couldn't find the words.
"So be it," the guard advanced on Carson.
"You didn't ask a question. What do you want from us?" McKay's question stopped the other man's forward progress.
The man turned his head around, but the only answer that was given, was a smile that made Rodney feel sick. When he got to Carson, he knelt down in front of the wounded man. The doctor had regained some composure and was now glaring at his torturer. The man reached out and carefully grabbed hold of the head of the nail protruding from Carson's palm. He then stated to slowly rotate the piece of metal in small circles. Beckett's body jerked in response, trying to move away from the pain. Unfortunately, being tied down and all, it didn't help much. His painful moan seemed to be what the man wanted, because he stopped his administrations when the sound had escaped his abused body.
He then grasped the other nail embedded into Beckett's hand, but before he did anything, he addressed McKay, "Why are you doing this to him? Just answer my question and you two can leave."
"What question?" Rodney asked. "For God sakes, what do you want to know?" He was becoming more agitated as the may kept expecting him to answer.
"Suit yourself." He then extremely slowly started pulling the nail out. He stopped when he had pulled it out only one centimetre, pushed it back in all the way at a slightly different angle, then pulled it out two centimetres, before driving it back in again. Stopping when the nail was halfway extracted, he again turned to McKay, "Only you have the power to stop this." All Rodney could do was stare at the situation, desperately trying to think of a way to help Carson. He racked his brain, but lacked the ability to find the right words.
The guard continued his grueling process until the nail was fully removed, covered in bright blood. Carson had screamed himself hoarse, and was barely hanging on to consciousness. His head was lolling back and forth; sweat dripping off of his forehead. He could feel the sticky blood coating his hand. The warm feeling mixed with pain was making him slightly nauseous.
"Why so quiet over there?" The guard asked Rodney. "Doesn't the well being of your friend matter to you at all?"
"You bastard, leave him alone. Just tell me what you want."
"You still don't understand, do you?" With a shake of his head, he rammed the nail he had just removed, into Carson's palm without the aid of a hammer. It didn't go in as deep as the one already embedded into the chair.
"Every time you fail to give me what I want, well, let's just say, it won't be pleasant," While he was speaking to McKay, he pulled out a black, pen-like object. The third unused nail was replaced into the man's pocket. He stood starring at Rodney while twirling the new object between his fingers.
The small break in pain, gave Carson a little time to climb back to consciousness. He saw that the man was holding a miniature version of a cattle prod.
"Oh, this just gets better and better," he mumbled to himself.
Chuckling at his prisoner, the man responded, "Yes, it sure does." Then he pressed one end of the prod to Carson's right wrist, the stimulus causing his muscles to contract making his fingers curl inward. Beckett yelped at the initial shock and cried out when the movement jostled the nails, one rubbing against a bone.
"Now, tell me your name," the question was directed at Rodney.
"Don't tell him anything," Becket told his friend; while Rodney was deciding to tell or not, the man prodded Carson's wrist again.
"Ok, I'll tell you, I'll tell you. It's Sheppard, John Sheppard."
This time the prod was jammed into the side of Carson's neck. He had more movement in his upper body and was able to jerk away from the offending device. Unfortunately, he received a second prod, and when he tried to move away again, the guards hand tangled in his hair, holding his head immobile. He struggled harder as the pain increased, finally subsiding as the man stopped to stare at Rodney expectantly.
"Why'd you do that? I told you my name," Rodney yelled.
"I don't appreciate being lied to."
"I'm not lying."
The guard punched Beckett, forcing all of the air of his lungs.
"McKAY! My name is Rodney McKay."
"Were you not listening? I said I don't like liars." He gave a vicious shove to Beckett's chair, sending the doctor crashing to the floor. Carson had pressed his hand down against the chair as hard as he could so when he hit the floor, his hand would move as little as possible. It worked to a certain extent. The sudden impact didn't jostle his hand that badly, but since Carson was paying the most attention to that area of his body, his head slammed onto the pale floor with amazing force. He let out a groan as he finally slipped into the unconscious world.
