Chapter 4

Fever and infection kept Rodney bedridden for another two days. He tried several times to stumble from the clinic, but he never made it past the door to his room. As soon as he was strong enough to stand on his own for more than five minutes, he dressed in the black pants and burgundy tunic that the Sharabnis had left for him and tugged on his boots. His right side was still stiff and very sore, and his head pounded, but he could not wait any longer. Five days was a long time, and McKay could only hope that his body's betrayal had not cost Sheppard his life.

Grabbing his scanner, some bread and cheese left from the previous day, and a skin of water, Rodney slipped out of the clinic at dawn and followed the energy signature back to the building, gaining entrance on the opposite side of the structure. Thinking the wall open, he found the room and consoles dark. Lights came to life as he entered, and he began working on the panels he had not tried before, thankful for his near photographic memory.

Hours later, he was barely upright. He had finally found the right console, but leaving the room every two hours had disrupted his train of thought, setting him back each time, and now his food and water were gone. He had stared at that display until he thought his eyes were going to fall out, but he had finally seen the pattern in the encryption. He made his way to the front entrance, deciding to head back to the clinic for a meal and a comfortable bed while his brain deciphered the code. He also needed to thank Drelor and Ressa for all they had done for him since he did not intend on leaving the Ancient lab again after he returned the next morning. He emerged to find a warm mid-afternoon sun on his face and a cool breeze ruffling his hair. He slowly made his way around the building, lost in thought, but stopped short at the group of men glaring at him.

"Um, hi."

A big, broad-shouldered man with short blond hair stepped forward. "Do you dare disturb the home of the Ancestors?"

"I wasn't disturbing. I was…" He really sucked at lying. "…um, I was tidying up."

The flush started from the man's neck. "Do you take me for a fool?"

"Well, I was hoping…."

Cheeks now flaming, he glowered at McKay. "Trespassing on the Ancestral home is forbidden."

"Really? Oh. I'm not from around here, and-"

"You wear the clothing of our healers."

"This old thing? I've had it for years. No idea where it came from." He was screwed, and he knew it.

"Where did you come from?"

"Canada."

The men exchanged suspicious glances. "Where is that?"

"North America."

"I am not familiar with that village."

"Really? I thought McDonald's would have made it here by now."

The villager leaned into Rodney's face. "You are beginning to try my patience."

"I have that effect on people." Now he was channeling Sheppard. He was going to get worried if he had a sudden urge to pull a knife from his hair.

"Where are you from, little man?"

"I've already told you. What part of 'Canada' did you not understand?"

"There is no such place."

"Just because you haven't heard of it, Gigantor, doesn't mean it doesn't exist."

The man grabbed Rodney's arm and pulled him forward. "If you won't answer my questions, perhaps you will tell the Magistrate."

"Ow! There's no need to get physical about it. We've just had a big misunderstanding. I was lost and saw the building. I didn't mean to disturb anything."

"Are you saying you didn't know it was forbidden?"

"Well, it's not like there's a sign or anything."

"Everyone here knows. It is taught from childhood. I will ask you again, where are you from?"

"And I'll tell you again. Canada."

The group surrounded McKay, forcing him to walk with them back to town. As they passed the clinic, he saw Drelor peering from the doorway. The doctor stared at him in disappointment and went inside, closing the door behind him. Rodney's knees began to wobble as he climbed the steps to a structure in the center of the village; it was three stories tall and painted a dark blue with small gleaming windows and a large door.

Once inside he collapsed on a bench while Gigantor stood guard and one of the other men went to report him. As he sat with his head in his hands, McKay hoped he would not pass out in front of the brute squad. After several minutes, he was hauled to his feet and escorted to an office where a middle-aged bald man with sharp features sat behind a desk. The room was small and stuffy with high windows that let in sunlight but little breeze. The man studied Rodney for a long moment and then addressed the group of men that had crowded in behind him.

