AN: Here's the evil cliffie I warned about ducking and running. Thanks Linzi, gaffer and Shelly for beta, and handholding!

Chapter Six

After that night, they all found a small measure of peace together. It became easier to deal with running into someone literally every time you wanted to do anything. Teyla and Ronon would leave in the morning and come back in the afternoon, while during the day, Rodney and John tried to come up with plans for an escape to the surface. It wasn't easy trying to talk about secrets when you knew that someone was listening, and you didn't want them to hear what you had to say. They had to find ways of doing it so that any listeners would be confused.

That's where the crossword puzzles began to become a lot more than mere entertainment. John doubted that any eavesdroppers would put their clues and words together and realize they were discussing escape plans.

It was during one of those afternoon brainstorming sessions where McKay presented a plan of attack that, while it was a good idea, also scared John. He found himself fighting against that old familiar feeling of panic. "An eleven letter word for getting close to someone," quizzed John.

Rodney verbally ran through a list of possibilities. It was part of the process they were using to verify the message trying to be passed between each other was actually the one being received. "Integrate…no…merge…unite…incorporate…it's incorporate, good one," he murmured with the right amount of appreciation.

They'd already haphazardly discussed the need to figure out how the power was distributed to the city through the same process. The end result was that McKay wanted to see Gadmere about getting a job working on the power supply grid. He was overqualified, and Rodney could argue with the administrator that it only made sense for him to try and help improve the conditions in the city.

"Nine letter word for possibilities," asked Rodney and then conversationally added, "I've been thinking of getting a job. As much as I appreciate your scintillating conversation, my damaged brain could probably do more for this city than their best can do."

John tried not to take it personally. It was part of the plan. They were certain that Gadmere hadn't just accepted their word that they'd become model Nokimisians. Maybe the first days of refusals and insisting they be returned to the gate were to blame. Either way, if what they suspected was true, Gadmere would get the news that McKay wanted a job. Days later when Rodney showed up asking for it, there'd be no surprises. "Prospective…potential," he exclaimed, getting the letter number right on the second try.

It was actually easier to do this when all four were around. Because Teyla and Ronon added more people to bandy about their so-called guesses, which were really just more ways to clarify what they were trying to say to one another in the planning process.

"Seven letter word for taking care." John really wanted this one to get through to McKay.

He heard Rodney shuffle across the floor towards him, and felt his bed dip down. "Caution," McKay answered. "Too easy," he scoffed.

The message returned to John – Rodney thought it'd be a cakewalk tricking these Nokomisians. John only wished he felt as confident. "Five letter word for innocent," Sheppard asked.

"Naïve," retorted McKay, and John could hear the annoyance growing even before Rodney returned his own clue to him. "Nine letter word for necessary."

John sighed. Because as much as it galled him, McKay was right. It just…it should've been him taking the risks. He was in charge, they were his team. Rodney would have to walk into the lion's den without anyone to watch his back, and it gave Sheppard some serious baggage just thinking about it. "Essential," he answered reluctantly. "Required. No, not enough letters, essential." And damn it, it was. But just because John knew it, didn't mean he had to like it.

There was a sound of Rodney slapping his hand into the other, and the bed shifted again as McKay stood. "Lunch?"

"Why not," he capitulated, shrugging. "But you're not allowed to eat anything with those…what are they, anyway?" John climbed to his feet, and took the four steps he knew now by heart to latch on to the rope. He didn't really need it much anymore, it was just reassuring, but the path to get to any one place in the house wasn't long, and after a week, he had it down pretty well in his mind. Pilots are good at spatial things like that.

"I can't help it if they've got the equivalent of beans here."

"Yeah, well, you might want to try and help it, or you'll find yourself sleeping on the couch," John complained. The main room of the house had a facsimile of an Earth couch but it was hard, and that was probably being generous.

The rest of the afternoon was spent in more crosswords, building a plan wherein they could knock the power out, creating a diversion that would allow them enough time to use a blowtorch on metal, assuming they could get a blowtorch-like tool, and create an exit. The problem with that, is the need to make sure they had reliable plans for the city. Otherwise, they could cut a hole only to find solid dirt above. The other idea was to intentionally damage the power system and tell Gadmere they'd fix it only if they were allowed their freedom to return to the surface. The second one was risky, because it could end in a game of chicken, and the first one to blink, loses. And John was pretty sure he'd blink first. He wasn't the type to let an entire population die for his freedom. The only thing he could hope was that Gadmere didn't know that.

If anyone had been listening to their little game, they probably thought John and McKay hated each other. It'd gotten a little heated in spots, especially discussing the second plan. Sheppard was convinced that route was a bad idea, and it put Rodney too close to danger. Rigging a diversion was simpler, and no one would have to walk back into the enemies' hands to repair the damage done. Fortunately, Rodney had a well-developed sense of self-preservation, and when he got the point John was trying to make using clues, he'd paled and replied that first-borns were really the smarter kids. Hidden message – the first idea was better. It's a good thing he did Rodney-speak.

