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Insight - Stargate: Atlantis - Gen (Rodney McKay, John Sheppard) - Words: 2,872
Written for Hurt/Comfort Bingo; Prompt: Suicide Attempt. Also written for x_varda_x, who requested some Rodney whump.
Summary: John discovers that he doesn’t know everything there is to know about Rodney McKay.
Content Notes: Discussion of past suicide attempt, gunshot wound, blood. PG-13.
Link on AO3: Insight
They'd only been going off-world as a team for a few weeks when it happened. John had figured it would happen sooner or later; from reading the reports, all the teams at the SGC had been shot at more than once, and plenty of them had been actually shot as well. So, when they were running away from the angry villagers who were shooting at them and shouting "Wraith Worshippers" in tones that suggested that they should have been carrying pitchforks and torches instead of low tech rifles, it didn't really come as that big of a surprise.
Rodney was complaining bitterly as they ran, something about primitive people, his vast intellect, and how he shouldn’t have to do this, while Teyla and Ford lopped along easily at John's side. Ford kept peering back at the people who were chasing after them, his hands clenching on his P-90.
"McKay, shut up and run!" John ordered, looking back to see how close the villagers were getting in comparison to how far away the forest that they were running towards. They would probably make it, and then they could loop around and get back to the 'gate the long way.
The villagers fired a volley all at the same time, the crack of gun fire echoing across the valley. When the air cleared, and John could hear his own breath coming out in short huffs, he realized something was wrong, because that's all he could hear, along with the rustling footsteps of Teyla and Ford as they ran. He had told Rodney to shut up, but Rodney had never followed orders before without at least a lot of complaints, and never that order in particular.
Sure enough, when John glanced back, Rodney was not behind them, and he could see a fallen figure laying on the ground a dozen feet back.
"Go," John ordered Teyla and Ford, knowing that they would follow his orders. He ducked down and headed back towards the people who were firing at them. He made it to Rodney without getting shot, bullets flying around him but not coming close enough to hit. Rodney had rolled onto his side and was staring up, his eyes wide and glassy as he stared up into the sky.
"Where are you hurt?" John asked as he started pulling Rodney up, wanting to get them to cover as soon as possible.
"I was shot," Rodney said, his voice breathy as he panted.
"I know that, where?" John snapped. There was blood spreading all over Rodney's chest and right arm, and Rodney was clutching his arm in a way that suggested the bullet wasn’t in his chest, but John had to be sure.
Rodney moaned as John pulled him to his feet, stumbling and nearly pulling them both back to the ground. "My arm. They shot me."
"Yeah, I'm getting that. Come on or they're going to shoot both of us," John tugged him towards the direction of the tree line. He kept one hand on the handle of Rodney's vest and the other supporting the armpit of Rodney's uninjured arm. It was slow and awkward, but if it actually got them to the trees John wasn't going to complain.
The villagers did their grouping firing again and John pulled both of them back to the dirt before the sound really registered. He could feel Rodney's body jerk next to him and gave a wince of sympathy. Landing on gunshot wounds was an unpleasant experience, and Rodney wasn't a solider; he hadn't signed up for this in the same way that he and Ford had.
"We're almost there," John said as soon as they could hear again, trying to sound encouraging.
Rodney just whimpered but pushed himself to his feet and they kept going.
John supported Rodney as they moved, managing a slow jog instead of the shuffle they'd been doing before. When they finally reached the trees, John let them slow to a walk but made them continue until he found a small ravine in which they could have at least some semblance of cover. He helped Rodney sit down and rest against a tree trunk; Rodney not even complaining about the dirt or the bugs that might be there as he rested his head back, sweating and trembling.
"You alright?" John asked as he unhooked his canteen and passed it to Rodney, pressing it against Rodney's good arm.
