"It doesna look like ye broke anything this time," Dr. Beckett pronounced after examining the fresh bruise on Lorne's side which he had received courtesy of Ronon's elbow during the altercation, "How do ye feel otherwise?"

"Church bells in my head, but otherwise I'm fine," Lorne lied.

In truth, everything hurt. It may have been his ribs that Ronon's elbow hit, but the hit had also slammed Lorne against the floor. Nobody else could hit quite like Ronon did. Even mostly pinned as he had been, he'd still managed to strike with enough force that Lorne had been seeing stars at the end of the fight. Evidently Dr. Beckett wasn't fooled and conducted a more thorough examination until he found a spot on the back of Lorne's head that made the Major flinch.

"This just isn't yer day," Beckett observed.

"No," Lorne agreed, "It's not."

Dr. Beckett went over to one of his cabinets and retrieved a card of pain meds, which he handed to Lorne, along with instructions, including the admonishment that he try to get some rest.

"I'm not hurt that bad, Doc," Lorne insisted, "Reed took the worst of it. How is he anyway?"

"Aye, he did at that," Beckett agreed, "Broken nose and mild concussion, but he'll be okay. Some of the others got a bit bashed around as well, but nothing broken, thank God."

Lorne nodded slightly, then looked past Beckett at where Sheppard's team had been arranged. The thoroughly sedated Ronon was back in bed, more heavily tied down than before, though the nurse standing near him looked rather nervous nonetheless.

"What do you suppose they're seeing that makes them think we're the enemy?" Lorne wondered, though he didn't really expect Beckett to have the answer.

"I'm not so sure that they do," Beckett said, "You saw for yerself that Ronon had no interest in us so long as we stayed out of his way. We weren't the enemy per say, we were just in his way."

Lorne nodded again, acknowledging this. Still, he couldn't help but wonder...


...Radek was dead. He was dead, and there was nothing Rodney could do about it. There was nothing he could do, and there was no time to grieve.

Rodney hadn't really grasped the details of who these people were or what they wanted, but they seemed to be some Genii offshoot, or people who got their weapons and supplies from the Genii. But what they wanted was the Atlantis 'Gate address. Moreover, they wanted someone's IDC. They wanted to repeat what Kolya had tried. They wanted to take Atlantis for themselves.

And they were willing to go to any length they had to in order to get it.

Somehow, they had known Rodney was the weakest link. Somehow, they seemed to know about his fear of drowning. While the others were locked up in a cell, Rodney was cut from the team and subjected to repeatedly being dunked in a bucket of icy water, his head held under until it felt like his lungs were ready to burst before he was yanked roughly out and questioned. He'd barely get his breath when they'd thrust him under again and he'd feel himself drowning, feel the panic setting in, feel his resolve crumbling. Just like before. Just like when Kolya had cut into him to get what he wanted.

Each time he was shoved back under, Rodney felt like he was drowning in more than just water. It was also guilt. Embarrassment. Shame. He wished he'd never discovered that damned device. From the moment he'd found it until now, he'd done nothing but mess up. He'd been wrong about everything. He'd been unable to do even something so minor as plugging in a tablet right. He couldn't do anything right. Hell, he couldn't even seem to be interrogated right, since it didn't seem like he was being given enough time above water to even decide whether or not he was going to break and tell them everything he knew, thus dooming both himself and his team as well as Atlantis to an undoubtedly cruel death.

He'd lost count of the number of times he'd been ducked under the water. He was starting to feel like he'd do anything, anything in the world, if only they would stop drowning him. Even if all they did was kill him, at least then it would be over. That seemed suddenly like the most desirable thing in the world. He resisted that feeling, tried to fight it off, but it got harder every time he found himself under water again. His childhood terrors combined with his new fears, and were on the verge of overwhelming him if he didn't do something.

It came to him that he could give them a wrong address. They couldn't know until they stepped through. But unless he picked Planet Hell, they would live to tell the tale and start this all up again. He could give them the address, but the wrong IDC. But if they knew the address, they'd be one step closer to their goal. It was only a matter of time before they got the right IDC. There was no way they'd all go through the 'Gate together and die as a unit. But it might buy time. Time was always good to have more of when it came to figuring out how to save the day. If he was going to lie, he needed to do it soon, while he was still alert enough not to screw it up and reveal his deception.

