Author: tarapierson (Marie Whi Mitshue)
Pairing: McKay/Zelenka (eventually)
Characters: McKay, Zelenka, Lorne, bit of Sheppard, Teyla, and Ronon
Rating: This part’s not more than PG-13, I’d say. FRT – Fan Rated for Teens.
Summary: “Don’t! Don’t come any closer!” Rodney snarled. “I won’t let you hurt him! I won’t let anyone hurt him!”
Notes: UNBETAED. Until TPTBs give Lorne a first name canonically, I’m going with “Nicolas”.
X-posted all over the place
“Get away from him!”
Major Nicolas Lorne stumbled back as Doctor Rodney McKay was suddenly between him and Doctor Radek Zelenka. The Chief Science Officer of Atlantis was still fully geared up, having just returned from an off-world mission, grey and blue uniform, black flack vest and boots stained with mud. His face was flushed, blue eyes narrowed, dark emotion twisting his face. There was an oddly-shaped scratch, already scabbing over, arching across his cheek and temple, drying blood smeared down along his cheek and jaw from the small cut. His hands were clenching and unclenching at his sides, and his right hand was very, very close to the 9mm holstered at his thigh.
Lorne, startled, was suddenly highly aware of that gun, and the fact that, (according to Colonel Sheppard, several of the original expedition members and the firing range’s unbiased records), McKay was a damned good shot. What he aimed at he hit. He held up his hands peaceably, having no idea what he’d done to piss off the scientist.
“Rodney?! What are you doing?” Radek’s lightly-accented voice came from behind the broad-shouldered Canadian – and really, Lorne thought, had McKay always been that broad and, and… substantial? How had he not noticed?! Scientist or not, the bit of softness around the man’s middle not withstanding, it would hurt if he threw a punch and meant it – and Rodney turned slightly. Lorne noticed that he never turned his back on him, and kept him in his peripheral vision.
“Why was he so close to you?!” Rodney demanded of the shorter scientist, and Radek blinked, face confused. “What was he doing?!”
“Nick was just –“
“Nick?!” Rodney cut him off, rage and possessiveness clear in his voice.
Lorne became aware the whole Gate Room was staring at them, from the mud-splattered members of Rodney’s team – Colonel John Sheppard looked particularly befuddled, Teyla Emmagan and Ronon Dex looking confused and stunned – to the gate techs on duty to the lone SF on guard duty down on the lower level of the room.
“Look, Dr. McKay, I –“ Lorne started, voice calm and soothing.
He shut up so fast he almost bit the tip of his tongue off when the barrel of Rodney’s sidearm was suddenly an inch from his face, the click of the safety going off loud in the sudden silence of the room.
Rodney’s face went ugly with hate and rage. His free hand snapped out and grabbed Radek’s wrist, yanking him closer to Rodney.
“Shut up!” He hissed furiously at Lorne. “Just…keep your mouth shut.”
“Rodney, what the hell are you doing?!” Sheppard took a step forward, eyes flicking from the hold Rodney had on Radek’s arm, to the Czech’s pale, confused and frightened face, to the gun levelled at Lorne’s face. The colonel’s hand was hovering over his P-90 uncertainly, as if the colonel couldn’t believe he was contemplating aiming his weapon at Rodney.
Rodney stepped back, forcing Radek back against a column, trapped between the unyielding metal and Rodney’s bigger body. The gun swung from Lorne to Sheppard.
“Don’t! Don’t come any closer!” Rodney snarled. “I won’t let you hurt him! I won’t let anyone hurt him!”
“Rodney, no one is trying to hurt me.’ Radek said, seriously disturbed (something had to be terribly wrong with Rodney for him to act like this) but oddly touched that Rodney wanted to protect him.
“I won’t let them. I’ll protect you, Radek, I swear.” Rodney said, voice changing from angry and harsh, to gentle and desperate, glancing over his shoulder down at Radek. The SF on duty down below decided to go for his comm while Rodney was distracted –
– And fell back screaming as Rodney shot him in the shoulder.
“Jesus, Rodney!” Sheppard yelled, his, Teyla and Ronon’s guns coming up, aimed at their teammate by reflex, faces a mix of shock and disbelief. Lorne’s hands twitched, but Rodney’s gun was still too close to him for him to pull his own.
Rodney plastered himself back against Radek, shielding the smaller man with his body. He was sweating now, the dirt and blood on his face tinting the sheen of sweat, sending drops muddy with dirt and reddish with blood slipping down the curve of his jaw.
