Of
Duty, Atonement, and Redemption—Chapter Nineteen
By
SGC Gategirl
xxx
For warnings, comments, summary, etc, please see part one.
xxx
Rodney McKay floated.
It was different than before: quieter in his mind than it had been, but noisier in other places. The screaming was gone, as was the unending hunger. Instead it had been replaced by a hushed silence laced with muted beeps and whispered conversations.
Atlanis' infirmary?
No. That couldn't be right.
If he was back on Atlantis that meant someone had come to rescue him from a Wraith hive ship. This, in the grand scheme of things was highly unlikely. There was no way Elizabeth would risk a team for one person—especially him. And, there was no way Sheppard would even attempt that kind of stunt. He had the tendency to be suicidal, yes, but generally it was because there was nothing else to do.
This, on the other hand, was merely the choice of him or certain death by attempting to infiltrate a hive.
But, from the evidence at hand, it certainly seemed like he was home.
Wrestling back a sigh, he realized he needed more information to form any kind of conclusion. Dragging himself back to reality from where he'd perched was difficult, but once he started there was no going back.
Feeling returned slowly, from his heavy limbs to the prick of something—an IV perhaps—in the crook of his arm. Something was lying on top of him, keeping him warm and comfortable, his body propped up with what seemed like pillows behind him.
The sounds too, were much clearer and the smell of antiseptic was hard to misplace.
He was in Atlantis. But how? Why? It didn't make any sense.
He could already hear the hear monitor beside him speeding up as he slowly began to panic. He forced his heavy lids to open, the scenery a blur through watering eyes. Blinking several times, he tried to clear them, force them to cooperate.
He turned his head slightly; everything about him feeling like it weighed ten times more than it should.
"Doctor McKay?"
The voice sounded familiar, but he couldn't place it or the face hovering over him.
"Let me get Doctor Beckett," she said, disappearing from view a moment later. He could hear her voice, raised now, and after a flurry of activity she was back at his side. "He'll be right here. Are you feeling okay? Can I get you anything?"
Rodney blinked several times, more overwhelmed by the sheer sensory input than anything as his vision slowly cleared revealing the half-lit interior of the infirmary. Privacy screens had been erected around his bed, monitors stacked up on either side of him, tubes and wires running to various parts of his body.
He felt like some kind of strange lab experiment.
Another eruption of movement and Carson careened into view, rubbing sleep off of his face. As soon as he caught Rodney's eyes a brilliantly wide smile erupted. "Rodney! It's good to see you back with us. We were getting a wee bit concerned," he said, nodding his thanks to the nurse as she moved away.
Beckett moved closer his hands reaching for something, and the head of Rodney's bed began to move, giving him a better view of the room. A cup of water complete with a straw entered his line of vision a moment later.
After taking a sip, he offered Carson a weak smile, a whispered "Thanks" the best he could do.
"Now," Carson said, setting the cup on the bedside table, "how are you feeling? Any discomfort I should know about?"
Rodney shook his head, the movement barely noticeable, but enough for Carson to see. "Tired."
"You've been through quite the ordeal. It's not surprise you're a wee bit peaked," he said, running through some basic tests. Even with the monitors, Carson also insisted on being hands-on, said he trusted himself more than the danged machines. If ever Rodney thought he was living in a sad excuse for a Star Trek series, Carson was proof positive—Bones McCoy incarnate.
"Do you remember what happened?"
Rodney pulled his wandering attention back to the doctor hovering beside him, a controlled expression on his face, as if any movement might spook his patient. Taking a breath, Rodney nodded, his chin dipping down once. "Wraith. Culled."
Beckett nodded, smiling tightly. "That's great. Now, why don't you get some rest? There are some people who'd like to see you once you're up to having visitors."
He didn't respond, instead letting his eyes drift closed as the comforting weight of a hand on his arm and the beeping from the monitors lulled him to sleep.
xxx
"Doctor Beckett?"
Carson turned, pen held above the chart in his hands, surprised at the sound of his name. He was just outside of Rodney's area in the infirmary, trying to jot everything down before he forgot. Shelly Laurence was standing a few feet from him, looking pale, but certainly alive.
