A/N: Thank you all for your comments and snark! It's nice to know this twisted little take on the SGA universe is bringing such joy. :) And you know - anyone who disects pixies is just plain EVIL!!!

Chapter 10

The commissary was just off the atrium, and after a brief walkthrough John decided it was better stocked than some PX's he'd been in back in his Air Force days. He couldn't think of anything he needed – except maybe a brick of C4, some fuses, and a rope, and they didn't seem to have those in stock – so they left empty handed. He still had his two armed shadows, and Ronon seemed to have taken it upon himself to become his personal bodyguard. John decided knocking him on his ass and smacking him a few times yesterday was probably one of the smartest things he'd ever done in his life. Ronon hardly showed any signs of that brief fight – maybe a faint bruise around the split in his lip and that was it. John, however, had a purple shoulder, a vaguely boot shaped bruise on his stomach, and two stiff knuckles to go along with everything else. It just wasn't fair.

The library turned out to be a little further down the long hallway in the opposite direction of the infirmary. The doors opened up into a room half the size of the mess with the same floor to ceiling windows along one wall. There were a few big chairs with tables and reading laps scattered about the room, and an honest to God fireplace sat in one corner, even though it was cold at the moment. The interior walls were lined with shelves that held what looked like technical and medical journals and publications, all neatly arranged. Four huge free standing book cases held hardbacks and paperbacks, and it seemed the people here had a thriving book trade going on. Nothing was really organized – thrillers were wedged between romances, and science fiction and fantasy sat next to historical fiction. As far as he could tell as he glanced over titles was that color coordination was a bigger factor in arrangement. He couldn't help snickering and shaking his head as he looked over the selection.

"Yeah, it's a mess," Lorne said. "I've threatened a few of my boys with alphabetizing this lot if they didn't put their gear back nice and neat." He suddenly perked up and pulled a paperback from a shelf. He tucked it in the big pocket on left thigh and continued without changing his slightly bored tone. "Needless to say, my armory is immaculate." Ronon snorted from where he flopped down and slouched in one of the chairs, his leg hanging over one of the arms.

John glanced at where the two guards were standing by the door and noticed they were deliberately ignoring the major. He grinned as he turned back to the shelves and headed around to see what was on the other side.

The faint scent of pine and the sea hit him full in the face and he froze, and as he closed his eyes briefly he resisted the urge to just inhale. There was an air vent above one of the wall shelves that obviously brought in fresh air. He tucked that information away and turned to the shelves, his heart pounding in his chest. He just made a cursory glance then walked over to the windows. There was a fine rain falling and the world pretty much disappeared into mist just past the trees. He couldn't help putting his hand on the glass and just staring out at the gloomy scene. A moment later he could see Lorne step up, his reflected face set in a tight lipped grimace. They just stood there for awhile, watching the rain and the shifting trees. John finally cleared his throat and said very quietly, "You know, this is very nice and all, but all it's doing is making me twitchy waiting for the other boot to drop." He glanced at the major's reflection. "So, what's going to happen to me?"

Lorne lowered his eyes and lied. "I don't know. The last person we were ordered to bring here is still alive. That was just over three weeks ago."

Three weeks? John thought. He was ready to go insane, and he hadn't even been here a full day yet. "So there's some hope, huh?" Lorne didn't say anything right away, and he felt that little spark earlier he'd been nursing sputter and die like it was outside in the rain right now.

"I think the only reason she's still around is because none of our drugs seem to work on her," Lorne said. "And Kolya thinks he can break her." He grunted. "Fat chance on that ever happening. She's been in the brig ever since she got here and feisty as ever."

"And also because Chaya doesn't intimidate her at all," Ronon added as he got up from the chair. He came up next to John, crossed his arms, and frowned out at the rain. "She likes her victims to squirm, not fight back. Submit. She's a sick bitch."

"Got that right," John muttered. He stuck his hands in his pockets and turned his back to the window. He leaned back against it, his head down. "So, I take it there were others besides me and this woman?"

"Yeah," Lorne replied disgustedly and had to lower his gaze.

Even though he didn't want to know, John said, "And?"

The silence that followed stretched to nearly a full minute. "Carson can tell you about what was left of them," Lorne said very softly. He had seen what was left, too, since he and some of his boys had to do the clean-up as a little object lesson to keep them in line.

"Fuck," John muttered and rubbed his mouth.

"Hey, you're gonna be fine," Ronon said and bumped his shoulder. "You're tough."

