Of
Duty, Atonement, and Redemption—Chapter Twenty-one
By
SGC Gategirl
xxx
For warnings, comments, summary, etc, please see part one.
xxx
Carson made him wait until late evening before he gave Rodney his walking papers.
The doctor strolled into the curtained off area sporting a smile that made Rodney uneasy. Sitting up quickly, one of the pillows behind him slid to the floor. "So? You leave me here to slowly go stir crazy nearly all day after telling me I was allowed to leave after talking to Kate. What's the hold up?"
Beckett paused, an eyebrow rising, his arms crossing over his chest. "Is that any way to talk to the person who is going to let you leave?"
Rodney folded his arms, his casual shirt riding up a little in the front. It was bigger than it had been the last time he'd worn it, but it didn't matter. He could afford to lose a little weight. "Well?" he asked instead, scowling at the man standing at the foot of the bed, his chart in his hand.
The silence stretched between then for a long moment, each man refusing to back down in the staring battle first. Carson finally glanced away, nodding. "Aye. You can go, but you're to stay off-duty for the next two days. You need to rest and get your strength back. After that, you can return to duty, but that will be dependant upon how you're feeling. There's no need to rush back into things right away."
"So," Rodney said, sliding off the bed, steadying himself as the room tilted for a moment. He hoped Carson hadn't noticed, but knowing the mother hen standing a few feet from him, he probably did. Straightening up, he set his jaw and turned. "I can go, right?"
Carson nodded slowly, his eyes narrowing. "Aye. You can go back to your quarters, but I'm glad that at least you'll be accompanied. I don't want to see you back in here ten minutes after you leave."
"Accompanied?" he asked, moving cautiously toward the doctor who moved to his side as they walked out toward the main entrance.
"You have…escorts."
Rodney's eyebrow rose and he glanced sideways to Beckett. "Care to elaborate?"
Carson gestured toward the entrance as they turned the corner, Rodney stopping in his tracks.
"What are you doing here?"
Major Lorne, Ronon, and Teyla glanced up from where they were seated in the waiting room, patient exasperation on their faces.
"And we're happy to see you too, McKay," Lorne said, rising to his feet. "The doc said you were ready to go back to your quarters but mentioned that you needed an escort. We figured we'd do the honors."
Rodney turned back to Carson, his eyes wide. "This was your idea?"
Beckett nodded, innocence etched into his entire demeanor. "Enjoy their company, Rodney, and relax. You deserve it."
McKay muttered under his breath as he eyed the three people waiting for him. He nodded finally, realizing that he had no say in this at all if he expected to actually leave the infirmary. "Fine. Let's go," he said, gesturing for them to walk out first. He followed behind, shooting Carson a threatening glare before the doors slid shut.
Teyla had said something to him he realized, turning his attention back to the three of them hovering nearby. He turned to her, trying not to scowl as much. They were trying to be nice to him. "Sorry?"
"Food, McKay," Ronon answered instead. "Interested?"
He glanced at the Satedan, trying to figure out what was going through his mind, but he was never good at reading the warrior. He didn't speak Neanderthal.
"And then will you all leave me alone?" he finally asked.
Teyla was the one who answered him. "If that is what you desire, yes. We are not here to make you uncomfortable. We thought that you might…enjoy our company."
"Fine," he said, forcing his legs to move quicker down the hall. The faster he got this over with, the sooner he could be in his quarters away from their pitying looks and seemingly well-meaning gestures. He knew the real reason behind their actions and nothing they said or did was going to change his mind.
xxx
Radek Zelenka's eyes widened as Sheppard paused the video feed again, adding another notation to the pad at his side, now filled with several pages of times and dates and actions.
He'd had no idea that the guards had done this. And from Sheppard's increasingly tense and angry demeanor, it was obvious he hadn't either. Lorne had probably only guessed at what had occurred from the few clues he'd seen or observed and Radek doubted he knew the full extent of the guards' actions.
They had terrorized Rodney with pranks even ten-year-olds would have considered immature. Ringing doorbells. Pounding on doors.
