Chapter 9: Playing Chess with Death

A/N: A little long, but I decided I didn't want it into two separate chapters.

The past two days had been painful. Dr. Weir and I had been forced to maintain a fast pace as we had gated to three separate planets and done quick surveys looking for signs of Ancient civilizations, and to elude any possible pursuers. At least I hoped there were pursuers. I kept trying to leaves tracks – it kept me focused – as did the pain. I knew how raw my and Dr. Weir's wrists looked from the ropes – I could only guess my neck looked the same. The noose was tight enough most of the time I was gasping for air, and I had begun to subtly test what it would take to end it all. I wasn't at that point yet, but I knew I was playing chess with death. We'd had no food and little water. I figured eventually we'd gate back to the planet Dr. Weir and I had been kidnapped, to have another go at the archive. I didn't like that possibility.

Dr. Lowell knew I was up to something and knew the presence of Dr. Weir was preventing my escape – if I were alone I would certainly have made an escape attempt, regardless of the consequences. Anything was better than what awaited me if Dr. Lowell was successful in either contacting or returning to earth. "I know the game you're playing Kyte. You're trying to get someone to kill you. Well it's not going to happen," he growled while we were resting.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I glared back, looking him in the eye.

"You won't be joining your father and Michael that easily," emphasizing the last word.

I shook involuntarily, but continued to stare at the man, refusing to let him see how much the mention of a simple name upset me.

"Go rest," he said quietly, with a small smirk. He'd found a chink in my defenses and I knew he'd figure out to twist that to his advantage.

I sat down next to Dr. Weir. She'd witnessed the exchange, concern and puzzlement written across her face. This was not a name in my files she'd obtained, and from the look on my face, she knew it was another secret. The stress of this ordeal was wearing on her too as we both ignored the growling in our stomachs, dulled slightly by the small amounts of water we were allowed. She shot me a sympathetic look, which I returned. She wouldn't leave me, even if she could escape. Hope warred with growing unease for both of us.

I sighed and closed my eyes, picking an ordinary day in what had been my previous life, trying to remember all the details. The minutiae of school, long lab hours, sneaking out early in the morning to ride or surf, Guinness shared with friends, rounding up change for sushi or pizza. If I concentrated hard enough, I could forget where I really was, at least for a few minutes. Now, though, those images didn't come. A flood of images from younger days swirled through my mind, innocent and bittersweet.

I was twelve and playing in the school track stadium with my friends, waiting for our older brothers to finish practice after school. "Kyte Randall," yelled Coach Hansen, suddenly catching sight of me. "Come down to the track. Yer going to be running for me soon enough, might as well start now. Ye don't have the height of yer brothers, with that wee frame of yours, but we'll see what yer made of," he continued in his thick brogue. I blushed under his scrutiny, as he appraised my stance.

"I'll run with you," said Michael Buchanan, seeing my embarrassment.

I blushed deeper, as I stared at my youngest brother's best friend and took off like a scared fawn around the track, with Michael lagging behind. Years later, I learned that his mother had prophesized that he would marry the first girl he let beat him, a promise he intended to keep.

I willed the tears not to flow, as I was yanked to my feet. "We're heading back to the gate," ordered Dr. Lowell as the six of us started walking. I heard the gate come to life as I was suddenly yanked to a crouch in the underbrush, gasping as the momentary savage denial of air. Teyla, Ronon, and two teams of marines – knights in shining kevlar. Dr. Lowell and his men weren't idiots. They couldn't make a run for the gate or hide, but they could the situation difficult – they simply wouldn't hand over two hostages and be allowed to continue on their way. Suddenly, Dr. Lowell pulled me up and half carried, half dragged me into the clearing. The remainder of his men escorted Dr. Weir at gun point. I saw the momentary relief in her eyes, turn to something resembling fear when Dr. Lowell held a knife to my throat. I struggled as much as I could.

"You will allow to go through the gate. You will not follow us for a day's time. As an act of good faith, we will release Dr. Weir at that time. If you don't cooperate, I will slit Dr. Randall's throat and order my men to shoot Dr. Weir," he ordered.

I could see from the looks on faces neither suggestion was realistic.

"Are both their lives really worth the risk?" taunted Dr. Lowell. "You get Dr. Weir back and I get what I came with," he added watching indecision and strategies play across faces.

I sought Major Lorne's eyes. "I will not let them take you," they seemed to say. Dr. Lowell may have had a knife to my throat, but I wasn't pinned against him. I started to think and caught Ronon's eyes. I just hoped he was as good a shot as everyone claimed. I thought of one of the few things I remembered from college anatomy and slammed an elbow into the doctor's chest. He heaved with the sudden pain and his grip on me and the knife loosened momentarily. Enough time for me to pull away, or almost enough. I could feel cold metal scratch my neck as I lunged, diving for the ground as shots and men's voices rang out.

