Notes:Beware the violent content. Hopefully, this will help clear up some of the confusion the unclear writing has created. Many references to Belief in this chapter, get your memory cap on :)
Reflexion
They pushed through the squish and settled within its core. They had made it back but Sheppard and McKay were not in the wall, as they should have been. They had left them here and now they were gone!
"Where are they?" Ronon turned to Mira in time to see the smile spread. He walked over to her and towered menacingly. "Where are they!"
She continued to smile and pointed at the space behind him. He turned and saw the screen, from which the images that had invaded his mind had come. He didn't want to watch their minds! He wanted to see them! "Where are they?"
"They have been taken further into the Pensey, for protection…"
"Protection?"
Lokas stepped in, as he had done many times before. "Mira, alert the Lopstack of our arrival."
She turned and smiled sweetly. "Oh, they know, they expected us and are quite eager to meet one as knowledgeable as you. They were unsatisfied with Oblee's explanations of the working of our world. It would be wise to go, they will not wait, will not stand for such rudeness."
Ronon watched them go, sickened. He couldn't believe this! It was insane! Teyla shouldn't have come! Who was to say they wouldn't simply take her and keep her this time! He watched her and saw tension mounting in her body. Puzzled, he looked at the memory screen. The vision that met him was one that would stay with him for too long a time.
"YOU'RE NOT SORRY! YOU'RE NOT SORRY!"
There were two different images. One depicting Sheppard and the other, McKay. One man watched the other. Ronon understood why the images had changed when they had left, understood what he was seeing and why he was seeing it, where it came from. Mira had explained it all.
The people that held them in the squish, the Lopstack, they had been allies of the Ancestors, had inhabited the galaxy before they had left their own. They were not human, but it seemed emotions were a thing of wonders for them, it fascinated them to no end, and thus they used humans to satisfy their hunger. John Sheppard and Rodney McKay were a goldmine, as they had discovered through Oblee's good help. As they continued to discover. Two minds so full of hurt, so full of creative ways to harm themselves. Watching the illusion John Sheppard's mind had created made him ache, made him want to rage and destroy. Why must everyone and everything make their lives difficult! Was not the threat of the Wraith enough!
The altered veil and Sanctas. The recalling of the six senses, the essence of Banee, Mira's perfect Sheppard morphology. It had all been them. The veil contained, from what Ronon could understand, minuscule robots that recorded their every thought and feeling, that influenced them to heighten those that existed, to provide the Lopstack with more fuel. Rodney and Teyla going so utterly feral had been mostly these people's doing. Even John's depressive mood whilst kept by Oblee had been theirs, through an altered version of a device known to Lokas. Everything they had gone through! These people's fault! They had done it on purpose to quench their thirst. The fire that wouldn't burn, Sheppard's dead body left with them for two weeks, it had all been them. A new arrangement with Oblee. Mira hadn't known, they had been meant to burn like all the others before them. Sheppard being the last piece of the Banee puzzle, the Lopstack had asked for a little extra, something to tide them over whilst Oblee discarded their primary source of emotions. That is how and why Teyla, Rodney and Ronon had been left in the veil, in seething anger, in utter despair. So non-humans could get a thrill, get to ride the roller coaster that was human life, human reaction to life.
Mira had taken them from their last mission, she had brought them here, thrown them to the hungry mob, left them in heartless clutches. She had continued Oblee's alliance! The terms were similar to what they had been, even though the Lopstack no longer had a steady supply from the people who carried Banee's essence. Had Sheppard stayed in the forest with his copies any longer, he would have been nothing more than an experiment, as he was now. They were less than thrilled with Ronon himself it seemed, and less attached to Teyla. They did not have the Ancestors' gene, he supposed that was why they had been allowed to leave. But Teyla had been in the squish, whilst he had not. He had not been wanted at all and, when he came to think of it, the veil had hardly affected him. He had not been angry. In fact, he had become quiet and somewhat unconcerned.
Still, the Lopstack had taken what belonged only to them, their minds, and were now using it against Sheppard and McKay. He came to stand beside Teyla and they watched in appalled silence as the screen showed the illusionary world in which the two men found themselves.
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That was one of John's stupidest decisions. Definitely.
I'm sorry.
He'd only taken one step, said one word and this is what he has to contend with?
I'm sorry.
All he'd said was: me. That was it! How could it lead to this?
I'm sorry.
