Wayfarers

by Stealth Dragon

The nightmare is over. It's time to go home. The team's journey back to Atlantis. Team fic and whump.

3. Chapter 3

A/N: Glad to see everyone enjoying this so far. Now for a bit more excitement.

Ch. 3

Rodney looked forward to the day when he could be reacquainted with the art of lounging around. The free room and board wasn't quite so free. Arcas and his mountain Eskimo tribe expected the strangers to pull a little weight. Not that he had to ask Ronon and Teyla: they helped out of the goodness of their hearts, either lugging heavy stuff or bustling around the kitchens. Rodney was a special case since he could neither cook nor lug heavy objects around for long periods. One would think him clear of all guestly duties, but Ronon felt like opening his big mouth concerning Rodney's 'big brain'. It turned out the Iyanek avoided the wraith by piling into a cave where their life-signs were hidden by a generator. Nothing overly fancy or anything to drool over – it's range barely encompassed the villagers no matter how they packed in. But it was intriguing enough for Rodney to grudgingly succumb to the request of giving it an overhaul rather than a tune-up, which the device was in dire need of.

Sheppard was exempt due to matters of health. The man could barely stand without wobbling. Yet he did contribute, if one would call scaring the little kiddies witless with stories of knife-wielding and mask wearing lunatics contributing. Although Sheppard had become rather clever about it. Rather than returning from the grave, the machete wielding psycho was sent by the city: "Which is why you must avoid going there at all costs." The adults were a lot more pleased by these newer versions than the originals.

Thanks to Sheppard's trait of being relentless and stubborn, he was gaining strength enough to move about on his own at a fast rate. He graduated from having to be upheld and fed to sitting up on his own and holding the cup of broth himself. Broth soon climbed to soup full of softened vegetables and bits of meat, or a porridge that was kind of like oatmeal but tasted like pecan pie according to John. Rodney kept wanting to sneak a bite but it felt low-down and dirty, like stealing food from a starving man, because it was stealing food from a starving man.

Days turned into a week that spilled over into a new week and John went from sitting up to standing up, then moving around on his own. It was usually about when he could walk again that boredom gnawed at him until he would gladly hold a plate of chopped vegetables just to have something to do, to at least feel like he was doing something, pulling his weight. Rodney called it delirious desperation, because the pilot was out of his mind for not taking advantage of the chance to lounge.

The decision to leave came about two days away from the end of the second week. Ronon was the one who brought it up after dinner, just before bed, a casual mention as though it were no big deal.

"So when do you think it best to head out?" he asked no one in particular as he pulled down the skins and blankets.

John, sitting up in his bed against his pillow, shrugged his thin shoulders. His joints were sharp like they could shred his shirt. "Whenever. I always say the sooner the better.

"We should at least wait one more day," Teyla said, "so we can prepare."

There were murmurs of agreement. Rodney kept his mouth shut, mostly because he was too busy grinding his teeth to say anything. When Ronon headed out, to use the privy or whatever, Rodney flung back his blankets and followed. He caught up with Ronon two doors down, grabbing his arm and pulling him around.

"What the hell, Ronon?" he hissed, keeping his voice at a level that he hoped the others couldn't hear. "Are you freakin' crazy? We can't leave now. Look, just because Sheppard can move around without being carried doesn't mean he's better. No offense to him, but he won't last a quarter of the way through the day in his condition."

Ronon shrugged casually. "Then I'll carry him."

"Oh, yes, he'll be thrilled about that."

"He'll let me, McKay. He puts his people before his life, pride included. He won't do anything that would slow us down."

Rodney clenched his jaw. He would have argued against Ronon's point if Sheppard hadn't already proved it true. Not once since this journey started had John made a peep about being carried, and him being out of it during that time had had nothing to do with it. If the man had things to say then he'd mumble them in his sleep if he had to.

McKay just hoped to high heaven it had nothing to do with John being beaten into permanent submission.. Sometimes conscious assent and subconscious subservience could be hard to tell apart.

"This is a bad idea," Rodney finally gritted out. He steeled himself for a backlash or at least a smoldering glare. He stood tall though his muscles tried to bow him in a cringe. When Ronon reached out, the resulting flinch was involuntary. But instead of snatching his hand back, the runner slowed its approach to Rodney's shoulder.

"We don't have a choice, McKay."

Rodney glowered. "Of course we have a choice, we always have a choice, and this isn't exactly a rocket-science decision. Stay and let Sheppard heal or go and watch him, and maybe even Teyla afterwards, collapse."

"Which is why we need to go now. I've been thinking this out for a while, McKay, even talking to Arcas and Gelv about it. These people can heal cuts, bruises, broken bones, and starvation but bigger sicknesses they aren't equipped to handle. Think about it McKay. You of all people should get it. That city wasn't sanitary and Teyla walked barefoot through those streets to find me. Half the weapons I was cut with still had blood on them. Sheppard was tossed on a pile of dead bodies. And I get the feeling from what I heard that the citadel only looks clean."

Rodney swallowed tightly. Ronon had so much of a point it actually made him queasy. That stupid sleeping chamber for the acolytes had always wreaked of urine, and there had been stains on the blankets and pallets Rodney had tried real hard not to think about. It all came down to germs, which meant illness, and they were way more susceptible to it than they were supposed to be, Teyla and John especially. If someone was going to get sick then this penicillin-ignorant world wasn't the place to be.

"Well," Rodney stammered, "no one's sick yet..."

Ronon released Rodney's shoulder. "We don't know what'll happen tomorrow, or the next day. We need to get off this world, the sooner the better. We've been here too long as it is." He then walked away, ending any further argument.

If Rodney didn't know any better, he could have sworn the Satedan wanted to cross the Stargate more than the rest of them.

----------------------------

Departure came the day after, as Teyla had suggested.

The Iyanek weren't cheap about supplying the little party with satchels fat with preserved foods and skin-flasks of water. Sheppard now had a coat and a pair of thick, leather boots to go with his blanket. Gelv provided Teyla with healing herbs, cloth bandages, and directions on how to use everything. After the days spent among these people, friendships had formed and the majority of the village gathered to see their guests off. Arcas and several of his men, layered in skins, led them down a path on the other side of the village, winding back and forth into the valley.

Rodney startled at the change in temperature. The upper mountains were arctic but the valley, though probably in the forties at most, felt like it was smoldering in the upper fifties. There were only a few slushy patches of snow huddled at the base of trees or clinging to dips in the ground. But where there was slush, there was also mud. The dead moss on the ground was like a squishy carpet that kept their boots clean, but the road looked like a pig's wallow.

"It would be best to keep to the side of the road," Arcas said. Then added with a slight smirk, "But not because of the mud." The smirk quickly vanished. "The weather fluctuates during this time of year, but the warmth is only a few days old and will last a few days more. People take this opportunity to travel, so you do best to remain hidden among the trees, keeping the road in sight rather than walking it."

Ronon and Arcas clasped hands. "Thank you, Arcas."

"We wish there were a way to repay you," said Teyla, her gaze to the ground. Rodney didn't like her docility. It didn't suit her and made him feel as though she had reverted to a small child (in terms of personality, not intelligence). It seemed down right amazing she even talked to anyone beyond the team.

John didn't say anything. The days of thinking the old Sheppard was back were long gone. The man was acting spooked, all tense and continually scanning the forest, reacting to the smallest sound. It was like a bad joke that the two most capable leaders of the group had been shoved to the back, forcing the anti-social loners to take the lead.

"We do not do this for reward," Arcas said, all pleasantly noble and sincere, and yet Rodney still expected a bunch of soldiers to jump out from behind the trees and yell "surprise, slave-scum, you're going back." Rodney hadn't been trusting of any alien culture since secret underground bunkers popped up on what was supposed to be a backwards Amish world. Being a scholarly servant at the citadel was the lemon icing on the cake. Every damn day of being in that place was like suffering a constant stream of hazing reaching bloody proportions. A man couldn't sneeze without getting punched in the face for it.

So Rodney held no qualms about being paranoid.

"Good fortune to you, friends," Arcas said as a farewell, with the parting gift of returning Dex's weapon. Then he and his skin-clad entourage slipped into the forests, back the way they had come.

As much as Rodney didn't want to, he kept questioning the fortune of meeting the Iyanek, searching for the loop-hole or flaw in the entire encounter. The only one he found but couldn't really count for logical reasons was the one Ronon had talked about, that these mountain people never adopted the strays they took in. Such thinking didn't sit well in terms of taking in dogs and cats, but people aren't easy to housebreak, especially ones already broken in to their own way of life.

When the mountain men became lost to sight, Ronon was the one to start moving them out. They sloughed through the moist forest smelling of wood-rot, moss, and mold, huddled around the Stedan who was now the unofficial protector since he no longer had to carry John. Teyla was on one side, Sheppard the other, and Rodney behind both Ronon and John in case the stick-figure man lost the strength to stand up. Water gurgled and pool at their feet, squeezed from the spongy moss that was brown from being covered by snow.

Rodney still kept expecting slavers or soldiers to pop out of nowhere. That's how they'd been caught in the first place, when soldiers from the neighboring country (i.e. the one the team was now trudging through) emerged from around shrubs and trees in an ambush. On the positive side, not a single shot had been fired. On the negative, they were stripped, slapped into shifts that couldn't keep a mouse warm, and sold like cattle on the auction block.

McKay had never been so glad that he wasn't exactly a 'looker'. His brains, however, he'd cursed and kept cursing when that obsessive freak Joral had bought him. The man hadn't been so much a task master as a dominatrix... okay, a rather bad analogy. Just plain domineering. Being able to read Ancient and Ancient-esque type languages had made McKay useful but not exactly valuable, and Joral seemed to have gotten a kick out of kicking Rodney whenever he could. He wasn't a sadist. Rodney was pretty sure the man had either been literally schizophrenic or borderline autistic. Joral had had so many rules. Soooo many... Rodney still got headaches just thinking back and trying to remember them all. If so much as a single ribbon book-mark was wrinkled, Joral would jump into fits that made three years olds seem calm.

Except three year olds didn't have access to whips and chemicals that burned the skin without leaving a mark. Joral didn't like imperfection.

Rodney scowled. He wasn't supposed to be thinking about that bastard. He'd promised himself that he would completely forget having met the man and regard the experience as a bad dream. But denial wasn't playing fair.