"What accusation do you bring against this man?"

"He violated the Ancestral home on the hill, Magistrate," the big man answered.

"What proof do you have of this, Terosh?"

"We saw him, all of us," he replied, indicating the group of men around him. "We were returning from the fields when he came out. He was carrying this with him." The man pulled McKay's scanner from a pocket.

The Magistrate took the device and examined it carefully. Rodney's mind was racing to think of a way out of this. Sarcasm had not worked; maybe diplomacy would. Like he had a chance with that. If he got out of this, he would never take Teyla or Elizabeth for granted again. His headache was growing worse, and he ground one palm into his temple as he put a steadying hand on the side chair in front of him, looking up to find the man watching him.

"What is your name?"

"Dr. Rodney McKay."

"What is this?"

When all else fails, tell the truth. "A scanner."

"What does it do?"

"It scans…" So tempting. "…for whatever I'm looking for. Right now it's set to scan for energy signatures."

A contemplative look crossed the man's face. "We do not possess the kind of technology you describe. Where did it come from?"

"I found it."

"Where?" the Magistrate pressed.

McKay cast about for an answer that would explain it satisfactorily, but he came up blank. Teyla was the voice of reason, but Sheppard was the bullshitter. Together they might have come up with a brilliant answer, but he was on his own here. McKay's shoulders sagged in defeat. He hoped breaking the rule about the Ancient building was better than being considered a Wraith sympathizer.

"The home of the Ancestors," he mumbled. No need to mention which home.

The Magistrate's eyes narrowed. "You stole this from the Ancestral home?"

"I didn't steal it. I just… borrowed it." Rodney sat quickly as his legs gave way. "Look, you don't understand, and I can't explain it, but I didn't mean any harm. I was sent here in an accident that injured a friend of mine. I was using the scanner to try to find a way to help him, and the only way to do so is in the Ancestral home. Please, you have to help me."

The Magistrate's expression grew suspicious. "You said you were sent here. Who sent you?"

"No one sent me. I-" Shut up, McKay. He could hear the words as clearly as if Sheppard were sitting next to him. He put his head in his hands, feeling the shakes begin as his blood sugar continued to drop.

"Perhaps you are working for the Lakesh."

"Who?"

"You deny your involvement with them?"

"Yes, since I've never heard of them."

Terosh interrupted. "He claims to be from Calana."

"That's Canada, you overgrown… blond guy." Diplomacy was not easy.

The Magistrate leaned back in his chair, regarding Rodney thoughtfully. "How did you get here from Canada?"

McKay's chin dropped to his chest. "I can't explain it to you."

"You mean you won't."

"I mean I can't. I'm not sure how I got here. The answer is in the Ancestral home. If you'll just let me-"

"No."

"But-"

"No. The Ancestral home is forbidden." He glanced at the men still standing in the doorway. "Thank you, Terosh. You did well to bring him here. You may go."

Terosh inclined his head. "Good day, Magistrate."

Once the room had emptied, the man stood and walked around the desk, sitting on a corner in front of Rodney. "I just don't know what to make of you, Dr. McKay. You wear the clothing of our healers, but you claim to be from elsewhere with no knowledge of our ways, and yet you cannot explain how you got here."

"I would explain it to you if I could, but since you seem to be lacking the necessary PhDs to understand, it would be a waste of my time and yours."

"Try me."

Rodney sighed. "There is a device in the Ancestral home-"

"I will hear no more of your lies about that."

"It isn't a lie! Your Ancestors were highly advanced but really careless about leaving their experiments active. We accidentally-"

"Enough! You leave me no choice. You will be jailed until you decide to cooperate."

"What? You can't do that!"

The man cocked his head to the side and gave a small smile. "Of course I can. I'm the Magistrate." The smile faded. "I take no pleasure in incarcerating you, but I simply cannot have you running loose in my village. Either you have broken one of our highest laws by entering the Ancestral home, or you are working in connection with one of our enemies. Or perhaps you are a Wraith collaborator."

