Chapter Six

It was dark, and it was cold. Those were the two things John became aware of first – then, he became aware of how crappy he felt. The last thing he remembered, was falling to the ground…the Protectors had drugged them again, for easier movement, or for something else.

He sighed, and uncurled, rolling on to his back in what he knew was an empty room. Or maybe there was a chair. It was so dark, he couldn't see.

They had discovered their weakness. The old saying 'united we stand, divided we fall' was apt for a reason…it was true. Together, he and McKay could've resisted for a very long time. Apart – would either one last?

Judging from the conditions he was in, they had taken off the gloves for good. John felt tired, cold, hungry, and still slightly fuzzy from the drugs. He didn't feel up to coping, and that was their intent.

Good morning.

Was it morning? Since they'd been captured, he had lost all track of time. It didn't matter. He refused to respond.

The shock that coursed through his body startled him, and he gasped from the surprise, more than pain. It was the same as when T-1 had shot him and McKay.

"What was that for?" he shouted angrily. Sheppard was still on his back, but now he rolled to his side, and peered into the darkness. He'd assumed he was alone – but something had shot him with the shock gun.

When you are addressed, you will respond. We told you that training would begin. This is part of the training. You have kept Trainer One, the trainer will remain with you until training is complete. Unit McKay has been assigned a new trainer.

McKay. Thinking of Rodney, alone in a cell like his, being shocked by an unseen robot – "This won't work," he vowed. But it sounded tentative even to his ears. "At any rate, you'll get two pesky humans, but you won't get our home – the rest of our people."

And savagely he thrust images of pink bunny slippers to the front of his mind.

A beginning is a beginning. Two now, but when you are properly trained and accept that humans need protecting, then you will give up the locations we desire. Our goal will be attained, regardless of the path we had to take to get there.

"Then my goal is to convince you that we don't need protecting."

Possible – maybe…probably not. But he had to try, and just maybe it'd give him something to work towards while he was stranded in this room. There had been a chair before – "Any furniture this time?" he asked the air. He knew they were listening…and he had a sixth sense of being watched that let him know his old buddy T-1 was very near.

The whole 'can't see in the dark' was their advantage, and they were using it well. Despite his attempts at not looking into the shadows, and not jumping at every sound and touch of his body against the floor, he could still imagine all kinds of horrors. Spiders and rats, and any kind of things just lurking, ready to pounce…intentionally, he closed his eyes and tried to wrap himself up tightly, knees to his chest, only his butt and feet touching the floor.

In order to be given a thing, you must first earn the privilege. Do you wish something?

Oh, god, he did. God help him, he'd give almost anything for light. To be able to see and know where the robot was waiting – to be able to see and verify there wasn't anything else in the room with him.

"No," he said, instead of begging like he wanted to do. "I'm fine."

Your thoughts say otherwise, but no matter. Do you deny the actions of your friend unit McKay? His willful destruction of the solar system in question, the planet of Doranda included, was not without issue with you. We know this was an area of – distrust between you and this unit.

His feelings over what happened with McKay were what they were. Now, though, in the face of the Protector's claims, they were damning. "And you haven't ever made mistakes?" John asked them, doubtful, deciding that instead of giving them what they wanted, he'd try to engage them in discussing their own history. "You can't tell me you were always this advanced Protectorate society. What were your roots? Did you start out fighting one another, wars – there had to be something to develop this Protector mindset?"

He'd been thinking on it, and it made sense. A violent history bred a desire for peace – sometimes at all cost.

Our history is not the topic of discussion. The issue of unit McKay's actions, and your response, is.

The warning was clear, and yet, he couldn't bring himself to say what they wanted to say. Loyalty to Rodney, knowledge that it was what they wanted, and knowing that a shock was going to follow soon and he wouldn't even know from which direction it came from. He'd kept his eyes shut, but now he opened them, and stared up, but how could he even be sure it was up? It didn't matter. "No."