"Well, looks like our friend here has had a little accident," the guard said, poking Beckett with his toe, just to make sure. Thinking that the doctor was faking, the man rammed his foot once again into Carson's stomach.
"Leave him the hell alone," McKay yelled. "He's unconscious for God's sake."
"I' guess I just have to wake him up."
"Do you practice being a bastard or does it just come naturally?"
"I like you. Unfortunately, now I have to do this." He knelt down, using the cattle prod against Beckett's shoulder. Carson jerked awake, moaning as pain exploded behind his eyes.
"Holy crap," McKay heard his friend mutter. "Why am I on the floor?" he asked more to himself then anything else. He tried lifting his head off of the floor, feeling the sticky puddle of blood covering half of his head, coating his dark hair.
"Actually, I like this view better." That earned him another prod.
"Shut-up Carson." McKay pleaded.
"Now, since we are all back to the land of the living, let's continue our questioning. Now, tell me your name."
"I already did. Rodney McKay."
The force of the kick cracked one of Carson's ribs.
"What is your name?"
"McKay...I swear."
Another cracked rib.
"Why do you cause him more pain? It's a simple question."
"God damn it, my name is Rodney McKay."
This time, the cracked ribs broke. Beckett cried out, trying anything to shield himself from the blows. Obviously, he couldn't move, so his struggles just made the pain worse. After he ceased his pointless struggle, the man knelt down again.
"Name?"
"Rodney."
Cattle prod against Carson's chest.
"Name?"
Rodney gave up; he just sat down where he was and turned away from the scene. He could hear the spark of the weapon, but he couldn't stop it. He desperately wanted to help, but he couldn't take it anymore. Silent tears of anguish flowed from his eyes. He tried to block out Carson's screams. It wasn't working.
The guard moved to leave, causing Carson to flinch at his movement and causing Rodney to turn back. Just before exiting the room, he walked back and put his hard boot into Carson's stomach three times in rapid succession, then left giving McKay a final grin. Rodney looked upon his friend. Carson was extremely pale and was having a hard time breathing. The two broken ribs must have shifted during the final onslaught. One of the broken pieces of bone had punctured a lung. He needed medical attention and he needed it now.
To make matters worse, if that was possible, the latest bout of torture caused Carson to struggle so hard that even in his weakened state he had ripped one nailed hand away from the chair.
The nail was still embedded into the wood, small pieces of flesh clinging to it. Carson just stared in shock at his mangled hand now lying on the floor, free of its imprisonment. He tried to move it, but only received a small twitch in his fingers. He watched his own blood with a morbid fascination as it ran in little streams disrupting the pristine look of the floor.
At that moment, nothing seemed to matter anymore. What if the damage was permanent? How much use would he be with only one hand? These thoughts plagued his mind.
"Carson you have to stay awake. Help is on its way."
Rodney was just trying to keep his friend conscious. Little did he know he was right. Beckett wasn't listening, he just wanted to fade away, not feel any more pain. He vaguely heard the door open, but was surprised when he was gently released from the chair. Strong hands gripped Carson, untying him and moved his limp body to hoist him into a fireman's carry. Beckett was surprised to see that is was Sheppard who had entered the room, followed by Ford and Teyla and a backup team that was comprised of marines. McKay stopped the marine that was trying to pick up Beckett, explaining about Carson's possibly broken ribs.
"We don't have time to worry about it Rodney, well just have to risk it." To punctuate the major's words, gunfire could be heard right outside of the door.
"Let's move people."
"Uh major, there's one small problem."
"Hurry up McKay, what is it?"
Rodney touched the force field, keeping his separated from the others.
"You have got to be kidding me," Sheppard exclaimed. He turned to the rest of the team. "You guys head to the Puddle Jumper, McKay and I will be right behind you."
"But Sir?" Ford cut in.
"Major, I do not think it wise for you to stay here unprotected," Teyla argued.
"I agree with Teyla, Sir. One of us should stay," Ford added.
"No buts. Just go. That's an order."