John supposes he would have the right to feel anger if he hadn't been used to motivate Rodney, and if Rodney had not been visiting room seventeen for the ninth time since the little girl, the second time this week. Exposure has done nothing toward lessening the effect. John hadn't been told of them all, those that had died from what Rodney considered his failures. He knew of a man who wouldn't quit, a young man, an even younger woman, a pair of twins – a boy and girl – and a pregnant woman. A pregnant woman! Rodney had barely managed to hold it together and John was losing it, right now. There was nothing he could've done but that didn't change the end result.
They'd been told, at night, that they had not reached the quota and the next night he would have to walk home whilst Rodney was convinced his failings had killed those people. Walk home and wait for the husk of his best friend to walk through the door, with its slumped shoulders, sunken eyes and breaking voice. Rodney didn't have ghosts anymore, he had demons. They followed him everywhere and he believed everything they said.
Another stupid decision came into play here. He'd thought if he didn't push the issue, Rodney would come to him. He'd been a comforting presence, staying close, watching over him, waiting for the broken man to make the first move.
I'm sorry.
"YOU'RE NOT SORRY! YOU'RE NOT SORRY" Stupidest decision ever. What John should have done was force Rodney to talk, every time he came back with that look in his eyes, every time John made his way back home on his own. What he should've done was tell Rodney that he had to hold on, not for the people who would be murdered in room seventeen, but for John. Because John needed him to be there! Because it made John strong to have Rodney here, to have someone who he could look after and who could look after him. "YOU'RE NOT SORRY! YOU WANTED THIS!"
John falls to his knees. He does not notice, only sees the sordid pendulum motion of Rodney's body going back and forth, back and forth, pushed by the draft from the open door. Rodney's body. Body!
John knows there's nothing to be done, even as he climbs on the chair and wrestles with the knot holding Rodney's mass above ground. He sees, smells, and feels death on Rodney's skin. He's lost him. Left behind, abandoned, alone.
The heavy body plunges to the ground, John is not strong enough to hold him, doesn't even have the sense to try. He watches from his perch on the chair as Rodney falls. John steps down and towers over his best friend's body. He arranges his limbs at comfortable looking angles, as if Rodney had simply fainted, as if he would wake so John could make fun of him. He steps back and knows why Rodney was so angry with him when he did his return from the dead impression. He knows because he's angry. He's so angry he can't even see straight. Oh, sure, he knows it's those useless tears that are blurring his vision, but he rather likes to blame it on anger.
Irrational anger brought on by Rodney's irrational behaviour.
"What the hell! What the hell! WHAT THE HELL, RODNEY!" He moves through the room, back and forth, back and forth, mimicking the pendulum his eyes followed a moment ago. "You are crazy! What do you think this is going to solve, huh? You're an asshole! A selfish bastard! A fucking selfish bastard! This! This is what you do! COWARD! DO YOU HEAR ME RODNEY MCKAY? YOU'RE A COWARD!"
He comes back, throwing his shadow over the scientist. "Forget what I said before! You're not brave, you're not a good man, you don't do as best as you can, you don't give it all!" His voice breaks, he doesn't hear it. His throat hurts from the shrill tones he's using, he doesn't feel it. "SELFISH BASTARD! I'm gone for one day and this…THIS IS WHAT YOU DO?"
What tears? There are no tears! John Sheppard will forever curse Rodney McKay! He is not crying, he does not feel like the world is suddenly spinning on a different axis, does not want to slump to the ground and never move again.
"I DON'T CARE ABOUT CHICKEN SHIT SELFISH BASTARDS! I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOU!" He points an accusing finger at a man who will never see it, never answer with righteous indignation. "What the hell were you thinking you fucking idiot! I told you to hang on, HANG ON! THIS IS NOT WHAT I MEANT! Not what I meant! I told you we'd get home! I told you I was here! You don't give a damn, do you? You never did! Always you, you, you! SELFISH BASTARD!"
What tears? Oh, those tears. John Sheppard will forever prize Rodney McKay. He will praise him to the universe, to everyone who can hear. He is crying, the world has shifted with a great big lurch and he slumps to the floor, rocking himself back and forth, back and forth. Swinging, swinging, the motion that will forever haunt him. "Rod…" deep breath, it's not a sob, "…ney…"
-------
That was one of John's stupidest decisions. Definitely.
I'm sorry.
He'd only taken one step, said one word and this is what he has to contend with?
I'm sorry.