When twilight came early to the woods, Ronon passed the gun over to Teyla and set out in search of a cave. What he found, instead, was a tree hollow big enough for the four of them to pack into. There was no dry wood for a fire, so they huddled close within the wooden cave, their blankets and coats layered across their backs like a single covering as they ate dried bread, fruit, and cheese. When they were finished, they formed another human nest with John and Teyla on the inside and Rodney and Ronon on the outside.

Rodney was actually becoming desensitized to the touching proximity as of late. But not to the sensation of Sheppard's bones digging into his arms. He had his fisted hands and forearms against John's back between the shoulder blades, could feel the rise and fall of the Lt. colonel's breathing and the occasional shudder on the exhales. McKay could only sigh in defeat and endure what felt like touching a skeleton. He drifted off into dreams of running down corridors of marble-tiled floors and pillars of pale brown, stretching up to dome ceilings like a gaudy cathedral. Sound was amplified, Joral's nasal voice everywhere as McKay ran from him like a rat in a maze.

Rodney woke to whimpering that he realized wasn't his own. It was too dark to see, but not like Rodney needed to see. He could feel Sheppard shaking, squirming, probably gearing up to make another break for it. Since McKay didn't hear any cooing words of comfort, it was safe to assume he was the only one aware of what was going on. Which meant it was up to him to keep it from happening.

Rodney twisted his lips in consternation. Providing support through his mere presence he could do. Anything beyond that felt like crossing unsavory lines. Still, it was either that or suffer being potentially kicked in the ribs when Sheppard finally freaked. Rodney reached out twitchily, placing his hand against John's bony back to begin rubbing in misshapen circles. He grimaced every time his hand ran across the knobby column of Sheppard's protruding backbone. But after a moment, probably no more than a minute, Sheppard settled down and fell silent. Rodney would have been a little worried about the man's perfect stillness if it hadn't been for the rise and fall of his flanks.

Rodney went back to sleep, slipping into dreams of running from Joral's voice shouting too loud to make any sense. He awoke to someone shaking him roughly by the shoulder.

"I'm up!" McKay yelped, struggling to sit up while pushing away from the hand gripping his shoulder. That hand gripped tight, holding him in place, and Rodney went still, his heart jackhammering like a rabbit's.

"McKay?"

Rodney looked up into Sheppard's sunken, pale, confused face. If it hadn't been for the man's hair he would have been the spitting image of a Holocaust survivor. Actually, the hair didn't make a lick of difference. It was hard to look at John, sometimes.

Sheppard squeezed Rodney's shoulder. "You okay, buddy? You were breathing kind of fast. Looked like you were going to be sick."

Rodney looked at John incomprehensibly, then outside at the cold, gray early morning. He shook his head, shaking out the dream adhering to his mind like cobwebs. "No, uh... I mean, yes, I'm fine. Bad dreams."

John nodded, worried and understanding. "All right. Come on. We need to eat so we can head out."

Breakfast was more bread and cheese, then another day of trudging over soaked moss and mud. When they stopped for lunch, McKay thought his feet were going to fall off. He limped for the rest of the day, but they didn't stop until a little before twilight when Sheppard started to stumble and wheeze. He'd managed longer the other day. Rodney suspected constant exposure to the elements to be the culprit. The man was shivering even with the blanket and coat.

Ronon didn't find any caves or tree-hollows, just a dry patch of earth and a little kindling for a small fire. Their sleeping configuration was the same: John and Teyla inside, and Ronon and Rodney outside. This time it was Teyla against John's back, with Sheppard facing Ronon's back and Rodney Teyla's. She had one hand pressed to John's spine and the other resting casually on his ribs.

There was nothing casual about it. McKay had seen her do that every night since they'd found Sheppard. She always kept at least one hand on John while leaning back against whoever was behind her. Tonight, it was Rodney's turn to be poked in the chest by her shoulder blades. She felt sparse against him, delicate, like something that could be picked up and carried away in the slightest breeze. He kept his arms folded to avoid touching her with his hands since he knew she wouldn't like that.

McKay awoke during the night to a slight chill against his chest. Teyla had moved away from him to huddle tight, her hands no longer on John but pressed tight against her own chest as though trying to avoid touching anyone. Rodney had the feeling that was exactly what she was doing. He fell back to sleep.

----------------------------

"Wake up, then!"

Rodney gasped and yelped when he was hauled to his feet by the shoulder of his coat to be shoved forward into Ronon's thicker bulk. The Satedan reached back to steady Rodney with one hand, the other holding John's arm to keep him upright. Teyla was thrust at them from the other direction for Rodney to catch and keep standing.

"What the hell!" he squeaked, which earned him a slap to the back of the head.

"Shut up!"

Rodney cringed and snapped his jaw shut. His attacker stepped out from behind, swaggering, dressed in dark leathers and a tattered red shirt tucked into tight leather pants. Glancing around revelaed the rest of their captors dressed like medieval bikers in long-coats or jackets. Ten men in all armed with guns, bolas, whips, and various wicked looking daggers and swords either in hand or sheaths surrounded the team. They were all leering, all smug, and all smelling incredibly unwashed.

The gang stepped back to allow a single man in a black leather long-coat to circle the little group, looking them over. The man was John's height but as lean as Ronon, with a head of prickly brown hair, a perpetual five o'clock shadow, and a self-satisfied look that didn't quite fit well in the manic gray eyes.

"Four," the man said. "We got ourselves quite a haul, boys."

The men nodded and murmured in agreement, reminding Rodney, for some reason, of a bunch of trained monkeys.

The man moved in closer to Teyla and reached out with a gloved hand to run his fingers through her hair. "I especially like this one."

Rodney pulled Teyla back and Ronon grabbed the man's wrist, thrusting it away. The entourage lifted their various weapons and inched in closer. Psycho stepped back, wiping his mouth then pointing at the Satedan. "Don't really like him."

"Want us to be rid of him?" someone shouted.

Rodney was pretty sure he, Teyla, and John weren't really thinking about it when they surrounded Ronon to shield him. Psycho wiped his mouth again and glanced around in painfully obvious indecision. "Uh..." The man's thought process looked painful.

"He'd make a good fighter," someone offered helpfully.

Psycho boy smiled. "Yeah, yeah, he would! No, don't get rid of him."

Rodney exchanged a look with John, putting a finger to his head and twirling it. Sheppard nodded in agreement.

Psycho boy just stood their, wallowing in further indecision and shifting like a kid with ADHD.

"Why don't we bring 'em to your da, Ackar? Bet he'll know what to do with 'em."

Ackar nodded and smiled. "Yeah, he will." He stepped up to Ronon, meeting his gaze, smirking like an imbecile, then punched the bigger man right in the jaw. Ronon's head snapped to the side, which made Ackar grin even more stupidly. "Yeah, that oughta teach you then. Right?"

The men murmured and chuckled.

Rodney rolled his eyes, and for the first time in a long while, mumured without thinking. "Yes, that little slap certainly showed him."

Ackar might not have seemed all that at home upstairs, but apparently had excellent hearing when he snapped his head around to glare at Rodney. "What did you say, little man?"

Rodney gaped. "I... uh... nothing."

Ackar either didn't buy it or wasn't listening, probably the latter, when he stalked up to Rodney, shoving Teyla roughly to the ground out of the way to invade McKay's personal space. "What did you say? You said something, little man. What was it?" He then shoved Rodney hard in the shoulders. Rodney stumbled until his heel snagged a root and he fell to his back, the air shoved from his lungs. Sheppard was immediately at his side, helping him sit up, while Ronon handled Teyla.

"He didn't say anything," John growled. He was about to get Rodney back to his feet when Ackar slammed his boot into John's side. Sheppard toppled to the ground with a broken cry of pain. Rodney twisted with the intent to help the pilot only to have that same boot shoved into his chest, pinning him to the ground.

"That's right, little man," Ackar said, wiping irritably at a string of saliva stretching from his lips. He increased his weight on the boot until Rodney couldn't draw another breath. "You didn't say anything. And you won't say anything from now on unless I say otherwise. Got it?"

Rodney clawed at the ground and nodded. "Y-y-y-eeee-ssss."

Ackar grinned, "Good," and lifted his boot away. Rodney gasped in a lung full, rubbing his chest that was going to be bruised and sore later. Rodney and John were pulled roughly to their feet, Rodney clutching his sternum and John his ribs.

"You all right?" John whispered.

"Yeah, you?"

"What did I say!" barked Ackar. Rodney cringed and dropped his gaze, piling on the humility. John's expression shifted when he looked from Ackar to Rodney, going from a scowl to sympathetic. The team huddled in close, Teyla placing her hand on Rodney's back in an act of comfort. They were herded through the forest over ravines and barely existent streams that were more like mud-pits, staining their legs past the knees with brown muck.

"We're moving away from the road," Ronon said. That sparked sudden panic in Rodney, but he knew better than to talk.

"Back to the city?" Teyla said, asking what Rodney had wanted to, and sounding just as frightened. They were all looking expectantly and fearfully up at the Satedan. When the big man shook his head, they relaxed, just a fraction.

The trees became taller, thicker, and closer obscuring much of the way ahead. They eventually broke through to see a high wall of wooden stakes and a massive gate that groaned open when one of Ackar's men started shouting. On the other side were more trees and a muddy path leading to the massive, run down porch of an even more massive and rundown country mansion. The place could have made one hell of a haunted house with its shattered windows and warped and gray wooden walls if there hadn't been so many people crawling all over the place; sticking their heads out the broken windows or leaning precariously over the rail of an upper balcony. Rodney counted about twelve couples making out, hot and heavy, all over the place.

Please don't let this be some coed brothel, please please please.

The team was hustled into the immaculate front room with a moldy red carpet leading to a set of open double doors between two broad staircases. The doors led into what Rodney guessed was some kind of ballroom. On the dais or bandstand or whatever it was was a throne draped in different colored silks, a night stand covered by a blue cloth on the right, and several meaty looking men surrounding it. The occupant of the throne was a man in his late-fifties, with prickly iron-gray hair and a weathered face, square jaw and milky blue eyes. He was dressed in a plain white shirt, leather jerkin, black pants, and black buccaneer boots.

He also looked bored out of his skull, his head resting in his upturned hand and his eyes heavy-lidded. When Ackar shoved the team to the foot of the dais, the old man heaved a weary and woe-begone breath.

"Who are they?" he sighed, sounding just as blase as he looked.

