Drabble, SGA

[rhienelleth]

See, this time it's only 500 words, or a little over.  Drabbles aren't so tough!

This one's for sarkastic, who requested  SGA, John, inspired by the line "I mean, maybe I am crazy. I mean, maybe. But if this is all there is, then I don't want to be sane." from Neil Gaiman's Neverwhere.

They tried to convince him it was all a lie.  Atlantis, his friends and co-workers, the Ancients, the Pegasus galaxy.  The Wraith.  But he was right, he knew he was right. 

No, if John Sheppard was going to make up an imaginary galaxy in his head, he’d populate it with scantily clad women, not alien parasitic vampires who could suck a man dry, and not in the really fun sense. 

Whatever it was they used, whatever drug they pumped into his system, almost made him question his own sanity.  Almost made him believe their line of bullshit.  But not quite. 

How, he reasoned, could they explain away people like McKay?  John was smart, no lie, but Rodney’s arrogance came with some justification; no one but him could think up the shit he did, certainly not John’s subconscious. 

And then there was Elizabeth.  He admired her, true, but in the beginning, he couldn’t fathom why the brass would have given the Atlantis command to a civilian negotiator, and he’d hated having to answer to her. 

No, it didn’t matter what they told him, or how much happy juice they put him on, he wasn’t buying.  Which, in the end, really pissed them off.  He figured the last dose they gave him was enough to OD on, the way it hit his system like a friggin’ baseball bat being swung by Superman.  Hit him out of the ballpark, too, right down the wormhole into nothingness, until he was straight jacketed in a small, dark room, rocking himself to Bob Dylan tunes and wondering how the fuck he’d gotten there.

If this was reality, he was better off dead. 

“Carson, can he hear us?”

A woman’s voice…Elizabeth?

“I think so.  There’s enough activity in the temporal lobe of his brain to indicate auditory awareness.”

“Well, of course he’s aware.”  Only Rodney could fill his voice with that much condescension.  “The drug is almost completely flushed from his system.”

“Colonel…John.  Can you hear me?” 

Sure, he could hear the voices.  The question was, did they indicate sanity, or madness?  He thought about it, mulled over his choices.  Staying here in a freaking psych ward in his mind, or going back to Atlantis and the people who had become his family?  Not a tough call.  If this was reality, he didn’t want to be sane. 

“John.”  Elizabeth said his name again, and he struggled to reach her, to find his way back to her voice.  He felt fingers curl around his, used the physical contact as a ground while he listened to her talk.  “You were captured by Genii terrorists, and they dosed you with an experimental hallucinogen.  I don’t know what you’ve been seeing or hearing, but you’re safe now, back in Atlantis.  Dr. Beckett and McKay are working to counteract the drug, and you’ll be back to normal soon.”  She broke off with a gasp.  “Carson, he just squeezed my hand.  I think he’s coming around.”

John forced his eyes open, squinted against the bright lights of the infirmary.  No straight jacket.  No Bob Dylan.  Just Elizabeth, Rodney and Carson hovering over him anxiously. He parted dry lips, managed a smile. 

“Hey, guys.” 

It was damn good to be home.

Comments

[celli]

Awesome. :)

[sarkastic.livejournal.com]

This is exactly what I hoped it would be like. Neverwhere has that message of accepting the world you belong in, even if you think you might be crazy, and this is a perfect way to show it through John. Because John does belong in Atlantis with Rodney and Teyla and Ronon and Elizabeth, and I think it's more of a home for him than Earth now.

Thanks! :)