McKay in Wonderhell
folder
Stargate: SG-1 › Stargate Atlantis
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
3
Views:
1,947
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
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Currently Reading:
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Category:
Stargate: SG-1 › Stargate Atlantis
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
3
Views:
1,947
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Stargate Atlantis, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Three
He bit as his lip. What happened last night? Who was it? Where was he?
Who was he?
Nurse Alia had cleaned off the rest of the vomit and helped him to pee. It was almost more humiliating than Dr. You’re-a-whore sticking his finger up his ass.
Alia had let him put underwear and scrubs on before she put the blue brace around his left leg. It didn’t hurt so much when she was taking care of him.
“I need you to stay put while I get you some breakfast,” she said.
He watched her grasp his wrists before strapping each one to the rails on the bed. “No, no, I don’t want to be tied down.”
“We can’t have you jumping out of windows or –” she stopped herself.
Whoring myself, was that what she was going to say. “I promise, I won’t. I don’t want to be tied down.”
She strapped his right ankle, and he didn’t resist. “I’ll make you a deal. If I leave your left leg free, and you haven’t hurt yourself by the time I get back, I’ll bring you some jell-o.”
Wait, she couldn’t tie his leg with the brace anyway. Jell-o. Jell-o was good. “Deal.”
When she left, he realized just how vulnerable he was. He couldn’t walk, and he was tied to a bed. Anyone could just come up and . . .
No, he was safe. He was around doctors and nurses. Doctors.
Doctors didn’t make him feel safe.
He tried to concentrate on something else, anything else. He could hear voices and movement in the floor above him. Someone was laughing. Or crying. There were a lot of people. So many voices.
Alia returned with a tray. She set it on an ingenious little table attached to his bed that swiveled to rest above his lap. She adjusted his bed so that he could sit upright. She also un-strapped his wrists.
“What’s going on upstairs?” he asked. Oh, blue jell-o. He began eating the blue goop first.
“Today is crafts day. Miss Catharine is trying to get everyone to make thread dolls. Do you want me to ask if someone can make one for you?”
“No.”
“The jell-o is that good, huh?”
It really wasn’t. It was rubbery as if it had been in the refrigerator for days. But it tasted blue, and that was good.
“What did Radek say?” he asked, struggling to find something that would keep her close.
“He said that he understood, but that he’ll miss you. He said that you were too scared to show up for the final chess match, so you pretended to be sick. He’s such a character.” Her voice turned serious. “He wouldn’t tell me who it was this time, either.”
The blue didn’t taste very good anymore.
“I’ll be in the next room if you need anything.”
He was sad to see her go. He was left to ponder his situation. He considered the name Radek. It invoked images of a scruffy little man with tussled hair and a stubbled chin. Why couldn’t he remember him? Why can’t I remember anything?
By the time Alia had brought in his lunch, he could feel his backside throbbing. They still hadn’t given him any painkillers for his leg or his other injury.
She had him swallow Tylenol with his milk. He didn’t like milk. She also helped him go to the bathroom again.
After getting him settled into the bed, she said, “Doctor Beckett says that he wants to talk to you about what’s been going on.”
He suddenly didn’t have an appetite for a turkey and cheddar sandwich.
The doctor strode in from the door behind his bed. “Alright, Rodney. I want to discuss your medication first. From your blood-test, we know that we need to reduce your dosage down to about 500mgs.” Dr. Beckett began to invade his personal space and dug his fingers in Rodney’s head.
Rodney tried not to freak out.
“Any tenderness?”
“No.”
“That’s good. Well, we know for certain that your medication wouldn’t have caused any memory loss, but you have been known to conjure some pretty wild tales in the past.” The doctor moved away from him. “Now we have discussed your sexually behavior many times before.”
Rodney cringed.
“When you first came here, you signed an agreement that, among other things, that you would refrain with any sort of sexual behavior with anyone. These self-destructive tendencies aren’t doing anything to tell us that you are getting better. Do you want to get better, Rodney?"
Rodney turned to Alia. “Yes.”
“Good, I’m glad to hear it. We can start making you better if you tell us who you were with last night.” The doctor’s stare was burning a hole through him.
“. . . Um, I-I really, honestly can’t remember. I – ” he looked to Alia again. She had tuned her face. “I’d tell you if I could remember, I swear.”
“Don’t look at Alia, Rodney, look at me!”
“I swear to God.”