They pulled him out again. He choked, gasped and barely got enough breath to scream "STOP! WAIT!" before they dunked him again. He felt his head go under, but he was quickly pulled out.

"Tell us what we want to know," said the man Rodney had come to recognize as the leader.

This man had looked on while two others held onto Rodney, alternately holding him under the water and pulling him out as they were told to. Rodney's wrists were tied behind him, the binds were biting into his flesh. He was also bound at the ankles, and being held on his knees in front of the water bucket he'd been repeatedly shoved into.

"I'll... I'll give you the address," Rodney said, "And my IDC. Just... just stop."

"Tell me," the man demanded, glaring at Rodney with cold eyes.

Rodney gave an incorrect 'Gate address, one which actually led to a known Wraith stronghold. He gave an IDC, one that had long since been locked out of the system, not that it mattered when they were going to the wrong address. Rodney was relieved he could actually remember a correct address, considering all the things he was having trouble remembering.

"Funny," the man said, "That's not the address your Colonel Sheppard gave before we cut off his head."

"Oh," Rodney squeaked involuntarily.

He knew they could be lying. Kolya was notorious for it. Kolya made promises he had no intention of keeping, threats he failed to carry out and routinely pretended to know more than he really did in order to encourage people to tell him what they knew. Sheppard would not have said anything. Sheppard might not even be dead. But then again... maybe he was. Rodney was no good at reading people, and the look in the eyes of the man standing over him was a pure mystery to him.

He knew they were willing to kill. They had already killed Radek, intending to kill Rodney himself. They would kill Sheppard, if they hadn't already. Rodney knew they would kill him too.

"Well... uh... Sheppard...," Rodney took a breath, and found his composure at last, accepting that there was no way to save himself, that there was only one thing he could do now, and that was to protect Atlantis at any cost, "Sheppard is a soldier. He's trained not to give information to the enemy. He can resist torture better than anyone I know. Me, I'm just a scientist. I belong in a lab. I'm scared of getting a... a splinter, let alone being tortured for information. Sheppard... is not afraid to die. Not if it means getting the job done. Which in this case would be resisting to the bitter end and even lying in the hopes that you'd send some of your soldiers off to some hellscape from which you'd never return, leaving that many fewer of you than before, which doesn't really work as a sentence, but-" he broke off with a gasp when one of his captors pinched the nerve cluster in his shoulder, "OW! What was that for!?"

"You might also be lying for the same reason," Leader remarked.

"Me? I'm not that brave," Rodney said, "Or that stupid. You'd figure out I was lying sooner or later, and then you'd just... just torture me more. I... don't really want that, as you might imagine."

For a moment, it looked almost like he'd finally succeeded at something. Leader looked thoughtful, then a little bit smug, pleased with himself. But before Rodney could breathe a sigh of relief, he heard the unmistakable whine of Wraith darts overhead.

"Friends of yours?" he inquired of Leader.

Leader had looked up at the ceiling in response to the sound, even though obviously he couldn't see through it. He turned and glared at Rodney.

"No," he growled.

"Oh," Rodney said, "That's too bad."

In an instant, the compound Rodney and the others had been taken to was alive with the sounds of gunfire. The ground shuddered as an explosion went off, followed by another and another. More gunfire. Shouting. Another explosion.

Leader and the two men who'd been holding Rodney fled towards a door, leaving Rodney where he was. Bound at the wrists and ankles in a kneeling position on the dirt floor, there was nothing Rodney could do, and no place for him to go. He could do nothing but watch.

It didn't exactly horrify him when the door his three captors had gathered around blew inward, though he did flinch at the noise and light that accompanied it. As the smoke curled up from the floor, a Wraith stepped through the newly created opening. The Wraith scowled at the three dead men, and then seemed to suddenly become aware of Rodney. The Wraith cocked his head, then turned slowly. His reptilian eyes lit up at sight of live prey, and he stalked in Rodney's direction.

"Oh I'm gonna die," Rodney breathed as he realized what was about to happen to him.

Absurdly, he heard the phrase 'out of the frying pan and into the fire' in his head.

The Wraith approached silent as death, and its hand descended towards him...


...Things had been quiet for a few minutes, though Beckett and his fellow doctors seemed quite busy with their work. So busy, in fact, that they hadn't actually dismissed Lorne. Not sure if they were done with him, but not wanting to make their job harder, he'd stuck around, planting himself in an out of the way corner where they could find him if they wanted him.