John chuffed and didn't care that he had a bit of sub vocalization with it this time – he tended to revert to old habits when he was stressed. He didn't see the two men start faintly. "Well, hate to break the news to you, Chewie, but psycho Barbie scares the ever lovin' piss out of me." One of the disadvantages of his heightened senses was having borderline empathy, and the ability was already strong on his mother's side of the family. And people wondered why he spent a lot of time alone. "And Kolya …." He was just as crazy as far as he was concerned. Then he suddenly glanced up at the two guards by the door.

"They can be trusted," Lorne said. "Picked them myself."

"And the surveillance here?"

"It's the freakin' library," Ronon rumbled as if that was all the explanation needed.

John fought the urge to just slide down the window and sit on the floor. He stuck his hand back in his pocket, his gaze on the carpet again. "That I was drugged and brought here pretty much tells me my ass is grass, no matter what. Psycho Barbie calls me by a number, Kolya calls me 'it' and expects me to take that as a compliment, and I'm pretty much under house arrest. Yeah, despite the wining and dining, I'm screwed. No way around it." He managed to say that all in a relatively normal tone. "So, please, don't tell me I'll be fine. I'm not some stupid specimen." Now some anger was starting to creep into his voice.

Ronon drew his head back a fraction and glanced at Lorne. "Well, keep telling yourself that last bit and you won't be," Lorne snapped back. He was still facing the window, and when he spoke next it was barely above a whisper. "Things have started in motion. Just, just be patient."

John chuffed and shoved away from the window. "That's a lot easier said than done," he growled. Then he caught Ronon staring at him out of the corner of his eye. "What?" he snapped.

"What are you, man?" Ronon asked. The question was completely without disgust, or guile, or even demand. It was just a straight forward, simple question, one person to another.

"Screwed," John replied sarcastically and started to walk away.

"Are you a werewolf? 'Cuz if you are, I'd really like to know – the moon is gonna be full in a few days, and I wouldn't want to have to hunt your ass down and shoot you. I had to do that with the last one a few months back, and it was messy."

John stuttered to a halt and saw the two guards were listening with great interest. He slowly turned back around and regarded them.

"He does have a valid point," Lorne said casually. "I do have the security of a couple hundred scientists and a hundred civilians to consider, as well as that of my men."

"And there has to be some reason why psycho Barbie is interested in you." Ronon smirked at John's name for Chaya. "Can't all be about the spiky hair and pointy ears."

Despite his anger and gut clenching frustration, John felt the corner of his mouth twitch. "No, I'm not." And he left it at that. He turned and headed for the exit. "So, where's this gym? I'm thinking I could stand to punch a bag for awhile."

-oOo-

The gym was as state of the art as the rest of the place and was farther down the long hallway. There were actually quite a few people there this time of day, most of them obviously part of the military presence at the facility. Oh, there were a few he were sure were researchers or civilians, but not many. And again John found himself the center of both curious and hostile stares both as he was shown around. The place had everything one could find in a commercial gym, including a two lane lap pool. There were even separate rooms for various classes, and glancing at the schedules posted next to the doors yoga was a big thing here.

Right about then John decided he didn't want to know how much money it cost to run Atlantis for a day – and he hadn't even seen any of the labs.

It turned out that at nine o'clock Ronon had one of the rooms reserved for his own Aikido class. "You want to sit in?" he asked John. "You don't have to participate."

"Sure," he said. When Lorne chuckled John had a feeling he should have refused, but he was curious. It would be a time waster, and Ronon said he didn't have to participate.

Boy, was he mistaken.

Lorne had to leave, but the two guards stayed by the door, within sight but out of the way. They found a Judo Gi for him to wear so he didn't look too out of place. Turned out Dr. Keller was in the class as well, and she assured him it was a beginning one. There were maybe ten people in all, and only one looked like he was actually military. And he and John and Ronon were the only guys. Ronon looked pretty impressive in his white top and funky dark blue samurai style pants, and he led the class through warm-up exercises that John could follow without any problems. Then Ronon would call someone up, review a move, then they would break up into pairs to practice. Keller would always grab John, and for that he was grateful having someone he knew present. Aikido turned out to be all about balance, and John caught on to the first few basic moves quite rapidly. Then came the combos, and that was when John discovered how easily and hundred and ten pound woman could drop his ass to the mat without any problems whatsoever. And smile so sweetly as she did it, too.

Amazing what a little turn of a wrist, a swivel, and one step could do.

After the, oh, thirtieth time he'd gone down, he looked up to see Ronon smirking down at him. "So that's how you did it," he said as he got back to his feet. The bruises on his shoulder were starting to smart, and he rubbed it and adjusted his top.

"Actually, you did it to yourself," Ronon rumbled. Then the big guy allowed John to practice with him. Now Ronon had maybe three, four inches on him and probably forty pounds, but man – once his balance was compromised he'd hit the mat just as hard as John did.

