Disclaimer: I don't not own Stargate Atlantis or any of it's characters. Do you THINK I would be here If I did?! So I do not in any way shape or form own any of the plot or the characters. They belong to whoever owns 'em. I just took the general idea for a test jaunt. So, don't sue me...not that it would be beneficial, as I am a poor university student, yadda yadda yadda.
Authors Note: Please read and review. I am excited to see what you all think. I am open to comments, advice, and constructive criticism. I want to thank all my reviews for following this story thus far. Expect one or two more chapters and then I am going to wrap it up, this story is almost at a close.
Warnings: This chapter and the next is when the rating is probably going up a bit. Thus, keep this in mind when reading. Enough of the angst and give me man smooches already!
Those Were Not His Hands
Chapter Nine – This isn't the final curtain call...Not for us. We will always have the encore.
Many years would pass, leaving him with more grey in his hair than he would ever admit to noticing, and yet he still remained unsure of what had actually woken him that night. Because a mere hour after he had finally closed his eyes, he had suddenly startled awake, wrenching himself bolt upright in his bed, hand automatically reaching for the side-arm on his side table, his heart racing, his breathing deep and unsteady.
But there was nothing there..no one, not even the slightest of sounds from outside his door. Nothing. Finally forcing himself to relax, he slumped back down into the covers, punching at his pillows in frustration, finding himself unable to settle back into sleep again. Getting comfortable he let his head fall back into the pillows, letting one leg hang out of the bed and into empty air until the chill of the evening forced him to pull it back in.
He was exhausted, yet restless, as if his body had given up, but his mind refused to shut off. It wasn't the dreams. No...he knew that. It was something else that kept him on edge. Something that was lurking on the edge of his consciousness, nameless and unidentifiable...but there nonetheless. Something was off..different..
Listless...and coursing with unfulfilled purpose he flopped around until he was on his back, lacing his hands behind his head and closing his eyes. And despite his relaxed demeanour, he concentrated, using every fibre of instinct and gut feeling he could muster to identify the one thing he knew he was missing. There was something he hadn't detected...something that had slipped his notice..slipped through the cracks...something important...and he needed to find it. And he couldn't help the feeling that if McKay had still been here, he would have found it by now..
And then, that was when he heard it.
Startled, he bolted upright, not even registering as the movement sent pillows flying and his blankets tangling around his ankles. At first all he could think was that this was it. He had finally lost it. It had been just one person lost too many...and his brain had obviously refused to take the abuse any longer.
But then, he heard it again, ...and then again...coming closer and closer until he was so focused on the sound that it reverberated in his eardrums, making him deaf to all else.
It couldn't be...
No...
No...He HAD lost it..He was hallucinating...
It just wasn't possible...
It wasn't! ...It couldn't be....because that would mean...that would mean...Oh god...