Rodney just shook his head, answering both John's question and declining the canteen. John sighed and uncapped the canteen and held it against Rodney's lips until Rodney leaned forward to drink. When Rodney finished, John put the cap on the canteen and hooked it back to his vest and pulled out a field dressing from one of the little pockets. He crawled over and looked at where Rodney was clutching his arm, trying to determine if the pressure Rodney was putting there was keeping the wound from gushing or not. Blood had soaked the sleeve and the front of Rodney's jacket and Rodney's hand was coated in it.
"I need to take a look," John said, trying to move Rodney's clamped hand away from the wound.
"No you don't, you're not a doctor. Go get Carson," Rodney tightened his hand reflexively to keep John from pulling it away but yelped in pain at the increased pressure.
"I'm not going to get Carson," John closed his eyes briefly. "Just let me bandage it, we'll find Ford and Teyla and go back to Atlantis. Carson can take care of you there."
Rodney shook his head and pulled away from John. "Just, leave it."
John sighed. "Do you want to bleed out, McKay?" he snapped. He seriously doubted that Rodney would actually bleed out, but if it would get him to quit fussing and let him help, John was willing to let Rodney think that he might.
Rodney went paler, which hadn't seemed possible before that moment, but dropped his head back and John was able to move Rodney's hand away from the wound. It didn't look as bad as John thought it was, but he couldn't really tell because of Rodney's jacket.
"Okay then, lets get your jacket off, and then I'll put a bandage on this. Unzip and pull your good arm out, and then we'll peel it over the wound," John unzipped Rodney's vest to help him get started on the process.
Rodney's eyes shot open. "What? No! You don't need to have my jacket off. Just cut the sleeve or something, it's not like I'm going to be wearing this one again."
John sighed again; if this was Teyla or Ford, he wouldn't be having this problem. He pulled out his knife from the sheath on his belt and held it up. "This is the only thing I have with me to cut your through your jacket, and-"
"I get it, I get it." Rodney leaned forward and began shrugging out of his vest, John helping him carefully pull it over the wound. It took a little bit of struggling for Rodney to pull his jacket down over his good arm, John trying to help but Rodney kept waving his hand in order to shoo John away.
John, both frustrated and worried that the villagers were going to find them considering the noise they were making, finally reached over and grabbed Rodney's hand and the end of the jacket and pulled the sleeve down and off. John blinked as he stared down to where he was still hanging onto Rodney's wrist, only just realizing that he'd never seen Rodney's bare arms before. There was a long thick scar running down Rodney's inner arm, from just below where his wrist bones to about the midway point between his wrist and his elbow.
Rodney jerked his arm out of John's grasp and leaned forward to get his jacket out from under his back. John shook himself out of his momentary shock and moved to help Rodney, being more careful with his movements than he had been only moments earlier. He avoided Rodney's eyes as he peeled the soaked sleeve of Rodney's jacket from around the wound and down his arm, discovering an almost identical scar on this arm as well. The blood had colored Rodney's skin, leaving the smoother, pale skin of the scar to stick out, dotted on the sides where there had obviously been stitches.
John forced his gaze away from the scars and examined the wound. It was a clean graze, no fragments that he could see and the front edges had cauterized from the heat of the bullet. "You'll be okay," John said as he unwrapped the bandage and wrapped it around Rodney's upper arm. "It didn't go in and you probably won't even need surgery." He was trying to reassure Rodney, but it probably wasn't coming out reassuring at all. For once, Rodney was silent as John worked, and a slight tremor the only noticeable movement.
John finished tying off the bandage, hoping that it would be enough to stop the bleeding that was still slowly seeping from the wound. John grabbed the canteen from his belt again and pressed it into Rodney's hand. "Drink some, then we'll go back to the 'gate. Hopefully-"
"Ford to Sheppard, Ford to McKay." Both of their radios went off at the same time, and John reached up to respond.
"Sheppard here, what's your status?"
"Teyla and I are by the 'gate, sir. We had to stay low for a bit while a patrol passed," Ford responded.
"McKay is injured, but is stable. We're heading back to the 'gate," John glanced at his watch and considered where they were in relation to the village and the 'gate. "We should be about forty minutes, if you don't hear from us by then, try our radios and then dial Atlantis for reinforcements."
