Fucked Up Beyond All Repair

Mar. 1st, 2008 10:10 am

Fandom: SGA


Characters: Team

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Gore, language

Disclaimer: Not mine!

Summary: Rodney goes off world without his team. Things go downhill.

Author's Note: nuetronorange requested a fic about the team being annoyed by Rodney, who started to act out, badly enough that the team ends up pranking Rodney off-world, which he doesn't realize is happening, causing bad things to happen, with a happy ending. I'm sort of completely incapable of that bad at making the team not all love each other (in my head they're family, and not hurtful to each other, screw cannon) so I had to, uh, rearrange a little bit. So, there is a team annoyed with Rodney. Small but crucial difference. Sorry about that. Also note, when I try to write angst? It just comes out dark and bloody. So. I got team-annoyed-by-Rodney, pranking, very bad result, and an ending that is, uh, possibly happy? If you squint and look at it sideways.


The team comes through the 'gate hot. John is standing to the side with the Marines, gun cool and steady in his hands, heart pounding in his ears. He knows the sour look on his face is mirrored by Teyla and Ronon beside him. He's never letting McKay off-world without them again.

There's no time to think about it. The minute they lower the shield weapons fire starts shooting through the 'gate. Somewhere in the control room glass shatters and the air burns around the energy bolts. John's finger itches on the trigger, and finally, finally, the team stumbles through the 'gate.

John bellows, "Raise the shield!" but Chuck is a step again of him. The continuing blasts from the enemy on the other side bang up against the shield. John ignores them, holstering his sidearm and moving across the room.

Rodney is standing at the back of the group, covered with blood, and he's all John can see. Rodney's P-90 is gone, and his grip on his sidearm is white knuckled. He's hollow eyed and his breathing hard and it's one of the worst scenarios John could have imagined.

So, of course, it gets worse. Linstrom takes a step towards John, his hands extended, mouth opening in what had better be one hell of an explanation, and Rodney jerks. Rodney lurches over to the major, favoring his left leg so heavily that John takes a quick step towards him instinctively. Linstrom's eyes go wide right before Rodney lashes out, and of all the bizarre things John has seen in the Pegasus, Rodney McKay pistol whipping someone has to be up near the top of the list.

Linstrom slaps his hands up over his mouth, blood already pouring red down his chin, and Rodney drops his gun. Rodney is breathing hard, whole body shaking with it, and John reaches out to grab him. There's a flash of nausea in his gut with his hands are immediately soaked through with wet, sticky, blood. Rodney jerks, makes a tiny little gasping sound and finally focuses on him.

John waits until Rodney is really looking at him, eyes no longer distant, and tries to keep his voice calm when he asks, "What happened?"

Rodney blinks, looks down at his hands and then back to John. His voice is thin, tiny, when he speaks, "I think I've been shot."

"Shit! Ronon," Ronon is there by the time the words are out of John's mouth. The bigger man just grabs Rodney, bending his knees to heft him up and turning towards the hall to the infirmary. Rodney reaches up automatically, one arm curling around Ronon's neck, and his fingers are stained with blood.

When John turns back to the rest of the team that had accompanied Rodney off world there's nothing but cold, terrible, anger in his gut. He clasps his hands behind his back for stability, takes a deep breath and manages to keep his voice level when he says, "Who wants to tell me why the fuck my scientist has been shot? On a routine mission. In friendly territory."

Linstrom just shakes his head, blood dripping out from between his cupped fingers. John waits, trying to keep the rage in his gut from boiling over. It's Smith that speaks, the boy stepping forward with his eyes downcast, "It was a joke, sir."

John's words snag in his throat like ice, burn the inside of his mouth, "What was a joke?"

Smith hesitates, and John watches Teyla come up on his other side, her hand still on her P-90. The boy swallows heavily, "It's just. Dr. McKay, sir. He was, he kept going on about all the things that could go wrong. He wouldn't stop. And so, you know, we thought that if he wanted it to go wrong so much then maybe we should just make him think it had."

The boy stutters to a stop, looking around—possibly for support—before continuing, "We didn't—look, everyone knows he panics. We thought he'd just get a little scared. We didn't know he'd...do this."

Smith makes a broad gesture, encompasses the burn marks on the walls from the plasma weapons and the drops of blood Rodney left behind when Ronon carried him off. John struggles for control and doesn't quite attain it, "What the fuck did you do?"

Smith looks hopelessly at the rest of his team, but they don't make any move to help, "It wasn't—it wasn't my idea, okay? But we radioed him, when he was working on their capacitors, you know, and screamed a little. Fired a few rounds off. We just thought he'd get scared. Hide. Until we came to get him. We didn't know."

John curses, low and vicious, his legs carrying him halfway across the room before he catches himself and comes back. He grabs Smith by the collar, pulls him close and hisses in his ear, "You piece of shit. How many casualties?"

Smith is trembling, he looks sick but nowhere near sick enough, "I don't know, sir. When he found us he was already...like that." Smith makes another gesture, and John feels his grip tighten in the boy's shirt. He knows he has to get out of here before he loses complete control of himself.

John makes himself take a step back, waving the Marines around the room forward, "Take them to the brig. Three guards posted on them at all times. New guys off the Daedalus." John doesn't trust himself, not right now, not around these men. He can't even bring himself to watch them being led away.

Teyla steps up when they're gone, every bit as tense as he is. Her voice is tight and angry, "He did not know."

John nods, jerkily, "No, he didn't. Do you think he's going to care?" Killing innocents is crippling, and as much as John wants to believe that Rodney managed to make it off that planet without killing anyone, he can't quite manage it. He covers his mouth, turns in a slow circle and tries to force back down the nausea in his gut.

Teyla makes a soft sound, but has apparently run out of words. There's nothing to say. This is so far past the edge of fucked up John doesn't even know where to start fixing it. He's not sure it's fixable. Finally, he swallows around the burn of bile in the back of his throat, takes a deep breath, "We should go make sure he's okay."

Teyla nods, "Yes."

Carson pulls two bullets out of Rodney, his shoulder and his hip, before finally letting the team into see him. Rodney is sleeping, pale now that the blood has all been wiped off, and John sits down heavily in the chair beside him. He reaches out, carefully rests a hand on Rodney and watches Ronon and Teyla do the same. They don't speak. There's nothing to say. They just wait.

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