“You can’t hurt him! You can’t have him! He’s mine!” Rodney growled, “Mine! The only way I’ll ever let any of you near him is over my bleeding, broken, rotting corpse!”
Radek gasped, tentatively reaching up with his free hand – the other still firmly immobilised by the unyielding grip Rodney had on that wrist – and let his finger spread over the broad shoulder in front of him. He stared at the expanse of muddied black and grey stretched across Rodney’s back in front of his face, and wondered when his friend had gotten so broad and solid and strong and…well, he could admit it in the privacy of his own mind, though this was a very bad and inappropriate time to be realising it…so hot.
“Rodney, it is all right. I am safe, no one wishes to harm me. You have protected me well.” Radek said softly, hesitantly rubbing Rodney’s shoulder, feeling the tensed muscle beneath the uniform jacket – he felt as if he was made of rock. “I am safe, Rodney. I promise you this.”
“I can’t…I…I have to protect you…” Rodney stammered, and the hand holding the gun began to shake. “I…mine, you’re mine, please Radek, I can’t…I’m… I…Radek…something’s…something’s not right, and I…have to…I…” The gun drooped, and he sagged forward slightly, fingers trembling around Radek’s wrist.
Despite the fact that something was obviously confusing Rodney, Radek felt something ache, ever so sweetly, inside, making his breath catch and his blood race, at Rodney repeatedly claiming that Radek belonged to him. This wasn’t the time for it, however, so he pushed the feeling away, burying it with his concern and worry.
“Rodney, everything is all right. Please, put down gun. Come to infirmary with me.” Radek had thought he had him, but the mention of the infirmary made him snap back upright, gun rising, aimed right at Sheppard.
“I-infirmary? Are you hurt?! Oh, god, Radek, I didn’t protect you, I let you get hurt?!” Rodney let go of Radek’s wrist finally, half-turning to stare down at the smaller man with wild, desperate eyes, though the Canadian’s arm remained extended, gun levelled at the colonel. “I failed you. I didn’t protect what’s mine. I…I let you down, I let you get hurt!” His voice rose until it was an anguished cry.
The gun snapped up suddenly, and Radek gasped in horror as Rodney pressed the muzzle against his own temple, wide, lost eyes on Radek.
“No, Rodney! NO!” He grabbed at Rodney’s arm, sensing more than seeing the sudden rush of movement around them, all of his being focused on the stomach-churning, terrifying sight of Rodney pressing his own gun to his own head.
“Radek…” Rodney whispered, “…failed…protect……my Radek…” His eyes closed, and Radek yanked desperately at Rodney’s arm, feeling the firm muscle beneath the cloth, wondering in sick terror when the hell Rodney had gotten so fucking strong, he wasn’t able to budge his arm an inch –
Rodney’s finger tightened on the trigger –
Radek pulled as hard as he could, aware he was screaming, aware he’d lost all command over his English –
And a blast from a Wraith stunner hit Rodney just as the Czech managed to tug the gun precious centimetres from his head, just as the gun went off, the bullet furrowing a graze across Rodney’s hairline, then up into the gate room ceiling, and nearly deafening Radek.
He had other things to worry about, though, as Rodney’s stunned-unconscious, heavily-limp body toppled against him, sending them both to the floor in a tangled heap. Hot blood from the graze dripped onto Radek’s face, and he tasted the metallic tang of it as he panted for breath. For a second he didn’t try to push the bigger man off of him, he just clung to him, seeking reassurance from the rise and fall of his chest against him, from the heavy, limp weight of him, in the feel of the warm, damp skin of his cheek against his face, the quick pulse of his heartbeat beneath the thin skin of his arched neck, under Radek’s fingertips.
“Můj bože… Můj bože…” He breathed brokenly against Rodney’s sweat- and blood-sheened skin. He knew, for the rest of his life, he would have nightmares of Rodney turning a gun on himself, eyes lost and wild.
Hands reached down, lifting Rodney’s weight from him, and, unwilling to let go of his friend, Radek rose with them. His eyes met Sheppard’s, the colonel on his knees, Rodney’s limp body supported between them, and the scientist saw the same sick fear and horror he felt mirrored in the other man’s hazel eyes.
What had happened to Rodney, to make him act like this? To make him so jealous and overprotective, to make him able to turn a weapon on his friends and colleagues, and then on himself?
Můj bože – My God