"Understood. Ford out," Ford replied.
John accepted his canteen back from Rodney, stood up and used some of the water to wash the blood off of his hands the best he could before wiping them off on his pants. He held his hand out to Rodney, not entirely surprised when Rodney ignored it and pushed himself unsteadily to his feet and went back to cradling his injured arm.
"You okay to go?" John asked, not really certain of what he'd do if Rodney said he wasn't.
"Fine," Rodney said shortly, keeping his gaze focused away from John and off into the trees.
John tried to figure out if he should say something about what he saw, but couldn't figure out what he'd say. He shrugged and headed through the forest, slower than he usually would have, and making constant checks that Rodney was following and alright.
Rodney was abnormally quiet; usually when they were off-world Rodney was talking about any number of things; from what he was doing in the lab, to how incompetent his minions where, to how they didn't really need to walk everywhere they went, especially not in the heat or cold. But now he was just silent, and whenever John looked back, Rodney would hastily look away.
They made it back to the 'gate and John was relieved to see the rest of the team all in one piece. Rodney kept his arms tightly tucked against him as Teyla came over to check him over and John left half his attention on them as he dialed up the 'gate and sent the GDO. Rodney shrugged away Teyla's attentions and walked towards where the event horizon had formed, waiting for John to give the all clear.
"Everything okay, sir?" Ford asked, looking between where McKay and Teyla had separated and John.
John glanced down at the GDO, which was receiving the 'go ahead' signal from Atlantis and motioned everyone toward the 'gate. Ford was clearly more observant than he'd previously guessed. "Every thing is fine, Lieutenant," he said as they walked.
Ford nodded slowly, obviously not believing John. "Yes, sir."
In the control room, medics were already rushing forward to Rodney with a gurney as Elizabeth hurried down the stairs.
"Major, what happened out there?" she asked, directly a quick glance to where Rodney was being settled before turning to John.
"The natives were hostile, thought were would bring the Wraith," John pulled his P-90 off and handed it to one of the marines stationed near the 'gate. "McKay was shot while we were retreating. It doesn't appear to be too serious."
Teyla moved over to join their conversation. "Wraith worshippers will often scout out a planet and make contact with the inhabitants before the Wraith begin a culling. It is possible the people we saw have never seen any other off-worlders than Wraith and Wraith worshippers.
Elizabeth nodded, obviously intrigued. "Why would anyone worship the Wraith?"
John tuned out the rest of the conversation as he watched Rodney being wheeled from the room. He let out a slow sigh as he found himself reconsidering what he thought he'd known about Rodney, and the pieces that now didn't quite fit that image.
*****
Rodney wound up seeking out John, rather than the other way around. John was sitting out on one of the balconies, his laptop down by his feet as he watched the ocean crash against edge of the city far beneath him rather than working on writing up his mission report from the previous day.
The door slid open and John turned his head, watching as Rodney peered out before hurrying over to where John was sitting. John noticed that Rodney was back in his long jacket, a bulge on his right arm where there was a thick bandage.
"How's the arm?" John asked when Rodney sat down in the chair next to him.
"My arm?" Rodney asked, looking puzzled. When John gestured to where Rodney'd been injured, Rodney suddenly put the pieces together. "My arm, of course. It, it hurts. I was shot."
John nodded. "I was there."
"I know. But still, it feels like I was shot," Rodney gave a firm nod as the corners of his mouth dipped down into a frown. "That isn't why I came out here."
John waited but when Rodney didn't continue he nodded encouragingly. "Alright."
Rodney focused his eyes out into the ocean as he spoke. "I just wanted to let you know, that what you saw, it was a long time ago. I don't want you to take me off the team because you think that I'm unstable, because I'm not. Unstable, that is. And you don't need to treat me any different, either. I can take care of myself."
"I wasn't going to take you off the team," John said, a little shocked that Rodney thought he might.