"Yes sir." And with that, the rescue team headed out of the room, the now unconscious Dr. Beckett slung over one of the marine's shoulders.
"What have you gotten yourself into this time McKay?"
"Oh great, blame me for everything. This may be hard for you to believe, but this was not my fault," Rodney pouted.
"Any idea how this thing works?" Sheppard asked, nudging the barrier with the end of his P-90.
"I'm sorry; I didn't have time to analyze it. I was a little busy being tortured."
Sheppard didn't see any injuries, but let the comment slide, focusing on the situation at hand. He had seen a panel of sorts outside the door.
"I'll be back in a jiffy. Don't go anywhere."
"Gee thanks for the tip," McKay retorted to Sheppard's back. Moments later, and multiple rounds discharging, the force shield had been disabled. Sheppard appeared in the doorway and motioned for Rodney to follow him. When they breached the threshold of the doorway, Shepard took point and Rodney followed closely behind with Sheppard's Beretta in hand. There were bodies littering the floor, Rodney recognized some of the faces.
The two men made their way through the maze-like compound towards the exit that Major Sheppard had used to get into the building. Turning the last corner, Sheppard skidded to a stop at the weapon pointed at his face.
Rodney saw the Major stop, and instantly knew what was wrong. He stopped right at the edge of the wall, and cautiously peeked around the corner. The man that had inflicted so much pain upon Carson was threatening Major Sheppard's life. All of the pent up emotional stress sent Rodney over the edge. He barged into the situation, disregarding all the warnings going through his head.
His unannounced presence startled both men, and gave Rodney the split second he needed. The scientist barreled into the guard knocking him off of his feet, landing on top of him. The gun forgotten, Rodney started pummeling the man's face. He could feel bones breaking with every swing. Blood was flowing freely, covering the guard, Rodney, the floor. The blanket of red triggered an image of Carson bleeding to death on the floor to flash into McKay mind. He tried to pound the image out by hitting the man even harder knowing his knuckles were among the crunching of broken bone, but he didn't care.
Sheppard had been starring in utter shock as McKay beat the man with a fury that he had never seen before. It was clear that the man was unconscious, but Rodney hadn't stopped. Sheppard grabbed McKay shoulders, but he was pushed away, and the scientist continued his assault on the guard.
"Rodney, stop.' Sheppard tried to get through to the distraught man. He was losing speed, the adrenaline wearing off, his blows becoming softer and softer.
"Let's go home." Gently prying McKay away from the man, Shepard led them away from the compound to the Puddle Jumper.
They made their way in silence, each with too much on their minds, Rodney in a shocked daze. Upon entering, McKay noticed that Carson was positioned on the floor, covered with blankets. His had been tended to using the ships med-kit. The bandages were crudely applied, but they would help a little until they were back on Atlantis.
Sheppard fired up the engines and ordered everyone to take their seats and strap in. Rodney wouldn't budge from Carson's side. The doctor was still unconscious, but Rodney regardless wouldn't move. Sheppard didn't know what had happened to the two of them, but he decided Rodney needed to stay where he was. He didn't address the matter further and headed for Atlantis.
When they arrived, there was a medical team standing by in the jumper bay. They carefully put Dr. Beckett on a stretcher and transported him to the infirmary. Rodney followed closely behind not letting Carson out of his sight for a second. One of the other doctors stationed on Atlantis scanned Beckett as soon as they entered the medical room. Upon seeing the results, he rushed Beckett to the operating room shouting orders at the staff.
Rodney watched as his friend was taken away, he tried to follow, but Weir stopped him. He didn't even realize that she was in the room until she spoke, "Rodney, you can't go in there." He face was full of concern, but he knew she was right.
"Nurse," Weir called as she approached McKay. "Why didn't you say anything? Where are you hurt?"
Her words confused the scientist. He looked down at himself and noticed that he was covered in blood. He shrugged off the hands of the pesky nurse who was trying to get him over to a nearby bed. "It's not mine. I'm fine."
