MISCONSTRUED Part II - by NotTasha

A/N: Thank you kindly for all your wonderful feedback. I appreciate it so much. There is a slight reference to one of my earlier stories here, "Warm and Safe and Dry", but don't worry about it too much.

CHAPTER 2: LIKE THE OCEAN

Lt. Aiden Ford was bored. He'd pulled the short straw, and he knew it. Somewhere, on another planet, his CO was spending a three-day vacation among the Capilanos, enjoying a quiet long weekend with nothing to do besides relax and enjoy the hospitality of the fine farmers of P11-589.

He yawned as he glanced across to Private Deroche, who seemed about as bored as he was, and Private Richmond, who was ever on the alert. At least, he'd managed to get out of the underground facility, where Merritt and McKay were in one endless pissing match. The problem with brainiacs, Aiden decided, was that they didn't just get it all over with and throw a punch. No, it all had to be banged out with theories and conjectures and hidden agendas.

Ford was glad to have gotten free of it. Now, he waited with Richmond and Deroche, wondering when Moody and the rest would demand relief. Everything was so incredibly dull -- dull dull dull. It reminded him of when he was a kid and his grandfather would take him to the library. The man would spend hours among the stacks, leaving young Aiden to find something, anything of interest. Grandpa would have been so proud if Aiden had become a 'bookish' kid, but he never really found the joy of reading -- or waiting for that matter.

Waiting for Ford was like so torture. He suffered through it and hoped for some excitement –- any kind of excitement. He'd become so complacent with the stillness that, when the earth started moving beneath his feet, he didn't know what to do at first.

"What the hell," he muttered, looking toward the others to see if they felt the tremble, too. Deroche and Richmond reacted, looking about wildly and holding their weapons ready. The tremble became more pronounced and soon the earth was rolling like the ocean.

Ford stumbled to the entrance to the complex. "McKay!" he shouted, leaning into the hole.

Moody shoved his pudgy face toward him from the bottom of the stairs, shouting, "Sir, it's an earthquake!"

Ford ordered him to stay put and help the scientists get out. Moody complied without any difficulty, seeming almost to enjoy the situation.

Then the beige-wearing crew started flowing out. Stumbling, losing their balance on the jouncing stairwell, they emerged. Ford and Richmond grabbed them, drawing them out as Moody and Fairholm shoved from below, keeping them moving. The world continued to shake, and Ford shouted down, "Hurry it up! Let's get them out of there!"

The civilians were bloody, cut from falling tiles, hugging arms close to themselves, protecting their precious gear and recovered artifacts as they came into the daylight.

With every arm that grasped his, Ford hoped to find McKay or even Zelenka. Certainly the two of them were smart enough to head to the exit! But he kept hauling the civilians out, without catching sight of his teammate or the Czech.

Fairholm came up the steps, supporting one of the civilians, Dr. Stanley, a woman who might have been pretty if she ever smiled. The woman's head was bleeding and she whimpered pathetically.

Deroche, a medic, was checking out the evacuated, assessing injuries, counting noses, trying to steady the tottering group. "We're still missing five of the civilians!" he called when the immediate flood stopped.

"Alava has two of them, Burnaby and Powell," Moody shouted up, as the rumbling stopped. He stood beneath them, hands on his hips, looking sure and secure despite the situation. "Wait, he's got one more…that Czech."

Although Ford was relieved to hear that Radek was still moving, McKay hadn't made an appearance yet! Ford shouted down, "Dr. Zelenka, is everyone okay?"

"Yes, yes!" Zelenka responded. "We are coming out!"

"What's going on?" Ford called down. "Get them up here!" Damn it! Of course, of course, McKay would be among the last ones out. The man had no sense! Sure, he had a strong survival instinct, but he also tended to get too damn focused on what he was doing and probably didn't realize that the world was going to pieces around him. The Major would be pissed when he found out about all of this.

The quaking had stopped. Everything would have been quiet and still, if not for the excited, frightened nattering of the scientists. Fairholm was talking to Stanley, trying to get her to answer questions, but she seemed too stunned to respond. Deroche was doing what he could to help the others, but the scientists were putting up a tremendous fuss. Richmond was wary. Alava suddenly emerged, shoving two more scientists before him. These civilians looked more annoyed that frightened.

They waited. Moody stood at the bottom of the stairway, ready to escort the final three civilians out. Below, within the facility, they could hear McKay arguing with Merritt… no surprise there. Minutes passed. The voices came closer.

"They're coming," Moody announced. "Taking their damn time, too." The sergeant smiled. "Merritt doesn't look very happy. Looks like McKay's knocking the crap out of him." He laughed. "Looks like McKay took Merritt's toys away."

