Summon the Heroes
I knew the instant Kolya's face appeared on the screen that he had been responsible for John's disappearance. Nevertheless, when he stepped aside to reveal John gagged and bound to a chair, I felt suddenly ill. There was not a doubt in my mind about what Kolya planned to do.
Doctors Weir and McKay argued and pleaded loudly, but the rest of us were struck silent by horror––at least, I was. I did not, in fact, hear much of the conversation at all. Swallowed up in my fear, I remained oblivious until Doctor McKay said, "We would like him to be able to speak to us."
My mind snapped back to the present moment, and I found myself unable to tear my eyes away from the screen as a guard pulled the gag from John's face. "On my command authority," he shouted at us, "whatever he asks, don't do it!"
I choked back tears. Something in the tone of his voice, in the way he fought the guards as they silenced him once more, told me he didn't expect to be coming home. The thought was unbearable.
Doctor Weir, may the Ancestors bless her, did not give in to Kolya's demands. But he was still smug––so much so that I wanted to tear that grin off his face with my bare hands. "Allow me to help expedite your decision," he said.
The camera swung around to where three more guards escorted another prisoner through a side door. The captive was so weak he could barely walk, and his thick hair was long and stringy, the dead white of a––
My heart stopped.
A Wraith. A starving, desperate Wraith.
I heard Doctor Weir whisper "Oh, my God," but no words came to me. I couldn't breathe. The look of sheer terror on John's face was too much––I couldn't look, but neither could I look away. My knees buckled, and I had to clutch Ronon's arm to remain upright.
As the Genii guards removed the leather glove that covered the Wraith's hand, I was trembling uncontrollably. A part of me refused to believe that this was actually happening, insisted that this was only a nightmare from which I would soon awaken. But no, this was real. And it was torture for me nearly as much as for John.
The Wraith, slammed its hand into John's chest, and he writhed in agony. I wanted to scream! I wanted to shriek his name, to fall to my knees and weep. But I forced myself to remain still and silent. I let go of Ronon and stood on my own.
When it was finally over, I kept my face carefully expressionless. John wouldn't want our grief, he would want us to take action. And that is precisely what I intended to do.