I'm sorry you were dragged into this Angela…but, as always, your input has made this far better than it should be.

Notes: Team silliness and stupidity combined with some cursing and a bit of blood.

No spoilers, and nothing sinister going on in there, it's just a little bit of fun.

Warning: Any questions pertaining to the how's and why's of this fic, its OCs, devices, situations and possible IQ-damaging qualities will be met with a blank stare, crazed giggle and the smearing of chocolate cake over face. Clever, serious or relatively sane people should abstain from reading further. Thank you.

Chapter the First: Back in Black

Planet inhabited by mostly-cloistered monks who spend the better part of their days praying for the deliverance of the galaxy, or growing silly little fruits that apparently carried purity deep in their core. Yeah…right…

A simple mission; nothing would go wrong Rodney had thought. It seemed he'd grown complacent, forgetting about the Sheppard Curse, which stated that wherever the man went trouble followed. Not the fun kind of trouble either, not the 'drink 'til you drop and wake the next morning in a haze of perfume and other assorted feminine scents wondering how the heck you got there' kind.

No, this scenario lacked certain elements, namely, the woman and the languorous satiation coupled with a pounding headache indicative of a night well watered and well spent. There was none of the soft morning light, only impenetrable darkness. It reeked of fear and sweat and left him lying beside an unconscious body that he would recognise anywhere, having spent too long a time in close proximity to it to ignore its particular scent. The slackness pressed against him was terrifying, bringing back memories he preferred to leave buried. He moved to a sitting position, leaning back against a cold surface which could've been anything, hidden in the darkness as it was.

"Sheppard." Rodney felt the rough fabric of the jacket and the edge of the vest under his skin as his fingers curled around a bony shoulder, shaking it roughly. There was the sound of movement on the other side of the man he was attempting to wake.

"McKay?" a low, grumbling voice inquired. Ronon shuffled on his feet, taking care to stay in contact with the wall.

"Sheppard…he's not…he's…" Rodney breathed in deeply. He felt for a pulse as he lowered his ear over the approximated position of the man's mouth. There was a slow, steady beat against the tip of his fingers and a small puff of warm air tickled his skin. Relieved, he pulled back.

"Speak, I can't see you." Ronon was moving too slow. He kept one hand on the wall, assuring himself he would eventually find his way around the area in which they were. At least their voices didn't reverberate; therefore, the room had to be of small proportion.

"Oh right, yes, yes, it's dark isn't it? It's really dark and Sheppard's okay, he's breathing and all that, I checked. Which only leaves Teyla? Teyla? Are you here? Teyla? Teyla? Teyla?"

Ronon listened to McKay's rambling with a fondness he found incongruous. This was in no way a good situation, and yet he couldn't help thinking that it was impossibly normal in its precariousness, though the lack of response from Teyla was unnerving.

"Teyla? Teyla! TEYLA! Damn it! Teyla answer! TEYLA EMMAGAN, you answer me right this minute!" Rodney had to pause at what he had voiced. "This is not good, I'm channelling my mother! Not good at all so you better let me know where you are Teyla or else I'll AAAAAH!"

"Just me." Ronon's foot had encountered a bulky form, unmistakably McKay in its agitation. He lowered himself into a crouch and advanced his hand cautiously, sighing when he encountered a boot. He continued to move his hand, patting lightly. Skinny legs: Sheppard. His right hand glided over the wall, palms facing the room, searching.

"Hey!"

"What?"

"That's my face!"

"Knew that, felt ugly."

"Oh ha ha. Shouldn't we be looking for Teyla instead of trading insults over each other's physical attributes?"

"We're not trading. I spoke the truth and you got offended like a jarkell."

"What's a jarkell?"

"You." Ronon moved around the perimeter of the room, intent on reuniting his team.

"Incredibly smart and dashing good looks?"

"Sure."

"You're spending too much time with Sheppard."

"Sure." Ronon had indeed picked up a few of his 'appease the scientist' tricks.

"Oh God! You're turning into him as we speak!"

"Sure." Diverting the fear into annoyance like a pro.

"I can hear you shrug! This is bad; we need Teyla to set you straight! Find her!"

"Just did." Which he had. Luckily, she lay a few feet away her head pressed against the wall. He checked for a pulse and breath; both were accounted for. He patted up and down her body, gently, searching for reasons not to move her, but she didn't seem hurt. He picked her up, cradled the tiny frame to his chest and, keeping his left side against the wall, traced his steps back to McKay.

"She alright?"

"Yeah, think so."

"Good, that's good. We're all here, no one's dead. This is definitely much better than previous missions."

"Yeah." Ronon lowered Teyla's light body beside Sheppard and sat beside her, tapping her cheek, wanting so much to hear her speak.

"Sheppard! Wake up, you lazy bum!"

The sharp sound of skin against skin reached Ronon's ear. He wasn't the only one who felt the strain. "Don't slap him."

"I didn't slap him! I just…" Rodney searched for a plausible explanation before he felt Ronon's eyebrow shoot up and that strange grin he'd taken a liking to spread. "Ok, fine, I slapped him, a little. He should wake up! You hear, Sheppard, you should wake up!"

