It was her.

Again.

Standing there, staring down at the phone in his hand, he was tempted to answer. He wanted to hear her voice, he wanted someone to talk to, but he didn’t want to answer. He knew that she’d scold him. That she’d want to have a serious conversation. She wasn’t someone he needed to talk to just then.

He didn’t want to talk to her.

He chucked it onto the couch when the ringing finally stopped and the voice mail had picked up again. She was leaving a message… again. She had already left three. He hadn’t listened to any of them.

He kicked off his shoes and collapsed onto his bed, letting his arm fall over his face. He huffed as he looked up at the pillows just out of reach and rolled his eyes when he realized that he had no motivation to reach up and grab them. He had no desire to move at all.

He wasn’t really sure what their argument had been about. Wait, correction. He knew exactly what the argument had been about, he just didn’t know what set it off. They had been working on the device and he had made some sort of comment. She had retorted. Somehow it got more heated than it should have.

She told him he needed help.

He didn’t. He was fine. He felt fine. He was doing a lot better than he had been when he first came back to Earth. He was eating normally again. He was working fine. He was sleeping… some, but he had never slept much before. He was fine.

She didn’t know what she was talking about. She was overacting to a few tied days. He was being snappy, but he had always been like that. She had just forgotten what he was really like. She had gotten to him- that was it. And now that he was back in his game, that old part of him was coming back out. That was it. That was all she was seeing. And it was bothering her even though it shouldn’t be.

Whatever she thought was wrong- whatever she saw that made her think that he needed help- was exaggerated.

He sighed, his eyes rolling back and his arm falling off his face and onto his chest. He would have liked to fall asleep, to curl up and sleep away the entire day. But then he rolled his eyes back and looked up at the pillows just too far away and remembered that he was too tired to move to get comfortable and he sighed, realizing that he wasn’t too lazy to move but that he just didn’t want to. He didn’t want to close his eyes and fall asleep.

But that wasn’t the problem. That didn’t mean that he wasn’t fine. He was fine. He just had been having nightmares recently. They would go away. Once he figured out this latest problem, he would be sleeping better again. He just needed to work.

He sighed and rubbed at his face and forced himself off the bed. He made his way back into the living room and collapsed onto the couch. He shifted to reach under himself to find the clicker hiding somewhere beneath him. He found the cell phone first and tossed it onto the ground. He flipped on the TV, letting some movie echo through the room. He sighed, his eyes nearly falling closed. But he forced them to remain open, to focus on the bright colours and horrible graphics of the movie.

He thought, perhaps for the first time, that he had never before been nervous about letting his eyes fall close and the abyss of sleep overtake him. He had always been a large proponent of sleep- it was just a simple fact that he didn’t often get the opportunity to enjoy it. Maybe it wasn’t as normal as he thought to fear falling asleep.

/-

“What do you mean, ‘test it’? It’s not done! You can’t just test it on a whim!”

The sound surprised him long before the pain registered. He blinked once, then stretched his jaw, before finally turning his head back.

“My scientists say it is ready.”

“Well they’re wrong.”

He was ready that time when a blow struck him in the back of the knee. He crumbled to the ground, but his hands were there to brace his fall. He found his balance on his knees before he looked back up.

“They are not wrong.”

He could only roll his eyes and push himself off the ground, bringing himself face to face once again. He knew- somewhere in his tired, addled mind, he knew better. And yet he still spoke.

“Yeah? Well whose built more nuclear reactors, huh? Let’s think about that one.”

“Enough! We shall test it. That is my final decision.”

“Fine! Test it, go ahead. But can I at least be a couple of kilometres away before you blow yourselves up!”

He knew to expect the blow. He knew he shouldn’t have said anything. And yet, when his face hit the ground and his mind was just on the edge of darkness, he was surprised by how hard the man could hit.

/-

Something loud. Something annoying. Something that just wouldn’t stop.

He couldn’t breathe for a moment as he tried to open his eyes and focus. As eh tried to process the sound he was hearing. As he realized finally that someone was ringing the doorbell.

He groaned as he tried to sit up and scrubbed a hand over his face. The buzzer rang again- this time faster, more urgently.

“I’m coming! I’m coming!” he called out to the door, but it didn’t stop the person. They kept punching at the buzzer until he pulled the door open.

Sam’s hand jumped away from the doorbell, but the rest of her remained still. She just looked up at him and, he thought, he detected some relief at finally seeing him standing there. He stepped back away from the door, rubbing at his eye as he gestured with his head to let her in. She hesitated and then stepped inside just enough to let him in.