Ford had had enough. Leaning over the edge, he called, "Doctor McKay? You need me to come in there?"

The response came, "We're coming out! As soon as I can get this moron to listen to me!"

Around him, Merritt's people grumbled unhappily. The voices could still be heard, angry and confrontational. More time passed as they waited. This was taking too damn long. Ford nodded to Moody. "Go get them," he ordered.

The sergeant nodded, gave a carefree grin and stepped forward. The earth started to shake again.

"Now, Moody!" Ford shouted. The soldier didn't wait. He jogged into the underground hallway, as Ford prepared to jump down after him.

But, before Aiden could move, the chamber roared and filled with dust clouds. Choking, Ford rolled away from the entrance. The dust continued to belch out as the ceiling collapsed, coming down into the hallway where Moody had disappeared.

Shocked, Aiden jumped to his feet and let out a shout of frustration and grief as the man he'd ordered forward was consumed in the chaos of the collapse.

CHAPTER 3: LIKE DRUNKEN HILLBILLIES

Major John Sheppard was tired. From the moment he stepped onto the Capilanos' home world, they had assaulted him. They'd wanted to hug him in greeting – not a quick little "Hi, glad to meet ya," sort of an embrace, but a bone-crushing "Squash you like a grape" type of mauling. They wanted to hold his hands whenever they spoke, to invade his personal space, to be near him – far too near him. It was a battle to maintain any distance.

John was never the typed that liked -- hugging.

They looked like whipped puppies any time Sheppard tried to get himself disentangled from them. Teyla, of course, was the voice of reason. Yes, she was always the levelheaded one, reminding him of why they were there – why it was important to develop a strong tie with the Capilanos. Honestly, Sheppard would rather hog tie the lot of them and leave.

No hugging -- no hugging.

Teyla took it much better than he did –- more familiar with the habits of the people – she seemed mostly amused by their behavior. They loved her. One young woman, Lillooet, seemed fascinated with her hair, and wouldn't leave Teyla's side. "Is it real?" the young Capilano kept asking. "I've never seen hair quite like it before." And Teyla would smile under her scrutiny.

These people harvested grain, honey, fruit, and vegetables. John Sheppard was determined that Atlantis would be the beneficiary of anything these people desired to barter. He just had to keep up with them -- and put up with them.

Who would have thought that keeping pace with a bunch of tree-huggers would be so hard. They'd spent the first few hours hiking through the forest. Chilliwack led the way, always smiling, always singing happily. He must have decided along the way that Sheppard would be his special friend, and kept far too close for comfort, gazing warmly at him. The other Atlantians in the party also received their own special attendant. Travis looked rather aggravated as Choate, a lanky young man, draped an arm over his shoulder. Bates glowered, and had actually managed to keep many from touching him, but his own personal entourage of women kept close. Lillooet stayed near Teyla, singing the praises of her hair. Teyla glowed with pride.

The Capilanos moved quickly, in spite of their sandals and loosely wrapped clothing. What had started off as a leisurely stroll, became something closer to a forced march. The Capilanos took it as a lark. They brought their children along, swung the kids from their shoulders, danced, sang, banged on drums and cavorted.

It was times like this that Sheppard missed McKay. McKay would complain, would whine, would grouse. The pace would slow. Everyone would have to stop while the pissy scientist messed with his pack, or his scanners, or his boots – anything to delay progress. Everyone would get a little rest and they'd be off again after a few minutes of his fussing about. The system worked well for his team.

When they finally reached the ceremonial "meeting place", Sheppard was astounded to find that they'd traveled in a big circle, and returned to a place within sight of the Gate. Damn Capilanos! In any case, he breathed a sigh of relief, glad to be able to get down to business, to cut the chatter, the crooning of canons, the dithering ditties, the joyful jigs and the TOUCHING.

Unfortunately, the torment had only begun. Next came the Ceremony of Friendship -- the singing of the brotherhood songs, the sisterhood songs, the 'I love my neighbor so much I could just burst' song, the mass embrace that must have lasted five minutes, then came the dancing. The dancing -- the damn dancing. They danced like drunken hillbillies (as if there were any other kinds).

And -- God -- this was going to last for three days.

No food is worth this, Sheppard decided, jealous of McKay and Ford and how they were able to weasel out of this duty. I should remember to be an arrogant son of a bitch the next time Weir needs someone to tend to the natives. Should remember to find something better to do.

Then the sisters, Coquitlam and Ioco came to him with arms extended, smiling sweetly, tugging him to his feet to yet another dance of friendship. He'd make McKay pay -- he decided. Ford wasn't at fault, he'd just lucked out. McKay, on the other hand, would pay.