"Lass, what are you doing up this late? Shouldn't you be in your quarters resting?" he asked, taking a step toward her, but her smile stopped him.
"I'm fine. I needed to take a walk. I've been lying down for what feels like a year. And I wanted to thank you for everything you did."
He shook his head, waving his free hand in the air. "I'm just glad everything worked out."
"If it wasn't for you I wouldn't be here and I wanted to thank you. And I wanted to tell you how proud I am to work with you." She offered a smile as she turned to leave, adding the last bit with a smile. "And, you might want to know you have a few strays loitering by the main entrance."
Carson chuckled. "Aye, thanks. I think I might know who's there," he said, moving to drop the chart still in his hands in his office before he headed out to deal with the well-meaning—if guilt-stricken—members of Atlantis.
Shelly nodded offering one last smile as she headed out one of the back doors. Ducking into his office, he dropped the file and pulled off his white lab coat. Anne would keep an eye on Rodney while he was out and about. He wasn't expecting him to wake again until morning in any case.
Moving through the quiet and deserted infirmary, he heard the shuffling of fabric before he saw them—all of them. Sheppard, Lorne, Ronon, Teyla, and Zelenka were spread out in the main ward, most lounging in chairs while Ronon stood at the door.
"Well, what do we have here?" Carson asked, clapping his hands together as five sets of eyes all focused on him. "I do believe I told you I would inform you all when Rodney was able to have visitors."
Sheppard rose to his feet, but it was Lorne who asked the question. "How is he?"
Eyeing the still pale Major, Carson narrowed his eyes, pausing for several long seconds before responding. "He was awake a few minutes ago, but he's exhausted and is sleeping." He saw their instant reaction, but raised his hands to cut off their request. "No, you can't see him. As I just said, he's sleeping, which is exactly what all of you should be doing right now. As soon as he's ready for visitors I'll let you know, but I refuse to let you interfere with the health of one of my patients. Am I understood?" His eyes settled on Sheppard, holding his gaze until he nodded and looked away.
"Good. Now that I'm clear, I don't expect to see you in here again unless you're suffering from some kind of injury. If I do, I'm sure we can find a good reason for you to stay. I'm sure the labs could use another test subject."
"Thank you for the good news, Doctor," Teyla said, rising to her feet. The others grumbled similar replies as they headed out into the corridor.
Once the ward was quiet, he turned, walking deeper into the infirmary, stopping in his office to pick up a hardcover book before finally settling himself down in the chair next to Rodney's bed. He'd sit here for a little while before he went to bed himself. Just watching the rise and fall of his friend's chest as he took each breath was exactly what he needed to see, offering him a strange comfort.
There was a time when he thought he'd never see the man alive, and that was something he didn't even want to consider. Leaning back, he flipped through his book, finding the page he'd left off on and began to read, listening to the monitors and the constant sound of his friend's breathing.
xxx
When Rodney woke next, everything didn't seem so heavy, so weighed down, but he was still bone weary. It was brighter than it had been before, so some measure of time had passed and it was daytime, or what passed for it in the interior sections of the city.
Shifting a little, he managed to find a more comfortable position without pulling on too many of the wires and tubes. He frowned when one of them tugged, the urge to yank it out great, but he knew better than to cause damage in that particular location. The sticky pads on his chest were pulling at one of the hairs, but it was too much effort to try and dig it out. It wasn't too much of an annoyance—yet.
With no one hovering over him, it gave Rodney the chance to finally take stock of his situation, of how he was feeling. It seemed like he was okay, strangely enough. His memories of the entire situation were spotty at best and from the glimpses he caught, he was glad to not remember.
Nothing hurt. Everything seemed to be in working condition—which was a pleasant surprise. A quick glance over his shoulder and he saw the IV hanging from its place, some kind of liquid nutrition filtering into the shunt taped down to his arm, right in the crook where it bent. Could they have picked a more annoying location? Every movement reminded him there was something stuck in his body, forcing him to keep the limb straight and still.
