His Reasons 1/5
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Stargate: SG-1 › Stargate Atlantis
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Adult
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Currently Reading:
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Category:
Stargate: SG-1 › Stargate Atlantis
Rating:
Adult
Chapters:
1
Views:
2,206
Reviews:
4
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.
His Reasons
His Reasons
He did it for many reasons.
When he couldn't breathe because he had missed one variable in the equations he wrote to fix the systems and he had got it wrong and if he couldn't find that one mistake in the next two minutes their systems would overload and they'd all die and it'd be all his fault and no one would ever let him forget it if they got out of this and Elizabeth and Radek were looking at him like they just knew this would happen when he suggested fixing the system his way and they blamed him for it completely.
When even his bones were tired from running away from angry natives because they had wandered into a temple of sorts because of an interesting looking energy signal when the temple was really some sacred ground worshiped by said angry natives who were shooting either arrows or darts with enough tranquilizers to take down an elephant and they were tied up and thrown into their version of a prison while Teyla did her best to talk them out of the situation because it was all just a big misunderstanding and John's giving him a look of such hatred he's surprised he's still alive because, hey, it's not his fault just because he's the one who's in charge of the energy detector.
When his mouth is thick and his heart just feels like a spike in his chest pulsing painfully as he tries to work as quickly as he can while some random leader of some resistance is holding a gun to his head or a knife to his throat or to his team mates' heads or throats and if he doesn't make whatever he's working on work they'll all die and the last thing he'll see is the disappointed and betrayed looks of John, Teyla and Ronon staring at him until he could figure it out and then they look at him with an impatient look of why couldn't he have figured it out sooner?
He did it after Doranda when he was so sure he had it right and he didn't listen to John when he was telling him to shut it off and they had to get out of there now or they'd both die and it'd be all his fault but they didn't die because he finally listened to John but John's trust in him was shattered along with everyone else's trust in him and for weeks no one talked to him directly just giving him the cold shoulder and ignoring him the rest of the time.
He did it when he sister visited, after finding her with his team, telling him about his humiliating childhood with his bed wetting and the bullying because his team had found his hurtful childhood so amusing and they couldn't see the slicing pain in his eyes, one slice for each of them, and how it killed him inside to see them take such joy in his crippling pain and humiliation.
He did it when he couldn't feel himself anymore because he was so dead inside and nothing – except that – could make him feel something, anything, again.
Those were the reasons he told himself every time.
~
“Rodney?”
He was busy, in his bathroom with both doors locked to keep people away. Apparently someone wasn't getting the hint. He closed his eyes, trying to forget about the obnoxious distraction banging on his door and gripped his knife harder.
He opened his eyes and glanced down at the knife, watching the light glint off the blade. He knew it wasn't logical, but he could swear it was calling out to him, begging him, coaxing him to use it.
“Rodney!”
He could tell the banging was getting louder but he couldn't bring himself to care. He needed this. He needed this as badly as he needed to breathe. They had returned from a mission that should have gone smoothly, but like always, it didn't.
It was angry natives again, but this time it wasn't because they stepping into a sacred temple or something. It was because Rodney had refused to eat the offered food because these people practically existed on citrus and citrus-like fruits and Rodney didn't feel like dying today, thank you very much.
The natives had claimed that he must've been some bastard child and that he needed to be sacrificed to their gods so their planet wouldn't be cursed for generations to come.
They managed to make it back to the gate relatively unharmed. Ronon had been hit with an arrow in the arm but that was the worst of it. Rodney had found it hard to breath since the natives claimed him a bastard child and the tightness in his chest hadn't loosened until he skipped off from their post-mission physicals and ran to his room. He hoped he could just knick himself, just a little bit, so he could breathe again, please, he just wanted to breathe.
He lifted his hand and pressed the cool blade against his wrist and he would swear on anything that he could hear the blade purr. He pressed down, ready to slice his delicate skin, just a tiny bit. Just a small knick, no one would ever know, never ever know. He pressed down harder.