So it was that he was the first one to notice McKay's sudden distress. The jigging lines on the monitor McKay had been hooked to didn't mean much of anything to him, but the fact that McKay's body suddenly jerked didn't seem right.

"Uh... Doc..." he began hesitantly, but he never finished because there was suddenly the awful sound of the monitor letting the staff know McKay was in trouble, which caused an immediate flurry of distressed activity as Beckett and several others rushed to McKay's bedside, blocking Lorne's view.

They said various doctor phrases Lorne was only dimly familiar with, and repeated one phrase he knew only too well, which was, "We're losing him, we're losing him."

"Hang in there, Rodney," Lorne heard Beckett say quietly, before the doctor was shouting instructions at his staff, sending them scurrying hither and thither to fetch the items he intended to use in the fight to keep McKay alive.

Lorne found he was holding his breath.

He didn't much like McKay, but to lose the man wouldn't just be a blow to those who were inexplicably fond of him. McKay was a large part of the reason Atlantis was still standing, and that the people living here were still breathing. It was McKay's inventive mind, his ability to work even under tremendous pressure and come up with a winning solution despite tremendous odds against it that had saved them more than once. If McKay went, Atlantis would lose not just a valuable member of the team, but one of its main defenses against the Wraith. Moreover, if this thing could kill McKay, it could kill the others. Sheppard. Ronon. Teyla. Key players in the fight against the Wraith.

"C'mon, Rodney," Beckett said at one point, "Ye've got to breathe now. Dammit, Rodney!"

And then it was over. As suddenly as the activity had begun, it subsided. Immediately staff members dispersed to resume whatever they'd been doing when they were interrupted. Only Beckett lingered. For a moment, Lorne feared the worst. Then he saw the relieved look on Beckett's face and he let out his breath. McKay was still with them. He still lived and breathed. For the moment, that was enough.

Then the moment passed.

Beckett turned to Lorne and started towards him. Lorne knew before Beckett spoke.

"This is more serious than I thought," Beckett said, "Whatever's happening to them, it's killing them. Someone needs to get to that device, find out what it does. We need to stop this, or we may lose them."

Lorne nodded his understanding, and contacted Dr. Weir...


...Rodney wasn't sure what had happened.

One minute he was being fed on by a Wraith, in unimaginable agony. The next, he found himself lying on a bed in the infirmary in Atlantis, staring up at the ceiling. His chest was sore, his wrists felt numb, but otherwise he was surprisingly alive and in one piece.

That realization brought him sharply to alertness, as he struggled to look around the infirmary. He tried to sit up, but it was too hard, so he merely twisted his head around frantically, looking for the familiar face that he'd come to associate with safety, with things being okay or at least that they were going to be. He was surprised at the level of fear he felt as he was unable to locate who he was looking for.

He didn't even notice when a nurse announced that he was awake and went off to find Carson.

"Rodney, ye gave us a good scare," Carson said, startling Rodney, who had been looking the other way, still trying to find any sign of his team, and especially its leader.

"What? Oh. Yes, I'm sure," Rodney replied distractedly, "Um... where... where are the others?" he turned his head to look Carson right in the eye as he asked this, wanting the truth, nothing else.

"Radek was dead by the time we found him," Carson said, "I'm sorry."

"I know that," Rodney said dismissively, aware of how cold he sounded, "But what about Sheppard?"

Carson looked a little bit baffled, and in a moment it became clear why.

"Colonel Sheppard and the others are all fine," Carson said, "But, Rodney-"

"Radek is dead. Yes," Rodney felt awful for being relieved that Sheppard was alive when Zelenka was not, but he couldn't help it, "I was there, Carson. I saw what happened. I caused it."

"Now, Rodney, I doubt that's true," Carson told him.

"I went for my pistol," Rodney explained, "Radek was in the way."

"Ye shot him?" Carson asked in disbelief.

"No! God, no!" Rodney shook his head, "But... they tried to shoot me. And hit Radek."

"Ach, Rodney, ye canna blame yerself for what someone else did," Carson admonished.

"Well obviously I can," Rodney replied, "Because I am."

"Ye were trained to defend yerself," Carson said.

"I know."

"Ye couldn't have known how touchy they'd be," Carson continued.

"I know."

