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"We cannot allow this transgression to pass. You have violated one of our most sacred statues. The penalty must be swift and unflinching but fair. You may choose which of your fingers is forfeit."
"Left pinky finger," Rodney didn't even hesitate. "Chop, chop, let's go."
It wasn't that Rodney was eager to lose a finger; in truth, he was an inch away from a full blown panic attack at just the thought of the pain, but he knew that if they didn't get this over with quickly, John was going to get himself killed trying to stop it.
The people of MY4-5PR were warriors, born and bred to be all that they could be, and the way they had disarmed all four of them, the way they had found every single knife hidden on Ronon's person, was enough to persuade Rodney that they were capable of taking John out without breaking a sweat.
Really, what was one little finger compared to the alternative.
The Chief Justice of the platoon, Allura, a small boned woman with red hair that Rodney would have found attractive in almost any other circumstances, seemed impressed by Rodney's quick decision. "A wise choice," she nodded her approval. "I may have underestimated you and your people."
"Does that mean that you're willing to forgive and forget?" Rodney asked hopefully.
Allura opened a box to reveal a wickedly sharp knife.
"Guess not," Rodney muttered. Closing his eyes briefly, he fervently hoped that the knife was clean. "I do this and you let us go free, right?"
Amusement twinkled in Allura's eyes. "I believe I have already sworn to that. Do you wish to know the penalty for accusing a superior of deceit?"
"No!" Rodney was in enough trouble for touching the wrong object, knowing his luck, he'd lose his tongue as well as a finger if he pushed it. "No accusations here! Just, just take the finger and then we'll be out of your hair."
Rodney let them secure his left hand to the altar and squeezed his eyes shut, as if that would make what was about to happen any more bearable. The pain was sharp and immediate, singing through his nerve endings like a harsh soprano. He must have blacked out for a moment because the next thing he knew the medical officers were cleaning the stump where his left pinky finger used to be and wrapping the wound in a heavy gauze to staunch the blood flow.
They held his left hand above his head and talked to him gently until he could focus on things again.
"You did well," the Chief Justice smiled benignly at him. "By our laws, you have paid the price and are forgiven of all sins. You and your people are welcome to extend your stay with us or are free to leave as you choose."
"Leave, please," Rodney gritted out between clenched teeth.
"Of course," the Chief Justice bowed. "The medics will escort you to your friends. I believe they will be relieved to see you well."
"Our guns?" Rodney asked.
Allura smiled indulgently. "Will be sent through the ring after you."
Of course. Rodney really would be impressed with these people if they hadn't just cut off his finger. Which reminded him.
"My..." Rodney swallowed against the nausea, "my finger?"
"Has already been incinerated," she nodded to the small brazier set into the wall. "It would not be much of a punishment if the appendage could be reattached."
"No, of course not, how silly of me."
Allura laughed. "You are welcome here again, Scholar McKay. Any time."
Well, he thought, at least Elizabeth couldn't complain that his need to touch first and ask later had wrecked another potential treaty.
The medics led him straight to the Stargate, assuring him that the soldiers would bring his friends there. He was absurdly grateful that they weren't making him delay here any longer than necessary. Grateful. Towards the people who had just cut off his finger. Rodney thought the pain must be making him loopy.
True to their word, John, Ronon and Teyla were waiting at the gate, each looking angry and worried but unharmed.
Rodney waved his uninjured hand at them in greeting. "Hey," he slurred - huh, when did that start happening - "I told you I'd fix it."
Rodney's not really sure what happened after that but Carson was suddenly there with the really good drugs and his eyes started to get really heavy. A little nap sounded pretty good right about now.
-*-*-*-
"You what?!" John yelled at him across the conference table.
"They gave me a choice of which finger!" Rodney defended himself. "What if they had cut off one of my thumbs? Or my index finger? If I had to lose a finger then at least I could make sure it was the one that would effect my work the least."
"You let them mutilate you!" John didn't seem appeased by Rodney's explanation. "Or did you offer to do it yourself and save them the work?"
"Gentlemen - -"
John whirled on Elizabeth, interrupting her attempts to mediate. "And you! You're seriously sending a team back there? They cut off his finger and incinerated it!"
It was only three days after the incident and Rodney's finger still ached fiercely. John had been petulant and angry since they had returned and Rodney had indulged him enough. He knew that he should have insisted that he debrief Elizabeth alone.
"Elizabeth, could I speak to John in private?" Rodney asked politely. "Just for a minute."
Elizabeth, frankly, looked relieved to be excused. "Take your time," she offered generously. "I'll be in my office."
The door closed behind her and Rodney whirled on John.
"What the hell has gotten into you?"
"Me?" John scoffed, bug-eyed. "What the hell had gotten into you!? They CUT OFF YOUR FINGER!"
"Funnily enough, I am aware of that."
"You let them cut off your finger," John repeated. He really seemed to be stuck on that.
"It's not like I had much of a choice!" Rodney yelled back. "In case you've forgotten, they disarmed us all as easily as, as I could hack into the DMV! It was a choice between letting them take a finger or letting them kill us all. That's not a choice!"
John deflated.
"I..how did you even choose which finger? How could you make that choice?"
"It was easy," Rodney looked at his bandaged left hand and felt only a pang of regret. The alternative was unthinkable. "Don't you have a list of worst case scenarios that you prepare for?
"This was on your list of what if's?"
Rodney shrugged. "It's a very thorough list."
John's mouth twitched in amusement. "So, what else is on this list? What if they had made you choose between your hands?"
"Take the left," Rodney answered immediately. "My right is my dominant hand, I need that one. For work and recreational purposes if you know what I mean."
John huffed a laugh. "Legs?"
"My right. The knee on that one always gives me a hard time."
John shook his head in disbelief. "Your sight or your hearing?"
"Sight."
John looked surprised. "But you need your eyes to work, you could still work with your hearing gone."
Rodney flushed, embarrassed. "I couldn't lose music again," he admitted.
"Rodney," John made an aborted attempt to reach out for him, his hand twitching. He swallowed hard and looked Rodney directly in the eyes. "My life or yours?"
Rodney smiled softly. "Mine," he said. "Every time, mine. That's the easiest one you've asked yet."
John did reach out this time, his hands wrapping around Rodney's arms and pulling him close, reaching out for Rodney's chin and tilting it up gently. "You're going to be the death of me, you know that?"
"I hope not," Rodney laughed. "That's what I was trying to avoid with the whole letting them cut off my finger thing."
John groaned. "See? That there is exactly what I'm talking about." He shook his head. "The death of me."
"I'd rather be a reason for you to live," Rodney said softly.
John smiled. "Idiot," he said fondly, leaning in for a kiss "you already are."