"Prisoners, father," Ackar said, practically bouncing off the walls. "I caught them trespassing and brought them to you just like you always ask."

Whoever the old guy was, he had a lot of followers who were now piling into the ballroom for a look at what was going on. Several of the gathered moved to stand on either side of the throne below the dais, two young men and three young women. The young man with the shoulder-length, dirty blond head had women with ample chests in either arm. The boy next to him was shorter, willowy, his dirty-blond hair cut short and as rakish as Sheppard's, and his blue eyes enlarged behind wire-rimmed spectacles.

The shortest of the young women reminded Rodney of a female Robin Hood complete with a bow (well, crossbow) strapped to her back and a fierce look in her green eyes. The other two were complete bimbos: the blond looked about ready to pop out of her dress the way she puffed out her chest. The red-head was simultaneously looking the team over with a predatory eye as she caressed the bald head of a thick-armed lug. Her green eyes were especially keen on Ronon, drinking him in like he was fine wine.

The old man shifted to lean his head on the other hand. "And what do you expect me do to with them?" he asked.

Ackar's smile faltered a little and he shrugged. "Uh... I don't know. Whatever we do with trespassers?"

"We rob them, Ackar. We don't bring them to our home," the old man admonished. He sighed and rubbed both his eyes with one hand. "You really need to stop doing that, son. We barely have enough food as it is. You know we can't let them go, now."

Rodney's heart dropped like a rock into his stomach.

The old man looked up to glare at each of the men gathered behind Ackar. "And none of you brainless lot thought to remind him of this... again? Gaw, why do I even let him have an escort? You're all blasted useless!"

Ackar whipped out his knife. "Want us to be rid of them?"

The old man rolled his eyes. "No, you idiot. We're not murderers. It draws in too much attention from the city."

"Somehow," said the young man with a woman in each arm, "I doubt this bunch'll be missed by the city."

This was starting to look bad, real bad. Rodney's heart stuttered and he felt his hands start to shake. Teyla gripped one, to comfort and Rodney was sure to be comforted as well, as she was looking fairly unsettled.

Then John stepped forward and they all stiffened in sudden dread.

"Um," Sheppard began, his shoulders hunched and back curved in a show of looking inarguably harmless. "Excuse me? Yeah, listen, you don't have to worry about us telling anyone where your hideout is. We're not even from around here and all we want to do is get home. You don't need to keep us around. If you let us go, we'll just be on our merry way and pretend we never met. And trust me when I say we don't like the city any more than you do."

Ackar whipped his knife back out and advanced on John. "You speak when spoken to you scrawny little niyek!" He stopped in his tracks when Ronon interposed himself in front of Sheppard.

"Ackar," the old man sighed. "The man has a right to speak." He turned a rather kindly looking gaze on John. "What's your name, young man?"

"John Sheppard. And this is Teyla Emmagen, Ronon Dex, and Rodney McKay. We were just trying to get back to our world when your son found us and brought us here."

The old man smiled caustically. "He's always doing that. My name is Gelfer Orthan, leader of the Freemen, purveyors of the fine art of extortion. We live off the land but mostly off of whatever travelers happen to have on their person. But all transaction is supposed to be dealt with on the road, not within our walls. I apologize for my son's foolishness, but am afraid that you won't be able to go anywhere. Those who pass within these walls, stay within these walls. We can't afford to dole out trust like candy in our business, you understand?"

Not really, Rodney wanted to say, but Ackar was hovering a little too close for comfort.

"Given time," Gelfer continued, "should we find that you can indeed be trusted, then perhaps you could leave. But that takes quite a bit of time. During which, you'll need to be earning your keep."

"If not?" Ronon growled.

Gelfer shrugged and looked pointedly at Sheppard. "You starve."

Ackar grabbed Ronon's arm, only to have it jerked away. "This one'll make a good fighter. Don't you think, father?"

Gelfer huffed and looked ready to leap from the dais and slap the young man upside the head. "Ackar, we'll not be making slaves out of these folk. He'll be good at whatever he wishes. They will need to be given a room, maybe the library. Only space we got left."

The boy with the glasses slumped at this.

Gelfer waved indifferently. "Show them the way and give them some food. Not you, Ackar. We need to have a talk."

The team was suddenly surrounded, receiving pats on the back as they were, once again, herded away back out into the foyer. The blond kid, now with only one girl in his arms, stepped around to face the group. "You a fighter, big man?" he said. "Not that you have to, but good coin can be made in the fighting circle."

Ronon's lip curled in disgust and his fists clenched. "No." He spat the word, pouring on enough venom and finality to make everyone around him flinch. The red-head girl appeared out of nowhere, running a slender finger over Ronon's shoulder and across his chest. She shoved Rodney out of the way and gave Teyla a dead-panned glance that was both self-satisfied and spiteful.

"He'd do well as a protector," she simpered.

The blond boy smirked. "You don't need another one, Sya."

"A girl can never have enough, Kelath."

The blond with the squashed bosoms started tugging on John's arm, nearly yanking him off his feet. "I like this one. Get more meat on his bones and he'd be quite handsome," she giggled.

John pulled his arm away in a violent recoil that had him backing into Ronon and glancing frantically around like a cornered animal looking for a way out, ready to bolt when he found it. It shocked Rodney the level of irrational fear he saw in John at that moment, the wild expression that could go either way toward fight or flight. He looked quite ready to fight, actually, until Teyla grabbed his hand and held it, grounding him with physical contact that was both familiar and kind. The blond pouted and made another grab for John's arm, only for the pilot to jerk away. Rodney finally, surreptitiously, placed himself between the grabby-girl and the colonel.

The red-head's eyes rolled. "You've always had terrible taste in men, Jyza."

The girl just pouted more, crossing her arms and stamping her foot.

The little welcoming party was interrupted when lady Robin Hood muscled her way through, squeezing her petite body through the thicker bodies of sweaty, bad-smelling men.

"All right," she bellowed. "Da said to show 'em to the libraries so let's move 'em there already before he finds us loitering."

Everyone complained as well as complied, leading the team up the left-hand staircase. They were taken down a hall with moldy blue carpeting to a room at the end that opened up to a stone chamber the size of the ballroom and wall to wall books. There were three tables and several padded easy chairs scattered haphazardly. Between the bookshelves were faded paintings and torn tapestries too mangled for the pictures to be discernible.

Most of the Freemen left, except for the red-head, Sya, who circled Ronon once more, the blond Jyza who was staring at John with girlish affection, Kelath, his woman, Lady Robin hood, and the boy with the glasses.

"You're not to go beyond the grounds or to the gate," Kelath said. "They'll be guards posted outside the door should you need anything. Always are on day one for the newcomers. Food and bedding'll be brought later." He then turned and left. Lady Robin Hood snapped at the two girls who hurried out, Jyza bouncy and Sya sauntering.

Lady Robin Hood looked at the spectacled kid. "Coming Rial?"

The boy, Rial, folded his arms in a way that screamed insecure and lowered his gaze. "In a minute Giana. I, uh, need to make some things clear to them."

Giana looked from Rial to the team, her gaze hard and oozing promises of hurt should anyone lay a finger on the young man. "All right, then," she said. "You shout if they try anything." She left.

And then there was one. Rial shrugged, looking apologetic. "Giana is very... protective."

We can see that, Rodney wanted to snap, but didn't feel safe enough to. Talking had, once again, become like blood in shark infested waters. This scrawny kid could be as vicious as his older brother for all McKay knew, the insecurity a front to hide the boy's true nature. Kind of the same way the skinny, laid-back look worked for Sheppard.

"Just so you know," the kid said, "I may kick you out from time to time. I like to come here. It's the only place a man can get some peace and quiet."

John grinned. "It's not like we're a noisy bunch. But we get it."

Rial smiled slightly and cleared his throat again. "You, uh, slaves then?"

Ronon narrowed his eyes. "What does it matter?"

"Oh, nothing at all. Ackar's always bringing in former slaves. You can always tell the slaves from the spies. Spies aren't usually as nervous as you lot, and no offense to you, Mr. Sheppard, but neither are they that skinny."

"If being skinny proves our innocence," John said, "I'm okay with it."

Rial smiled less sheepishly and more amused. "Well, former slaves is what Ackar usually runs across. Most don't mind joining up with my da's gang. Free food, free shelter, and all you have to do is help in setting up the raids on travelers. Nothing violent, mind you. My da doesn't believe in violence. No point to it and it draws too much attention, he always says. He's a smart one, my da, and a good man. He'll treat you fair." Which sounded all well and good, until the boy began gnawing on his bottom lip nervously. "My brothers and sisters you've gotta watch out for. Not so much Giana, and definitely not Jyza. Kelath," he shrugged, "he likes to observe when there's trouble. Ackar you met. Sya's used to getting what she wants. Smarter than she looks, my sister. If the others want something, they come to her to get it, 'cause she knows how."

"What about the rest of your dad's gang?" Ronon asked.

"They're followers. What ever my brothers and sisters do, they go along with it. Its mostly Ackar, Sya, and Kelath in the lead. I've never been much for inspiring folk. No need to worry though. Taking sides isn't a must, but it does help. If you want to avoid all the side-taking, all you need do is make yourself scarce and uninteresting. You'll find plenty of folk who are only along because they have to be, not because they joined."

"Rial," said John, moving in a little closer. "Is membership in your dad's gang really permanent? There's absolutely no way to convince him to just let us go home?"

Rial shrugged. "Given time. He's let people leave, usually after a couple of years. But he won't be heading the gang for much longer. The day of the vote is coming up. He'll be choosing one of us to take his place. Usually the vote doesn't happen for another few years, but my da's been feeling a bit down and is looking to retire. Once it's decided who'll lead, then it'll be up to them whether folk who want to leave get to leave. Right now the favor's between Ackar and Kelath."

Rodney's heart took a nose dive, Teyla gaped, and John paled to pure white. Ronon just scowled as always. They exchanged looks that said enough: screwed, screwed, screwed, screwed, screwed!

John looked back at Rial. "Uh, Rial, think you could tell us a little more about this day of the vote thing?"

Their meals arrived a little after Rial launched into the inner politics of the Freemen, so the kid joined them. The ruler-ship of the guild was supposed to be a monarchy, passed on to the oldest son or daughter. But several generations back the citizens of the gang make a stink about the new ruler who they felt to be a bit of a pansy. Defection was threatened, so the current guild master put ruler ship to a vote. Bloodline still mattered, but the people got to chose which offspring took the throne. Thus all the divisions and people playing favorites toward certain siblings.