"I…try to avoid…grating voice…"

"Sheppard!" Hands scrambled for the man's face, feeling the flutter of eyelashes as fingers ventured to close to eyes.

"Get off." John's hands rose to grab Rodney's wrists and pushed them firmly away from the vicinity of his throbbing head. He settled a palm over his forehead and rubbed to alleviate the headache. "What's up?"

"Oh well not much, you know, just hanging out." Rodney mimicked John's cool and casual attitude before resorting back to nature. "What's up! What's up! We're in some kind of very dark place, held by who knows who for who knows what and you're suddenly the neighbourhood's dude? What's wrong with you?"

"Oooookaaaaay…Ronon?"

"Dark, stone-walled, small. All accounted for, threat unknown."

"Waiting?"

"Yeah."

"Oh God! You've both become pre-verbal! I don't believe this! Stuck in a box with Cro-Magnon and the Gang! I'm sick of this you know, being captured by everyone! Damn galaxy filled with homicidal morons!"

"Alright, calm yourself down." John groaned as he sat up, his hand locking on Rodney's forearm for leverage. Rodney's hand shot out to assist. "We don't know anything yet, could be they want help and think this is the only way to get it."

"Or, Colonel, it's entirely too possible that they want to stone, whip, bleed and lynch us. For sports."

"I'll go with my evaluation of the situation if you don't mind." John smiled in satisfaction, enjoying the simple task of bringing Rodney out of the Mindset of Doom and toward reassuring ground, like the Pleasure of Righteous Ranting.

"You're an idiot! A complete idiot! You do know the world is not all rainbows and butterflies right? It has come to your attention that we've met evil people a lot more often then nice, friendly, here-have-some-food people?"

"As a matter of fact it has, Rodney, and thanks for reminding us of all the time we've escaped these supposedly evil people." If he hadn't been a grown man in pain, John would've done a little dance of Rodney-stumping.

"Ah…well…I…oh fine then! Get us out of here!"

"I will. Ronon?"

The man couldn't be seen, but could be heard moving, slowly, deliberately through the room. They were surrounded by stone. One rough, irregular but apparently seamless slab of stone. The ceiling stretched not even a foot above his head, which, granted, would make this a fairly tall space, but he felt better knowing it was hardly as tall as he. "Stone, no openings, rough edges, ceiling about half a foot above my head. There's nothing but rock."

"Let's…wait and see."

"Wow, that's a great plan! Wait and see. Is that before of after you realise it's as dark as ink in here? No wonder you got promoted, you're obviously a military mastermind!"

"Shut it, McKay."

A small whimpering sound saved them from McKay's retort. Instead of answering in all his offended glory, Rodney reached out and slowly deposited his hand on Teyla's leg. "Teyla?"

"Ro'ney?"

"You alright?" John moved and placed a hand on the top of her head.

"… am well…"

"Ok, don't move, just rest a little."

She nodded, but they only heard the sound. "Where…"

"We don't know, don't worry 'bout it." John stroked her hair once before reclaiming his spot on the cold ground beside McKay.

"Does anyone actually remember what happened?" Surprisingly enough, Rodney hadn't wondered about their situation yet, which he supposed was quite a good thing. Sheppard's unending annoyingness had prevented him from worrying about it. "Last thing I remember is walking through the gate."

"You got hit first. Saw you fall like rocks before they got me." Ronon hadn't liked the feeling watching Teyla, Sheppard then McKay fall had brought on. He'd only had time to contemplate the unfairness of it all, yet another mission that brought peril to their lives, before his limbs had turned to liquid and he'd been falling as well.

"Who got us?"

"Don't know. Just saw you fall."

"That's so not good. We don't know where we are, who brought us here, what they want. We can't even see! There could be dead people littering the floor just across the room."

"Rodney! Come on!"

"There isn't, I checked the perimeter."

"Ok, but what about the middle! The middle of the room could be a communal grave!" Rodney sniffed purposefully at the air. "There. You smell that? It definitely smells like decay of some kind."

"It's your brain that's decaying, McKay! There are no dead body in here…"John bumped his shoulder companionably. "Don't freak; it'll be fine."

No one spoke of the cold fear that gripped their insides, the questions that gnawed at their minds. Where they in far worse danger than could be expected?

"Yeah, ok, it'll be fine. I don't believe you, but I'll hold you to it. I swear, Sheppard, if we don't make it back to Atlantis in one piece, all of us, I'll hold you accountable and…do something very bad…so bad in fact, I can't even describe it!"

"You do that, McKay." John shifted, spreading his legs, letting his knee rest against McKay's, offering and drawing comfort from the warmth of contact. He felt the leg move, a body scoot minutely closer and couldn't help the smile that tugged at his lips with the knowledge that he was needed, that no matter what happened, McKay still turned to him. "We'll get out of this."

At that moment, John would've been quite happy to know he was right, though the exit he envisioned was not quite the same the man standing on the other side of the wall had in mind.

Akhos smiled before laying his hand on the rock and stepping back as it shifted. He watched as the rock cleared and the occupants of the room came into view, though they were unaware of any changes, the cleared space only visible from the outside. Three men and a woman.

Akhos was going to enjoy this.