"And ye couldna stifle the reflex Colonel Sheppard's spent years drillin' into ye."

"I know."

"If yer responsible, then Sheppard is too, for teachin' ye to use a pistol in the first place."

"By that logic, yes, I know," Rodney admitted, "But it doesn't feel that way."

Rodney knew he couldn't explain to Carson what he'd come to understand. Carson wouldn't believe it, and would probably try to talk him out of it. The plain and simple reality was that everything Rodney had attempted to do since he'd encountered that device had backfired. From the simple to the complex, he'd gotten the wrong answers, he'd dropped things, he'd forgotten how to make things work. He'd attempted to defend himself, and now Radek was dead. That was the logic. That was what had happened. Rodney needed to know... he had to find out... why.

Instead of pursuing that aloud, however, Rodney asked, "What... happened?"

"Well, I wasna involved in it," Carson explained, "But I'm told ye were overdue for a check in. Major Lorne and his team went after ye. What they found was you bein' fed on by a Wraith, which they killed. Apparently the Wraith and whoever had captured ye wer'na' on very good terms. The Major an' his team used the distraction to location and rescue you and the rest of yer team and brought them home."

"Oh," was all Rodney said.

"I didna get involved until I was informed that there might be wounded coming in," Carson said, "Sheppard came through first, carryin' ye over his shoulder. Ye looked dead, Rodney."

"I felt dead," Rodney replied distractedly.

He'd thought the device made Sheppard spooky, but now he realized that something else had been happening too. Sheppard, Ronon and even Teyla had been unusually short with Rodney, as had Zelenka once he was exposed to the device. Perhaps the pure aggression of the people who'd captured the team wasn't all natural as Rodney had assumed at the time. But why would the Ancients make a device that would provoke more aggression in humans? What possible purpose could that serve? And why hadn't it done the same thing to Rodney if that was how it functioned? Was he immune somehow? That didn't make any sense. Sheppard had the ATA gene and he'd clearly been affected. It couldn't be something to do with natural aggressive tendencies. Zelenka could be annoying, but he was the most harmless and patient human being Rodney had ever met, except possibly for Carson. If anyone was immune for that reason, it should have been Zelenka.

But was he immune though? Something was interfering with his ability to think properly. Something was throwing off what little physical coordination he had. Something was making him feel helpless and useless, and it wasn't just his repeated failures today. So maybe it affected him differently from the others. But why? It didn't make any sense. He needed more information.

"By the by," Carson said, and Rodney wondered how long he'd had the good doctor tuned out, "That device ye were tryin' to study is in yer lab now, for when yer well enough to take a look at it."

Rodney's eyes widened as horror flooded through him. They'd brought the device here!? After all Sheppard had said about wanting to leave it alone? When it was active and they didn't know what it did? Why would Elizabeth authorize bringing such a potentially dangerous object to Atlantis? The fear and anger and confusion all merged and prevented Rodney from asking any of these questions, and instead they solidified in his mind into a single, emphatic statement.

"I'm well enough now," Rodney said, "Help me out of this bed."

"Rodney..." Carson spoke warningly.

"Help me or else I'll roll off this bed and crawl out of here on my hands and knees if I have to," Rodney insisted, "It's your choice, but I'll tell you right now which I'd prefer."

Rodney knew that, if he'd really been seriously damaged and Carson was genuinely deeply concerned for his health, Carson would counter with a threat of strapping Rodney down or sedating him. But Rodney didn't think he was that sick, and evidently Carson didn't either, because he helped Rodney up.

"Ow, oh that hurts," Rodney yelped as he discovered that some of the muscles in his back had been strained at some point during his captivity and he'd been unaware of it until now.

"That's yer signal to stay in bed like the genius ye claim to be," Carson told him.

"No, that's your signal to prescribe Tylenol," Rodney retorted.

"Or somethin' stronger an' ye stay in bed," Carson said.

"No," Rodney all but snapped, "I need my head clear. Or as clear as it can be. I need to get to my lab."

Finally on his feet with Carson's help, Rodney swayed uncertainly for a moment before locating his balance. He found he could stand up alright, it was just the getting up that seemed to be impossible on his own. Carson looked deeply worried and profoundly unhappy.

"I'll be fine," Rodney reassured him, even though he personally wasn't so sure.

What he was sure of was that he needed to figure out what that device did, and how to shut it off.