The times between events varied—some within only a few moments, others as long as twenty minutes.
But it was continuous.
No wonder Rodney had finally taken apart his door-chime. But the pounding he could do nothing about except try to ignore.
As the final scene from the camera footage faded from the monitor, Sheppard slowly placed his pen on the pad and rose to his feet, every movement sharp. He began to move around the room, more a stalking gait, his hands clenched as fists along his sides.
"Colonel?"
Sheppard glanced his way, his eyes hard, shaking his head. Radek could read the gesture instinctively. The 'not now' vibes were very evident.
He waited while the other man prowled around the room—sometimes silent, other times muttering to himself. Radek barely caught any of the words and the ones he did were not complimentary.
It took him nearly five minutes to calm down, his initial anger gradually declining until it was just a slow burn instead. "How did I miss this?"
Apparently the Colonel's anger was at more than just the guards.
Radek tilted his head, letting his hands rest on the edge of the desk. He held the other man's gaze for a full minute before finally responding simply with truth. "You were not looking." He paused before continuing, his voice dropping lower, the admission nearly a physical pain. "Neither was I."
"How could they even think that this was acceptable behavior?"
Radek paused again, trying to choose his words, but he also knew this was not the time to sugarcoat his response. Sheppard needed to hear this if he was ever going to mend his friendship with Rodney—if that was even possible. "First, you did not stop it. Second, your…attitude was of little assistance at the time. I fear it may have encouraged their behavior."
Running a hand through his hair, Sheppard turned away, striding to the other side of the room, keeping his back to Radek as he stared at the wall. Zelenka could see the muscles under the Colonel's jacket shifting, tensing and twitching. "I never meant for that to happen."
"But it did."
"I know." The words were quiet, nearly masked in a long exhalation.
"Then I ask you this: you now have this information, what comes next?"
Sheppard turned, fear etched into the lines of his face. "I'm not sure. I don't even know how to make this right."
Radek nodded slowly. "I cannot help anymore. The rest you must do yourself."
"I know and if I screw this up there's a high probability I'll never get the chance to fix it again."
Radek nodded, glad that the Colonel realized the depth of the situation, of his own errors in judgment.
"You are correct. While Rodney can be forgiving, he does not suffer fools easily. And you, Colonel Sheppard, are a fool."
xxx
Dinner—or what had been referred to as dinner in the minds of everyone except Rodney—had been a horribly uncomfortable affair. Thankfully, the mess had not been busy, which meant he could eat without the stares of an entire room-full of people.
It was bad enough having three sets of eyes watch him as if they were waiting for him to disappear or die suddenly because he choked on a single macaroni.
This must be what a fish in a fishbowl felt like.
Conversation had been mostly one-sided, Lorne and Teyla trying to fill the silence with tales of their routine schedules, skirting the topic of the rescue mission and the culling entirely. Ronon concentrated mainly on his food, glancing up every now and then to look at him, staring at him for a few long and intense seconds before going back to his meal.
He wasn't really hungry.
After pushing the food around on his plate for about twenty minutes and grunting in response to their questions and comments, he finally gave up, claiming exhaustion. They nearly fell over each other as they moved to escort him to his quarters—even after he protested that he knew the way.
Rodney swore it was only his loud and extremely emphatic exclamations that he was fine that made them leave without tucking him into his bed.
Now, slumped against the door, locks engaged, he finally relaxed, letting his muscles loosen a little as he took several long shuddering breaths. Pushing off, he yanked his clothing from his body, dropping it as he walked to the bathroom.
He needed to feel clean. He swore he could still feel the web from the Wraith cocoon on his skin.
Turning on the water, he adjusted it with a quick mental command, the steam already filling the small room. He stepped inside, letting it pour over him, raising the temperature a few degrees more as his body adjusted.
He leaned against the wall, arms up, head resting on his folded forearms, letting the water pound into his back as he tried to ease the tension in his entire frame, loosen up his muscles, and finally get warm again. Ever since he'd been rescued, he'd had this chill in his body, something sleep hadn't been able to chase away.