Three days…damn it… three days.

CHAPTER 4: LIKE THE TAIL OF AN OOSFITTE

Teyla Emmagan was infuriated. She smiled every time that the cute little Capilano girl petted her head though. She smiled as they danced and as they sang, as they embraced… but in her heart, she kept wishing she had her fighting sticks with her.

She could put up with a lot of things, but the constant focus on her hair was more than she could stand. "Do you know where I might find such a wig?" Lillooet asked innocently. "Because. I would love to have one, to be more like you. I want to be more like you." The smile increased, changing to become a bit melancholy as she recalled, "It looks like the tail of a oosfitte I had when I was a child. I loved that oosfitte."

Teyla smiled, trying to hide her impatience, trying to keep from throttling the little thing, trying to keep a level head so that this partnership might advance – that they might have the food they needed to get through the year. She smiled all the brighter when Sheppard looked her way. She could read the misery in his expression and was determined to appear serene in his discomfiture.

It appeared to be working.

Another dance began, and everyone was on their feet. The sisters had pulled Major Sheppard into the fray, and a hairy young man, named Sechelt, was approaching her with a wide grin.

She'd forgotten how annoying the Capilanos could be.

CHAPTER 5: LIKE A HOUSE OF CARDS

Dust vomited from the entrance to the underground facility. The earth gave one last violent shake and stilled. Around him, injured scientists were moaning and talking excitedly, but Ford's attention was on the entranceway that seemed to smoke like a chimney. The young man felt a horror catch him as he took it all in.

Even before the dust settled, Ford had snapped on his flashlight and was descending the stairway, with Richmond and Fairholm right behind him. The medic, Julien Deroche, stayed with the injured, and Corporal Lew Alava waited at the top of the stairway for further orders.

"Moody!" Ford shouted. "Moody!" The dust was so thick at the bottom of the stairway that he almost gagged on his voice. "Joe!"

But there was no answer. The space was silent except for the breathing of his men, the patter put up by the scientists above them, and Deroche's attempts at placating them.

The scene came clear as the dust settled, revealing Moody in the debris. Sgt. Joe Moody hadn't gotten far. He was crumpled on his stomach, one arm thrown up by his head, and rubble all around him. The once gaily-colored tile was all broken and gray in the dust. Ford squatted beside Joe, touching fingers to his neck, feeling for a pulse, feeling for something that was gone. Remorseful, he looked up to Fairholm and Richmond, who returned disquieted glances. Moody's head was at a sharp angle, craned way too far to one side, crammed up against the wall where he'd fallen. There was no hope for him – yet Ford kept his hand on the man for a moment longer, waiting.

Damn, Ford thought, remembering a chat he'd had with Moody during their walk to the ruins. Joe kept going on about a sailboat he'd purchased shortly before he'd been assigned to StarGate. "Best day of my life," he'd told Ford, "…the day I bought that boat. It's the only thing I miss about home, I guess. I love that boat. Not much, just a little Sunfish, but she's a dream. I took her out every day I could. Almost cried when I had to put her up. Gotta build one for Atlantis."

Damn, Ford thought again. Damn.

Finally, Alava shouted down, "What's happening? You want Deroche down there for help?"

"Sgt. Moody is dead," Ford responded bluntly as he got to his feet and brushed at his trousers. It was too late for Moody. The Sunfish would rot in his parent's backyard. There were others that needed attention now. He shone a light where the hallway once stretched, and was met with a wall of stone and rock. "Dr. McKay!" he shouted, hopelessly. "Dr. Zelenka! Dr. Merritt!" His voice echoed back at him. He tried his radio, but received no response. Damn… damn… damn … damn… Oh God. His heart thudded at the horrible realization that the three scientists were caught up in that mess.

"Sir," Richmond stated softy. "Do you think we should keep the ground above the complex cleared?" He moved the light up and down along the blocked passage, as if there was hope of finding a way in. "I'd think the earth above is pretty unstable right now. The ground might collapse right on top of this if we got a lot of people up there. It could come down like a house of cards."

Ford nodded tightly. "Good idea." Fairholm was crouched beside Moody, trying to straighten him out in the cramped area. Richmond kept shining the light about.

With a grim expression, Ford looked up to Alava, giving the order to keep the space above the chambers clear. He climbed the stairway again, with Richmond at his heels. A quick look at the group of scientists told him that most of the civilians had been injured in some way – bruises, broken bones, bloody wounds -- and Deroche was doing his best to tend to them. Alava was getting them moved away from the space above the tunnel, sounding irritated as hell.