Sheppard was standing next to Weir, the duo donning matching looks, "What happened to you Rodney?" The question was from the major.
It was clear McKay didn't want to talk about it. He paced around the room, castling glances at the room Carson was in.
"Why don't you get yourself cleaned up? Carson will be in there for hours."
McKay wanted nothing more than to take a shower and just go to sleep, but he couldn't leave Carson. Instead, he sat down on one of the beds, and waited. Sighing, Elizabeth walked over and gently squeezed McKay's shoulder. "It'll be ok. Carson's strong, he'll get through this."
At that moment Rodney couldn't take it, "What if he doesn't? What if he dies? It's my fault, all my fault. I couldn't help him. I couldn't do anything. I'm a failure, just like my parents said. It's all my fault, he kept kicking him over and over, I told him what he wanted, but he wouldn't stop. So much blood, he was dying. I tried to help, I'm so sorry. I hurt him, my fault, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." Horrified at what she was hearing, Weir stopped the stricken man.
"Rodney, listen to me. Whatever happened, it was not your fault. Do you understand me? You did not cause this. I know you did everything you could to help Carson."
During the ordeal, Sheppard was beginning to put all the pieces together. The force shield, the way Rodney reacted to the guard, it was making more sense. Weir didn't seem to be getting through to Rodney. He was convinced all the pain that Carson had suffered was somehow his fault.
Sheppard needed to brief Weir on the situation, so against his better judgement, they left the infirmary, leaving Rodney alone. When Weir returned two hours later, Rodney hadn't moved. He was still sitting on the bed facing the operating room. It was clear that he wasn't moving until he knew Carson was ok. His actions didn't really surprise her. She new the two scientists were good friends. Carson was one of the few people that would actually spend time with Rodney outside of work related interactions. Their bond was undoubtedly strengthened due to the ordeal they had to endure.
She was walking towards McKay when the door to the operating room opened. Rodney sprang off of the bed and all but sprinted towards it. The doctor blocked his path, "I'm sorry, you can't go in there."
"Why not? What's wrong?" Rodney started to panic, trying to get around the doctor.
"Nothing's wrong, the surgery went better then expected. We repaired his punctured lung and fixed up his hands. He should have full range of motion in a few months."
He was lying, Rodney could tell, "What aren't you saying?" The man didn't want Rodney to hear what he was about to say, he tried to get to Dr. Weir, but Rodney was persistent. "What's wrong with him? Why won't you tell me?"
Figuring he'd find out soon anyway, "He's in a coma. He received a blow to his head that caused bleeding on the brain. This is causing cranial pressure and could lead to brain damage if not controlled. We had to put him into a medical induced coma to help control and hopefully reduce the swelling."
McKay paled as all of the previous days events caught up with him; he slumped to the floor, having passed out. He was gently lifted back onto the bed that he had previously occupied. A warm blanket was pulled up to his chin and left to wake-up on his own. Sheppard had entered the infirmary to check on Dr. Beckett. He made his way towards Dr. Weir who was watching over McKay.
"I can't imagine what happened to the two of them," Weir said sadly.
"I think I might have an idea." He explained the condition that Beckett was in when they had found him. They also had information about the reasoning for the abduction of the scientists. One of the guards didn't have a very high tolerance for pain. He spilled their plans at the mere mention of unpleasantness. Apparently, they wanted to see how people would respond to stressful situations. They picked out Beckett and McKay because they had observed a strong friendship bond between them. They were torturing them to gauge their reactions. Weir looked utterly shocked. Why would someone do such a thing?
Weir and Sheppard were gone by the time Rodney woke up. Beckett had been moved to a more comfortable bed in the infirmary. McKay, looking around, noticed this, and jumped off of his bed. He waited for the dizziness to pass; then made his way over to Carson. The doctor's face was an array of bruises, the harsh colours stood out against his pale face. There was a large bandage wrapped around his head, and his hands had been redressed. Rodney pulled up a near-by chair and sat down heavily. He felt the familiar pang of guilt, looking at all of the medical equipment hooked up to Carson.