He didn't know how long he stood there—the water cascading down his pale skin, washing every last remnant of the Wraith down the drain—before the shaking began.
He turned, leaning his back into the wall as he slowly slid downward, arms curling around his bent legs, pulling them closer to his body as his head dropped to rest on his knees. The water continued to pour down over his head, down his back and arms, his salty tears mixing with the fresh, clean water.
Finally spent, he dragged himself from the shower. Drying off slowly, methodically, he found a clean pair of boxers and an old long-sleeved t-shirt and slid into bed, turning the lights off with a mental sigh.
He'd miss this.
Turning over onto his stomach, he tucked his hands down along his sides and let his exhausted mind and body fall into a dreamless sleep.
xxx
He woke stiff and sore, the bright early morning sun illuminating his entire room.
Groaning, Rodney rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling as he allowed himself to drift, waking up slowly, enjoying the peace. There wouldn't be many more mornings like this.
He finally rose, stumbling toward the bathroom, slowly meandering through a shortened version of his normal morning routine. He wasn't in the mood to shave and since he was off-duty there was no need to drag out a clean uniform.
He shivered a little in the cool room as he moved to the closet, dragging the door open. Pulling on a pair of old jeans, he quickly located another shirt, yanking it over his head without paying attention to what he'd grabbed, scowling when he realized it was short-sleeved. Although, between the two shirts he should be warm enough.
Rescuing a pair of socks from the bottom of a drawer, he sat in his desk chair, tugging them on along with his shoes as his laptop started up. At least Radek had returned it to his quarters instead of leaving it some unknown location in the city. If he'd had to go searching for his own laptop he would have been royally pissed.
Disabling the automatic program he'd set up, he pulled up his email and began sorting through the messages. Most were expected. Project updates. Requests for equipment. Request for special use of a Mark II generator. Everything had been cc'd to Radek, so unless it appeared as a second request, Rodney ignored it.
Scrolling through the messages, there were several—more than several from the looks of it—that were anonymous, that looked suspiciously like spam. Although knowing the scientists on the project anything was possible. He'd check them later.
Finding the updated schedule of the Daedalus, he confirmed the ship's arrival and departure dates. Then, bringing up a blank word processing document, he quickly composed two letters, re-reading and editing each before saving them to the hard drive. He printed off two copies to the small inkjet printer he had in his room—complete with Atlantis letterhead he'd made a few weeks after their initial arrival in the city.
He might as well use it now.
Folding each into threes, he creased the edges with his thumbnail. One he dropped into the top drawer of his desk. He didn't need it immediately. The other he set aside, next to his open laptop. He needed to remember to bring it when he left his quarters.
Rolling his shoulders a little, he brought up the window holding all of his email messages and began sorting through the ones he'd ignored. Several were spam, as he expected, but the others…
He had to read the first one twice before the words finally settled into his mind.
He closed it quickly, pulling up another.
And another.
And another.
He didn't want to read anymore of the vicious remarks, the biting words, the not so subtle innuendos, but he had to know if they were all the same.
Even as his chest tightened, he plowed on every word and phrase burning itself into his mind.
"…should have died…"
"…would be better off without your type around…"
"…deserve everything you get…"
"…about time someone else gets the glory…"
"…can't believe they even mounted a rescue mission…"
"…should have let the Wraith have you…"
With shaking fingers, he pulled up the source coding in the messages, looking for a clue, anything, as to whom the author was, but he couldn't trace anything. They all led back to his IP address—a dead end since he knew he hadn't sent them to himself.
There were too many people in this city that were capable of this kind of computer hacking. That's what you get for filling a city with brilliant scientists. There was no way to narrow it down, and honestly, was it even worth the effort?
Saving each and every message, he locked down his computer before rising to his feet and grabbing the sheet of paper roughly in his right hand before stalking out the door.
He could feel the eyes on his back. They watched him, judged him.
