Hypnos and
Phobetor
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Acknowledgements: Kat and Rez
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Two days since the Daedalus came and defeated
the Wraith and even now he hasn’t slept.
She can see that he still thinks it’s
his fault. That somehow, because he couldn’t make the
jumper fly remotely controlled by the chair, it’s his
responsibility the major’s gone.
Carson has reported stimulants from the med-bay
missing. He’s talking about drug-abuse and the severe
side-effects of continued sleep-deprivation.
No one has seen McKay near his quarters, or
even cat-napping. Four days without sleep. She wonders if he’s
already hallucinating.
She finds him sitting on the jagged edge of
what used to be one of the platforms, legs drawn to his chest,
chin resting on his knees, staring at the troubled sea below
them. The wind out here is fierce and he’s shaking from
a combination of exhaustion, caffeine shock and cold. He’s
unshaven, his hair sticks out in odd angles where the wind catches
it and he’s still wearing the same shirt, covered in scorch-marks.
She moves to stand behind him, rests a hand
on his hair, gently smoothing down some wild strands. He jerks,
having been oblivious to the other human. Turns his head; dead-tired,
blood-shot eyes coming to rest on her.
“I don’t want comfort.”
“I’m not here to give any.”
They’re both too good at this.
He relaxes slightly under her hand and turns
back to the sea, palpably glad that she’s not pressing
matters. He leans back, shivering, as though searching warmth
and refuge in her.
It’s a quick thing to do - press the injector
to his skin. His gaze flies up to her again, disbelief and betrayal
flickering over his face, making her wonder if she did the right
thing. When she meets his eyes, she believes she can see what
he’s been running from: His own private hell now open
wide and welcoming him. With every flutter of his eyelids, the
luring arms of already near nightmares draw him closer. No
hope for escape, says the look he gives her. Et tu,
Elizabeth?
He succumbs to the sedative without any of the
commotion she had expected him to make, just crumples. Slowly.
Painfully fragile for a man his size.
Carson steps out from behind the door and reaches
for her hand, taking the injector from her limp fingers. “Will
you sleep now , Elizabeth?”
Finis
Read the sequel, Icelus