There was a respirator helping Carson breath, a heart monitor, plus various wires and tubes that Rodney didn't really want to think about. McKay wanted to do something. He felt he needed to. He pulled the chair a little closer to Carson and sat down. He reached out, fingers trembling and gently grasped the unconscious doctor's hand in his own. He was very aware of the debate going on concerning the issue of communication and coma patients. At the moment, McKay didn't care if Carson could hear him or not, he needed to talk to him. He looked around to make sure anyone there was out of earshot before he started to talk softly to Carson.
The next day when Weir walked into the infirmary to check on her team members, she smiled despite the current situation. Rodney had his head resting on Carson's bed, using one arm as a makeshift pillow. His other hand was still grasping onto the injured doctor's. As she got closer, Elizabeth could hear the soft snoring emanating from the sleeping scientist. She really didn't want to wake him, but his neck would appreciate her gesture. She was also worried that he hadn't eaten for a while. She gently rubbed his back, until he groaned and started to move.
"Rodney, wake up. It's Elizabeth."
"..Liz?" She let the nickname slip, chalking it up to his fatigued state.
"You should get back into bed before the doctor catches you."
Hearing doctor, Rodney thought 'Carson'. He looked around expecting to find him, but saw nothing. He looked confused for a moment before looking down to see what was attached to his hand. It all came rushing back. He sighed and gently let go of Carson's hand. As he pulled his fingers free, he noticed, they, along with half of his body were covered in blood. They also were very painful to move. He remembered breaking them on the guards face.
Weir saw him cradling his hand, and called the doctor over as she got Rodney settled on the bed he had previously occupied. Rodney sat quietly as his injured limbs were attended to. His gaze never left his friends body.
"Rodney are you listening to me?" Weir asked concerned.
"Huhh?" He asked, switching his gaze to Elizabeth.
"I said you have to eat something. Let's go to the commissary." She gently tried to pull McKay in the direction of the door.
Rodney planted his feet and eased his arm out of her grasp, "I'm not hungry."
She could tell that he was lying. He was always hungry. She responded with her best authoritative look. Rodney seemed to wither under her gaze. "I need to stay. I can't leave him."
"I thought you might say that," she said as she pulled out a couple of Power Bars from her pocket. "If I let you stay, you have to eat these." McKay nodded vigorously, taking the offered food.
Elizabeth just stood there starring at him until he ripped open a bar and took a bite. She patted his shoulder as she passed him to get an update from the doctor on Carson's condition. The swelling had gone down so Carson had been taken off of the medication and now everyone was just waiting for him to wake-up. The following couple of days followed the same pattern. Weir would come in to check on Beckett and she would always find Rodney there. He would be sitting in the chair next to Carson, or perched on another hospital bed. There would be half eaten food trays scattered around. Whether Rodney actually left to get them or someone brought them, she wasn't sure.
After the doctor telling her for the umpteenth time that there was no change and he would call her if there was, she walked back to address Rodney.
"You should really go to your quarters and get some rest."
"Why? There are perfectly good beds here."
She hated what she was about to do, but she felt it was warranted, "Rodney, there's a lot of work to be in your lab. Why don't you go down there and see if it will take your mind off of things."
She thought he would be mad at her suggestion, but he surprisingly agreed. They left the infirmary and walked to McKay's lab together. Dr. Weir left him to play with his gizmos hoping that the distraction might help his mental state. The small smile that she was wearing the next morning fell as she entered the infirmary to see Rodney sitting on his usual bed with his laptop and an ancient device.
He was attempting to work as Elizabeth had suggested, but he couldn't really concentrate in his lab. Transporting his belongings to his current location helped a little. He had actually managed to get a bit of work done. He was trying to figure out a new device, eyes wandering around the room until they spotted pain filled cornflower blue eyes starring at him.
Jumping up, not caring that his laptop almost toppled to the floor, Rodney rushed to Carson's side yelling for the doctor. McKay waited anxiously as the doctor came to check over Carson.