"Normally it works out fine," Rial said, wiping his hands off on his trousers after finishing his bread. "But Ackar is in the lead with the most followers, and he isn't exactly da's favorite, if you couldn't tell. Kelath he feels is too worldly, less interested in ruling to maintain the guild, more interested in ruling for the benefits. Sya is smart but can be cruel, and Jyza, though she is my sister, is no better than Ackar. That leaves me and Giana. Da hasn't said it, but he's been encouraging me to make more of an effort to gain followers. I think he wants me to rule."

"Have you?" John asked. "Gained followers, I mean."

Rial tucked his bottom lip under his teeth and shook his head no. "I'm not... very good at it. Not many find burying one's nose in a book much fun."

Good, gosh, could these people be more stereotypically diverse? Idiot, bimbo, brainiac, player, feminist and a calculating, toxic vixen. Rodney stopped chewing the last bit of meat (he honestly hoped it was meat) that had been floating around in the stew. He had the workings of a painfully cliché detective novel right here, the kind that would make the best seller list because it was too damn simple a plot not to follow.

The things they encountered in the Pegasus galaxy. Sheppard's brief acquaintance with Chaya could have made for a kick-ass romance novel, minus any love-making scenes.

Rial shifted the subject to day to day life at the guild, how business was slow thanks to the weather but would probably pick up should the warmth linger. He then took leave of them, calling in a few lackeys to remove the dishes and bring the bedding that hadn't arrived yet. The beds were pallets of straw, stuffed into sheets, and ragged blankets. The team shifted the tables to make room for the pallets to be side by side. It was the usual configuration, this time with John being between Rodney and Teyla. The blankets took a little work to get them layered to form a single blanket covering them all at once. No one said anything, either because they were panicking, or in Teyla's, Sheppard's, and Ronon's case, plotting

Rodney dreamed the same dream of running through immaculate halls from a manic voice that was everywhere, always getting closer. He woke up once to Sheppard's sharp elbow in his chest. The man was writhing, moaning, but Teyla was already on it, rubbing John's back and speaking softly to him. The man looked unnaturally small curled and half-swallowed by the pallet. He eventually stilled with a small shiver and a whimper. He'd been dreaming more since they'd let the mountains, not that there was anything they could do about it, but it still spawned a reason to feel concerned that wouldn't be ignored. Still, again, nothing they could do. Rodney slipped back to sleep and thankfully didn't dream. Morning arrived rather suddenly with someone pounding at the doors, shouting breakfast.

"Get it while there's plenty left to get."

Rodney hauled his stiff body from the shared warmth of the blanket and stood, arching his back until it popped. He joined Ronon in taking the bowls that were handed out, one in each hand for porridge to be ladled and a spoon added after.

"Food always handed out like this?" Ronon asked.

The portly man with the stringy black hair and pregnant-like gut nodded. "Yup. Master's orders. Ensures everyone gets a fair share."

Rodney leaned forward for a peek down the hall to see others going from door to door, slopping the watery sludge into bowls. He grinned. "Huh, room service."

The fat man sniffed and waddled away, swinging the half-empty porridge bucket. Rodney and Ronon returned to the beds where Teyla was just now sitting up. Sheppard continued to sleep and they let him. Back with the mountain Eskimos, Sheppard had slept entire days through, not counting when he was roused for meals. Sleeping in ten minutes to an extra hour had been an improvement.

They were forced to wake him when they realized the porridge congealed fast. He didn't sit up, just pused himself forward enough to reach the bowl and wooden spoon. He looked exhausted, but then he'd been looking exhausted since he'd started moving around on his own.

"So what's the activity schedule for today?" Rodney asked around a mouthful of slop.

Sheppard swirled his hardening breakfast listlessly. "Find a way out of here."

"Eat more, John," Teyla prodded. Sheppard took another tiny bite, then another, until he finally pushed the bowl away. The man's appetite always sucked in the morning.

"By finding a hole in the wall?" Rodney said. "Or whatever might act as a good bribe for Gelfer? Just remember Elizabeth's policy on not trading weapons." When he was met with no response, he looked down to see Sheppard had fallen back to sleep.

---------------------------

The team whittled the day away by wandering the compound, checking, without looking like they were checking, the integrity of the massive wall around the complex. The reconnoitering was a poor effort at best with most of their concentration on avoiding the general population. Ronon was the center of attention and annoyed by it. Rodney was completely ignored and, for once, felt relieved. Teyla and Sheppard were in between and miserable.

While exploring the grounds, groups of men would wander just within reach of Teyla for an attempted pinch on the rear or accidental brush of the shoulder along her breasts. Teyla reacted fast both like a spooked mouse and striking snake. There came no grabbing wrists and twisting them until they snapped. She simply shoved them away, although she did bite one man's hand, which led to a fist fight between him and Ronon. Ronon laid the guy flat just as crowds started to form but before bets could be placed.

Sheppard's suffering was a little more mental with some physical thrown in. The women didn't leer at him the way they did Ronon. They made fun of him. They called him a walking corpse, a sack of bones, diseased, on and on. Sheppard seemed more disappointed that they couldn't come up with anything better. Then the name-calling turned to whispers about John being weak, capable of being brought down by even the smallest female, easily subdued.

"We could force him into a bed and he wouldn't be able to stop us," one woman giggled.

"Not really much of him to bed," said another.

"Does it matter?" another.

John was normally a hard man to read, but he was an open book today. There was that wild-eyed look to him again, the caution that was ready to spill into panic; his breathing accelerating, the color draining from his face until it was perfectly white. What stringy muscles remained in his body pulled so tight there was no doubt in Rodney's mind that one snap of a twig would send the man bolting. In terms of flight and fight, Sheppard was ready for both, like a silent promise that if the women tried what they were planning, if they even attempted to restrain him... Rodney wasn't sure what John would do, just that he would do something, and it would be bad. McKay didn't know whether to call it terror or fury, and sure as hell didn't know what to do about it.

Ronon did. He moved in close to John, hovering protectively with one large paw resting lightly on the decrepit shoulder, shooting the gaggle of women a glance that promised hurt if they tried anything, the fact that they were women be damned. Teyla mirrored Ronon, letting the old Teyla shine through as she threatened with her eyes. She was small, underfed, those woman taller, bulkier from better feeding, but the Athosian woman would take them all and win, Rodney didn't doubt that for a second.

"Maybe we should go inside," Rodney said.

They did, and John immediately calmed, sagging in both relief and exhaustion. The team headed for the stairs only to stop. Ackar was bounding down the steps trailing his flock of supporters, his eyes fixed on Ronon.

"You, big man." Ackar dared to move in close until he was almost nose to chin with the Satedan. He shifted from foot to foot, fists clenched, giving Rodney the feeling a fight was about to break out. But in the brief time of coming to know Ackar, the man was a perpetual fight always waiting to happen. "I want you in the ring."

Ronon snorted and shoved past Ackar. Ackar spun around, red-faced. "You think you can just say no that easy? You wait, big man. My father won't be Master for long. The moment I'm in the throne, you're in the fight ring!"

None of Akcar's followers made a move to stop the larger man. Ronon muscled past them clearing a path for the others. Rodney's shoulder brushed, accidentally, against Ackar's since his entourage didn't allow enough room for a wider berth. McKay was suddenly yanked back by the scruff of his coat and thrown to the floor, Ackar towering over him. "You say something, little man?"

Rodney balked and gape. "Wha... Me? I didn't say anything!"

Ackar grabbed a fistful of collar, lifted Rodney, and slammed a hard right hook into his face. Rodney's head snapped sideways and his vision tried to fade into black.

"What did you say!" Ackar snarled. Then he was thrown back by Ronon for Sheppard and Teyla to rush in and get Rodney to his feet. Ronon attempted to join in but was accosted when Ackar leaped on his back, arms around bigger man's neck and legs around his waist. Ronon easily grabbed both Ackar's arms and flipped him over, only to have Ackar twist onto all fours and lunge at the Satedan with a snarl. He plowed into him, driving him back about two feet. Ronon grabbed him by the collar of the shirt and one arm to toss him sideways. Ackar was fast to recover and bolted forward only to be jerked away by Gelfer.

"Ackar," Gelfer calmly chastised, shaking his son like a bad pup, "time for another talk."

"But da...!"

"No buts, let's go." Gelfer began dragging a kicking and pouting Ackar toward the ballroom, casting a long-suffering and apologetic look to the team before vanishing behind the doors. Ackar's followers milled and shuffled about uselessly. No one tried to stop the team as they finished their journey up the stairs, McKay cupping his throbbing eye and mumbling "ow, ow, ow" all the way.

They burst into the library. Rial, sitting in one of the lounge chairs, looked up from his book.

Rodney sucked in a hissing breath when he inadvertently pressed his palm into the tender flesh of his eye. "Ow, ow, ow, what the hell is wrong with your brother! Ow!" He was shoved into an easy chair, his hand pulled away by Teyla so they could all have a good look at the damage.

"We need something cool to press against it," Teyla said.

"I'll get water," Ronon replied, and headed out.

Rial hovered close by, craning his neck like a rubber-necker at a car-wreck. Rodney curled his lip over his teeth. "Didn't answer my question, kid."

"Ackar did that?" Rial asked.

"No, I ran into a door," Rodney spat. "Of course he did this! I was just walking past him, then he turns around and slugs me as though I'd just insulted his grandmother. I didn't even say anything!"

"Yeah," said John, "it was actually kind of weird." He looked over at Rial. "Is it normal for Ackar to blow up for no reason?"

Rial shrugged. "Sometimes. Ackar's unpredictable. It's what makes everyone respect him. He's usually only the most violent to those he thinks are trying to undermined him."

Rodney rolled his eyes and suffered for it when pain lanced through his skull. He cringed and winced. "Great, a freakin' paranoid with anger management issues. As if life didn't suck enough right now."

"My da says it's because he's afraid. He fights to show his authority, but instead of fighting strong men, he fights those weaker than him."

"He attacked Ronon."

"Oh, sometimes he'll fight the big ones if he's angered enough. If he starts to lose he just gets his men to hold them down so he can beat on them."

"I'm surprised he hasn't gone after Sheppard," Rodney said. "Not that I want him to..."

