Author's Note: This is the sequel to a songfic I wrote a while ago called "Cold". You can find it at my homepage under Ficlets And Songfics. The characters, setting, terms, etc don't belong to me. This story contains violent images, torture, and nonconsensual sex. If you are offended by any of these things, turn back now. That aside, I hope you guys enjoy this piece and please review!
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Major John Sheppard warily glanced back at his team as they entered the Genii facility. It had been six months to the day that Rodney McKay had disappeared. Six long months… John wondered how they had made it through the siege without Rodney on their side. As soon as the siege was over, Elizabeth Weir had ordered all teams on a search and rescue. Remembering the hollow pain in his chest every time that they returned from a planet without Rodney, John winced. If only he'd been paying more attention on Choc; if only he had noticed Rodney slip away from the group…then perhaps Rodney would have been with them, not enduring God-knows-what at the hands of the Genii. Three months ago, Elizabeth had no choice but to declare Rodney missing, presumed dead. Still, she kept rotating teams to search the planets in the Pegasus Galaxy not already searched in the empty hope that they would find Rodney. Since about a month ago, no more teams left Atlantis with the primary mission to find Rodney McKay.
Until today. John noted the apprehension on both Lieutenant Ford and Teyla's faces before turning away, eyes quickly adjusting to the darkness of the building. He didn't blame the two – who knew what they would find? The tip that this might be the place where Rodney was being kept had come a week ago, through Sora – formerly of the Genii. After months in Atlantis, she had turned her back on the Genii and pledged herself to Atlantis. She was regarded with suspicion for quite some time, but she had proved herself. A few weeks ago, she had been sent back to the Genii home world as a spy. A week ago, she had reported back with this news. Sheppard, Ford, and Teyla had gone to the Genii planet. Sora cleared the entrance to the underground layer of guards and the like, making it simple for the three to get into the underground city. Now, here they were, in a prison on the far outskirts of the dark city.
John turned to face his team once more. His back was against a wall – something squishy, the origins of which he didn't wish to ponder, pressing into him. To his left was a long hallway, several groups of bars visible. The metallic stench of blood reached John's nostrils, adding to a growing feeling of uneasiness. "Recon first," he told the two in a quiet order, nodding to the Wraith stunners they carried with them, "Stun all the guards you see; don't shoot to kill unless you have to." John caught Ford's eye, and he hesitated. "No matter what you see, don't stop," he told them, "Keep going; look straight ahead." Teyla and Ford both nodded. Teyla went first, her steps graceful and quiet as she headed down the hallway, her keen eyes on the shadows. Aiden followed her, staying to the right side of the hallway, his body covered in shadows. Behind Ford, Sheppard did the same. One lone woman would look a lot less threatening than a group of three.
Aiden rearranged his grip on the Wraith stunner, nervously looking from left to right, careful not to look into any cells. What had the Genii done to McKay? Aiden's eyes inadvertently focused beyond the bars of one cell. Immediately, he felt his body unable to move. Inside the cell lay a little girl, not more than the age of eight. She was sitting with her back against the wall, her head titled toward the ceiling. But that was where all normalcies ended and the terrifying reality of the Genii cruelty began. Blood, previously running from a long cut across her forehead, had dried across her innocent face. Her hair had matted and tangled, the blood and dirt in her hair making it nearly impossible to tell her hair color. The young girl's left arm hung at a haphazard angle, and, his eyes moving lower, a part of her fractured ulna had broken through the skin on her forearm. Continuing his study with bile rising quickly to his mouth, Aiden saw that she only had three twisted fingers, scabbed joints remaining where her thumb and pinky had been. She sat in a pool of thick, crimson blood – Aiden didn't dare think about where the blood had come from. Had the Genii torture really gone so far? He forced himself to swallow, as thick as his throat was becoming. She was just a girl! Hot, burning hatred for the Genii rushed through his veins. But she was a female in a prison with no regulations. Aiden's hands tightened on the stunner. Her chest had long since stopped moving with breath.
"Lieutenant," he heard Sheppard's voice as if it was coming from a distance before feeling a pressure on his shoulder.
"Major…" Aiden's voice trailed off during the word, his gaze not leaving the young girl.
