Title: Lie To Me
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Pairing: Sheppard/McKay friendship/pre-slash
Spoilers: post The Defiant One wallow
Date: January 31, 2005
Disclaimer: Not mine. I make no profit from the use of these characters.
Notes: Not betaread but it was spellchecked and picked over. :-) Comments welcome at coreopsis@gmail.com

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Sometimes he can still feel the blood running down his arm. He thinks he remembers hearing the splash of it hitting the floor, but knows that his own desperate scream drowned out every other sound and his sleeve absorbed most of the blood anyway. Sometimes he can still feel the keen edge of the knife slicing into the flesh of his arm, still feel the cold both outside and in. But that's only when he's sleeping, dreaming, having nightmares that Doctor Heightmeyer tells him are a perfectly natural reaction to traumatic events.

Those memories, however strong they are, are not what keeps him awake at night. It's the sharp report of the gun, the shocking sound of Brendan Gall taking his own life, that echoes in his mind when he's trying to drift off to sleep. It's the overwhelming sacrifice that Brendan made for him and for Sheppard, it's the fear and worry that swamped him when he realized that Sheppard needed him, needed Rodney out there fighting the enemy with him. It's the guilt and sadness which accompany any thought of Brendan or Abrams, it's the failure and the loss of two brilliant young members of his team. He replays every step they took and imagines what they should have done, both him and Sheppard. He's careful to distribute the blame evenly, because either of the other alternatives would be counterproductive. More counterproductive than lying awake at night staring at his ceiling and thinking about all the things they could have done differently.

He realizes that he's not going to sleep tonight, no matter how tired he is. His brain should have come with an off switch because he's having no luck at shutting it down. Climbing out of bed, he puts his pants on and steps into his shoes. Almost as an afterthought, he grabs his jacket on the way out the door.

Walking the corridors of Atlantis, he feels the age of the place pushing in on him. They've learned so much, yet still know so little, about the city, the Ancients, this galaxy, and perhaps even themselves. It's depressing when he lets himself get caught up in what's wrong and forgets all the little things that are right--all the incredible new information they've learned, the extent to which they've expanded the knowledge they arrived here with, the excitement of claiming an ancient city for their own and actually feeling welcome in it. By comparison, the fear, the losses, the failures all fade in the busy light of day, but at night they take on a life of their own, unavoidable even when not overwhelming.

He checks in on the control room, like he always does on nights like these. The crew on shift is used to him. They say hello and that everything's fine without taking it personally. They understand that it's not that he doesn't trust them. He just has to be sure.

He goes by the mess hall, even though he's not hungry and it's empty. He just looks in to make sure everything is okay.

Usually he avoids the infirmary, but when Sheppard is in there, as he is all too often, he can't help but stop by. He steps through the doors as silently as possible, knowing that Sheppard will be asleep, but just needing to see that he's recuperating and getting the best care Beckett can give him.

Sheppard's eyes open and he says, "Hey," in a voice that makes it clear to Rodney that he wasn't asleep and probably hasn't been for hours.

"Hey. I figured Carson would have you drugged into oblivion." Rodney walks over to the side of Sheppard's bed. He doesn't quite know what to do with his hands, so he clasps them tight around the jacket he never bothered to put on.

"He would have but I declined his offer. I figured the pain meds would have me groggy enough, why add to it with a sleeping pill?"

"Yet here you are wide awake." Sheppard inclines his head in rueful acknowledgement but says nothing, so Rodney says, "How are the ribs?"

"Prime." Sheppard smiles slightly as Rodney snorted, then said more seriously, "They're a little cracked, but I'll live."

"Yes." Rodney finds himself at a loss for words, because truly it all comes down to that. Sheppard lives. Rodney lives. Abrams and Gall do not.

"Missions go bad, Rodney. You've seen it happen before. We just have to learn from them." Sheppard sounds as sad and exhausted as Rodney feels, but there is something else there. Determination? He sounds almost as if he's trying to comfort Rodney without appearing to. Maybe he's comforting himself at the same time.

"It shouldn't have," Rodney insists stubbornly, needing to poke and prod at his own open wounds.

"No. But it did." Sheppard closes his eyes and Rodney wants to reach out to him, but doesn't know how.

Stepping back, he quietly says, "I'll just...I'll go and let you get some sleep now."

Without opening his eyes, Sheppard snorts and says, "Like that's going to happen. But you should be going to bed yourself. It's gotta be getting late."

"Tried that already," says Rodney, in as flat a voice as he can manage.

Sheppard opens his eyes and even though they're dark with pain and whatever else he's feeling, Rodney can see a flash of understanding, a jolt of compassion that shakes him in his currently unbalanced state. Lifting his uninjured arm, Sheppard holds out his hand and says, "Why don't you sit down and stay awhile?"

Rodney pulls a nearby chair closer to the side of the bed and sits down. He lays his jacket across his lap, smoothing it out before looking up again. Sheppard's hand is still outstretched and before Rodney stops to think about what he's doing, he reaches out and clasps it lightly. Sheppard's fingers curl around his hand and nestle in his palm.

"Will it be all right? Eventually, I mean." For just a moment, Rodney hates himself for sounding so needy, begging for someone to make it all better, which he didn't even do as a child once he got old enough to realize that his parents wouldn't even do that much for him. Then he gets over it, tucking his baggage away again, and just wants to know.

"You want the honest answer or the one that'll make you feel better?" Sheppard asks. He sounds as if he already knows what Rodney wants, but Rodney's torn.

After a moment, Rodney looks Sheppard in the eye and says, "Lie to me, John."

"It'll be all right. By morning, these last couple days will feel like a bad dream that...that you can barely remember." Rodney ignores the way Sheppard's voice cracks and hopes that Sheppard will ignore how wet his eyes are before he blinks and looks away.

Rodney clears his throat and says, "Thank you."

"I used to be better at it. One of these days I might have to ask you for the lie that gets us through."

"I'll do my best." It's as solemn a promise as Rodney has ever made in his life.

"You always do."

Rodney feels a tiny squeeze before Sheppard pulls his hand away. He almost says thank you again, but thinks it might be overkill. Sheppard probably understands anyway. He usually does.

The end.

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