Dr. Beckett sighed heavily. He turned to leave and said, “I’ll be making my rounds if you need me, Alia.”
“I swear to God, I can’t remember what happened last night.”
Who was he?
Nurse Alia had cleaned off the rest of the vomit and helped him to pee. It was almost more humiliating than Dr. You’re-a-whore sticking his finger up his ass.
Alia had let him put underwear and scrubs on before she put the blue brace around his left leg. It didn’t hurt so much when she was taking care of him.
“I need you to stay put while I get you some breakfast,” she said.
He watched her grasp his wrists before strapping each one to the rails on the bed. “No, no, I don’t want to be tied down.”
“We can’t have you jumping out of windows or –” she stopped herself.
Whoring myself, was that what she was going to say. “I promise, I won’t. I don’t want to be tied down.”
She strapped his right ankle, and he didn’t resist. “I’ll make you a deal. If I leave your left leg free, and you haven’t hurt yourself by the time I get back, I’ll bring you some jell-o.”
Wait, she couldn’t tie his leg with the brace anyway. Jell-o. Jell-o was good. “Deal.”
When she left, he realized just how vulnerable he was. He couldn’t walk, and he was tied to a bed. Anyone could just come up and . . .
No, he was safe. He was around doctors and nurses. Doctors.
Doctors didn’t make him feel safe.
He tried to concentrate on something else, anything else. He could hear voices and movement in the floor above him. Someone was laughing. Or crying. There were a lot of people. So many voices.
Alia returned with a tray. She set it on an ingenious little table attached to his bed that swiveled to rest above his lap. She adjusted his bed so that he could sit upright. She also un-strapped his wrists.
“What’s going on upstairs?” he asked. Oh, blue jell-o. He began eating the blue goop first.
“Today is crafts day. Miss Catharine is trying to get everyone to make thread dolls. Do you want me to ask if someone can make one for you?”
“No.”
“The jell-o is that good, huh?”
It really wasn’t. It was rubbery as if it had been in the refrigerator for days. But it tasted blue, and that was good.
“What did Radek say?” he asked, struggling to find something that would keep her close.
“He said that he understood, but that he’ll miss you. He said that you were too scared to show up for the final chess match, so you pretended to be sick. He’s such a character.” Her voice turned serious. “He wouldn’t tell me who it was this time, either.”
The blue didn’t taste very good anymore.
“I’ll be in the next room if you need anything.”
He was sad to see her go. He was left to ponder his situation. He considered the name Radek. It invoked images of a scruffy little man with tussled hair and a stubbled chin. Why couldn’t he remember him? Why can’t I remember anything?
By the time Alia had brought in his lunch, he could feel his backside throbbing. They still hadn’t given him any painkillers for his leg or his other injury.
She had him swallow Tylenol with his milk. He didn’t like milk. She also helped him go to the bathroom again.
After getting him settled into the bed, she said, “Doctor Beckett says that he wants to talk to you about what’s been going on.”
He suddenly didn’t have an appetite for a turkey and cheddar sandwich.
The doctor strode in from the door behind his bed. “Alright, Rodney. I want to discuss your medication first. From your blood-test, we know that we need to reduce your dosage down to about 500mgs.” Dr. Beckett began to invade his personal space and dug his fingers in Rodney’s head.
Rodney tried not to freak out.
“Any tenderness?”
“No.”
“That’s good. Well, we know for certain that your medication wouldn’t have caused any memory loss, but you have been known to conjure some pretty wild tales in the past.” The doctor moved away from him. “Now we have discussed your sexually behavior many times before.”
Rodney cringed.
“When you first came here, you signed an agreement that, among other things, that you would refrain with any sort of sexual behavior with anyone. These self-destructive tendencies aren’t doing anything to tell us that you are getting better. Do you want to get better, Rodney?"
Rodney turned to Alia. “Yes.”
“Good, I’m glad to hear it. We can start making you better if you tell us who you were with last night.” The doctor’s stare was burning a hole through him.
“. . . Um, I-I really, honestly can’t remember. I – ” he looked to Alia again. She had tuned her face. “I’d tell you if I could remember, I swear.”
“Don’t look at Alia, Rodney, look at me!”
“I swear to God.”
Dr. Beckett sighed heavily. He turned to leave and said, “I’ll be making my rounds if you need me, Alia.”
“I swear to God, I can’t remember what happened last night.”