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stargateficrecRec Category: Rodney McKay
Pairing: John/Rodney, Rodney/OMC
Category: Angst, h/c, slash, Rodney McKay.
Warning: Slash, dark, some language.
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mousewitchy
Author's Website: None.
Link: Stockholm Syndrome (Tearing Down the House)
Why This Must Be Read: As mousewitchy says in the author's notes: Stockholm syndrome is usually described as a situation in which "small acts of kindness by the captor are magnified," among other things, which enables the victim to form an artificial bond with their captor.
This is one of those stories that sends shivers down your back when you read it. Rodney's taken hostage during a offworld trip, and as time goes by without any of his friends coming to the rescue he begins to think that maybe things aren't quite what he thought.
Rodney’s had hours to go over every moment in his mind, every waking moment of every day he spent in the city he’d thought was his home.
He’s relived every crisis, every word they’d ever said to him (“I had a feeling,” said Elizabeth as the personal shield fell away from his chest. She’d thought he was a coward.), every failure (The Arcturus project on Doranda. “That may take a while,” Sheppard had said, his face stony and unforgiving.), every embarrassment (“I thought you were very brave,” said Teyla, but she was smirking. She probably laughed at him later. The sneer on Ronon’s face before he cut the snare and sent Rodney tumbling none-too-gently to the ground. Ford: “I know what you’re like with weapons.” Lorne. Caldwell. Cadman: “I guarantee it was more traumatic for me.” Griffin. Zelenka.)
He’s been dissecting every touch, every sideways glance, and every offhand comment looking for the clue that will tell him why they’ve done it. He’s re-examined every detail, every overture of friendship, and every conspiratorial smile.
The answers are the same every time. They’ve left him behind.
It takes weeks of introspection and forced inactivity while his traitorous mind spins, turning every moment over, twisting every memory to try and make it fit until, suddenly, it does. Long-forgotten hurts tumble together, ill-timed entrances and half-remembered snatches of conversation fall into place and Rodney understands. Everything makes sense.
He learns to hate them, over time, learns to loathe the very memory of them, learns to doubt every whispered not-promise Sheppard ever made against his skin.
Rodney’s spent all of his adult life moving from place to place; first for university, then back and forth between whatever military installations the United States government deemed necessary. He’s lived in plenty of different places, but he hasn’t been home since he was a kid—and it was home, no matter how dysfunctional it had been, or how happy he’d been to escape. Atlantis was everywhere he’d ever wanted to belong, only now Rodney finds that the home he thought he’d built is crumbling down around him.
Rodney’s not a stupid man. It takes him weeks of contemplation amidst the peaceful greens and blues of the Korellian infirmary, but he knows when to stop fighting the facts. Weeks of despair, of doubt, of broken dreams, and he finally gets it.
They’ve left him behind.
It’s a difficult truth that gets easier with time.
Pairing: John/Rodney, Rodney/OMC
Category: Angst, h/c, slash, Rodney McKay.
Warning: Slash, dark, some language.
Author on LJ:
mousewitchyAuthor's Website: None.
Link: Stockholm Syndrome (Tearing Down the House)
Why This Must Be Read: As mousewitchy says in the author's notes: Stockholm syndrome is usually described as a situation in which "small acts of kindness by the captor are magnified," among other things, which enables the victim to form an artificial bond with their captor.
This is one of those stories that sends shivers down your back when you read it. Rodney's taken hostage during a offworld trip, and as time goes by without any of his friends coming to the rescue he begins to think that maybe things aren't quite what he thought.
Rodney’s had hours to go over every moment in his mind, every waking moment of every day he spent in the city he’d thought was his home.
He’s relived every crisis, every word they’d ever said to him (“I had a feeling,” said Elizabeth as the personal shield fell away from his chest. She’d thought he was a coward.), every failure (The Arcturus project on Doranda. “That may take a while,” Sheppard had said, his face stony and unforgiving.), every embarrassment (“I thought you were very brave,” said Teyla, but she was smirking. She probably laughed at him later. The sneer on Ronon’s face before he cut the snare and sent Rodney tumbling none-too-gently to the ground. Ford: “I know what you’re like with weapons.” Lorne. Caldwell. Cadman: “I guarantee it was more traumatic for me.” Griffin. Zelenka.)
He’s been dissecting every touch, every sideways glance, and every offhand comment looking for the clue that will tell him why they’ve done it. He’s re-examined every detail, every overture of friendship, and every conspiratorial smile.
The answers are the same every time. They’ve left him behind.
It takes weeks of introspection and forced inactivity while his traitorous mind spins, turning every moment over, twisting every memory to try and make it fit until, suddenly, it does. Long-forgotten hurts tumble together, ill-timed entrances and half-remembered snatches of conversation fall into place and Rodney understands. Everything makes sense.
He learns to hate them, over time, learns to loathe the very memory of them, learns to doubt every whispered not-promise Sheppard ever made against his skin.
Rodney’s spent all of his adult life moving from place to place; first for university, then back and forth between whatever military installations the United States government deemed necessary. He’s lived in plenty of different places, but he hasn’t been home since he was a kid—and it was home, no matter how dysfunctional it had been, or how happy he’d been to escape. Atlantis was everywhere he’d ever wanted to belong, only now Rodney finds that the home he thought he’d built is crumbling down around him.
Rodney’s not a stupid man. It takes him weeks of contemplation amidst the peaceful greens and blues of the Korellian infirmary, but he knows when to stop fighting the facts. Weeks of despair, of doubt, of broken dreams, and he finally gets it.
They’ve left him behind.
It’s a difficult truth that gets easier with time.