"Good," Rodney bobbed his head before suddenly turning to John. "Wait, why not? If you think that I might be unstable, or, or disturbed, you shouldn't let me on your team."
John held back a sigh, wondering why conversations with Rodney were never simple. "I don't think you're unstable, or disturbed, McKay. Just because you..." he trailed off and made a motion to Rodney's arms.
Rodney folded his arms defensively, wincing a little when the movement pulled on his injury. "Just because I tried to kill myself," he finished for John.
"Yeah, that." John shifted in his chair, wondering if he could claim that there was something that he needed to be doing somewhere in Atlantis. As concerned as he'd been when he'd saw the scars on Rodney, the last thing he wanted to do was talk about them. Anything but talking.
"Look, it was just a very difficult time in my life. I was overwhelmed with everything, and not sleeping and it just got to be too much. It's not going to happen again," Rodney sighed and slumped down in his chair.
"Glad to hear it," John said. And he really was, he didn't want anyone killing themselves on Atlantis; there was enough people dying already. "But, if you feel like you're going to..." John trailed off again.
"Try to kill myself?" Rodney asked.
"Yeah, that," John repeated, closing his eyes. "If you feel like that, you can tell someone. Tell me."
John heard the chair legs scrap against the ground next to him and figured that he'd managed to somehow screw up that conversation. If even Rodney McKay couldn't stand his inability to talk about things, he couldn't imagine anyone who would fare better.
"Thanks," Rodney said.
John opened his eyes and found Rodney standing at the railing, looking back to John.
“That, that actually helps," Rodney continued with a small smile.
John found himself smiling back, just a little bit, but it was evidently enough.
"Now if you'll excuse me, I have places to be, minions to correct. Really, I can't leave them alone for more than ten minutes without something being destroyed. You won't believe what I found Simpson doing the other day," Rodney said, all in one explosive burst, his uninjured arm moving as he spoke.
Grabbing his laptop, John followed Rodney back into Atlantis. And Rodney was right, John couldn't believe what Simpson had done, probably because he didn't even understand what she'd been trying to do.
Written for Hurt/Comfort Bingo; Prompt: Suicide Attempt. Also written for x_varda_x, who requested some Rodney whump.
Summary: John discovers that he doesn’t know everything there is to know about Rodney McKay.
Content Notes: Discussion of past suicide attempt, gunshot wound, blood. PG-13.
Link on AO3: Insight
They'd only been going off-world as a team for a few weeks when it happened. John had figured it would happen sooner or later; from reading the reports, all the teams at the SGC had been shot at more than once, and plenty of them had been actually shot as well. So, when they were running away from the angry villagers who were shooting at them and shouting "Wraith Worshippers" in tones that suggested that they should have been carrying pitchforks and torches instead of low tech rifles, it didn't really come as that big of a surprise.
Rodney was complaining bitterly as they ran, something about primitive people, his vast intellect, and how he shouldn’t have to do this, while Teyla and Ford lopped along easily at John's side. Ford kept peering back at the people who were chasing after them, his hands clenching on his P-90.
"McKay, shut up and run!" John ordered, looking back to see how close the villagers were getting in comparison to how far away the forest that they were running towards. They would probably make it, and then they could loop around and get back to the 'gate the long way.
The villagers fired a volley all at the same time, the crack of gun fire echoing across the valley. When the air cleared, and John could hear his own breath coming out in short huffs, he realized something was wrong, because that's all he could hear, along with the rustling footsteps of Teyla and Ford as they ran. He had told Rodney to shut up, but Rodney had never followed orders before without at least a lot of complaints, and never that order in particular.
Sure enough, when John glanced back, Rodney was not behind them, and he could see a fallen figure laying on the ground a dozen feet back.
"Go," John ordered Teyla and Ford, knowing that they would follow his orders. He ducked down and headed back towards the people who were firing at them. He made it to Rodney without getting shot, bullets flying around him but not coming close enough to hit. Rodney had rolled onto his side and was staring up, his eyes wide and glassy as he stared up into the sky.
