Not A Lemon
She's sitting at the desk in her lab when he enters. At first she doesn't see what he's holding. Then it hits her.
"McKay! What the hell?" She nods at the yellow piece of fruit in his left hand.
He follows her gesture slowly with his eyes until he's looking at the lemon, a soft frown on his face.
"McKay," she says again. Concerned. "Are you trying to…to kill yourself?"
He flicks his gaze up to meet hers. Shrugs. "Maybe. I might as well. It's not like you need me here for anything."
She crosses her arms over her chest. Frowns. "McKay, that's not true. You do a lot to help here and – "
"You don't care. Why would you? Nobody cares about grumpy old McKay." He reaches for the knife fastened to his belt, takes it in his free hand, holds it to the lemon. Slowly, he presses the blade against it and –
"Stop! McKay, don't do this! Don't do this to me. Put the knife down." She takes a tentative step forwards. Her expression is panicked. Absolute fear.
"Don't do what to you? I'm doing this to me," he protests.
"Oh yeah? Well that very fact is what you're doing to me. By hurting yourself, you're by extension hurting me."
He stares at her.
"Please, McKay. Don't do it."
"Why the hell not?" he throws back.
"Because I love you."
Silence. Utter silence.
Neither of them dares to move, to breathe.
They stand still and Sam stares at the floor and into space, anywhere but at his face.
He stares some more at her.
"You what?" he exclaims, accidentally dropping the lemon as he does so. It clangs loudly when it hits the ground.
"That's not a lemon?" she asks back.
McKay grins sheepishly and back away towards the door. "Well, no. I mean yes. It is a lemon. But it's made out of wood."
She gapes at him open mouthed.
"I," she says, voice deadly, "am going to kill you." Without another word, she lunges towards him.
As he rounds the corner and she follows, close behind, he yells, "what happened to the part where you love me?"
Sam groans and runs faster.