All he'd said was: me. That was it! How could it lead to this?
I'm sorry.
Rodney supposes he should be angry, he should be afraid, he should be going out of his mind. He isn't, he's just numb.
"Rodney!"
He raises his eyes and sinks into quicksand of hazel. John's gaze is filled with an intensity that distracts him from the parting of skin under the pressure of a knife and the scarlet spill of life. There is nothing to do but watch; if he moves closer, they cut deeper; if he pleads louder, they cut longer.
He's lucky, so lucky to have known John Sheppard and so damn thankful for his friendship. Good, patient and tolerant is the man who can stand to be in Rodney's presence for more than five minutes before murderous tendencies start to appear. Rodney thinks it might be a good idea to say it, to tell John how he is Rodney's favourite person of the galaxy, of both galaxies he has inhabited. He opens his mouth, intent on his soul-baring plan, but as always his expression is a big tattle-tell.
"I don't want your apologies." John's voice is harsh.
"I wasn't –"
"No! I don't want your words! I'm not going anywhere so whatever you have to say, you can say it later!"
The man, currently slicing up the overly optimistic Colonel, chuckles and Rodney cannot blame him. A small bubble of stress-induced amusement rises up to meet the air and he lets it out in a high-pitched, hysterical burst of laughter. He isn't deluded, he knows John's on Death's wish list and Death is a greedy fellow. He expected this to happen much sooner, has even had some training in the art of mourning John Sheppard, and would consider himself truly worthy of his genius title if he had only listened to himself. Last time John died, he decided he should forget all about him, the man brought nothing but hurt and regrets. Oh, but the dead came back and didn't Rodney feel so damn lucky again? He tried to forget, to be colleagues, no more no less, but John had sought him out, pulled him back into Sheppardworld. Rodney likes Sheppardworld; it's filled with excitement and fun and is, surprisingly, a comfortable and secure place to be.
"Don't do this McKay! Don't you dare do this!"
Oooooh, the commanding voice, the use of last name to limit familiarity! It's really quite strong and imposing. Sadly, it doesn't work on the crazy people. He laughs again, a little burst of gaiety in an otherwise grimy room. Sticky room he thinks, blood is drip drip dripping to the floor, forming a slowly clotting puddle. Sticky and red against grimy and black.
"You don't get to do this! I swear Rodney, you break on me now, I'm going to make you pay for it!"
All this is terribly amusing, yes yes, terribly amusing. Hysterical! It's absolutely hysterical! Look at John, bare-chested, bare-footed, chained to the ground, knifepoint running down the length of his torso. It's obscene; the flesh that parts, slowly, painfully, the blood that spills slowly, languorously. Through it all he still attempts to boss Rodney around.
Rodney stands, gaze moving from quicksand to puddle, overwhelmed by random fits of giggles. He stands there for so long that when they order him to make his way home it is night. He sits on his cot and waits for John to be brought home. After some time he goes to fill the kettle, boils the water and fills the basin. John's injuries will have to be cleaned. He waits. The water turns cold so he pours it out, fills the kettle again, refills the basin and waits. Waits, waits and waits.
The sun's first rays stumble through the window and he watches them come closer until they are warm on his skin. Warm like the water was, hours ago. Warm like the blood that spilled forth, hours ago.
The rays do not warm him. He feels them as they dance upon his skin but they do not penetrate; he is cold, as if he had been the one to be drained at knifepoint. He predicted they would both die here, sooner than later, and the lack of Sheppard only proves him right. History has the bad habit of repeating itself in its worst condition. He has done this before, hating Sheppard as much as he missed him. It's déja vu of the worst kind. Separated from his team and filled with sorrow; oh yeah, Rodney knows all about it. This time, he doesn't have his city to cherish, he has nothing but a mind reading device that will not work anymore.
He feels dead. He must be dead. Of course, it doesn't matter for there is no life in the Pegasus Galaxy; it's the antechamber of Hell. It has once again helped him prove a theory which he holds to be true…Hell is other people.
-------
Teyla was sitting beside Ronon, watching as the minds of her teammates played nasty games with them. She whispered, her eyes wide, her heart breaking, "This cannot go on. We must take them out or they will emerge broken in more pieces than we could ever hope to collect."
Ronon nods slowly, enthralled by the image of a man laughing himself to hysterics and another disentangling himself from sleep's enveloping arms only to wake beside the cold and lifeless body of his closest friend.