"Where are you hurt?" John asked as he started pulling Rodney up, wanting to get them to cover as soon as possible.
"I was shot," Rodney said, his voice breathy as he panted.
"I know that, where?" John snapped. There was blood spreading all over Rodney's chest and right arm, and Rodney was clutching his arm in a way that suggested the bullet wasn’t in his chest, but John had to be sure.
Rodney moaned as John pulled him to his feet, stumbling and nearly pulling them both back to the ground. "My arm. They shot me."
"Yeah, I'm getting that. Come on or they're going to shoot both of us," John tugged him towards the direction of the tree line. He kept one hand on the handle of Rodney's vest and the other supporting the armpit of Rodney's uninjured arm. It was slow and awkward, but if it actually got them to the trees John wasn't going to complain.
The villagers did their grouping firing again and John pulled both of them back to the dirt before the sound really registered. He could feel Rodney's body jerk next to him and gave a wince of sympathy. Landing on gunshot wounds was an unpleasant experience, and Rodney wasn't a solider; he hadn't signed up for this in the same way that he and Ford had.
"We're almost there," John said as soon as they could hear again, trying to sound encouraging.
Rodney just whimpered but pushed himself to his feet and they kept going.
John supported Rodney as they moved, managing a slow jog instead of the shuffle they'd been doing before. When they finally reached the trees, John let them slow to a walk but made them continue until he found a small ravine in which they could have at least some semblance of cover. He helped Rodney sit down and rest against a tree trunk; Rodney not even complaining about the dirt or the bugs that might be there as he rested his head back, sweating and trembling.
"You alright?" John asked as he unhooked his canteen and passed it to Rodney, pressing it against Rodney's good arm.
Rodney just shook his head, answering both John's question and declining the canteen. John sighed and uncapped the canteen and held it against Rodney's lips until Rodney leaned forward to drink. When Rodney finished, John put the cap on the canteen and hooked it back to his vest and pulled out a field dressing from one of the little pockets. He crawled over and looked at where Rodney was clutching his arm, trying to determine if the pressure Rodney was putting there was keeping the wound from gushing or not. Blood had soaked the sleeve and the front of Rodney's jacket and Rodney's hand was coated in it.
"I need to take a look," John said, trying to move Rodney's clamped hand away from the wound.
"No you don't, you're not a doctor. Go get Carson," Rodney tightened his hand reflexively to keep John from pulling it away but yelped in pain at the increased pressure.
"I'm not going to get Carson," John closed his eyes briefly. "Just let me bandage it, we'll find Ford and Teyla and go back to Atlantis. Carson can take care of you there."
Rodney shook his head and pulled away from John. "Just, leave it."
John sighed. "Do you want to bleed out, McKay?" he snapped. He seriously doubted that Rodney would actually bleed out, but if it would get him to quit fussing and let him help, John was willing to let Rodney think that he might.
Rodney went paler, which hadn't seemed possible before that moment, but dropped his head back and John was able to move Rodney's hand away from the wound. It didn't look as bad as John thought it was, but he couldn't really tell because of Rodney's jacket.
"Okay then, lets get your jacket off, and then I'll put a bandage on this. Unzip and pull your good arm out, and then we'll peel it over the wound," John unzipped Rodney's vest to help him get started on the process.
Rodney's eyes shot open. "What? No! You don't need to have my jacket off. Just cut the sleeve or something, it's not like I'm going to be wearing this one again."
John sighed again; if this was Teyla or Ford, he wouldn't be having this problem. He pulled out his knife from the sheath on his belt and held it up. "This is the only thing I have with me to cut your through your jacket, and-"
"I get it, I get it." Rodney leaned forward and began shrugging out of his vest, John helping him carefully pull it over the wound. It took a little bit of struggling for Rodney to pull his jacket down over his good arm, John trying to help but Rodney kept waving his hand in order to shoo John away.
