Work Text:
John knew that something was seriously wrong when McKay failed to turn up for lunch. He was there at the same time every day unless there was an emergency, but that couldn’t be it because John hadn’t heard anything over the radio, nor had there been any obnoxiously loud sirens to signal some huge disaster.
Sipping his coffee and glancing at the rapidly cooling one he’d grabbed for McKay on impulse, John could feel himself growing antsy. McKay was always here, he always showed up for their lunch “dates”, as Ford so nicely put it. And if he couldn’t make it, he usually had the decency to say so.
“Did you hear him screaming?”
“Like a little girl. My brother’s two year old makes the same noises.”
“Think he’s still at it?”
“Man I hope so. He’ll probably have pissed his pants by the time we’re finished here.”
John slammed down his coffee mug with enough force to silence the two soldiers walking past with their lunches. He didn’t know their names, but he recognised their faces. “Wanna share with the rest of the class?” he asked with as much calm as he could muster. His expression must not have gotten the same message if the fear in the soldiers’ eyes was anything to go by.
“Oh, sir.” The two stood to attention. “We were just…playing a bit of a prank, that’s all.”
“A prank? I love those, tell me all about it,” John drawled, ignoring the sudden tightness in his stomach.
The soldiers exchanged nervous glances, silent for a few moments before one finally spoke up. “Well we…one of the scientists made us go with him to look at the stasis chambers again and he was whining about the locking mechanism being broken, and whining about everything really, so we…” He trailed off, glancing at the other soldier.
“We locked him in so we could go and get lunch.”
“Who?” John’s voice came out as more of an animalistic snarl but he didn’t even care. He could barely contain his anger at the idea of someone trapped in the cramped little stasis pods. It wasn’t helping that his mind was trying to piece it all together, clinging to the word “whining”. There was an obvious suggestion there.
“Dr McKay, sir.”
John was already on his feet and halfway out of the mess hall before he remembered the soldiers. “My office right now. You’ll wait there for me, I don’t care how long that takes but if either of you is gone when I get there I’m using you as Wraith bait.”
He didn’t hear their replies but that didn’t matter. What mattered right now was getting to McKay.
--
The recently discovered stasis chambers were just far enough from the mess hall that John had time to panic. He knew how severe McKay’s claustrophobia was, had seen it in action the first time he stepped foot inside a jumper and let the doors close behind him. It had taken several attempts and more panic attacks than John could handle, but McKay had pushed past his fears in a way that made John legitimately proud.
The jumper was one thing, but the stasis chambers were small enough that John had felt a little uncomfortable even looking at them. McKay had gone green. And now he was trapped in one.
John pushed himself to run faster and very nearly slid past the door. “McKay!” he shouted as the door opened at his command. His eyes scanned the room, looking closely at every single chamber until finally, he found a face – the pale, terrified face of McKay, his mouth open in mid-scream. The chamber hadn’t activated because of the broken locking mechanism, which made this scenario so much worse. McKay was hammering on the glass, fists bloody and bruised, as he screamed – at least, that was what it looked like, but there was no sound coming from the chamber. His eyes met John’s but the panic didn’t lessen. If anything it seemed even worse.
John ran to the chamber and scanned it for signs of a way to free McKay. The controls were dark, though, the chamber dead and the heavy door held down by gravity alone. John grimaced and felt for the edge of the door, then started to lift it. It was so much heavier than he’d expected, and he had to consciously ignore the pain in his arms, back and legs as he strained against the weight.
McKay’s screams reached him then, if they could even be called that – his voice was so hoarse that they were little more than tiny, desperate squeaks. They were filled with so much fear that John forced himself to lift even faster, forcing himself under it the moment he was able and lifting with his shoulders while his hands fumbled for McKay. His fingers found a flailing wrist and he pulled hard, dragging McKay out of the chamber. The scientist fell fast, hitting the ground and curling up in a ball, continuing his horrible half-screams all the while.
John didn’t bother easing the door shut, just ducked under it and let it slam shut. McKay flinched at the noise, but John didn’t have it in him to regret it because it got him to McKay’s side a few seconds faster. “It’s ok, you’re out. I’m here, it’s alright, I’m here,” he soothed, hands grabbing McKay’s shoulders and dragging his hunched form onto his lap.
It was clear that McKay was panicking. Of course he was, who could blame him? But his panic was so intense; more than just screams, more than the violent tremors, more than his shallow gasps sandwiched between fresh waves of squeaks. He was so deep in his fear that he couldn’t even breathe.
John felt helpless seeing him like this. He’d never been the one to help McKay through the panic attacks in the jumper – he’d stood back with anxiety of his own, watching Carson coach McKay through every breath. He was regretting that now.
He felt for his radio. “Beckett, it’s John. I need you at the stasis chambers ASAP. McKay got trapped in one and now he’s having a panic attack. I need your help,” he said into it, wincing at the tremor in the words.
Beckett’s response was almost instantaneous. “I’m on my way. You said he was..?”
“Someone trapped him in a stasis chamber.”
Silence for a few seconds, then, “those bastards! I hope you’re going to punish them. Sick fucks.” John had never heard Beckett’s accent as strong as it was now, and it was honestly a little frightening to hear such anger in the normally fairly calm voice
“I’ll let you have second swing,” John promised.
McKay suddenly twitched in his lap, hands coming up to pull on his hair. His shaking was worse, but the screams had tapered off, leaving more gasps in their place.
“Shhh, it’s alright. You’re out, you’re safe,” John said softly and pulled McKay’s hands from his hair. The sight was so uncharacteristic; McKay looked so fragile, so broken. The sight made John feel sick. “Wraith bait would be a goddamn mercy,” he whispered, and it was true. He would make sure that everyone knew – bullies weren’t welcome in his city.