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The sound of Rodney McKay’s whimpering was actively drowning out the actual sound of the Hive engines at this point.
“You think they’ll let us live for a little while? Like, how long do people last in these cocoon things? Is it like, their version of a thermos? Keep your soup warm for later? What if we languish in here for years? I can’t languish in here for years, I’m not meant for languishing, I’m a really bad languisher…”
Rodney can hear a sigh close to him, most likely in the no-doubtedly gruesome alcove to his left. As much as he doesn’t want John here, at least he’s not alone? But that also feels terribly selfish and he chides himself for wanting that.
“Seriously, Rodney? You just like complaining for the sake of complaining.”
“Thanks for the update, Mr. Obvious. Besides, you’re the one complaining about my complaining!” It was almost fascinating the way he could snap from abject, sheer despair to vibrant, colorful annoyance at the drop of a hat. Rodney was kind of proud of it. “Sorry I’m not Lieutenant Colonel Stoic, but some of us have actual emotions, emotions that need to be expressed–”
“That explains the screaming.”
“The screaming did help me feel a little better.”
“I can’t believe your throat is still intact after all that. Must be the practice of years of yelling at Zelenka. And talking too fast.”
“So it’s pick on McKay-while-he’s-stuck-in-a-Wraith-cocoon-about-to-be-eaten-Day, is it, today?”
“Give it a rest already-”
“You know what? Make me!” Rodney calmly notes a feeling of deja vu. There’s a beat. Speaking of deja vu… “So I’m assuming you might have, like, a secret hidden knife on you courtesy of Ronon…”
“We’re not getting out of this, McKay.”
…that wasn’t exactly like Sheppard’s usual line of thinking when they were in these situations. Which, he notes, that they’ve been in these kinds of situations enough that he can nearly predict how they’re gonna go at this point, but…
Rodney frowns, cold fear clenching in his gut. “Wow, really? Now you give up? Now, of all times!? You know, you’re the one who’s usually pulling me out of a funk–”
John’s quiet. Too quiet.
That’s what’s terrifying, and he frowns again, trying to quell the uneasy feeling churning in his guts.
“Sheppard? You still with me?”
There’s a quiet voice. He sounds so strange. “...yeah. I’m here, Rodney.”
“Okay, okay, that’s good. We’re both here–stuck in a Wraith cocoon, sure, but we’re still alive, for now, we have our health…for now, and people know we’re missing. Probably. So all we have to do is wait for the Daedalus to, uh, scoop us up, as they do, and we’ll be out of here.” There’s another beat. “You know, I’m really not great at this, you’re the one who’s supposed to be giving this speech. It’s just, you know, you’re more practiced at it than me…”
“Sure.”
A chuckle. It still sounds a little wrong.
That cold feeling gathers in his gut again. Rodney tries again. “John? Are you okay? They didn’t…”
They didn’t…feed on him while he was unconscious? “Look, we can find a Wraith to put the years back,” Rodney stammers. “Or Todd–we can find Todd to give them back to you. And it’s probably not even that bad? You look great old, really, I mean, the gray hair really works for you.”
“I’m glad you think so.” At least there’s still a touch of classic Sheppard wryness in his tone. But still, something was off. Wrong. He sounded…
…sad.
“Oh, God, they fed on me, didn’t they? That’s what happened!? I’m a old man–do I have hair? They took my hair–”
“Rodney, nobody fed on you or took your hair! At least, not yet.” John’s voice is snappish, which is…honestly, welcome after that weird tone.
“Okay, then what is it? Because something is wrong–and I don’t mean that only because we’re trapped in a nasty Wraith cocoon facing horrible deaths, I mean something else is wrong.”
John doesn’t answer again. Instead, there’s the humming of the engines far away, the sound of Wraith Drones moving in the distance, and just…random, weird, hive ship organic noises. Oddly enough, it doesn’t seem like there’s other humans in any nearby cocoons, or if there are, they’re either dead or unconscious, because he doesn’t hear anyone else.
Rodney trails off, before trying again.
“At least it’s warm? Just as warm as last time, which is nice, I guess. Helps for the twenty seconds when I’ll be 80 years old before I die…”
There’s muffled laughter.
Rodney brightens a little at that. He’s always liked making John laugh. But the fire goes out of him with the weirdness of no snarky response back. Was it…was it the team? Did someone get killed, captured…he barely remembers before they’d gotten scooped up by the dart, it had been sheer and utter chaos, they hadn’t expected the Wraith to start attacking on that planet and then…
“Did you…uh, see anyone else? I mean, did anyone else get…”
“No. It’s just…us. Ronon and Teyla made it through the Gate, I saw them.
“Huh. Good. That’s…good.”
The silence stretches out again. Something wet drips in the corner with a distinct squelching noise. Rodney decides it’s best not to wonder what it is.
“John?”
“Mmm…?”
“Do you think they know who we are?”
“What, the Wraith?”
“Yeah. I mean, if they don’t, if they just think we’re some random humans, they’ll drain us whenever. If they know who we are, some Wraith Queen or Commander will try to use our knowledge for nefarious purposes. I’ll be enlisted to help with some technological issue, of course, and the Queen will go right for you, like always–”
“Is this supposed to be helping, Rodney?”
“Look, if we have any chance of getting out of here, we need to think about possible weaknesses in their plans, so that we can use them to escape! And isn’t that your job?”
“My job.”
“To get us out of here!? What the hell, Sheppard? What’s wrong with you?”
“A lot, actually.”
The cold grip sinks into his stomach again and his breath begins to come in shorter gasps. The absolute horror of not knowing, when all he ever wanted in his life was to know, is becoming too much.
“John? What’s wrong?”
The last thing he ever expected to see, at this moment, was John to step in front of him.
Not in a cocoon.
Rodney suddenly can’t breathe.
“What?”
“I’m sorry, Rodney,” John says in a voice that sounds heartbroken, but also in a way that’s not enough to stop…doing whatever it was that he was doing.
“I-I don’t understand.” Rodney suddenly feels very lost. His voice sounds breathy. Small. Like his brain is refusing to believe it. Maybe Sheppard’s cocoon was just open, that’s all. And that he wasn’t actually standing just off to the side talking to him for the last ten minutes.
John puts his hand up to Rodney’s face, brushing a few of the sticky tendrils aside.
“I really am.”
There’s a figure behind John.
Rodney trembles uncontrollably.
John looks back, a faint smile on his face. Rodney can see now that John’s BDUs are mussed, there’s a rip in the middle and blood on his shirt, by his chest.
He suddenly, hysterically thinks about classic vampires. And what they do to people who they don’t outright kill sometimes.
John looks younger, honestly. Like he’s glowing.
Todd’s voice is a purr behind him.
“It’s time, John Sheppard.”
“John? No-no, no, no, this isn’t happening–this isn’t happening–John!?”
John releases his face, and follows Todd back out into the Wraith hallways without a single look back.
Rodney’s throat finally gives out after he screams his name.