John, both frustrated and worried that the villagers were going to find them considering the noise they were making, finally reached over and grabbed Rodney's hand and the end of the jacket and pulled the sleeve down and off. John blinked as he stared down to where he was still hanging onto Rodney's wrist, only just realizing that he'd never seen Rodney's bare arms before. There was a long thick scar running down Rodney's inner arm, from just below where his wrist bones to about the midway point between his wrist and his elbow.
Rodney jerked his arm out of John's grasp and leaned forward to get his jacket out from under his back. John shook himself out of his momentary shock and moved to help Rodney, being more careful with his movements than he had been only moments earlier. He avoided Rodney's eyes as he peeled the soaked sleeve of Rodney's jacket from around the wound and down his arm, discovering an almost identical scar on this arm as well. The blood had colored Rodney's skin, leaving the smoother, pale skin of the scar to stick out, dotted on the sides where there had obviously been stitches.
John forced his gaze away from the scars and examined the wound. It was a clean graze, no fragments that he could see and the front edges had cauterized from the heat of the bullet. "You'll be okay," John said as he unwrapped the bandage and wrapped it around Rodney's upper arm. "It didn't go in and you probably won't even need surgery." He was trying to reassure Rodney, but it probably wasn't coming out reassuring at all. For once, Rodney was silent as John worked, and a slight tremor the only noticeable movement.
John finished tying off the bandage, hoping that it would be enough to stop the bleeding that was still slowly seeping from the wound. John grabbed the canteen from his belt again and pressed it into Rodney's hand. "Drink some, then we'll go back to the 'gate. Hopefully-"
"Ford to Sheppard, Ford to McKay." Both of their radios went off at the same time, and John reached up to respond.
"Sheppard here, what's your status?"
"Teyla and I are by the 'gate, sir. We had to stay low for a bit while a patrol passed," Ford responded.
"McKay is injured, but is stable. We're heading back to the 'gate," John glanced at his watch and considered where they were in relation to the village and the 'gate. "We should be about forty minutes, if you don't hear from us by then, try our radios and then dial Atlantis for reinforcements."
"Understood. Ford out," Ford replied.
John accepted his canteen back from Rodney, stood up and used some of the water to wash the blood off of his hands the best he could before wiping them off on his pants. He held his hand out to Rodney, not entirely surprised when Rodney ignored it and pushed himself unsteadily to his feet and went back to cradling his injured arm.
"You okay to go?" John asked, not really certain of what he'd do if Rodney said he wasn't.
"Fine," Rodney said shortly, keeping his gaze focused away from John and off into the trees.
John tried to figure out if he should say something about what he saw, but couldn't figure out what he'd say. He shrugged and headed through the forest, slower than he usually would have, and making constant checks that Rodney was following and alright.
Rodney was abnormally quiet; usually when they were off-world Rodney was talking about any number of things; from what he was doing in the lab, to how incompetent his minions where, to how they didn't really need to walk everywhere they went, especially not in the heat or cold. But now he was just silent, and whenever John looked back, Rodney would hastily look away.
They made it back to the 'gate and John was relieved to see the rest of the team all in one piece. Rodney kept his arms tightly tucked against him as Teyla came over to check him over and John left half his attention on them as he dialed up the 'gate and sent the GDO. Rodney shrugged away Teyla's attentions and walked towards where the event horizon had formed, waiting for John to give the all clear.
"Everything okay, sir?" Ford asked, looking between where McKay and Teyla had separated and John.
John glanced down at the GDO, which was receiving the 'go ahead' signal from Atlantis and motioned everyone toward the 'gate. Ford was clearly more observant than he'd previously guessed. "Every thing is fine, Lieutenant," he said as they walked.
Ford nodded slowly, obviously not believing John. "Yes, sir."
In the control room, medics were already rushing forward to Rodney with a gurney as Elizabeth hurried down the stairs.
"Major, what happened out there?" she asked, directly a quick glance to where Rodney was being settled before turning to John.