It was over in seconds. I guess I'd have to take back what I said about stun settings are for those who can't commit. Dr. Lowell and his men lay unconscious on the ground. Lt. Heller was nursing a flesh wound, but everyone was pretty much ok. I could feel blood trickling down my neck as I tried to stand up. Major Lorne pushed me into a sitting postion. "I'm going to cut the rope from your neck," he said softly, as if not sure how I'd react, as he crouched down next to me. "I need to take a quick look at that wound. I'm sure Dr. Beckett will have you patched up in no time."

"Whoa: I said as I suddenly felt dizzy. The major's eyes widened as he saw the rope hid a much deeper cut. Blood trickled faster. I saw the flashes of white as field bandages were gently applied. "I need you to lay back," he said to me. "Keep her head elevated," he added to the marine who knelt down beside him. "Teyla, dial the gate and tell them we need a medical team here, now. We've got a serious knofe wound with massive blood loss. I don't want to mover he until they can stabilize her." Turning back to me, "Kyte, stay awake. Keep talking to me."

"About what," I asked, feeling the desire to sleep grow increasingly strong and override my fears,"

"Something, anything," demanded the major. Tell me how you got your name, " he finished triumphantly.

"Stupid misunderstanding," I mumbled. "My dad and Mike Buchanan's dad were drinking after their shift. My mom went into labor early. By the time they got to the hospital I had arrived. My parents were expecting another boy, so they hadn't even picked out a girl's name," I trailed off.

"Stay with me Kyte, Dr. Beckett will be here momentarily. So they needed a girl's name, he prompted.

"My dad always liked Katherine Hepburn, so he thought Katherine would be a good name. Mike's dad took one look at me and said, 'She looks more like a Kate.' The nurse misunderstood his drunken accent and thought he said 'Kite.' My dad agreed. The nurse didn't question them, just tried to be cute with the spelling. My dad was still pretty out of it, between the Guinness and the joy of having a daughter, that he signed the birth certificate without reading it. My mom was furious, but the name stuck. Surprised Dr. Beckett didn't figure it out," I added seeing the face of the doctor overhead.

"Lass, did ye want to try and catch up with the Colonel's record of infirmary visits," he tried to ask in an exasperated tone that didn't hide his concern.

"If I say no, can we skip the 'think before you act lecture," I said trying to fight the sleep that was starting to overtake me.

I felt more bandages added and a collar around my neck. I tried to avoid it and felt hands on my face and my shoulders. "We need to keep your neck motionless until we can check for further trauma," someone said firmly. I relaxed slightly. "Just need to close my eyes for a minute," I whispered.

"Fight it for a little while longer," ordered Dr. Beckett.

I felt myself sliding into a wet blackness, as I was lifted up, carried in a backboard back to Atlantis. I heard Dr. Beckett calling for help and supplies as if from a distance, felt clothes cut away, monitors attached, IVs started. And I heard a voice calling to me. A voice I hadn't heard in years. Michael. "Michael," I whispered as the blackness engulfed me, ignoring the sudden, insistent bleating around me.

XXXXXX

"She's stable for now, but Dr. Randall gave us quite a scare for a few moments," said Dr. Beckett looking at the occupied infirmary beds. He had asked Dr. Weir to stay for observation and she had decided to hold a quick debriefing meeting in the infirmary, seeing as how Dr. McKay and Colonel Sheppard were also still confined to the infirmary. "She's sleeping now, I gave her a sedative so she doesn't reopen her wounds. Everything should heal fine, assuming no complications, and I doubt if she'll have much of a scar," he tone turned lecturing as he eyed Dr. Weir rubbing the bandages around her wrists. "Dr. Lowell and his men have been examined. They're fine, except Dr. Lowell has a few very sore ribs. Apparently, Dr. Randall has a fairly good command of anatomy and went for maximum damage."

"I believe Colonel Caldwell is questioning them in the brig now. I have my own questions for them. I think they will be transported back on the Daedalus in a few days," added Dr. Weir. Carson could see she really wanted to be there now, but knew he knew she was trying to 'be good' compared to Rodney and the Colonel.

"Speaking of questions, do any of you know who Michael is? Kyte was calling for him when we almost lost her," asked Dr. Beckett.

"She got a little shook up when Dr. Lowell mentioned him," put in Dr. Weir. "Must be somebody close."

"She mentioned a Mike Buchanan, said his father was responsible for her name," added Major Lorne. "Wait until you hear the story. Dr. Zelenka's going to be so happy. Nobody in his pool got the answer right. Still doesn't explain who this Michael is though."

TBC

A/N: Ok, no major cliffhangers! One little mystery solved, a few more to go. The reference "playing chess with death" is from the Bergman movie "The Seventh Seal."