"Dr. Beckett, can you hear me?" The doctor asked while shining the ever present penlight into his patient's eyes. Carson gave a small nod to the question trying not to jostle his injuries.
After a couple more minutes the doctor felt that it was ok to take him off the respirator by removing the intubation tube. Carson gagged and coughed throughout the process and lay spent on the bed when it was finally pulled out. The doctor had brought him a cup of ice and spooned a few into Carson's mouth which Beckett thankfully accepted. After soothing his aching throat, he tried to speak, but it was no more than a weak croak.
"Don't try to talk. You should know better than that. Try to get some sleep."
Carson tried to speak again with the same result; he starred at the doctor as if to will the other man to understand. He slowly motioned with his head to his injured hand which he lifted off of the bed mere centimetres before he had to put it back down. He turned his pleading look to Rodney and the scientist seemed to understand.
"It's ok. The doc here fixed you all up and you'll regain full motion of your hand. Don't worry, you'll be chasing us around with those large needles you love oh so much in no time." Carson visibly relaxed at this new information and proceeded to fall asleep while the doctor was asking him all kinds of questions just making sure the head injury hadn't cause any damage.
The next time Carson had opened his eyes, he felt ten times better. His throat wasn't as raw and the headache was a little more manageable. He noticed Dr. Weir moving towards him while a friendly smile on her face.
"Carson, how are you feeling?"
He tried to answer, but feeling his throat close up, he motioned for water. After a few small sips, he felt like he could talk.
"Better. I guess," he looked around and felt a small twinge that Rodney wasn't there. "Where's Rodney?"
"Major Sheppard threatened to toss him off of a balcony if he didn't go take a shower and get some rest," she smiled. "I'll go tell him you're awake."
"No, that's ok, let the lad rest."
Just as the words left his mouth, Rodney entered the infirmary, "I know you threatened bodily harm if I didn't get some rest but..." His explanation was cut short when he saw Carson was awake and looking better. Sensing that the two men had things to work out, Elizabeth left saying she would check on Carson later. Rodney pulled up a chair and the two scientists sad there in silence.
"I'm sorry," Rodney blurted out.
Carson's confused look was misinterpreted by McKay and he started to ramble, "I tried to stop them, I really did. I'm so sorry; it's all my fault..."
"Woah! Slow down Rodney! What are you talking about? Nothing that happened was your fault. I don't blame you for anything. I know you would never hurt me. It's not your fault."
"But they hurt you because of me."
Rodney wasn't hearing what Carson was saying, so he decided to try something different. "I know how you feel. I killed half the population on Hoff."
Beckett's statement surprised McKay, "What are you talking about? You didn't do anything wrong. You tried to save them. It was their own way of thinking that caused their downfall."
That was the answer Carson was looking for. "Rodney, you are no more responsible for what happened to me, than I am for what happened to the Hoffans. It took me a while to realize that it wasn't my fault. You need to realize it to."
Rodney sat there for a moment thinking about what Carson said. He still felt horrible, but maybe there was some truth to what Carson was saying. Sheppard appeared in the doorway, no doubt planning to yell at McKay for not being in bed. Upon seeing that Beckett was awake he decided to yell at the scientist later.
"Hey boys, how goes it?"
"I have a pounding headache and can't go back to work for a bloody long time."
"I'm happy to see you're feeling better," Sheppard grinned at Beckett.
"And you," he pointed to Rodney, "I thought I told you to get some rest."
"Gee Major; I haven't seen your medical degree hanging in your quarters. Where have you been hiding it all this time?"
"Rodney, get some sleep, you look like you could use it," Beckett cut in.
"Now that's just cheating," Rodney responded not really meaning it. He was really tired.
John left knowing that Carson would see to the physical well being of his friend. His was still a doctor, always putting others before himself, no matter how bad he felt.
"You know, sleep actually seems like a good idea at the moment. I'll talk to you late Carson," and with that Rodney was off. When Carson heard him muttering about getting a snack before bed, he knew it was the start to things getting back on track.
The End