When the shock came, he couldn't even say from where, but it hurt, and because he had more of a feeling for his situation, it seemed to hurt more than before…

OoO

Consciousness returned reluctantly to McKay, and when it did, he hoped he'd find Sheppard nearby – that this was all a bad dream, and they'd get up, dust off, and return home…but as the thought of home flashed in his mind he squashed it quickly by putting up an image of Carter in the forefront, and focusing on her features. Carter…if Carter were here, how would she get them out of this?

SG-1 had managed to escape time and time again, surely she'd think fast and loose, and they'd escape to save the day – but Carter wasn't here, and right now, neither was Sheppard. He was alone, and the room was cold and dark, and more than anything he wanted to be back with John.

"I'm not good at this kind of thing," he said. Rodney knew the aliens were there. He'd tried to tell John that every thought was known, but they couldn't read minds, so much as know your thoughts, so if you kept certain thoughts away, then you were good – how often did McKay keep thoughts from himself though?

The answer was not very often. His mind was on overdrive, shifting from one subject to the next, drifting from this problem to that, and a solution would pop in and he'd rush off to write it down, only to have another thought occur.

And now he had to train his thoughts. Think of Carter, and Sheppard's pink bunny slippers…groaning, McKay wished like anything that the aliens hadn't separated them.

It was his fault. His idea. He'd instigated the rebellion, and now John was somewhere else, and he was alone.

All you must do is what we ask, unit McKay. Training does not have to be difficult. You're new trainer is in the room with you, Trainer Two. Do you wish for anything?

"Lights," Rodney called, his voice cracking from the instinctive fear at not being able to see. "Lights would be good."

The room was flooded, and the glare sent his eyes snapping shut in reflexive action. Soon enough, his eyes adjusted, and he looked around at the room. It was bare, all except one lone chair, and it must've been what they'd given Sheppard before, and with a chill that went to his bone, he remembered how John's features had grown serious and taut when he'd told McKay about the room.

You are being reasonable. That is good. It is a start. Would you admit that humans can be unreasonable?

"No more than you," Rodney argued. "You captured us, and you are the ones demanding we silently fall in line. All we want is to be put back in space, and on our way – who's being more unreasonable? You want total control, we only want our freedom!"

What you want is the ability to continue careening through space, destroying in your ignorance.

McKay realized for the first time that the robot, a different one, this one taller and skinnier, was coming closer, and it's right arm had revealed one of those shock guns that had been used by the other robot on he and Sheppard earlier.

But no one ever said Rodney knew when to keep his mouth shut. "You're the one who's ignorant. Mistakes are part of the growth process. Without them, a society will stagnate, cave in upon itself, and decay from the inside out. Is that what's happened to your own? Maybe that's why you are subduing others, like true tyrannical despots?"

The shock didn't even surprise him when it came, but he yelped anyway. He rolled away and shouted, "Is that your answer when people don't go along? You shock them, and keep shocking them until they give in and do what you want? You're nothing more than a society of bullies – not protectors!" McKay put every ounce of scorn he had into his words.

Another shock, this one slightly harder, and he kept his mouth shut, but the muscles in his jaw worked furiously against the effort.

Arrogance is unbecoming. Misbehavior will be punished, obedience, rewarded. You wish to see unit Sheppard, then obey. Answer when addressed. Refrain from disparaging comments.

How much Rodney wanted to see Sheppard again – but he knew that John wouldn't cooperate anymore than he should. Which meant, how would they work out that reward system? "You're flawed," he snorted, smiling to himself in a fit of not quite insanity, but not exactly sanity, either, "even if I do as you want, Sheppard won't, and you can't reward one of us only. If you reward me, and let me see him, you'll be rewarding him, but he won't have deserved it – which means, you're lying. I won't get to see him as a reward, it'll be when you want us to see each other, part of your mental conditioning."