"Well – and no offense to you, Mr. Sheppard – but my da actually locked Ackar in the cells once for beating on a sick man. My da usually can't stop Ackar from picking on those weaker if those weaker fight back, because then Ackar can blame them for starting the fight and judgment can't really be passed. But if they're too weak to fight, then my da knows who he needs to be punished."

John grinned sheepishly. "Guess it kind of pays to be the weakest of the bunch." It was a poor attempt at lightening the mood. Rodney gave Sheppard a heavy lidded stare but didn't say anything.

Ronon returned with a wet cloth that he tossed to Teyla who pressed it softly to Rodney's eye, lifting his hand to hold it in place. "Keep it there until the swelling goes down," she said.

"I know the routine. So, Rial, if your brother's in the lead in the polls because he's a bully, what does your other brother have going for him? Because, seriously, he's looking like the lesser of two evils here, and if he became leader..."

Rial shook his head dejectedly. "Kelath likes to indulge, charm, and most of his followers are the women. He wouldn't help you any more than Ackar. If anything he'd probably sell you back to the city."

Rodney's stomach clenched. "Okay," he squeaked. "What about your sister, Sya?"

Rial blanched. "She would keep you around for her own amusement."

John was the one who paled at that one.

Rodney wasn't even going to try and suggest the overly buxom blond. "Okay, and Geena, Jean,...?"

Rial perked up. "Giana? Personally, I think she'd be a great leader, but da wants me, I think, because I can read and learn better than anyone. My ma had made sure of that before she died, since I took more of an interest in the stories she would tell us."

Rodney narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. "So you're the favorite, just lacking the support?"

Rial nodded, biting his lip and fiddling with the small book in his hands.

Rodney sat forward. "If we could figure out a way to help you win support, would you let us go?"

Rial stilled, his jaw sagging open. Rodney snapped his fingers rapidly. "Come on, kid, it's not a hard question. You have in your possession the four best people in the galaxy to help you out, here. You need brains, you've got me. Insight into military strategy: Sheppard. Fighting skills: Teyla. And Ronon makes one hell of a body guard should things turn ugly. And since we're kind of between a rock and a hard place, we have nothing to lose. We can help you do this, kid. All we ask in return is that you let us go on our way so we can get back home. It's really not a bad deal if you think about it."

Rial blinked dumbly. "You'd – really help me?"

Rodney tossed up his hand. "Yes! Did I not just say that? We're kind of desperate and you're kind of our best shot of getting home again. So take it or leave it, kid, although you'd be better off taking it."

Rial just stood there for a couple of heartbeats before a hesitant smile finally materialized. "All right."

Rodney slumped back into his seat. "Thank you." He looked up at Sheppard. "Now we have an escape plan."

Sheppard looked uncertain, then gave a nonchalant shrug. "Guess it's better than nothing."

----------------------------

Better than nothing, but easier said than done. They risked leaving the safety of the library the next day to observe people rather than scour for escape routes. Rodney kept close enough to be fused to Ronon's side. Every sudden angry bark, shout, or peel of laughter had him trying to cringe out of existence. The team watched and were watched back. The men moved in close toward Teyla like jackals circling the carcass to grab a scrap of meat. The women winked at Ronon and laughed at John, plotting things that would probably send the man spiraling into new realms of humiliation.

It wasn't until they saw Ackar at a distance, crossing the grounds, that they called it quits, and not just for the day. The sudden acceleration of Rodney's heart rate attempted to slam him into the ground. Ronon managed to catch him in time, so McKay's body compensated by expelling his breakfast and yesterday's dinner. The team surrounded him, hustling him back into the mansion and the library. He was shoved into an easy chair with a cup of water slapped into his hand.

Rodney rinsed and spat before talking. "So Rial is pretty much screwed because his older brother's a complete moron with a temper. And what's the point of even having a leader if no law and order is enforced? That guy with the scar slit that one guy's throat and they dumped the body over the wall. What the hell is that? My gosh, they must have a pile of dead out back."

They, at least, had accomplished what they set out to do. From all the brawls breaking out, the spontaneous make-out sessions if a man and woman so much as passed within inches, and the general populace either lying about drunk or drugged, it was in Rodney's opinion that they were all complete idiots. Those Rial had spoke of as being neutral, the ones who took no sides and no part in the day to day goings on, had been hard to find. They were mostly holed up in dark rooms, huddling like frightened rats – sometimes pissed dogs shooting dagger glares for being disturbed – and taking no interest whatsoever in guild politics. John had talked to them this morning to see where they stood. Taking the side of a less favored candidate, according to these outcasts, always led to 'accidents.' Not really of a deadly nature, but no one liked pain.

Sheppard shuddered. "That probably is their law and order. There was a woman watching. Her clothes were shredded. I think she was raped."

"Gelfer may not have the same influence that he once had," Ronon said. "He always looks tired. I knew a guy like that; always tired. His squadron never listened to him and half were killed. After a while, he just stopped caring."

"Plus he's close to retirement," John added. "And most of his kids aren't exactly good influences. If Ackar or that Kelath kid rule you can sure as hell bet things are going to get worse. They'll probably just kill everyone they run into rather than put up with having more mouths to feed. We aren't the only escaped slaves trying to make it home."

"Ackar's the favorite because everyone's afraid of him," Ronon said. Rodney gave him a withering "no-duh" expression, then looked away, sighing in abject dejection. He was tired of bullies and not because of their abuse.

"Perhaps we could give Rial fighting skills," Teyla said.

"That wouldn't be enough," Rodney muttered. Rial had brains and people with brains were supposed to be able to run circles around the idiot thugs; except all the idiot thugs need do was stick their leg out and trip the guy with brains. There in lay the problem. Hitting was faster than thinking. It was kind of like in that fable, the one with the fox and the cat. The cat climbs a tree to get away from the hounds: one simple solution. The fox wastes time sifting through his assortment of clever escape plans and gets caught for it. McKay had thought it an affront to the genius community when in fact it was a slap to its face with its hard truth. Smart people really did think too much, too long, giving the dumb people time to knock them flat on their butt.

It wasn't so much that they needed a simple solution but a lasting one. Rial wasn't a fighter, and even if he was up to learning how, the guild ruler-ship would have been decided by the time the kid got anywhere. The boy needed something that would not instill fear alone, but fear and respect. Something the half-wits of this place would be so wowed by they would come to Rial like wanna-bes flocking around the popular kid just for a taste of being accepted.

Rodney straightened, passing the cup back to Teyla. "I need to talk to Rial."

"Why?" John asked.

"Information. I need to find out a few things."

Sheppard eyebrows lifted. "You have a plan?"

"Sort of. I don't want to explain it yet, not until I'm sure."

Ronon grunted. "He'll probably be dropping by soon."

The Satedan was right. Rial showed up twenty minutes later at what Rodney now safely assumed to be the kid's usual hour for coming to the library. He took the boy to the far corner of the room for a private conversation concerning minerals, chemicals, metals and the like. Rial showed him books that talked of those very things. The numbers and symbols used meant squat to Rodney, but thorough description of chemical properties – such as them being flammable or toxic – was all he needed. He had Rial fetch parchment and a quill, and together they made a list of chemicals and metals that might be available in their current surroundings.

Rodney had Rial do the gathering since there was no way he was going out there again. Everyone was in agreement to this, which surprised Rodney, and quelled feelings of taking the cowards way out. It really had nothing to do with fear. Every single person in this place was dangerous. Rodney wasn't even sure if Rial could be trusted.

When the kid brought the needed materials, Rodney set to work putting them together using tarnished spoons, spotted glass cups, old clay bowls, and an iron hammer to crush everything.

"Poisons or bombs," Sheppard asked from over Rodney's shoulder.

"More like bombs so I would suggest you refrain from hovering too close. It tends to upset my concentration."

John moved to the side, eying the cups and glasses full of powders, rocks, metals, and liquids as though they might bite. "Are you sure this is a good idea, McKay? Bomb making?"

"Most of what I'm tossing together is for show – homemade flash-bangs, smoke bombs, and sparklers. Stuff they can use in their dirty little business of robbing people naked. If the gang isn't scared-stupid by the loud noises then all the pretty lights and colors should make for a good distraction."

Sheppard seemed genuinely impressed by that. "So no bombs?"

Rodney stopped grinding the calcium collected from the mansion-basement's walls into powder and tensed. "Well... I wouldn't say that there isn't going to be one," he cleared his throat, "or two items that might go boom. Strictly for the purpose of making a show, mind you."

Sheppard scowled. "What items?"

Rodney shrugged in poor indifference. "Oh, just... a few Molotov cocktails and other flammables."

John closed his eyes and shook his head. "McKay, this is a really bad idea. Basically up there with trading P-90s. I know it might not seem like much, but this Rial kid is smart. You give him formulas for making chemical weapons and somewhere down the line he figures out how to make mustard gas."

Now McKay was the one scowling. "Being a bit melodramatic, aren't we? We don't know that."

"No we don't, but we know it's possible. Look at what happened when we tried to offer the fake-country folk a little C-4. Giving away weapons is like giving away money. Some people are content with what they have but most tend to want more. Rial's a nice kid, but we really don't know him all that well. Weapons are power, power corrupts, and he could end up being no worse than Ackar, we just haven't seen it yet."

Ronon stepped forward in a physical act of joining the conversation. "If Rial lets us go, what does it matter?"

"Because he might decide to go back on his word," Sheppard replied. "He might decide to keep us around to keep Rodney around, or let us go but keep McKay anyways."

Rodney gripped the wooden handle of his hammer until his knuckles paled. "Rial's smart. He knew what to look for, he'll know how to put all this together himself. He won't need me."

"We don't know that," John pressed. He was right, they didn't know. Rial could keep them around has his personal lackeys, using McKay as an assistant and the others as collateral. Or Rial could go back on his word as a show of power. People changed when given the opportunity to shine.

But at least they'd be alive, Rodney was pretty sure of that. Ackar would just kill them and that blond, teenage Fabio let the rest of the gang have their way with them.

"Well," Rodney said. "This is all we have. Better Rial back-stabbing us figuratively than us getting back-stabbed literally. Or worse."

"McKay..." John growled.