This would end. Now.
xxx
Elizabeth Weir nodded to Doctor Carolyn Edwards, offering a smile to the woman as she got up to leave. Thankfully, the discussion this morning about the possible hydroponics gardens had not dissolved into an argument. After some time to think about the situation, Edwards had finally agreed to wait until further study of the systems already built into Atlantis could be used to her advantage.
One less department conflict.
As Edwards left, however, she spotted Rodney hovering, dressed casually in jeans and two t-shirts, a grey long-sleeved shirt under a short-sleeved green one. He looked….strange, awkward. It was odd not to see him in his usual uniform, but since he was off-duty for the next day or so under medical supervision, it was perfectly fine—just different.
As Edwards walked past him, his expression darkened, his eyes watching her as she moved through the control room to disappear down the stairs.
Weir's eyebrow rose at his behavior, her feeling of unease growing exponentially when he turned and began walking toward her office, determination and what looked like tightly controlled anger on his face.
He began speaking even before she could offer any greeting, the venom in his voice physically pushing her back several inches, her body pressed tightly against the seat.
"I took the liberty of checking the schedule for the Daedalus and I plan to be on board when it leaves for Earth in ten days. This," he said, dropping a single sheet of folded paper on her desk, the edges crisp while one side looked a little wrinkled, as if he'd held onto it too tightly, "should make it official and self explanatory."
She glanced between the paper and the man nearly vibrating before her.
"I'll present my other paperwork to General Landry personally once I return to the SGC."
"Rodney—" she began, picking up the page, unfolding the edges, praying that this was not what she thought it was, what it seemed to be. Her mind keep flowing back to what Kate had said to the question Carson had posed.
"And if he wants to leave?"
"Then, I suggest, you let him."
It was unthinkable, but it was happening in slow motion and she couldn't look away. This was like her worst nightmare coming true and the only thing she could do was to let it happen, to show her support because it was that very lack of support in the past that had gotten them to this situation in the first place.
"I don't want anything from you, Doctor Weir," he said, cutting her off, her name dropping from his lips coated with distain. "But I can take this up with the IOA if you refuse to accept it. If that happens, you can expect to have a full investigation into this entire affair and I, for one, would welcome it."
He narrowed his eyes.
"You talked about a lack of professionalism and about me handling myself inappropriately, but I've never seen anything handled so unprofessionally. I expected better of you of all people. I thought you knew how to deal with situations, people, but I guess I was wrong. I was never a good judge of character."
He paused again, expelling his breath in a quick huff. "Maybe Kavanaugh is right. Maybe you're not fit to command Atlantis."
She inhaled, the air sticking in her throat, her eyes widening.
"Between the insults, the treatment, the imprisonment, and the general feelings of hostility from everyone on this base thanks to your sterling leadership skills, I'm done. Good luck fighting the Wraith, Doctor Weir, because you're going to be lucky to survive another year."
Turning on his heel, he stormed out of her office nearly knocking John Sheppard from his feet.
He shook his head, approaching her cautiously, his gaze drawn back to the tornado that was Rodney McKay as he vanished from sight.
"Elizabeth," he asked moving closer to her as she looked down, trying to read the letter in her shaking hands. "What just happened?"
The words leapt off the page.
I, Rodney McKay, am tendering my resignation from Atlantis effective immediately.
"Elizabeth?"
She glanced up, realizing this was not first or second time he'd called her name.
She shook her head slightly, as if the movement would snap her back into reality, but the room and everything in it—chairs, walls, furniture, John standing before her, and the letter in her hand—all stayed exactly the same.
"Rodney just resigned."
"He what?" He turned, his body suddenly vibrating with nearly the same intensity as the one who'd just left. He whipped back around, his eyes wide, disbelief etched into face. "He can't."
She held out the letter, the sheet shaking. "He did."
"But he can't. I won't allow it."
"John—" she called, but he was already gone, racing through the control room and down the stairs. She let her arm drop, her hand opening as the single sheet of McKay-made Atlantis stationary drifted to stop in the center of her desk still bearing the creases of the folds.
Leaning forward, she cradled her head in her hands.
What had they done?
xxx
TBC