This is an example of the instability for which you must be protected from yourselves. It is your reasoning that is flawed. A reward to one must be what they see as a reward. If we tell you it is your reward – then it is so. If we do not say it is a reward, then it is simply our act of benevolence, and not reward. The one who earns the reward, will be given that reward, the one who doesn't, will receive only that which we decide to give, and that is not reward so much as being made to go and do as we deem. That is not reward. There is no choice in the one, while in the other, there is only choice.

Rodney pushed a hand against his forehead. Normally he'd take up the challenge of talking circles around their captors, but his mind was still sluggish from being drugged. "Just stop – stop it. That doesn't make any sense. To be together is the reward we were given, you said it before you separated us. If you put us together and only one of us has earned it, you are rewarding both of us, no matter how you walk around it, it is what it is."

The robot pulled the trigger.

McKay curled from the pain, and wished he'd learn to keep his mouth shut – but then again, did it matter, because all he had to do was think it, anyway, and only one thing would shut off McKay's thoughts – death. And Rodney didn't want to die…

OoO

The laughter bubbled up through John's cracked lips. "Resistance is futile," he repeated the thought aloud. How long had it been since he'd had a drink, or slept? A body could go three days without drinking – but it hadn't been three days. His body shook again at the thought of the aliens shaping into a cube. Good thing McKay had made him watch the show. He would never have gotten the joke. Then again, there wasn't anyone else but him to make the joke…

It has not even been one of your twenty-four hour days. This – the voice paused – is unnecessary. Isn't it proof of your need to be protected, that you would choose to endure such as this in the foolhardy attempt at resisting only care to be given. That is all we want to do, unit Sheppard, to care – to protect. Why do you not let us care for you?

It hadn't even been a day? John felt the cold wall against his back – at some point he'd moved in the darkness till he'd touched solidness – and wondered if it were possible. It felt like he'd been in here a week, alone, in the dark, and cold. His body shivered, and he tried unsuccessfully to wrap himself tighter.

"You're lying," he accused. They had to be. It had to have been more than a day.

Fatigue, or anger – whatever the cause, he'd forgotten he wasn't allowed to be 'disparaging' as they called it. The shock that hit reminded him, however.

We do not lie. Are you ready to talk about unit McKay? A simple thing, and you will be given comforts again. Lights, blankets, food and drink – a visit with your friend.

What was it with them – why were they so obsessed in getting him to talk about Rodney? Did it really matter? Desperately, John searched in himself, trying to find a way that he could do what they wanted without giving in. Was talking about Rodney going against maintaining who he was? If he gave in now, would he give in later to something bigger?

God, he didn't know. The line on where to stand, and where to run, was blurred by tiredness, cold, and thirst. What had seemed so solid now seemed like quicksand.

And even as he knew the answer, he let out a groan because of it. He couldn't give…it was time to stand, it was the slippery slope, and if he gave now, what would hold him next time?

"I can't," he said wearily. And he wished with all of his being that he could. If not only for him, but for Rodney. So that he could see McKay again, and make sure he was still alive. To let Rodney know that he was still alive, also. "I'm not gonna quit, Rodney. I won't quit," he muttered.

He means much to you.

"Yes." John answered without thought.

The lights powered up, sending spikes of pain shooting through his head. Grimacing, Sheppard hid his face in his arms. The lights – he'd answered. He'd done it without even realizing. "No!" he shouted. As much as he wanted the lights, he didn't, because it was a slap in the face that he'd given the aliens something they wanted. "I take it back, shut the lights off." But he knew they wouldn't, and it was pointless to shout. He'd resisted so long, and held out, and one careless moment, he lost the edge he'd so painstakingly gained.

If we shut the lights off, we'd be doing as you asked, and in order to earn that right, you must cooperate more. Explain your feelings about unit McKay's mistake with the Arcturus weapon?

Rolling over to his knees, and staggering to his feet, Sheppard felt sick. They had the name of the weapon, and they'd gotten it from him – his thoughts. He hadn't controlled it enough, and the name had popped in unwelcome, and too long. The aliens were mining data, and he had to be careful, but how could he be careful when he could barely concentrate?