As if he could actually do that.
Actually, he was happy Carson hadn't been forced to use the feeding tube to make sure he got the proper nutrition. The whole plastic tubing in his nose was far more uncomfortable than the IV.
Shifting again, he tried to straighten the pillows behind him. But with only one hand, he only managed to shove one into a more uncomfortable position and lose the other, watching it tumble down to hit the floor with a disappointing lack of sound.
Damn.
Peering over the side, he watched the pillow for several moments but quickly determined that it wasn't going to move back to his bed without some kind of intervention. While the ATA gene was great, he hadn't figured out how to get things to levitate—yet.
Sighing, he spotted the call button dangling from the side of the bed rail and grabbed it—finally catching it on the second try—pushing the button to summon someone. Maybe they'd have water too.
He didn't have to wait long until Carson wandered in, worry etched into his face. "Are you feeling okay? Is something wrong?"
Rodney shook his head, trying to answer and finding his voice wasn't cooperating. Clearing his throat, he tried again, managing a loud whisper. "Fine. Dropped my pillow. Could use some water too."
"Oh," Carson's face dropped suddenly, before he sprinted into action. "Of course." He moved around the bed, picking up the pillow and helping to situate everything and easing Rodney back against them.
"Thanks," Rodney said as Carson gave him the cup, helping him hold it steady as his hand shook. After a few pulls on the straw he leaned back, letting the other man take it away.
He placed the cup on the bedside table before dragging the chair over and settling himself into it. "So, how are you feeling his afternoon? You look a little more alert than you did last night."
Rodney shrugged, fiddling a little with the edge of the blanket. His voice, while still subdued had lost some of its roughness. "Okay, I think. Surprised to be here actually."
Something unidentifiable crossed Carson's face for a moment, before a general look of concern returned. "What do you mean?"
Catching Carson's gaze, he replied. "The last thing I clearly remember is a Wraith drone shooting me with a stunner. Everything after that is a bit blurry. I think I remember being on the hive ship, but I'm not even sure. But I couldn't have been because then I certainly wouldn't be here." Taking a breath, he leaned more heavily into the pillows behind him.
When the other man didn't comment immediately, he continued, filling the silence with a subdued, but growing noise. "But if that's the case, why don't I have that annoying paralysis thing those stunners are so known for doing to unsuspecting humans? And why do you have me hooked up to every machine you could find?"
Carson's eyes had dropped during his questions and a put of unease formed in his stomach. "Am I dying?"
"Oh, no," he replied, shaking his head, a patient half-smile on his lips. "Yer fine. And to help clear up some of your memory issues…yes, you were shot by the Wraith and, yes, you were on the hive ship."
Huh. "So, how did I get here?"
"Rescue mission," Carson muttered.
Rodney felt his eyes widen. "You're kidding."
"No, I'm not."
"But that's about as close to a suicide mission as you can get."
Carson's eyebrow rose, the silence growing between them. "So," he finally said, "are you up for some visitors?"
"Um…I guess," Rodney replied, puzzled at his friend's reaction. He was missing something.
"Good. I think I saw Radek was hovering in the waiting room just before you buzzed. I can send him in if you'd be interested in some conversation. I'm sure he can give you an update on what's been going on."
"Sure," Rodney replied, leaning back, watching as Carson moved out of the small private area he'd set up. Letting his eyes drift closed, he waited, trying to sort out everything that was running through his mind.
When he opened his eyes again, Radek was perched on the nearby chair, laptop balanced on his knees.
Rodney shifted slightly, grimacing as things pulled, but the other man caught the small movement, quickly shifting his computer to the nearby table and rising to his feet, helping Rodney get settled once again.
After a few sips from the ever-present cup, he finally looked at the other man, finding him drawn and worn-looking. "Are you sure you shouldn't be in here instead of me?" Rodney asked, his voice still more subdued than he'd like. He refused say weak even if he thought it.
Zelenka's eyebrow rose at the comment, shoving his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, his unruly hair even more wild than usual. "Are you sure you are up for visitors? Generally it is custom not to insult those who come to visit the sick."