That was it. He'd tried to be the better man, but Sheppard didn't know when to stop. The man never knew when to stop. Rodney slammed the hammer down hard enough for it to bounce and twisted around, slamming his palm on the table with a reverberating smack. "What do you want me to do, Sheppard! Huh? Invite them to a tea party? Hand out campaign buttons? Or maybe organize a couple of debates so the brainless goons can ask brainless questions. Fear is all these people listen to, colonel, so that's what I'm going to give them, a reason to be afraid of the smart guy. I'm sorry if that bashes your sense of moral caution but it's all we've got! I don't want to stay here! I don't want to be someone's servant! I don't want to die on this freakin'', backwards hell hole! So let me do what I have to to get us our of here and – back - off!"

Rodney was breathing hard, strings of saliva rippling from his lips and chest heaving. He was shaking, twitching, his heart pounding, and his vision smeared in a pink haze that was starting to fade. When it did, his breath caught on the next inhale. Sheppard was staring at him, incomprehensibly and hesitantly fearful, wide-eyed and pale. He was also trembling, not exactly apparent but Rodney was paying close attention because he'd never seen John react like this. It was usually annoyance or grudging acceptance when Rodney blew up in frustration. Not this, not once. Good crap, Sheppard was afraid of him.

Maybe not him, maybe the reaction, the clenched fists, looming and seething. Rodney swiftly relaxed out of his stance, exhaling a breath that took the fury with it.

The fear lingered in John's eyes, cautious, ready and joined by remorse. "I'm... I'm sorry, Rodney."

Great, first name basis. Sheppard didn't do that either, at least not that often.

"You're right," Sheppard continued. He looked away, defeated, shocked, Rodney couldn't tell. Probably both. "You're right." He started to leave. Rodney looked at Ronon and Teyla, expecting accusing looks of disappointment. Both of them were at a loss, but Teyla depressed as though someone had just kicked her favorite puppy.

"Sheppard... John," Rodney stammered. "Wait, no, you're right. I mean we're both right. I didn't mean to blow up like that I was just... I'm just a little nervous working with chemicals and crap, all right? And the arguing wasn't helping."

John nodded. "I know." At least the fear was gone. He was just apologetic now and Rodney could handle that.

"Look," Rodney continued. "I'll come up with a plan B should this one not work. Maybe stash a few cocktails to blow a hole in the wall or something."

John nodded again. "Good idea."

Rodney nodded back. "Yeah," then returned to playing mad scientist. His hands shook when he lifted the hammer. He set it down, clenching his fingers open and close until it stopped. He wasn't angry anymore, there was no place left for anger. So that left only fear.

Rial stopped by at dinner, arriving with the portly man lugging around a pot of stew and a bag of bowls and spoons. From the stains on the utensils, Rodney tried to pretend the spoons were just really, really old rather than unwashed. He told Rial of the plan to use the chemical explosives to impress the masses. Rial really was a smart kid. He was impressed himself, but wary.

"Ackar would probably just take them from me."

"Not if you make more," Rodney said around a mouthful of bread. "I'll teach you how. Knowledge is power, my young friend, never forget that."

Rial left them with a smile on his face and spring to his step. It was still early. Rodney returned to making flash-bangs and fireworks. Ronon and Teyla sat at one of the tables, using a bag of pebbles Ronon had gathered at some time during their last outing to teach Teyla an old Satedan game that reminded Rodney of checkers. Sheppard was wrapped in a blanket, huddled in one of the faded armchairs flipping through a book.

Rodney poured three more bags worth of homemade flash-bangs before deciding to take a break. He dropped into the chair next to Sheppard's with a tired sigh, stretching his back to work out the knots. "Rial's going to have a show for these idiots, I can tell you now. Tomorrow, late afternoon at the earliest."

John nodded without looking away. "Sooner's always better than later."

Rodney leaned to the side for a peek at the reading material. "Don't tell me these people write in plain English."

Sheppard tilted the book for Rodney to see. "Old English, actually, but I was more into the pictures." Medieval pictures like what would be found on tapestries or stain glass windows. Depictions of wars with humans, wars with wraith, beings surrounded in white-light (Ancients). Words really weren't necessary as each picture moved seamlessly into the next, telling their own tale. Societies rose, crumbled, rose again, then came an Armageddon style battle between wraith, Ancestors, and the natives, and the book just ended without a finale.

"I'm guessing the aftermath was this world going into the crapper," John said, closing the book. He set it on the small table by the chair and picked up another from the tiny pile he'd accumulated. The next one was so thick Sheppard's arm shook as he lifted it. There were even more pictures in that one, fewer words.

"I can't stay here," Rodney suddenly blurted. He didn't know why or even where it came from. The words had simply taken a life of their own and jumped from his lips.

Sheppard looked up. McKay swallowed. Those four words had opened a flood gate and the deluge would not be stopped. "This place, mansion, whatever. If Ackar ends up leading... I can't Sheppard, I just can't. I've already survived my quota of sadistic bastard for this year and I can't do it again."

Sheppard, both bewildered but sympathetic, nodded. "Okay. We'll get out of here, don't worry..."

Rodney leaned to the side, gripping the arm of the chair for all he was worth "I can't – help – worrying." He jerked back against the seat, raising a cloud of dust, and shivered. "Every damn day in that stupid citadel: the whipping and punching and kicking and chemicals that didn't even leave a mark. Every damn day. There was no pleasing that son of a bitch. You do right, do as he asks, be so good and obedient you want to hit yourself, and he tries to rip your hair out because he thinks you're patronizing him."

"Who?" John asked softly.

"Joral, head of the 'intelligence department.' Guy was a freakin' idiot but he knew how to get things done. Except..." Rodney squinted, "I don't think he actually did. I think he didn't have a clue what he was doing, so he made everyone else do it for him. And he knew how. Oooohhh boy did he know how. He once..." McKay shivered and gulped back bile. "Crap, he once tried to peel the skin off my arm." He lifted up his sleeve. The cut had been made over the old scar compliment's of Kolya, but it was longer now, coming to the crook. Rodney chuckled manically. "I don't even know why. He was just really, really mad. Kept yelling, kept calling me stupid. You know, after a while, I thought about killing myself? Tried a knife, considered poison, but I couldn't do it. Coward twice over and I can't do that again. I can't, do you understand, I can't? I'm a coward, always have been, always will be. If I stay here... if Ackar wins... I swear I'll provoke that bastard to kill me." Tears stung his eyes. He looked at John and didn't try to keep from begging. "I can't..."

For some reason, Rodney expected anger. It was the usual response whenever Rodney denied being able to achieve the impossible, when he tried to just plain old give up. He actually tensed in anticipation for the light smack to the back of his head. What he got was complete and undeniable understanding that made John seem so much older, frailer, and Rodney wondered if he looked the same.

"I know," John said.

Rodney laughed bitterly. "One more day. If Teyla hadn't come when she did, just one more day and I'm sure I would have gone through with it."

"I doubt that."

McKay snorted. "Of course not." He thumped his chest. "Me, coward."

"No, Rodney, you're not a coward, you're persistent. Killing yourself would have been like quitting and you're not a quitter. You may like having a pessimistic outlook but deep down you cling to hope just as tight as the rest of us. It took courage to hold out, McKay. Like hell you're a coward. And we won't stay here. One way or another, no matter who takes the throne, we're outta here. I swear it, Rodney. Scout's honor and everything."

Rodney gulped and nodded. He believed it, because when Sheppard said it was possible, then it wasn't just possible, it happened. Crap, he'd missed that – Sheppard's seemingly impossible hope. The man talked and miracles happened, not that Rodney really believed in miracles, or would admit to believing. Although he didn't deny they could certainly do with them from time to time, like now.

"You okay, buddy?" John asked.

Rodney twitched, not realizing he'd spaced out. "What? Oh, yes, just thinking."

"Don't think too hard, you might short-circuit something vital."

McKay rolled his eyes. "Yes, like that's such a common occurrence."

"Then what do you call me finding you every morning with your face about to fuse to your laptop?"

"Me taking a break." Rodney glared at John's smirk. "Get back to your picture book, Colonel."

Who would have thought immature bantering would feel pretty good.

----------------------------

They made sure to run their tests in a spot with a lot of open space but also within sight to draw in an audience. It was the moment of truth and Rodney was nervous as hell while Rial was giddy and talkative. He kept asking the same questions over and over, making sure he had everything right and memorized. They started with the Molotov cocktails first; souped up Molotovs that went boom instead of splat, turning the small target-pile of wood into both kindling and ash rather than just ash. The flash-bangs and smoke bombs all worked like a charm. Crowds gathered, oohing, awing, flinching, and applauding at the magical display of destruction.

Then came Gelfer, finally, to see his son's "creations". Of course the boy took all the credit and Rodney gladly let him if it meant a free ticket out of here. Gelfer was impressed, wanted to know more, and of course for Rial to make more. Several from the audience stepped forward, asking if they could help or play with the new toys when they were done. Supposedly, travelers had been seen on the road, taking advantage of the slightly warmer weather.

On the first raid in which the toys were used, Ronon tagged along and gave a full report afterward over dinner.

"Rial went with us," Ronon said. "Wasn't his first time but, according to him, the first time he didn't end up getting yelled at for messing things up. They're actually kind of smart about it. They dress in all brown, take dead shrubs and blankets with leaves on 'em and hide using them – kind of like in that movie with the guy who stole stuff and gave it to poor people."

"Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves or Robin Hood: Men in Tights?" Rodney said by way of a joke.

"First one," Ronon replied while licking his spoon clean. "They used the smoke bombs and flash grenades. Made things go a whole lot faster according to this one guy. We took from city people riding in this really ugly wheeled, motor-cart thing that kept getting stuck in the mud. They had all these guards. Not one of them got a shot off."

"So no one was killed?" Sheppard asked with a look that said he wasn't sure if he wanted to know the answer. They'd all learned hard lessons about interfering with cultures by handing over advanced goodies in any form. Rodney had learned himself that Sheppard, as a leader, took all responsibility for the outcome of these lessons since he was supposed to be an example. McKay had always assumed the pilot had a guilt-trip complex a mile wide. Being the chief scientist on Atlantis, he'd come to realize leadership wasn't about bossing people around; it was also about wrangling them in, disciplining them, and also taking care of them. Sheppard shouldered the responsibility of others because others were his responsibility.

Ronon tossed his spoon into the bowl. "Nope."