"It was a mistake! You just said it yourself," shouted Sheppard, pushing the heels of his hands against his sore eyes.

The lights clicked off. He froze.

You asked for the lights to be turned back off. You responded to us, so we rewarded you with your request.

No…nonono…backing up, Sheppard felt the wall again. He dropped, wrapping himself into the tight ball. Don't talk, don't talk, don't talk…he repeated it over and over again, chanting to keep himself from thinking or saying anything he didn't want to again…

OoO

Do you deny your actions cost the lives of one of your own people, a man you were responsible for, and did it not cost a solar system over half of it's planets and satellites?

Rodney stood from the chair, and paced, the lights bright in his eyes, and he suddenly wished for the darkness again. "It wasn't like that!" he protested. "We had to find a way to defend ourselves from the wraith. You read minds, look, see what the wraith are – what would you do? You say you protect, it's what we do also, we protect each other, and try to protect others from the wraith. You know I'm telling the truth!"

But you are a child. Children do not protect! Children make mistakes, and harm others in doing so, and must be protected until they are ready. Did you know that the fourth planet from Doranda was inhabited?

It wasn't! The solar system was devoid of life, uninhabited, their research vessels had shown it. "You're lying," he accused, forgetting himself, and the stunning shock ran rampant across his nerves.

We do not lie.

All McKay could think was there wasn't even a warning to watch his mouth.

"Our surveys showed the system was abandoned, uninhabited." It was all he could say when he'd recovered from the shock.

Your surveys were wrong. The beings were not like yours. Not carbon based, but that did not make them any less alive than you.

They didn't lie – but what if they did? What if they were lying now, to make him feel guilt over his mistake? What if…what if all the aliens were doing was a lie? What if they really weren't protectors, and this was all a sham by the wraith to find out Earth's location? They really hadn't seen anything, and the wraith were telepathic…

We are not wraith.

The voice dripped self-righteous indignation. So what, McKay was indignant also. Who was the one that had been kidnapped, and drugged, and stuck in gel, and separated from the only other being in the ship that he could find comfort in?

"You don't like the analogy?" he shouted to the ceiling. "Tough. If the shoe fits…"

The shock didn't take him by surprise this time. But it did hurt, a lot. It took him to his knees, and he glared over at the robot that had introduced himself as Trainer Two, T-2. McKay had joked about the new and improved model, and maybe he was right. It sure seemed to learn fast how he moved, anticipating and cutting him off even as he tried to pace around farther around the perimeter of his room.

It has been a while since you've had sleep, and water – would you like these privileges?

Privileges? Those were needs, and if denied too long, he'd die. Sheppard would die. "You said you protect, that you wouldn't harm us, but without any sleep or food, we'll die."

We will not let harm come to the units, but alive does not mean comfortable. You understand what we mean.

He nodded miserably. "I do," he answered, almost unintentionally. He found his way back to the chair, and dropped into it. Because, he truly did. And his thoughts wound back to the room with the two beds, chairs, and tables, and food – coffee, and blankets, pillows and Sheppard – John had been there, and would be again, if they returned him to the room. They'd promised that much, right?

But he wouldn't be able to look John in the face if he gave in. How could he last? Rodney McKay wasn't cut out for this crap, and even now, he knew he was losing grips with what he should and shouldn't do, or say.

Admit the need for rest, and water – it's a simple thing. It's one very small thing.

Rodney knew it wasn't small, though. He knew it was as big as the ship had been from the view inside the Jumper before they'd been sucked aboard. It was huge, and it wasn't simple.

Closing his eyes, and rubbing his hands up and down the cloth on the pants they'd provided, he started reciting the Mersennes primes…

TBC

AN: Thanks so much gaffer for being a wonderful beta!

Edited: Thanks Silverthreads, that was my goof, I've fixed it, thanks for the catch!