“No! Rodney!”
A hand shot out of nowhere and Rodney was surprised enough to try to jump away from the hand now gripping his wrist, but he couldn't break free. His knife fell to the floor, silent. Rodney looked down at the knife laying uselessly by his boots. He slowly raised his eyes to the one responsible for silencing his knife. It was John.
John was talking to him and Rodney could tell that he was talking because he could see John's mouth moving. But he couldn't hear him. His ears were pounding in time with his heart. His face screwed up into one of confusion and John's face turned from merely freaked out to concerned. Rodney saw him tap his radio.
John put his arm around Rodney's waist and pulled him into his bedroom. Rodney was pushed down onto his bed and John anxiously turned Rodney's hands over in his own hands, his thumb stroking across the bright red line, a banner against his pale skin, like it was his personal worry-stone.
Rodney saw his door open and watched in silence as Carson and a med team came over to him. Rodney turned his head away from Carson and closed his eyes, allowing himself to fall into oblivion, knowing he wouldn't get the chance to rest later.
~
“How're you feeling today, Rodney?”
He wished Kate would just skip the pleasantries and get to the real reason he was there. These were mandatory sessions, now. Every day. It had been two days since John found him and Kate still hadn't asked him the question people had been waiting to hear the answer to.
Kate sighed.
“Rodney, I know you don't want to be here, but you have to talk to me about this.”
“What's there to talk about?” He didn't recognized his own voice. Kate sighed again.
“Why don't you think about that and we'll talk about it tomorrow, ok? John's here,” to babysit you, remained unspoken.
Rodney only nodded and stood, moving mechanically to where John stood, just inside the door. He placed a hand on Rodney's arm and led him away from Kate's office.
He was talking again, but Rodney wasn't listening.
~
“Why?”
There is was. The questions he'd been waiting for. It had taken Kate nearly a week to finally ask. Rodney looked at her. She seemed to be genuinely curious.
Rodney told her his reasons.
“Have you been able to think of any reasons not to?” she asked after a while of silence.
Rodney couldn't think of any.
He did it for many reasons.
When he couldn't breathe because he had missed one variable in the equations he wrote to fix the systems and he had got it wrong and if he couldn't find that one mistake in the next two minutes their systems would overload and they'd all die and it'd be all his fault and no one would ever let him forget it if they got out of this and Elizabeth and Radek were looking at him like they just knew this would happen when he suggested fixing the system his way and they blamed him for it completely.
When even his bones were tired from running away from angry natives because they had wandered into a temple of sorts because of an interesting looking energy signal when the temple was really some sacred ground worshiped by said angry natives who were shooting either arrows or darts with enough tranquilizers to take down an elephant and they were tied up and thrown into their version of a prison while Teyla did her best to talk them out of the situation because it was all just a big misunderstanding and John's giving him a look of such hatred he's surprised he's still alive because, hey, it's not his fault just because he's the one who's in charge of the energy detector.
When his mouth is thick and his heart just feels like a spike in his chest pulsing painfully as he tries to work as quickly as he can while some random leader of some resistance is holding a gun to his head or a knife to his throat or to his team mates' heads or throats and if he doesn't make whatever he's working on work they'll all die and the last thing he'll see is the disappointed and betrayed looks of John, Teyla and Ronon staring at him until he could figure it out and then they look at him with an impatient look of why couldn't he have figured it out sooner?
He did it after Doranda when he was so sure he had it right and he didn't listen to John when he was telling him to shut it off and they had to get out of there now or they'd both die and it'd be all his fault but they didn't die because he finally listened to John but John's trust in him was shattered along with everyone else's trust in him and for weeks no one talked to him directly just giving him the cold shoulder and ignoring him the rest of the time.