"Deroche, Alava, Fairholm, stay with the civilians. Richmond, you're with me." Ford messed with his vest, his gear, getting ready. "We're getting help from Atlantis. Can't even think of shifting the rock without something to hold up the tunnel." Ford glanced down the stairway. Fairholm was still with Moody, keeping one hand on his shoulder. "Fairholm. I need you out of there before there's any further collapse. Now."

Fairholm stood slowly and exited the tunnel. "We're not just going to leave them," he said quietly.

Ford paused a moment, remembering another incident with Fairholm's team. He spoke quickly, "We need to brace up the tunnel. We need equipment, personnel. Can't just dig it out with our bare hands. We're going to get them out – but not without the right tools." Already he was itching to go -- to get to Atlantis and back with the proper help. God, it hurt to just leave… to leave knowing that his teammate and the others were caught in the collapse. Damn, Doc -- why couldn't you have come out right away? What kind of mess did you get yourself into this time?

Ford started moving toward the Gate, not waiting to see if Richmond was with him. He began at a quick walk, but soon was jogging – a tightness in his chest as he thought about those trapped within – maybe hurt, possibly as dead as Moody. He felt sick at that thought.

The jog became a run, as he hurried to reach the gate so that he could return as quickly as possible.

CHAPTER 6: SQUASHED LIKE A GRAPE

He was aware of darkness, of blackness – of pain. The air was thick with dust. He coughed, but the attempt only intensified the hurt and he was left gasping, drawing in more of the corrupted air. Oh God… oh God… The action sent knives of pain all through his chest. He felt as if he'd been squashed like a grape.

Left breathless by the coughing attempt, McKay could only gasp, trying to overcome the pain that assaulted him. His chest hurt, his gut, his arm…his back… his head. He was prone, trapped, hardly able to move. It was black all around him. He could only ride through the pain and blink at the black blackness.

What happened? Oh God… what had happened?

The underground facility… yes… the device that had nothing to do with ZPMs… yes, he could remember that. Earthquake… Merritt… and he grimaced at the memory – the memory of seeing a man driven to the ground by falling rocks – pummeled to paste before his eyes. Oh God… Merritt…. With another shuddering breath, he wheezed, "Sorry… sorry… so sorry…." He'd pushed Merritt forward – had placed him directly under that archway – had positioned him perfectly for that horrible end. "Sorry…" he muttered.

So he'd run… he had run away. Found the room that was built stronger than the others. That would be safe. Yes, there were alcoves in the room. He'd found one, ducked into it… covered his head like a little girl, and hoped for the best. He had to save himself.

Zelenka….

"Radek?" he called, bringing another cough and more pain. There was no response. "Radek?" he tried again, but his voice was like gravel, and the dust filled air wasn't helping anything. Oh God… not Zelenka too….

No… no…. I killed Merritt and Zelenka and that soldier, too… what was his name… Something with an 'N' maybe. I can never remember names.

I should be able to remember his name. The soldier had liked boating… I remember hearing him talk. Might be fun, someday to try it... but I never have time for things like that. It always looks like fun. Sails look so appealing against the sky. Knowing me, it would probably tip in the first sign of wind. Christ... what's the matter with you? Thinking about boats right now…

"Zelenka," he tried again, his voice coming out in strangled gasp. Oh God, it hurt to breathe. His whole chest ached with every wheeze. Where was Radek? He had to find him. He tried to move one arm, but the attempt brought only pain – it was trapped beneath the rocks. Frustrated, he felt about with his other hand and managed to reach his pocket. Where is it? Where is it? His hand closed on the flashlight.

Hoping for a miracle, he flipped the switch – and allowed himself a smile as the white light illuminated the space. A curtain of dust was falling, obscuring everything. He coughed at the mere sight of the powder, and regretted the action immediately. He could barely draw in air. His mouth felt so dry. His head buzzed. He hurt… everywhere.

Angling the light around, he found himself stuck, pressed up between fallen rock and the alcove's back wall. Rubble covered him and encased one arm. The rest of the room was filled with crumbled bricks from the collapsed ceiling.

"Radek?" McKay called again. Nothing. Groping about, he tried to move the rocks, to free himself so that he could go in search of his friend. Have to find him… can't just leave him… can't just leave him alone…if he's hurt… if he's dead… if he's dying… I can't let him be alone…. But the attempt to leverage a particularly large stone from his arm stopped him immediately. He fell back with a frustrated breath as pain ripped through his arm, his chest, his stomach. His head swam, hurt, hammered -- it felt like his skull might crack. The buzz grew louder…. Fuck…..