"The natives were hostile, thought were would bring the Wraith," John pulled his P-90 off and handed it to one of the marines stationed near the 'gate. "McKay was shot while we were retreating. It doesn't appear to be too serious."
Teyla moved over to join their conversation. "Wraith worshippers will often scout out a planet and make contact with the inhabitants before the Wraith begin a culling. It is possible the people we saw have never seen any other off-worlders than Wraith and Wraith worshippers.
Elizabeth nodded, obviously intrigued. "Why would anyone worship the Wraith?"
John tuned out the rest of the conversation as he watched Rodney being wheeled from the room. He let out a slow sigh as he found himself reconsidering what he thought he'd known about Rodney, and the pieces that now didn't quite fit that image.
*****
Rodney wound up seeking out John, rather than the other way around. John was sitting out on one of the balconies, his laptop down by his feet as he watched the ocean crash against edge of the city far beneath him rather than working on writing up his mission report from the previous day.
The door slid open and John turned his head, watching as Rodney peered out before hurrying over to where John was sitting. John noticed that Rodney was back in his long jacket, a bulge on his right arm where there was a thick bandage.
"How's the arm?" John asked when Rodney sat down in the chair next to him.
"My arm?" Rodney asked, looking puzzled. When John gestured to where Rodney'd been injured, Rodney suddenly put the pieces together. "My arm, of course. It, it hurts. I was shot."
John nodded. "I was there."
"I know. But still, it feels like I was shot," Rodney gave a firm nod as the corners of his mouth dipped down into a frown. "That isn't why I came out here."
John waited but when Rodney didn't continue he nodded encouragingly. "Alright."
Rodney focused his eyes out into the ocean as he spoke. "I just wanted to let you know, that what you saw, it was a long time ago. I don't want you to take me off the team because you think that I'm unstable, because I'm not. Unstable, that is. And you don't need to treat me any different, either. I can take care of myself."
"I wasn't going to take you off the team," John said, a little shocked that Rodney thought he might.
"Good," Rodney bobbed his head before suddenly turning to John. "Wait, why not? If you think that I might be unstable, or, or disturbed, you shouldn't let me on your team."
John held back a sigh, wondering why conversations with Rodney were never simple. "I don't think you're unstable, or disturbed, McKay. Just because you..." he trailed off and made a motion to Rodney's arms.
Rodney folded his arms defensively, wincing a little when the movement pulled on his injury. "Just because I tried to kill myself," he finished for John.
"Yeah, that." John shifted in his chair, wondering if he could claim that there was something that he needed to be doing somewhere in Atlantis. As concerned as he'd been when he'd saw the scars on Rodney, the last thing he wanted to do was talk about them. Anything but talking.
"Look, it was just a very difficult time in my life. I was overwhelmed with everything, and not sleeping and it just got to be too much. It's not going to happen again," Rodney sighed and slumped down in his chair.
"Glad to hear it," John said. And he really was, he didn't want anyone killing themselves on Atlantis; there was enough people dying already. "But, if you feel like you're going to..." John trailed off again.
"Try to kill myself?" Rodney asked.
"Yeah, that," John repeated, closing his eyes. "If you feel like that, you can tell someone. Tell me."
John heard the chair legs scrap against the ground next to him and figured that he'd managed to somehow screw up that conversation. If even Rodney McKay couldn't stand his inability to talk about things, he couldn't imagine anyone who would fare better.
"Thanks," Rodney said.
John opened his eyes and found Rodney standing at the railing, looking back to John.
“That, that actually helps," Rodney continued with a small smile.
John found himself smiling back, just a little bit, but it was evidently enough.
"Now if you'll excuse me, I have places to be, minions to correct. Really, I can't leave them alone for more than ten minutes without something being destroyed. You won't believe what I found Simpson doing the other day," Rodney said, all in one explosive burst, his uninjured arm moving as he spoke.
Grabbing his laptop, John followed Rodney back into Atlantis. And Rodney was right, John couldn't believe what Simpson had done, probably because he didn't even understand what she'd been trying to do.
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