He did it when he sister visited, after finding her with his team, telling him about his humiliating childhood with his bed wetting and the bullying because his team had found his hurtful childhood so amusing and they couldn't see the slicing pain in his eyes, one slice for each of them, and how it killed him inside to see them take such joy in his crippling pain and humiliation.
He did it when he couldn't feel himself anymore because he was so dead inside and nothing – except that – could make him feel something, anything, again.
Those were the reasons he told himself every time.
~
“Rodney?”
He was busy, in his bathroom with both doors locked to keep people away. Apparently someone wasn't getting the hint. He closed his eyes, trying to forget about the obnoxious distraction banging on his door and gripped his knife harder.
He opened his eyes and glanced down at the knife, watching the light glint off the blade. He knew it wasn't logical, but he could swear it was calling out to him, begging him, coaxing him to use it.
“Rodney!”
He could tell the banging was getting louder but he couldn't bring himself to care. He needed this. He needed this as badly as he needed to breathe. They had returned from a mission that should have gone smoothly, but like always, it didn't.
It was angry natives again, but this time it wasn't because they stepping into a sacred temple or something. It was because Rodney had refused to eat the offered food because these people practically existed on citrus and citrus-like fruits and Rodney didn't feel like dying today, thank you very much.
The natives had claimed that he must've been some bastard child and that he needed to be sacrificed to their gods so their planet wouldn't be cursed for generations to come.
They managed to make it back to the gate relatively unharmed. Ronon had been hit with an arrow in the arm but that was the worst of it. Rodney had found it hard to breath since the natives claimed him a bastard child and the tightness in his chest hadn't loosened until he skipped off from their post-mission physicals and ran to his room. He hoped he could just knick himself, just a little bit, so he could breathe again, please, he just wanted to breathe.
He lifted his hand and pressed the cool blade against his wrist and he would swear on anything that he could hear the blade purr. He pressed down, ready to slice his delicate skin, just a tiny bit. Just a small knick, no one would ever know, never ever know. He pressed down harder.
“No! Rodney!”
A hand shot out of nowhere and Rodney was surprised enough to try to jump away from the hand now gripping his wrist, but he couldn't break free. His knife fell to the floor, silent. Rodney looked down at the knife laying uselessly by his boots. He slowly raised his eyes to the one responsible for silencing his knife. It was John.
John was talking to him and Rodney could tell that he was talking because he could see John's mouth moving. But he couldn't hear him. His ears were pounding in time with his heart. His face screwed up into one of confusion and John's face turned from merely freaked out to concerned. Rodney saw him tap his radio.
John put his arm around Rodney's waist and pulled him into his bedroom. Rodney was pushed down onto his bed and John anxiously turned Rodney's hands over in his own hands, his thumb stroking across the bright red line, a banner against his pale skin, like it was his personal worry-stone.
Rodney saw his door open and watched in silence as Carson and a med team came over to him. Rodney turned his head away from Carson and closed his eyes, allowing himself to fall into oblivion, knowing he wouldn't get the chance to rest later.
~
“How're you feeling today, Rodney?”
He wished Kate would just skip the pleasantries and get to the real reason he was there. These were mandatory sessions, now. Every day. It had been two days since John found him and Kate still hadn't asked him the question people had been waiting to hear the answer to.
Kate sighed.
“Rodney, I know you don't want to be here, but you have to talk to me about this.”
“What's there to talk about?” He didn't recognized his own voice. Kate sighed again.
“Why don't you think about that and we'll talk about it tomorrow, ok? John's here,” to babysit you, remained unspoken.
Rodney only nodded and stood, moving mechanically to where John stood, just inside the door. He placed a hand on Rodney's arm and led him away from Kate's office.
He was talking again, but Rodney wasn't listening.
~
“Why?”
There is was. The questions he'd been waiting for. It had taken Kate nearly a week to finally ask. Rodney looked at her. She seemed to be genuinely curious.
Rodney told her his reasons.
“Have you been able to think of any reasons not to?” she asked after a while of silence.
Rodney couldn't think of any.