"I am not a Wraith collaborator. I hate the Wraith. And I'm not working for your enemies either."

"Then tell me where you came from and how you got here."

"I have told you. You just don't want to listen."

"Very well." The Magistrate called for a guard. "Take him downstairs."

The guard bowed his head. "As you wish," he said as he yanked Rodney from the chair.

"Magistrate, please! My friend is going to die if I don't help him."

The man looked at McKay sadly. "I am sorry for your friend. Perhaps you will be more willing to talk tomorrow." He sat down behind his desk, effectively dismissing the guard and Rodney.

McKay was hauled roughly from the room and down a flight of stairs to be processed. After being stripped and subjected to the most humiliating search he could imagine, he was escorted to the showers and given a colorless tunic with matching trousers and a pair of slippers that were two sizes too big. He was shoved into a tiny, windowless room that was dank and smelled of mildew and human waste. The floorboards were warped and filthy while the walls were covered in carved graffiti. A thin mattress and a threadbare blanket lay in one corner and a bucket sat in another.

His legs could no longer hold him, and he collapsed to the floor. He lay there for a moment, debating whether the mattress or the floor was dirtier. Deciding they were equally disgusting, he closed his eyes and slept.

OoOoOoOoO

Dawn was Volan's favorite time of the day, the stillness, the sound of the water gently lapping the edges of the shore, the birds singing, the freshness of a new day after a night of dreams. He sat on the dock as the suns rose together, chasing the darkness from the sky and from his mind. After he had awakened Neera's household for the third time that first night, screaming from dreams, he began sleeping outside. Something about hearing the waves soothed him like nothing else could.

He knew he had scared the boys, but he had no explanation for the tremors his nightmares left. The images were too ephemeral for him to grasp long enough to understand. He could remember a few faces: a woman with shoulder-length hair whom he fought constantly with sticks, a large dreadlocked man with a red energy weapon, and an average man with blue eyes who yelled a lot. The other visions were violent – guns, explosions, screaming, fighting. The worst was of a man with dark hair and cold, hate-filled eyes who commanded a Wraith. Sleep never returned after that dream.

Volan stood, dusting his pants, and retraced his steps to the cottage. Neera and her husband, Wenn, had taken him in and treated him like a part of their family from the first moment he arrived. They were an older, childless couple, and they had an obvious affection for Preslan and Maref. Volan had slept the entire first day there, only waking because of the dreams. Since then, Neera had stuffed him with food and tended to his wounds which were healing nicely and had faded to a dull pink from the fiery red they had been.

This was his morning to cook breakfast so he hurried to clean up before the others arose. Finishing his bath, he stared at the face in the mirror as he shaved stubble that seemed ever present. Even after the swelling had diminished and the beard had been removed two days ago, he still did not recognize himself. The hazel eyes looking back at him were pain-filled and exhausted even though he had slept for hours. He could see the faint scar in the center of his chest from the Wraith feeding that haunted his dreams, and he closed his eyes, trying to shake the image away. He wondered, not for the first time, what crime he had committed to be punished like this. But after carefully considering the violence in his mind, he decided he really did not want to know.

Whatever had happened to him was in the past. He had a future now in this sleepy little coastal town. He loved being on the water, and Wenn had offered him a place on his fishing boat. He had a small group of people that cared for him, and he cared for them. Living a quiet life on Trilox would suit him just fine.

OoOoOoOoO

The few times that Rodney had been captured and imprisoned had either been short, like his time with the Genii, or active, like his time with Super Ford. He had never fully appreciated just how boring prison life could be. The days were monotonous. The Magistrate had visited every morning but nothing McKay said made the slightest dent. The first day he had tried the truth again. What had he been thinking? The next day he had confessed to working with the Lakesh, only to have the Magistrate leave in disgust after Rodney failed to identify the enemy territory on a map. He had lain awake all night weaving a story of betrayal and abandonment that left him lost and hopelessly alone in this unknown village, but his jailer simply rolled his eyes and left without a word.