“You want some coffee?” he was already walking towards the kitchen, not caring what her answer may or may not be as he tiredly searched the room for a coffee filter. She silently handed one to him. He just glanced at her.

“Sure, thanks.”

There was silence for a while as he awkwardly scooped the coffee grains and prepared the water. And she just watched. He looked over at her only once throughout the whole process and he noticed that she didn’t seem to have any more of an idea why she was there than he did.

“Did you fall asleep on your couch?”

“Why would you say that?”

“You’re still wearing what you wore to the mountain and the TV is on.”

“Maybe I was watching TV.”

“You were asleep or I wouldn’t have been standing outside for twenty minutes.”

He just blinked, his argument gone, and yet he still sighed out a response, “Maybe I was just too lazy to turn it off before I went into the bedroom.”

“Sure… whatever.”

And, once again, the silence won over them. They stood there- Rodney leaning against the cupboard, Sam standing in the centre of the room- staring at each other and listening to the sound of the coffee dropping.

“You didn’t answer when I called last night. “

He shrugged. “I was asleep.”

“You weren’t asleep, you were ignoring me.”

“Same difference.”

“I just want to help, Rodney.”

“You want me to go see a shrink! I don’t need one.”

“How are you sleeping.”

“I’m sleeping fine.”

“You fell asleep on your couch. You’ve downing gallons of coffee every day. You’re exhausted. You’re up at all hours working on this device.”

“Exactly. I’m working. You don’t do any better with sleep when you’re obsessed with a project!”

“I do actually sleep. And I don’t generally have a horrifying experience hanging over my head.”

“You don’t have a horrifying experience hanging over your head! You’ve probably got millions of them swimming around in there, you just choose to ignore them.”

“No, Rodney. I don’t ignore them. That’s what is creating all your problems. I talk to people about what happened. I talk to the therapist, I write a mission report, I talk to my team if I need to. I talk to people, Rodney. Talk to someone.”

“I did. I wrote a report, I talked to the resident shrink on Atlantis. She suggested a vacation. I came, I vacationed, I’m ready to go back now. I even talked to you!”

“And now I’m asking that you talk to a professional again. You’re still not adjusting.”

“I’m fine! I don’t need to talk to you! I don’t need to talk to a “professional”! Look how far that got me last time! I’m fine! I just want to get back to work!”

He just stopped, not knowing what else to say. And then the only sounds that remained were the sounds of Rodney’s chest heaving and dripping coffee.

“If you don’t want to help yourself, then just leave. Go back to Atlantis and screw over your team, screw over the city. That’s your problem. But don’t stay here and snap at me and make me feel like crap because you can’t have the balls to admit that you need help.” She paused for a moment, her eyes softening as she looked back at him, “And if you ever want help or someone to talk to, I’m here.”

He couldn’t look at her as she spoke and he couldn’t say anything to make her stay as she walked out of the kitchen and disappeared into the hallway. He listened, hearing only the sounds of the dripping coffee over her feet against the wood tiles and the door slamming shut.

He just sat there a while, feeling each breathe that passed his lips, every rise and fall of his chest. He just listened, staring at nothing and the floor tile all in the same moment, as the coffee dripped ceaselessly.

It wasn’t until the constant sound had stopped that he blinked back the blurriness that had clouded his vision and turned his head to find the coffee ready. Slow, awkward movements had a cup in his hand and the pot settled over top of it.

Maybe he was just inherently an ass. He could try to hide it, to corre3ct it, to be sweet and cute and cuddly, but, in the end, maybe he was just incapable of being anything but an ass.

He hadn’t always been like that. Well, actually he had been like that since university. So, a while. Most of his life really.

What did she know? He was fine. She had just been seduced by the polite McKay, the fun McKay that sometimes made an awkward appearance. But he was gone, replaced by the real McKay.

He was fine.

Rodney bit back a cringe at the burning of the dark liquid. He kept sipping at it, despite how hot it was, or how painful it was to drink.

Maybe he wasn’t fine.

What if she was right? What if she actually knew enough about him to see that there really was more to how he was feeling than just his normal personality issues?

He scrubbed a hand over his face, sighing as he leaned back against the countertop.

Maybe he had a problem. Maybe she was right.

He couldn’t really say what was going on in his head.

He was mad. He was angry and upset and he felt sometimes like he just needed to throw something or kick something.

He was happy. It wasn’t often that he admitted to that one. But Sam brought something out in him. Something that made him want to smile and laugh and do spontaneous fun things.