The success of the raid started a very swift chain reaction of support, like a domino affect all falling toward Rial. Two days and another raid later had people flocking around the young man, begging to join him on the next job and if they could use one of the loud, exploding bags. Rial brought both Ronon and Rodney for the next to let him see the toys in action. This time it was a party on foot disoriented by the homemade flash-bangs, then smoke bombs. The thieves rushed in, picked the people clean, and took off before the smoke had a chance to clear.

The efficiency was astounding. Rodney would have been more impressed if the moral implications hadn't kept butting in. He was helping people steal. He'd also blown up a solar system and helped a back-stabbing race build a nuke, which was all adding up to a rather dismal ethical track record for him.

McKay wasn't feeling particularly proud about what his chemical creations were doing, but he was rather pleased that his plan was working. Rial was becoming more of a social butterfly, spending less time in the library and more time acting witty around a group of people he'd been initially shunned from. Rodney and the rest observed from a distance. The kid had reached the point where his followers would laugh at the reiterated and butchered physics jokes Rodney had tried to tell the boy.

Pure, unadulterated sucking up. Things were going well.

----------------------------

The stew must have been thicker tonight, warmer, because Rodney was feeling incredibly full and they were all becoming lethargic.

"Guess we'd better call it a night," Sheppard said. He was already getting up and heading over to the pallets. The rest nodded in lazy agreement, Ronon stretching like a cat until his ligaments popped. They curled in their usual huddle that shared the warmth without getting too personal. Rodney was out the moment his head hit the straw mattress. He didn't even dream.

But he did wake up after what felt like ten seconds of rest to a smell that tried to burn off his nose-hairs. He jolted with a gasp and a mumble to be yanked from the bed and thrust into the nearest easy-chair. The room was dusky, barely lit by a single lamp flickering amber in the middled of the table. The light spilled over onto a shapely leg planted on the seat of a chair, golden and smooth. Long-fingered and delicate hands were adjusting an ankle bracelet of dark violet crystals that winked at Rodney. The leg slipped back into the darkness while the hands flipped the chair around. Sya emerged into the light and sat fluidly with the grace and control of a dancer. Although Rodney highly doubted her sinuous motions being the product of ballet lessons. The woman was in a wine-red dress slit nearly to the hip, a low collar, laced straps instead of sleeves that kept trying to slide down her shoulders, red leather boots, and her red hair tumbling down her shoulders in thick curls: if their was a support group for seductresses, she'd be the president.

Sya twisted to have one arm resting on the chair back so she could flick her red-polished nails. She smiled at Rodney. There wasn't anything seductive about that smile. A little coy, yes, but Rodney had seen similar smiles six seconds before meaty fists started pounding him into the ground.

"Mr. McKay," Sya said as though addressing someone both famous and disliked. "We finally meet."

McKay blinked incomprehensibly, diverting his gaze to the team still curled up and oblivious.

"Oh, don't worry about them," Sya said. "They'll be out for the night. Little something I slipped into the stew before it arrived here. Thought you folks could use a good nights rest. But I needed to talk to you, so I guess you won't be participating."

Drugged. They'd been drugged. Well, obviously since Rodney's brain kept trying to shut down. He was starting to get a pretty good idea of what it was like to be slow-witted. He knew he should be angry, scared, but had to get over being confused first and stop having to recall over and over the name of the woman he was talking to.

"Um..." Rodney stammered. "What do you want?" Crap, he even sounded dull. He shook his head, trying to clear it, clinging to fear since the adrenaline usually helped shove back all the lethargy.

Sya smirked. "I want what only you can give me."

Rodney felt a bit of a flush warm his cheeks and he smiled drunkenly. "Uh, really? Gee, um... I'm not normally that kind of guy. I mean, I like women, but I usually prefer blonds and a working relationship. Plus I'm kind of seeing someone. She's not blond but she's still really great. Her name's Katie and..."

Sya rolled her eyes. "Not that. I thought you were supposed to be an intelligent man, Mr. McKay."

"Doctor McKay."

Sya buried one of her manicured nails into the wood of the chair, dislodging a splinter. She was looking a little irate and it was making Rodney nervous. "Yes, whatever. Listen, Dr. McKay. I'm not a fool so don't think me one. I know you provided my brother with a service, giving him the formula for those weapons. I want those formulas. Rial may be my brother but he is not fit to lead. He's more interested in his books and contemplating grass grow. Ackar's an idiot and dear Kelath only thinks with his pants. My father is blinded by his desire for Rial to be his heir that he does not see the potential of my leadership. I have my followers, but not enough. I need those weapons to gain more."

Rodney's brain was finally clawing its way out of the fog. He lifted his chin smugly. No way was this power-happy witch ruining his plans. "You think it's that easy? Take the formulas and flash them around crowing that you're just as powerful as your brother? It takes a brain to put these little cocktails together, and a whole lot of guts."

Sya tilted her head. "Who do you think mixed the poison that put you and your friends to sleep? My brother is not the only one who reads. He just doesn't know how to take what he learns and use it to his advantage." She stood, her steps like water as she prowled over to the pallets. "It is rare for a woman to lead the guild. But women have led. My father is a simple man. He believes sticking to the roads and those who travel it the best course of action. There are towns, villages, caravans wandering these lands, ripe for the taking. With those chemical weapons, we can over-power them easily and fill the coffers until they overflow."

Sya knelt at the head of the beds, running her fingers lightly over Ronon's bare arm, up to his shoulder, his chest, neck, then cheek. "My father does not let himself see what we are capable of. What I am capable of."

Rodney wanted to say something biting, was ready to, but a sudden attack of dread kept his mouth shut. This woman talking about town raids that would probably end in violence and death was hovering over his team.

"I like this one," she said, toying with the end of one of Ronon's dredlocks. She tore her gaze from him to look at Teyla, brushing away a strand of hair from the smooth forehead. "She's a lovely one. A bit sickly, though." She reached into the blanket to pull out Teyla's arm by the wrist, letting it flop to the mattress. "See how compliant she is? Unresponsive? Vulnerable? Many of the men have expressed an interest her. Some do not wait. They simply take what they want. It would be quite terrible if the poor woman was unable to defend herself."

Someone shifted in the darkness and snickered. Rodney felt the blood drain from his face that was starting to hurt from trying to remain indifferent. "I've seen what happens when people try to take what they want without permission."

Sya barked a sharp laugh. "Oh please. Nothing more than a dispute and most of the time false accusation. It happens often. What is rare is for someone not to want it to happen. Miss Emmagan strikes me as one who would not want it to happen. It would be terrible for her if it did, don't you think?"

Rodney felt sick. Sya moved on to Sheppard, pushing back the blankets enough to look him over like he was livestock. She pulled his shirt up and tsked at the lacerations on his back that overlapped each other, the protruding bones, and the way he immediately started shivering.

"Poor thing," she said, caressing John's cheek. "Wouldn't take much to hold him down. Would it?" She didn't cover him back up when she stood. "There is plenty more poison, Dr. McKay. If you wish to keep your friends safe, I suggest you comply – right now."

Rodney gaped, thought fast, found no solution, so snapped his mouth shut. "I need paper..." he said, defeated. "And something to write with."

------------------------------

"Okay,"Sheppard said, "this is bad." He was slumped in one of the chairs, worried but not as pissed as Rodney had expected him to be. Ronon was the angry one pacing in short circuits with his arms folded tightly. Teyla was next to John gnawing on a fingernail, and Rial was standing beside to the table looking apologetic.

"I should have suspected Sya a little more than I did," Rial said. "She's clever, but she's also self-preserving. I didn't think she would try anything out of fear of the weapons being used against her."

Rodney, sagged heavily in an easy chair, rubbed his aching forehead. After he'd handed over their only ticket out of this place to Sya, he'd covered Sheppard back up then sat there for the rest of the night, waiting for the others to awake. "Somehow I suspect the self-preservation thing was to throw you off. She struck me as someone willing to take risks but knowing how to without breaking a nail. She's not so much a coward just... really smart. And mean, can't forget mean."

"So what do we do now?" Teyla asked.

Ronon halted. "Make her give the formulas back."

Rodney narrowed his eyes scathingly. "Of course, why didn't I think of that? You want me to hold her down while you give her a wedgie or should I? This woman has body guards, the chemical weapons, and the potential to dope us up and make us playthings for everyone else. She's probably already made copies and hid the originals. Face it, we're screwed. This is going to divide up loyalties severely unless we can think of something to make Rial seem more appealing."

They all fell into thoughtful silence for several long minutes when Sheppard straightened. "Let's kidnap Sya."

Rodney bolted upright. "What!"

"That's not a bad idea," Ronon said.

"What? Yes it is. It's a terrible idea," McKay shrilled.

John shook his head. "These people flock to who ever's the most aggressive, and kidnapping someone is a pretty aggressive move. We grab Sya, stash her where no one can find her, and demand that her followers return the formulas. Doesn't really solve the formula issue but it does show Rial as someone who's willing to do what he can to get what he wants."

Rial paled. "Kidnap my own sister?"

Sheppard nodded. "Yeah. Not hurt her, just have her out of the way. I doubt she'll even see it coming."

Rodney shook his head, bewildered, terrified, but unable to deny the logic in John's plan. "This is crazy."

"No more crazy than making explosives. If these people want a bad-ass leader, let's give them a bad-ass leader. We'll go in at night, use the smoke bombs."

"Oh yeah?" Rodney challenged. "Who's going to take her down. No offense but you," he pointed at Sheppard, "couldn't hogtie a kitten and you," he pointed at Rial, "well, she's your sister, plus you also couldn't hogtie a kitten. Ronon tries, she might yell rape and that's going to cause a whole slue of problems..."

Teyla stood. "I will take her." And she said it with the conviction and challenging gaze that dared anyone to just try and deny it. She may have seemed small, delicate, but Rodney couldn't doubt her even if he tried.

------------------------

They came for Sya about midnight, or what they guessed to be midnight. Rial enlisted Giana's help since – according to the young man – the girl no longer felt any sibling affection toward Sya ever since the older woman had locked her in the dungeons out of 'sisterly teasing'. They also brought along a couple of Rial's new followers and a few of Giana's hunting buddies as witnesses and back up. Sya's private chambers were on the other side of the mansion, guarded by two men both thick-armed, bald, and dressed in leathers like biker twins. John and Rodney lit the smoke-bomb sacks and tossed them. Ronon and Giana waltzed into the fog. There was the sound of flesh smacking flesh then both emerged signaling with a wave for Teyla to go.