Rodney scowled.
The scientist waved his hand absently as he settled back into the hard visitor chair. "So you want to know how city is still standing while you…away?"
He nodded, shifting once again, but settling quickly without having Radek jump up again to adjust and fix everything. That had been a little disconcerting.
"Nothing has broken in several days. I believe the department is still a little timid after the explosion the other week. Even Kavanaugh has not come whining about his precious projects although the botany department is waging war about hydroponics gardens." He shrugged, shaking his head, his eyes rolling ceiling-ward. "I believe Doctor Weir was straightening that out. She mentioned that your notes on the project helped her tremendously."
But even as Radek continued to chatter on, listing every project that was currently in progress and each and every experiment, a small part in the back of his mind was stuck on the comment the Czech had made in passing. My notes. He hadn't given any notes to Elizabeth about any kind of hydroponics garden. The only thing he'd written was that overview of what could be done…
But, how had Elizabeth gotten her hands on it?
His eyes fell on the chatting Czech as several things suddenly fell into place, his stomach beginning to clench.
Elizabeth had his notes. The notes on his computer. On the computer in his quarters, behind a door that would only open for him or Radek. A computer that held a note that took him the better part of a week to pen.
Oh no.
"Zelenka," he said, his hushed voice cutting the other man off mid-stream. "How was I rescued?"
Radek pulled off his glasses, rubbing the lenses on his shirt before lifting them back into place. "It was your idea, actually," he said. "When we realized that you had been culled we needed a way to get your off of the hive while also destroying it since it was headed for Atlantis."
"It was headed here?"
"Yes. It seems the Wraith that culled you might have recognized your clothing or something and decided to change course to look for Atlantis. We only had the one hyperspace pause to rescue you and plant the bomb."
This whole situation was going from bad to worse. "The bomb?" he said, feeling some of the blood beginning to drain from his face.
Radek nodded. "The Ancient device. We retrieved the nano-virus, completed the bomb, and Colonel Sheppard's team set it off after they rescued you from the hive. A most fantastic explosion it was said to have made. If only we could re-create the virus, we would have a most effective weapon against the Wraith."
Rodney let his head sink back against the pillows, everything finally settling into place. Not only had he endangered the lives of everyone in the city by his stupid idea, but he'd failed in the one thing he'd set his mind on. And then he'd been culled which ended in him needing to be rescued by the very people that despised him in the first place, putting their lives at risk to save his sorry hide.
Why couldn't the world just leave him alone?
"Rodney?" Radek's voice was hesitant, concerned.
Closing his eyes, he turned his head to the side, away from his guest. "I'm tired. Can the rest wait?"
"Yes, of course," the other man said, the words accompanied by the rustle of clothing as he rose. The scrape of the chair on the floor as it was shoved back against the wall. The sound of Radek's receding footsteps signaled his final departure, which was quickly followed by whispered words just beyond his area.
The soft tread of booted feet drew closer, stopping at his side. "Everything all right, Rodney?"
Carson. He should have known. Opening his eyes, he regarded the other man carefully before replying. "I'm tired and asked Zelenka to come back later. I didn't think it was a requirement to have someone prattle on just for the sake of making noise."
"Are you sure?"
"Can you just go away or is it your job to make sure your patients don't sleep?"
The other man sighed, nodding his head slowly. "Fine. Can I get you anything?"
"Besides peace and quiet? No."
Closing his eyes, he felt—rather than saw—Beckett fiddling with the IV lines, untangling them before adjusting the blanket lying over Rodney. And with a quiet exhalation, he finally left.
From the light touches, the hovering, the overly concerned glances, Rodney knew without a doubt that they knew, they all knew.
He wasn't sure if he was more mortified or angry. He wasn't supposed to be here, not like this, not with them knowing. He was supposed to be all heroic, saving them for the last time with his genius.
He knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he'd just made life for himself one hundred times more difficult. There's no way they'd trust him now, ever.
He was trapped in an eternal nightmare that he'd created.