He blinked as the room darkened. The flashlight still glowed in his hand, but the light seemed to lessen. He gazed at the MagLight, frustrated that the light was on, but the dimness was closing in. It makes no sense… Damn, he thought, no sense. The blackness continued to swarm in on him and he lost his grip on the light.

No sense at all.

CHAPTER 7: LIKE HELL

This is hell, Sheppard decided as he managed to free himself from Coquitlam and Ioco. Just like hell. Sure, they were beautiful women – and they were rather sexy when they were dancing together with him. Their gowns flowed around them as they swayed to the music – but he was tired and fed up with all the merriment.

He managed to finagle his way out of the dancing pit and found a seat beside a miserable-looking Bates on a bench carved from a tree trunk. "These people are crazy, sir," Bates stated.

"Yeah," Sheppard agreed. "I kinda got that impression myself."

"Crazy," Bates muttered again. "We shouldn't be trading with them. They probably have LSD in their foodstuffs."

"LSD…" Sheppard repeated with a grin, fingering the life sign detector in his pocket. "Sounds likely."

Bates snorted. "Probably shouldn't eat anything they give us. It'd make us as crazy as they are."

Sheppard shrugged, wondering if there was something to that.

Travis, looking dizzy, peeled away from Choate who was performing some sort of he-man dance that involved a great deal of flailing of arms, and spinning of his partner. Orin stumbled toward the other two and asked, "Mind if I join you?"

Dipping his head in response, John indicated a spot beside him, and the auburn-haired engineer easily fell into it. "You see Teyla?" Sheppard asked him.

Travis shrugged. "Seems she slipped away a while back," he explained. "I think she managed to escape."

"Bet she high-tailed it out of here," Bates muttered discontentedly. "Probably miles from here."

"Not as far as you would believe," her voice came from behind them. All three men turned, to see the Athosian come out of the darkness. She gave Bates a curious glance as if she wanted to ask him something about what he'd said.

"Where've you been hiding?" Sheppard asked as Travis moved down to create a space for her on the log bench.

"I have not been hiding," Teyla answered quickly. "I have been observing the festivities from a safe distance."

John laughed quietly, but Bates and Travis kept their silence, knowing better than to mess with the Athosian. Teyla gave the Major a dark look. Quickly, Sheppard decided to mend things with, "You're smarter than the rest of us."

"Yes," Teyla responded. "I realize this."

The team from Atlantis sat as the raucous dance continued. People were jerking around like puppets on their strings. The music was suddenly at head-banging levels. Much louder and Sheppard was certain they'd all burst their eardrums. It was worse than the "Quiet Riot" concert he'd attended in his youth.

With a sigh, John hoped he didn't look half as foolish as Travis had when the doctor had been dancing about with Choate. Bates fared better with his small harem around him. He'd only needed to lean from side to side and bob his head a bit to look like he was participating. Teyla, well, Sheppard hadn't seen much of her. She'd managed to disappear rather early on. At least, John decided, there was no photographic evidence of the event. He could count on the discretion of Teyla, Bates and Travis. No one would hear a word about it.

Good thing McKay wasn't here, he decided. He'd never hear the end of it if the Canadian had observed any of this. Of course, if Rodney had been dragged into the fray, the results would have been hilarious. Would have served him right, Sheppard decided with a grin, trying to imagine the astrophysicist forced to mambo, to tango, to lambada – maybe even macarena. Would have been worth the laugh. Sheppard turned to Bates, still smiling at the idea, and was met with a deep frown.

"Three days," Bates said, raising his voice above the music.

"Three days," Travis echoed glumly.

Then Lillooet started heading toward them, her arms extended and a joyful look on her face as she spotted Teyla. The Athosian let out a disgusted low growl and Sheppard smirked at her discomfort. He lifted his eyebrows as a form of apology as the Capilano dragged Teyla away from them, and the three Atlantians watched Teyla take up the dance again.

She wasn't bad. All of that fight training paid off with nimble, graceful movements. Teyla cast them furious glances from time to time as Lillooet urged her on with a frenzied thrash.

With a yawn, Sheppard leaned back, glad that the day was nearly over, glad that it was Teyla dancing and not himself. McKay's gonna pay, he decided. What he's doing can't be anywhere near this bad. Damn him! He gets to play in an Ancient's toy box. Bet he's having the time of his life. He should be suffering like the rest of us.

Really rather be back in Atlantis right now, John thought. And it was funny how much that thought affected him. He furrowed his brow as he considered it. He really NEEDED to be back. He sighed, realizing that it was just his disgust with the proceedings that made him feel that way – that had to be it.

"Three days," John stated, and the men beside him nodded glumly. "Worst days of my life."
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TBC - yeah, think John will feel the same when he finds out what's been going on elsewhere?