Teyla gripped two stout sticks and walked through the ornate double doors with a confidence she'd seemed to be lacking over the past few days. There were shouts, more flesh being smacked, more shouting, then Teyla emerged with Sya wrapped in a sheet pressed against her, a stick pressed to the taller woman's throat. The smoke cleared enough for Rodney to see a room of woven rugs, silk hangings, and a canopy bed with a naked male sprawled unconscious on the rumpled blankets.

Sya definitely hadn't seen this coming.

Once they had her around the corner, Sheppard bound her hands and mouth. They shuffled her down hall after hall to an abandoned sitting room where they tied her feet and laid her out on a chaise lounge. Her withering look was reserved for Rial and Giana. Rial shifted nervously. Giana was all smiles.

"I told you you'd pay, Sya," Giana said, then kicked at the chaise. "Not so fun when you're on this end, is it?" She turned to Rial. "I'll keep watch over her."

"I'd have someone help Giana out," Rodney mumbled in Rial's ear, "if you know what I mean." The way Giana was fingering her dagger wasn't boding well.

Rial nodded, dazed, both horrified and astounded at what he was taking part in. Ronon had to nudge to boy hard to get him to speak his part and give Sya the low-down on the situation.

"So until we get the formulas back, you're to stay here and think about what you've done."

They then left the two sisters and their staring contest to wait out the inevitable upheaval that would come in the morning. The team went back to the library.

"You did good, Teyla," Sheppard said. Teyla simply nodded. Her shift in personality made Rodney do a double-take. The old Teyla was gone again as though taking Sya down had worn her out. Or as though the old Teyla had done what she needed to do, so didn't have to stick around anymore. Rodney didn't get it, but then he had no idea what Teyla had been through at the hands of her master, so he said nothing about it.

They all curled back up on the pallets, except for Ronon who decided it a good idea to stand watch, in case someone had seen something and thought to take matters into their own hands.

----------------------------

Apparently, not everyone gave a damn about Sya. Gelfer called an emergency meeting close to evening. Before then, there'd been talk of Sya vanishing but no one had done anything about it, not even her current boy-toy who seemed more preoccupied with not taking the blame.

Everyone was assembled, including a smirking and self-satisfied Giana who had left guarding Sya to a trusted friend. All part of the plan, of course, since Rial was the one who was supposed to be taking the credit. Rodney found it curious that Giana was going along with all this so easily. He'd asked Rial about it, who said Giana was too interested in revenge to pass up an opportunity to make Sya pay, then told horror stories of the things Sya had done to Giana, stories involving having the younger girl chained to the wall of the dungeon for three days straight.

And Rodney thought his relationship with Jeannie had been fractured. Gelfer's kiddies were giving a new meaning to the term "dysfunctional family." So it really wasn't a surprise to see Gelfer annoyed and tired rather than pacing and frantic. He raised his hands for silence and the dull roar tempered into a steady murmur.

"All right then," he called. "All right. It has come to my attention that my Sya has not been seen for the better part of the day – again. If this is another of her temper tantrums I swear..."

Sya's lover stumbled forward, most likely because he was pushed, and stood trembling at the bottom of the dais. "It's no act of petulance, my lord," he whimpered. "We were attacked the other night as we were talking peacefully."

Giana coughed trying not to laugh. Rodney had to agree with her.

Gelfer sighed. "Yes, that's what she said the last time. Giana!"

Giana folded her arms. "Wasn't me, da."

Thus Rial's cue to step forward with a tentative raise of his hand. "It was me, da. I orchestrated it. She stole my formulas for the weapons. I wanted them back. So," he shrugged, nonchalant the way Ronon had shown him, "so I had her taken. You know, to teach her a lesson and get her to give them back. They're my formulas, da. She had no right to them."

The room fell so quiet Rodney thought he could hear a bug yawn. Gelfer arched a gray eyebrow. "Really?"

Rial nodded. "Really, da. I just wanted my formulas back. I'll go fetch her, if you'd like, but I want the formulas."

Gelfer nodded, still bewildered. "All right then. Fetch her. I'll be sure she returns them."

A smile split Rial's face and he took off with Giana trailing to get Sya, leaving everyone to mill about in stunned silence. The murmuring returned, hushed whispers of awe and fear at Rial's audacity. Kidnapping his own sister, and Sya of all people. Jyza being taken they would have gotten, but according to the whispering it was rumored that Sya had once killed a man for not being more pleasing in bed.

Rial, Giana, and several of their followers returned dragging Sya still wrapped in a sheet. Her hair was a mess and she was pissed, her glare promising much pain and revenge. But it was an empty promise what with it being overshadowed by complete humiliation. The whispers skittered louder to be joined by laughter covered up by coughs and sneezes.

"Here she is, da," Rial said. "Safe and sound"

Sya was pushed forward toward the dais. She stood straight and brushed a wild strand of red hair from her eyes. "Da," she said.

"Sya," Gelfer replied. "Rial said you took something of his and he wants it back."

Sya pouted. "But da, I took nothing."

Gelfer's eyes went heavy lidded. "Sya..."

Sya huffed and stomped her foot. "Da!"

"Don't 'da' me. I know you, my dear. You are a cruel child, always have been. If you took something from your brother then you had best give it back, or next time I turn a blind eye should you go missing again."

This just kept getting weirder and weirder. The Adams Family had nothing on these freaks.

"Fine!" Sya snapped. She whirled and strode haughtily from the chamber without a shred of dignity left. Giana couldn't smile big enough, while Rial blinked innocently. Gelfer shook his head, feigning disappointment but with a hint of a grin tugging his own lips.

"There has been too much rivalry as of late," Gelfer said. "The day of succession is still four days away, but I feel it best that we clear the air of this matter sooner rather than later." He fell silent, letting everyone talk amongst themselves, until Sya returned dressed and with a stack of papers in hand that she thrust into Rial's chest.

Gelfer stood and raised both hands for silence. "I wish for my children to step forward."

They did, lining up in front of the dais. Gelfer gave them a curt nod of approval. "I will now choose my successor."

Everyone gasped, gaped, cursed, or smiled contentedly. Rodney's heart shot into his throat and he exchanged worried looks with the rest of the team. They had hoped things would drag on a few more days, allowing Rial to accumulate more followers.

Everyone gathered began shifting, moving to form a line behind each of Gelfer's children. Not really a perfect line, just enough to let everyone know where they stood. The team, naturally, moved to Rial.

His was the largest.

"So that's how the voting goes?" Rodney said. "You literally stand behind the one you want to rule?"

Sheppard shrugged. "Whatever works."

Gelfer was smiling. "I had wished, from the start, for my youngest, Rial, to take the throne when I step down. Do you agree?"

The cheering was louder than the booing. People surrounded Rial, clapping him on the shoulders or shaking his hand. Gelfer raised his hand for silence. "Glad to see so many in agreement. Rial, do you accept this?"

Rial opened his mouth, then closed it. "Um... On the condition that Mr. McKay and his friends be my advisers."

Rodney's jaw dropped, Sheppard paled, Teyla blinked as though she'd been slapped, and Ronon growled dropping his arms to his sides.

"What!" McKay yelped. "What the hell! Rial!" he pushed his way through the crowds to the front. "Rial, you little bastard! We had a deal! We had a freakin' deal! We help you and you allow us to leave. We had a damn deal!"

Rial shrugged helplessly. "Sorry, Mr. McKay, but you helped me more than you know, and I could use more of that help. I'm afraid I must go back on my promise."

"Rial!" Gelfer barked. "What do you mean by this? Did you make a promise to these people?"

Rial winced. "I did, but I fear it cannot be kept. They are too valuable to let leave."

Gelfer clenched his fists. "Rial, if you made a deal then you must honor it. Going back on your word makes you incapable of being trusted. I will not have someone rule that cannot be trusted."

Ackar, Kelthan, and Sya smirked.

"I understand, father," Rial said. "Which is why you should elect Giana to rule. She helped me in taking Sya, kept it secret, even planned it. She also planned the raids and how to use the weapons I made. She would make an exceptional leader, father, and I would fully support her if she was allowed. I even gave her copies of the formulas. She is much more intelligent than you realize, da."

All lies except for Giana taking part in Sya's kidnapping. The only copies made were the ones Sya had demanded from Rodney. Everyone looked at a blushing Giana. Gelfer cocked an eyebrow. "Is this true, daughter?"

Giana shrugged. "I have helped plan raids and what not."

"She's a better choice by far." Rial glanced over his shoulder to give his followers a look that said they'd better agree. They did, with nods and murmurs.

Gelfer was momentarily speechless, but after that moment shrugged and plopped back into the throne. "Giana it is then? Do you agree?"

Cheering again, louder than the booing.

"Giana, do you accept?"

Giana straightened. "Yes, father."

"So it is then." Gelfer leaned back, content-looking for once. Giana was engulfed by the crowds for pats on the back and handshakes. Rial squeezed his way through to Rodney, already apologetic.

"Sorry about that," he said. "I really didn't go back on our deal, I promise. Giana'll let you go, we've already discussed it."

Rodney just stared at Rial. He was shocked, thoroughly pissed that they'd been played, yet unable to fight the admiration that was inevitable. "You'd planned this from the start?"

Rial shrugged. "Well, not exactly. I've been scrounging for a way to get da to consider Giana for leadership. You just gave me the means with the deal. Da's an honorable man and wanted an honorable leader. I never wanted to rule, you see. Giana's much better and she has planned many of the successful raids, but Ackar was always the one to take the credit before she had a chance, with no way to prove otherwise."

"But she had so few followers," Teyla said.

"But I gained many, thanks to all of you. Showing my support meant they'd show their's. Folk here don't do well when it comes to making their own decisions. That's why we need leaders or they'd just kill those they steal from."

"But the bottom line is," Rodney jumped in, "we get to leave?"

Rial smiled. "I do have honor, Mr. McKay, I just had to keep my da from thinking it. Yes, you'll be able to leave."

Rodney blinked. "Oh. Well, then, sorry about the whole "little bastard," thing."

Rial chuckled. "I don't even know what that is."

-----------------------------

TBC...

A/N: I've decided that each of the team will have two stories each, so after Sheppard they all have one more story to go unless I feel like extending things. However, with how long these chapters are, two stories each may be as far as I go.

Also, if it seems like Sheppard is getting the worst of things, chances are good that he is since I am first and foremost a Shep-whumper. Although I am trying to be equal about whumping everyone.