Some genius he was.
xxx
The next time Rodney opened his eyes, he felt nearly normal—or as close to it as he could be with tubes and wires and stuff stuck in various parts of his anatomy.
And he smelled soup.
Pushing himself up from where he's slumped on the bed—the movement awkward due to the full use of only one of his arms—he spotted a covered tray on the bed table just within his arm's reach.
Grabbing the edge, he pulled it over, positioning it at just the right distance before he finally lifted the cover, a small puff of steam escaping. A small bowl of soup and crackers sat serenely inside.
Huh.
Dropping the cover on the table, he glanced over his shoulder toward the IV stand and noticed that there was only one bag hanging—nearly depleted—and it was simply saline from the looks of it. Apparently he wasn't dying. It would be nice to get some of the other leads and cables out of the way, though.
Picking up the spoon, he shoved it through the nearly clear broth, discovering a little bit of chicken and noodles hovering at the bottom of the bowl. His stomach growled and he leaned forward, awkwardly spooning some of the lukewarm soup into his mouth.
He closed his eyes, savoring the first mouthful. Who thought chicken noodle soup could taste so good?
He dug into the rest of the bowl, eating the crackers along with the soup, enjoying the first real meal he'd had in…he didn't actually know how long. What day was it anyway? How long had he been on the hive ship? It could be weeks. Months.
Wait, he thought, his spoon hovering over the now empty ceramic bowl. Not weeks or months. It wouldn't have taken that long for the hive to get to Atlantis from 218. Days, maybe.
Days were probably closer to the truth.
But still, he thought, the spoon finally dropping to land on the tray, holding down some of the plastic cracker wrappers as he leaned back against the pillows, enjoying the feeling of a full stomach.
But, he realized, sobering, that this was probably the best he was going to feel in a very long time.
Maybe it was time to go back to Earth, do something a little less risky. He knew his blood pressure would thank him. And he'd appreciate not having to deal with live-sucking aliens or horrible "I could die any minute" situations every day of the week. Hell, everyone in this city would thank him.
Radek would do a good job. He was good. Not as brilliant as he was, but more than enough to get by.
After this, he doubted it was possible to pick up the pieces here. Whatever little respect anyone here had had for him was now gone. If they didn't trust him—if he didn't trust himself—to do the job, maybe it was time for him to move on.
All he wanted to do was to make a difference, to make the people in this city safe. But, instead, all he'd managed to do was to make more enemies and to put them even more at risk. The weapon on Doranda would have been the perfect solution to their power problems and would have meant the end of the Wraith—if he'd only been able to get it to work.
But he hadn't been smart enough, quick enough. Someone died. And a solar system was forever erased from the galaxy.
He didn't want to be responsible for anyone else's death, any other deaths. He had more than enough blood on his hands to last a lifetime.
The sound of a clearing throat startled him, his eyes popping open to regard the figure standing just outside his area.
"How are ye feeling, Rodney?" Carson asked, stepping forward, his eyes drifting to the empty tray. He moved it aside, taking up his position on the side of the bed, his doctor's expression firmly on his face. Even before McKay could respond, he was checking his pulse and observing him like he was some kind of lab experiment.
"Ready to get out of here."
"Aye," he replied, nodding as his eyes slid to the monitors. "I think you're about ready if you agree to take it easy and get some rest."
"Really?" He felt his eyes widening. He thought it would have taken a lot more to get Carson to let him leave.
"Aye, really. If you want I can get rid of some of those wires and tubes. I don't think you need them anymore."
"All of them?"
"All of them," Carson replied, a light, knowing smile on his lips. "I'd like you to take a trip to the bathroom on your own before I release you, but I think everything will work just fine."
"Well, why shouldn't it?" Rodney asked, astounded that it would even be considered. "Nothing ever happened to endanger that."
"Just a precaution, Rodney."
"Sure it is," he said, muttering something about Scottish sheep shearers under his breath, grateful that Beckett hadn't caught the comment.
"And one other thing," Carson said, finishing up the removal of the leads for the heart monitor and reaching for the IV. "Before you can leave, you need to talk to Kate."
Damn. So close, and yet so far.
xxx
TBC
