Hypnos and Phobetor

Feedback: Please.

Acknowledgements: Kat and Rez for speedy!feedback and speedy!beta


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?”




Read the sequel, Icelus

top of page