Those visits were the highlight of his day. A meal, for lack of a better word, was delivered at mid-morning and again in late afternoon. Rodney had no contact with any of the other prisoners, which was not necessarily a bad thing in his opinion, and he was not allowed to have his scanner or writing implements. He had found a small, bare space on one of the walls and began to scratch out a decryption code with the edge of an eating utensil.

In some ways, this was worse than when he had been trapped in the back of a sinking jumper. At least then he had tools to use and a definite time limit. Now, he did not even have a decent head wound to give him a hallucinated companion. McKay had tried to talking to himself, but that grew wearisome quickly. Then he had pretended to argue with Sheppard only to stop when he got to the inevitable eye roll and 'buck up' comment.

The dampness of his cell had permeated down to his lungs, resulting in a cough that only served to enhance his headache and bring back his fever. He slept more now as his body tried to fight the abuse that was still being heaped on it, but he knew he needed more than just sleep. He needed some of Carson's good drugs and a warm, dry bed. He was in trouble.

McKay had a tendency to learn a lesson only to revert back to a previous, more comfortable behavior, but he was trying desperately to hang on to what Sam had taught him in that jumper. His people were out there, working on the problem, and he had to trust that they would find him. That was so much easier said than done. Trust in people was not something that came easily to him. His past was littered with empty promises and broken agreements from individuals that were supposed to care about him. Life in Atlantis had opened his eyes to a new truth; the universe was not totally void of men and women of integrity and honor.

Never in his life would Rodney have imagined himself on a team of warriors. He had worked for the Air Force for several years before Weir had recruited him for the expedition, and he had found the military to be inflexible with a bad case of tunnel vision. In truth, when he stepped through the stargate to Atlantis, he assumed he was done with wormhole travel. He was set to study the Ancient database for the rest of his life, and, at the time, he could not think of anything else he would rather do. But then a brash Major who was thrust into command of the military contingent asked him to join an off-world team. Prepared to say 'no', McKay had been shocked to hear 'yes' come out of his mouth. He had almost taken it back and refused, but in a rare moment of honesty with himself, he knew he would never be satisfied sitting in a lab. Sheppard's zest for life and adventuresome spirit were contagious, and Rodney did something he had never done before – took a step of faith.

He had not been disappointed. John could be infuriating, irritating, smug, and a complete pain in the ass, but he was also trustworthy. Rodney knew he could put his life in his team leader's hands; he had known it from the first day when Sheppard walked onto a hive ship to rescue the captured Marines and Athosians. McKay had been amazed to find that trust reciprocated when the pilot had yelled at him to use his brain to get the jumper unstuck from the stargate. He still struggled with leaving control of his life in the hands of others, but as the lights dimmed to signal another night cycle, Rodney held on to the hope that his team would save him, held on tighter than he ever had in his life.

OoOoOoOoO

Elizabeth stared down into the gateroom from the window in her office, silently begging a team to return with news that would give her another option. Awaiting her answer was Col. Caldwell. She had known this day would come, but she was still not ready to face it. At her continued silence, the military man rose and moved to stand beside her.

"Dr. Weir, I don't know what more there is to do. We have repeatedly scanned the four worlds they were known to have been on. I've had people combing through the rubble from the culling and wading in the swamp for seven days now. Teyla's people have contacted every trading partner they've ever had. Your people, and mine, are exhausted."

"I know, Stephen," she whispered, wrapping her arms around herself in an unconscious effort to hold the grief in. "I just can't shake the feeling that we're leaving them behind, that they are out there, somewhere, waiting for us to find them."