He was sad. He couldn’t help but feel like a cloud was following him around, swallowing up his fun and swallowing up his desire to do things.

He was afraid. It wasn’t a physical fear. Even his unconscious mind was soothed by the thought that thousands of light years and an iris separated him from any physical threat. But he was afraid. He was afraid to close his eyes at night because he knew that they weren’t far behind. He knew that they were always there, playing just in the shadows of his mind.

He was everything in one moment and nothing in the next. He felt and he didn’t feel. He didn’t know what to think was going on in his mind.

Maybe she was right and maybe he was just an ass, but either way he was a screwed up ass and she was still right.

And he needed help.

/-

One… two… three… ping… one… two… three… four… ping… one… two… ping… one… two… three… ping… one… two… three… four… five… six… ping… one… ping…

His lips had gone dry; it was instinct to wet them. Each breath made them number; each breath made his throat drier.

Ping… ping…

A leaky faucet. It was the first thought that came to him after listening for a time. The incessantly irregular dripping. Water was coming from somewhere, but he was too tired and too cold and it was too dark for him to try to search the source out. Maybe he should have, maybe he shouldn’t have surrendered so easily. Maybe he should have fought harder, found a way out, found some way to escape. But for once it just didn’t seem worth the energy.

… forty-seven… forty-eight… forty-nine… fifty… fifty-one… fifty… fifty… fifty…

He sighed. He had stopped counting the time between the drips and instead had taken to counting the drips. Already he had lost count several times, the cold numbing his brain, exhaustion weighing too heavily on it, the uneven stones causing just enough discomfort to keep him from slipping back into unconsciousness.

… one… two…

A noise blocked out the sounds of the drips. He paused, blinking a few times behind the blindfold. But the noise had stopped.

… one… two… three… four…

The noise started again. It was soft, unrecognizable, but insistent…

Stomping feet. Boots on stones. Finally the noise became loud, completely overcoming the pinging of the water against the stone. Louder, closer, storming to him. He let his eyelids fall closed, his breathing evened out, the cold numbing finally took hold and his shivering suddenly ceased, and so he just listened to the harsh crashing of feet against stone.

/-

“So… I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to do.” (intro where he is)

“There is no right or wrong way to do this, Rodney. Just talk about whatever you want to talk about.”

“Right.” Rodney sighed and pulled his leg up onto his knee, his hands gripping at his ankle. He tried to look around and relax back into his chair, but he couldn’t quite get his mind to slow down or his awkward gaze to fall back on the doctor.

“Why don’t we start by talking about why you’re here?”

He looked up at her, grateful that she ahd chosen a topic for him. He nodded, “Sam, mostly.”

“Samantha Carter?” He just nodded again. “What about her?”

“She’s the one who convinced me that I… that I need… help. Someone to talk to.” Slowly, the doctor nodded and Rodney sighed at the shrink. “I’ve been having trouble sleeping… I don’t really sleep anymore. I’ve been snapping at people- worse than I usually do. I’ve been snapping at Sam, which is something I almost never do. She was… worried, I guess.”

“Rightly so, it seems, if she thought something was wrong.”

He bobbed his head up and then down once. “Yeah… She’s perceptive about me, I guess.”

“Are you two friends?”

His head remained still even as his eyes darted up to find her watching him, her glasses perched on the tip of her nose, her legs crossed easily one over the other, her hands resting on the folder in her lap. He dropped his gaze again, his shoulders rising in an uncertain shrug. “Yeah, I guess you could call us that. Friends. Colleagues. Either fits.”

“You said you’ve been having trouble sleeping. Want to talk about that?”

He shrugged again. “Not really.” He only glanced at her, but that look was long enough to tell that she would have preferred a different answer. But she hid that well from her voice; she was used to waiting a long time to hear what she wanted to hear from people.

“Do you want to keep talking about Sam, then?” He shifted in his chair, gripped his hands tighter on his ankle to pull his leg higher on his knee. “How long ago did she tell you that you should come here?”

“A couple of days ago. I had been getting snappier. I yelled at her a few times. She tried to call me; I guess she wanted to talk to me about how I’d been acting. I didn’t answer her calls. She came over to my house the next morning- I guess to see if I was still alive or something. We had another argument. I yelled at her. She yelled back. She told me I needed help and that I shouldn’t come back until I got some.”

“And you waited a few days after that to come here?”

His shoulder rose again, pausing a few moments at their height, before falling back down into a hunch. “I was trying to figure out how right she was.”