"This is cool," John said at one point as he held a hand out to Ronon to help him up. "I could get into this."

"You catch on fast," Ronon said as he ignored the hand and just flipped to his feet.

"Well, I've always had a great sense of balance," John replied and smirked.

The two hours passed way to quickly, and by the time they were done John had worked up a decent sweat. Didn't feel like he'd done much, but a quick glance around showed everyone else was just as sweaty. They bowed to Ronon, then bowed to the small shrine that sat in the front of the room, and that was the end of his first Aikido lesson. Keller came over to him as the rest of the class left and grinned up at him. "You did pretty good for the first time. I felt like a total klutzy idiot my first few classes."

"Yeah, well, being dropped by a bitty thing isn't much of an ego boost," John replied with a lopsided grin. He was rubbing his shoulder – the bruise was really singing now. Keller noticed, and he had him lean down so she could check.

"Ice that," she said, then gave Ronon a frown. He just smirked back at her and she rolled her eyes. "Do you have any ibuprofen in your room?"

"I think I remember seeing a bottle," John replied as he straightened his top yet again.

"Good. Take two every four hours for the rest of the day, and if it gets any worse come see me." Then she shook a finger at Ronon. "And no more throwing people into doors." Then she left. John's two guards were still at the door, and they both gave her big grins as she passed between them.

They watched her leave, and John smirked at Ronon. "She so likes you," he said.

Ronon grunted. Then he raised an eyebrow at John. "You want to learn some more moves? Room's free until one."

John grinned. "Sure."

-oOo-

They showed up for lunch just after one thirty. John could barely carry his tray his shoulder was aching so bad, and when they took the table in the back he let out a sigh when set his lunch down. "I think I'm going to take it easy for the rest of the day," he said as he gave that shoulder a slow roll. "Have to swing by the infirmary and grab a few ice packs. Don't think there were any in my room."

Ronon just nodded as he dug into his lunch.

John was chewing on the second half of his turkey sandwich when he saw Kolya enter the mess. Lt. Ford was with him, and both men looked his way before they got in line. John set the rest of his sandwich down, his appetite completely gone. Ronon glanced over his shoulder briefly. "Don't worry, he won't bother you here. He likes to sit in front of the door, so he's the first thing anyone sees when they come in," he said quietly. "Likes to remind the rest of us who's in charge."

But Ford was a different matter entirely. He came over to their table, all grins despite the black eyes and broken nose, like everything was just fine between them. "Hey, mind if I sit here?" he said and sat his tray next to John's. As he sat down he made a point of thumping John on the right shoulder, twice. Hard. "So, how you liking your stay?"

John was very proud of himself. He didn't make a noise, but he did draw his lips in as his shoulder dipped down a little. The little bastard knew. He slowly turned his head towards the kid and gave him a very tight lipped grin that was more grimace than anything else. The look in his eyes must have been conveying his current thoughts quite well because Ford's own little cocky grin faltered. "So, still feeling your pulse in your nose every time you bend over to kiss …." That was all John gritted out before Ronon cleared his throat and kicked him under the table. He looked at the big man and caught a barely discernable head shake. John took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "You want my dessert? I've lost my appetite."

"Sure."

John handed over his piece of Dutch apple pie and stood. He could feel Ford's anger, so he smiled and said, "Later, kid." It definitely came out as a threat instead of a goodbye. His two shadows accompanied him to the dish line without a word, as usual, and when he turned around, he dreaded having to walk past Kolya to leave the damn room. So he set his features into a calm mask, put his hands in his pockets, and ambled for the doors. He had no intention of even looking at the man, but as he got close all he could feel was a wave of cold contempt and wound up meeting his eyes anyway.

Kolya was smiling pleasantly, but his eyes were dark and full of menace. "Ah, Sheppard – so good to catch you. Grab some coffee and join me." He said it loud enough, and friendly enough, that people at the surrounding tables would notice. But funny – there was no please in the statement. It was all command.

John stopped and gave him a flat, unblinking look that lasted about ten seconds. Long enough to make people stop chewing on their own lunches and take notice. "No, I don't think so," he said rather politely. Then he just headed for the exit.

The rolling wave of utter shock what washed over him as he stepped through the doors made John's stomach clench and what little lunch he'd eaten threaten to revolt. Then he got an itchy spot right between his shoulder blades that didn't go away until the doors closed. Huh, didn't get shot. Man, that was really stupid. But surprisingly … cathartic, he thought as he crossed the atrium and turned down the hall to go to the infirmary.

End Note: Way ta go, John! Just can't leave well enough alone, can ya? Jeez...