"Believe it or not, I know how you feel. If there's one thing I've learned during my time in the Pegasus Galaxy, it is to not underestimate Col. Sheppard. I've come to admire, hell, even to like the man. And Dr. McKay is just as resourceful." He touched her arm, gently turning her to face him. "If there was one more place to look, one more rock to turn over, I would. Tell me where else to search."

Looking away, she closed her eyes in resignation. "There is no other place. Have your crew stand down."

Caldwell did not reply. Turning to leave, he paused at the entryway of her office. "Do you want me to notify the SGC?"

Elizabeth met his gaze. "No, I'll do it. They are… were my responsibility."

After a few minutes, she moved slowly to her desk, mentally composing her letters to the families. Of all the duties she had as leader of the expedition, death notifications were by far the worst. Having met Jeannie Miller and been a witness as the tentative relationship between her and Rodney started to heal made it that much harder. Of course, the knowledge that John had not reconciled with his family did not help. She knew he had a father and a brother back on Earth, but since she was notified of all incoming and outgoing communications she also knew he had never sent or received anything. She had respected his privacy too much to ask, but now she wished she had. Knowing the kind of man he was, she could not imagine what might have happened to keep him from his family.

Several failed attempts later, she gave up trying to write and left her office. The letters and notifications could wait. Weir found herself in the infirmary before she realized where her feet were taking her. Beckett was sitting at his desk, vacantly gazing at the wall.

"Carson?" she called softly.

The Scot startled and swiveled quickly to face her. "Oh, Elizabeth. I was just, um, well…."

"I know. We all are."

"Is there something I can do for you?"

She blinked rapidly as she suddenly realized what she was doing there.

Concern coloring his face, Beckett stood and led her by the arm to a chair. "What is it?" he asked.

"I..." She swallowed thickly. "I needed someone to talk a decision through with. I usually talk to John, but…."

He smiled sadly at her. "I know exactly how you feel. What do you want to talk about?"

"I told Caldwell to halt the search."

"I see."

"Carson, is there any chance they are still out there?"

He sighed heavily. "I don't know. Teyla and Ronon seem convinced that they were culled, but they still search every world they travel to with Lorne and Marks. You know that if John and Rodney are able to survive, they will find a way to contact us. I can't imagine that having the Daedalus scan those planets another time will make any difference."

She pushed out of her chair and paced the length of the room. "I've spent the last two hours trying to write letters to their families. What do I say to them?"

"Tell them the truth. We don't know where they are, and we'll never stop looking. You know that every team that walks through that gate will search every world they encounter."

"If they were culled…."

"Then we won't find them." Beckett stood in her path. "Elizabeth, you need to prepare yourself for that possibility. The emotional strain on you, on everyone, is taking its toll."

"That's one reason I had the Daedalus stand down. I'll tell Teyla and Ronon when they get back, and I'll have Lorne redo the mission schedule." She lowered her eyes to the floor before meeting his gaze. "I still feel like we're leaving them behind."

"Aye, lass. But what else can we do?"

OoOoOoOoO

Fifteen minutes until staff meeting. He was going to be late. Again. Radek had never appreciated the administrative side of running the entire science department of Atlantis until now. No wonder McKay rarely slept. The past few days were a bit of a blur as Zelenka had met with the head of each department for updates on their projects and attended meetings with the rest of the senior staff. His people were still trying to shut down all of the systems the Ancients and Asurans brought online, and the repairs to the stardrive were slowly continuing, although he doubted they would ever need it. At least he was not required to go off-world.

He reached for his tablet to find the low battery light flashing. Cursing under his breath, he connected the computer to the database, transferred the files to a new tablet, and headed to the main conference room. In his haste, he did not notice the pop-up screen that appeared announcing 'Corrupt data detected. Recovery and restoration in progress.'"

tbc

Heartfelt thanks to all of you for the wonderful reviews. I have enjoyed reading your thoughts on how our boys are going to get out of this. zedpm - you're right about the origins of the consoles. Big hugs to all of you.