"I know," John said softly, his eyes, too, trained on the cell.
"If they did this to a little girl…" Aiden trailed off, the words weighing heavily on his mind unspoken. They did not need to be. What had the Genii done to Rodney?
"I know," John repeated firmly, "but we have to keep moving." With a jolt, Aiden realized that Teyla had turned down another hallway. He nodded, and focused again on the mission, pushing away the horrifying image of the dead girl. John glanced back at the cell once more before trailing Aiden.
Ten minutes later, they had stunned five guards and knew the layout of the prison. John had a nagging suspicion that, though called a prison by the Genii it was far from one and simply seemed to serve as a torture house. There were three hallways, connected in a 'U', the third hallway leading to a dead end where they had moved the bodies of the guards.
"All right," John glanced at the guards for a moment before addressing his team. His team seemed so small without McKay. 'And his ego,' John thought. The inward joke which would've once led to a smirk on his face, led only to a hollow twinge within him. "Teyla, you search this hallway, I'll search the first one, and Ford will take the middle one. Count how many cells and how many dead. If we can, I want to transfer the living prisoners to our holding cells. At least they can be taken care of while we judge whether they should be in prison or not," John told them. He hesitated for the briefest moment before plunging onward. "I guarantee you that Rodney will not look the same. Look carefully."
As he walked to his hallway, John wished he could have done this alone. Ford and Teyla didn't need to see this; this torture, this destruction. It aged you in a way the Wraith could not. It aged your soul; your mind. John glanced into the first cell that moved into view as he walked into his hallway, swallowing at the gruesome sight that awaited them. Was Rodney – 'No,' John thought firmly, pushing the thought out of his head, 'There's always hope.' And there was hope now.
However dim it was.
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Fourteen cells: twelve dead and two barely hanging on. John thought of the statistics of his hallway grimly as he moved to the fifteenth cell. He stared into it, bracing himself for another ghastly sight. John was not let down. There was enough dim light in the cell not to need his flashlight. The form of a man was pressed against a wall. His clothing was torn, the skin it revealed badly bruised. There seemed to be dried blood everywhere on his body – but John spotted brighter red liquid against it and he felt hope that this one was alive. John spotted some blood stained, frayed bandages around various places, but they had long since passed their use, if they ever fulfilled it. The man's legs were stretched out in front of him, and John could see the extensive damage to the kneecaps from where he stood. They appeared to be shattered, and the man's left foot was twisted in a way it simply wasn't meant to be twisted. On top of it all, the man was terrifyingly thin. John waited for the chest to move with a breath, and to his surprise, it did. Slowly, with a rasping noise, but nonetheless his chest rose and fell.
But wait a minute. Those clothes… John stepped forward, his heart beating faster. That grimy, ripped, blood-stained uniform…it couldn't possibly be…could it? John's eyes moved to the man's shoulder, and he saw it: the 'Atlantis' patch. It was stained, and it had frayed so badly that you could only read 'lant', but John knew it was the same patch that he bore on his shoulder at the exact moment. His pulse quickened.
After six long months, they had found Rodney McKay.
"Ford! Teyla!" John shouted, his voice loud and with no regard to the fact that they were invading on enemy territory. He rushed forward, grabbing at the door. He jerked the door, and it moved about a foot with a loud creek. The man – Rodney McKay – looked up slowly. John felt a surge of emotion pass through him. Those blue eyes – bloodshot as they were – those definitely belonged to Rodney. He heard the footsteps as Teyla and Aiden came running. With one last tug, the door slid open, allowing John access.
"Rodney!" he shouted, kneeling to a stop before the other man. Rodney's eyes moved toward John slowly. John couldn't stop the large grin from spreading on his face. Rodney! He was alive! After all this time, Rodney McKay was sitting in front of him! Teyla and Ford finally reached the cell. John heard their gasps of joy behind him. Rodney's lips opened and closed a few times, as if attempting to remember how to speak. To a man who hadn't spoken a word in six months, it was a difficult task. John was patient, waiting for Rodney's words, expecting a sour, McKay-like "took you long enough" or a "you've come!" or something to that effect.
But to John's utter horror, the mutilated man before him instead whispered in a hoarse, cracked voice, "Who's Rodney?