“And?”

He looked up at her, brows raised and a momentary look of annoyance his only answer for a short moment. Then he said, “I’m here, aren’t I?”

She leaned back in her chair, readjusting her folder and then her legs. “True.”

And then they said nothing. For a while he just let her watch him as he looked around her office. There were things he knew he ought to say- the real reasons why he was there. There were things he knew he could say- just to start up a conversation and break the silence. And then there were things that were coming to mind- comments about her choice of colours, of décor, of picture frames. But, instead, he choose to just look back down at his hands and watched them for a few seconds as they played with a fold in his jeans. “I have nightmares about… what happened. Sometimes… I have flashbacks, I guess you could call them.” He looked up at her, wondering what kind of reaction was clouding her face. There was none.

“What exactly happens in these nightmares and flashbacks?”

Rodney sighed, his eyes flashing down and watching the floor as he fought for the courage to keep talking. “When I was taken prisoner.” He glanced at her again, waiting for a reaction. “I was helping these people finished their power generator… I was… taken by a rival faction… I see that a lot.”

“The kidnapping itself?” He nodded awkwardly at her choice of words. “Anything else?” He shrugged and looked away. “Like what?”

He was watching the floor again. Then he sighed as flashes came back- the feet, the water, the cold, the cell, the needle, the blindfold, the voice, the generator, the…

“While I was in the cell. Being… forced to help them… I probably would have helped them anyway. They just had to ask.”

“Do you want to talk about what happened to you on that planet?”

He shook his head slowly. He didn’t want to talk about what had happened. He didn‘t want to think about what had happened. But that was why he was there- because he couldn‘t stop thinking about it. Because he couldn‘t stop seeing it playing over and over again in his mind. “I don’t really remember what happened… I was walking back to where I was staying… Something was put over my face, hands grabbed me, and I felt a needle… I woke up, what must have been hours later, in a cell… I don’t remember any faces or any voices or anything that I actually did, but I remember them wanting me to help them… making me help them build their own power source…”

His voice trailed off and his eyes strayed away again.

“Tell me about the cell.”

“The cell?” Her voice brought his eyes back to hers and he stared at her for a while, trying to decide what details she wanted. What details he wanted to give to her. His eyes trailed away and his thoughts followed. “Um… I don’t really remember it. I was still wearing a blindfold.”

“How did you know it was a cell then?”

“It was a cold, stone room and there was a barred door… they came in and out of. Where else would they have put me?”

“Cold?”

“Yeah, freezing. And… damp. Wet, really.” He could hear it, “I could hear water dripping- it drove me nuts.”

“How do you know that the door was barred if you couldn’t see?”

He shrugged and shook his head just visibly, pulling his eyes back to her. “It just sounded like it… And I could hear them walking. I could always tell when they were coming because of the sound their boots made on the stone floor…”

There was silence again, but it wasn‘t really silent. He knew the sounds weren‘t really there, he knew they were just phantoms of sound playing over in his ears. But he could still hear the pinging of the water and the echoing of the boots.

The clock suddenly caught his interest but the time didn‘t register in his head. He stood regardless. “I think it’s about time for me to leave.”

“Rodney,” she stood, hoping to keep him from leaving before she could finish. She stepped closer and touched her wrist, “You made a lot of progress today. I know how hard that was for you to say. It’s going to take time. You’re not just going to feel better over night.”

“I know,” he nodded, “Thanks.”

“I’ll see you Friday?”

He just nodded again. “Yeah. Sounds good.”

He didn‘t look back, he just pulled open the door and started to walk. He didn‘t think about where he was going. He probably should have headed to an elevator and made his way to her car. He could have gone down and visited the mess hall to get lunch. But his feet lead him away with a mind of their own.

She was standing with her back to him, her focus on her computer. She didn’t’t notice him at first, and he was fine with that. He owed her some kind of an apology. He owed her a thank-you, really.

The shrink had told him that he wouldn’t’t feel better over night. He knew that. He knew that when he closed his eyes to go to sleep that he would still see them, the blindfold, the needle, the dripping water. But already he felt better. It felt as if thousands of pounds were pressing down on his chest and now a few ounces had been removed. Not a relief, but a start.

He took a step closer and the sound caught her ear. She looked up. He wasn’t sure what was playing over her face. Shock, concern, anger, curiosity.

He sighed and glanced down as he took a few steps into the room. Their eyes caught and, in that moment, he hoped that she could see his apology and his gratitude and his confusion in that one look.

“You were right.”