By Enola Jones

He healed Ronon’s scars because they brought the big man shame.

He healed the scars of Teyla’s grief because they hurt her so very badly.

He wanted to heal the torture scars beneath the black wristband, but John wouldn’t permit it. When asked why, John had met his eyes and spoken four words in that whisper of a voice he used when emotions ran high.

“So I’ll never forget.”

And he understood. They truly were more alike than either cared to admit. Because that was the reason he hadn’t healed his own scars.

So he would never forget.

The jagged scar remained on his left arm. So he’d always remember what a coward he could be.

The small white scar remained on his forehead. So he’d always remember that no matter how smart he was, friends – especially those that had become family – always had each other’s six. Even if one was in a crashed jumper at the bottom of the sea.

The round scar remained on his bottom. So he’d always remember no matter how lovely they were, alien worlds were not the place to relax his guard. At least not in the first few moments.

The faint round, red scars remained on his knees. So he wouldn’t forget that even a childhood of trauma had its moments of sheer joy – such as showing Jeannie how to jump on a trampoline. Even if it had folded under his feet and sent him to his knees on gravel, it had been worth it to see his little sister smile.

Each scar was something that made Rodney McKay what he was growing into – someone he could finally like.

And that was why he would not erase them – though with these abilities, he could – so he would not forget.

That damnable citrus allergy, on the other hand…..


Return to The Stargate: Atlantis page

Return to The Realm