A/N: Yes, I know it's been a while. My muse got distracted by a new fandom and a few rather insistent plot bunnies that would not go away. But this story has not been forgotten and the rest of the fic is being plotted as I post, so hopefully there should be another part up this week :).

All always, thank you for the reviews; they keep me going.

Chapter 5

It was hard to time how much time had passed when the little light you saw was purely artificial. That, and the simple fact that neither Sheppard nor Beckett could remember how they had gotten to their current accommodations in the first place, didn't help.

The headaches slowly faded, but the memory loss did not. Sheppard got up the first moment the dizziness ceased enough from him to be vertical, but found no way out. The cell, as it seemed, appeared almost medieval, yet there was no lock securing the bars. But there wasn't a doubt that something was holding it in place, for the metal didn't budge.

They had no choice but to wait.

Sheppard sat through an exam by Carson, who insisted on checking the major for any hidden injuries. John offered to do the same, but Beckett gave him a small smile.

"I'm fine," he promised, shifting away when John reached out a hand. He sighed. "There's no way out, is there?"

"No." John sat back down, slumped against the wall. "The bars won't budge. I don't get it. I hate saying this, but I could sure use McKay right about now. Or some C4."

"And blow us up with it? I don't think that's such a good idea, Major."

John shrugged. "McKay could help rig it. He did manage to build an atomic bomb in the sixth grade." He paused a moment. "Come to think of it, you know a lot about chemistry and molecular biology…"

Carson just stared at him.

"I know, I know. Bad idea. But something going to find us eventually and somehow I'm thinking it won't be the welcome wagon." He ran a hand through his hair, feeling completely helpless and hating it. "A mission," he muttered. "We obviously aren't on Atlantis, so something made us go through the gate."

"Aye," Beckett agreed. "Though I don't know why that would involve me."

John mulled that over and decided the statement had some merit – Beckett had been hiding out on Atlantis since Hoff and getting him to go through the gate again would have been no easy task, that was for sure. Beckett was stubborn and John figured it had to be a scientist thing, but McKay harbored the very same trait.

But even though how they got here was important, how they could get out of here and back on Atlantis was even more important.

"Any ideas?" he asked.

Beckett gave him an odd look.

"I take that as a no, then." He looked back out at the bars. "I assume that Ford, Teyla, and McKay came along, so obviously we got separated. If we're lucky, they made it back to Atlantis."

"And if we're not lucky?" Beckett asked.

"I prefer to think we're lucky," he answered.

However, a moment later when a shadow approached their cell, Sheppard tensed, holding his breath. This could be a bad thing.

Or a very good one. John wasn't going to waste an opportunity to escape. Sure, he had no clue where he was, no way to scout out the danger, but he was used to thinking on his feet. Military training had trained him well, and his experience in Afghanistan had prepared him to handle the worst. The Wraith, of course, quickly proving themselves as the worst.

He had nothing to suggest that the Wraith were involved in his and Beckett's current situation, but somehow, just somehow, he knew they were.

"He's the one."

The door to the cell swung open and Sheppard took the chance to sprint towards the door. Before he'd even gotten three feet, he felt a surge of energy hit him, sending a shooting pain through his entire body and bringing him to his knees.

"Major Sheppard," a female voice clucked. John tried to lift his head to look at the person, but it wouldn't budge. The only view he had was of a pair of boot clad feet. "Have you not learned?" The voice laughed. "Well, I suppose that partially our fault. You just happened to get in our way."

Somewhere in the back of his mind, John thought he should know this voice, that he'd heard it before. But he continued to draw and blank and the pain still coursing through his veins didn't help.

He vaguely wondered where Beckett was, wished he turn his head back towards the corner of the cell he'd last since the doctor in.

"Dr. Beckett's the one we need." That was a different voice, John noticed, another female, another eerily familiar tone.

"I can't help you. I told you that." Beckett's voice.

"Oh, but Dr. Beckett, that's where you're wrong. You can help us after all. You and the Major here. More than we'd even hoped you could before," voice number one responded.

John's blood ran cold and the throbbing surging through his body increased. He heard a shot – not unlike a Wraith stunner – and heard the sound of someone hitting the ground.

Beckett's hand tumbled into the very edge of his vision. But before he could even think of doing anything to help him, there was another sound, another shot, even more pain. Darkness threatened.

Like it or not, he knew luck could run out.

Darkness won.

--

Elizabeth studied the man in front of her. Rodney looked anxious, fidgety, and she knew he must be feeling the pressure. She knew he wanted to find John and Carson just as much as she did.

"You're not sure?"

"Of course I'm sure," Rodney snipped. "It's different. Stuns, yes, but it could leave brain damage for all we know. Give me a few people that are willing to be shot at with a piece of Wraith technology and I could tell you exactly what makes it different."

"Rodney," she cautioned. There was no way she be asking for volunteers even if there were people that were willing. She let out a small sigh. "We'll find them."

"Will we? Because it's so very easy to run right back to planet full of people welding Wraith guns and scoop them right up."

She ignored his abrasiveness. She long grown used to it and knew it was only a further testament to how on edge he was. "You're been working on this for hours. When did you last sleep? Or eat for that matter?" Low blood sugar always made Rodney testy.

"I don't need sleep. And I did eat, thank you very much."

"A power bar in your lab doesn't count," she told him, hoping her sarcastic tone would not go unnoticed. It didn't. Good, though she knew that they didn't really have the time to press the matter any further. "Lt. Ford is putting together a team with Bates and Teyla to head back to the planet. He's requested you be on it."

Any other time she might have grinned at the look of surprise that came across Rodney's face. "Ah, he did?"

She nodded. "We'll be taking full precautions this time. I'm not giving up, Rodney. And I don't think you should be either. Now, is the weapon we recovered useable?"

"Yes," he replied.

"Good. It could be just what we need."

--