When Ronon and Teyla got home, John knew that something was up by the silence. There was the familiar hop-thunk as Ronon moved into the kitchen, followed by the smells. With his sight gone, John's other senses were beginning to adapt. His hearing filtered a lot less out, and he paid attention to the little sounds more than ever. Smells were sharper. The body wash the Nokomisians provided, and the one she'd continued to buy at the small store, was flowery. Roses and lilacs.

"Good day at the office?" he asked lightly, just to break the quiet. It always unnerved him when no one was talking. Except when he was outside sitting on the porch. That's when he wanted it quiet. That's when he listened to the cadence of the city. The subtle hum of the power running under the streets, the occasional transport, and even a few rare times, a Nokomisian out for a stroll.

"No," snarled Ronon. "I'm going for a walk."

There was a rapid series of hop-thunks and then nothing. "Did he just say he was going for a walk?" asked Sheppard. "Because he's still got a cast."

Teyla drifted near John, the air filling with her scent, and she touched his arm. "We should go after him. I think he is beginning to grow frustrated over his lingering injury," she said slowly.

"You two go, I'll stay here," McKay offered. "And fix dinner." Rodney seemed almost inordinately pleased at the idea.

"No, we should all go," insisted Teyla, already pulling John to his feet.

Not sure what was going on, Sheppard nodded, and let himself be led outside. Once there, she began leading him up the street. After he felt they'd left their house far enough behind, he asked tightly, "Care to explain?"

"Ronon needed to create a valid reason for us to leave," explained Teyla quietly. "We found the plans we needed today."

"Really," Rodney whispered close to John's left. "That's timing. We were talking about a way to create a diversion just a little while ago."

"I hope it was not openly," she said, her tone sharp.

"Hello, genius," retorted McKay. "Of course it wasn't."

John stopped walking, which meant they all had to stop, since each one of them had one of his arms looped into one of their own. "We can't do anything for at least two more weeks, which gives us time to implement Rodney's part of the plan." Quickly he explained about Rodney's idea of getting a job working in the Nokomis power plant, and creating something that would allow a large enough diversion for them to get away.

As he finished up, John heard Ronon thunking his way back towards them. "I thought you were supposed to come get me," he said gruffly. "My leg's killing me."

Grinning sheepishly, John confessed, "Sorry, my fault. I made her stop and explain what happened." He lowered his voice. "Did anyone see you make copies?"

"I do not believe so," Teyla replied quickly.

When John went to ask where the copies were at, he was suddenly grabbed by Teyla, and he felt her lips descend on his. Startled, he jerked at first, but his mind caught up to his reflexes and he relaxed into it, finishing it off, with an amused whisper, "You could've just asked."

"Be glad she did it first," sniped McKay. "I would've hated having to accost you to keep your mouth busy."

John grimaced. "I take it we had company walk by?"

"Two," Ronon informed him. "And they looked interested in us. We should go back."

They did make their way home, and again, with always someone on either side of John. While he was thankful, it was also a little claustrophobic. When he tripped, they yanked him back so fast he would've sworn they gave him whiplash. John told them to relax, but the truth was, if he had fallen, he would've had that much harder of a time walking with confidence afterwards. Unnerving how scary such a simple thing as walking could be.

Teyla made dinner, declining Rodney's offer again, and they spent the evening discussing the merits of football versus hockey. Ronon was on Sheppard's side with football, while Teyla thought they were both pointless. When she described a 'real game', the rest of them, white-faced, told her "she won" and found a reason to leave quickly, hands purposefully covering their crotches.

Later, when he sat on the porch, she joined him. He listened as she moved closer and sat next to him. "John, I am sorry for taking you by surprise…earlier."

He grinned into the night; to him it was always night. "Guess we're even," he replied casually. "And besides, you saved me from Rodney's clutches, which I think leaves me in your debt."

There was something about Teyla that he'd never fully realized before. She didn't laugh. She smiled. And it wasn't a difference he'd truly appreciated before now. He could almost hear it. But it was probably his imagination filling in for what he expected using past experiences, more than anything. Could you really hear a smile? It didn't matter, because right now, he knew she would've been smiling, and probably that same brief smile that betrayed her mild amusement, but was always dampened with the reality of the situation at hand. And right now, their situation was pretty grim. Since he couldn't see, he wondered if she even bothered with the smile. It was hard to stop annoying thoughts like that when all you had was your own isolated world to dwell in.

"John?"

He offered his own brief smile. "Sorry, just thinking."

"If you ever…need to talk," she said, hesitatingly.

There was a moment where the temptation was strong. Where he wanted to tell her that if he never flew again, he wasn't sure he'd survive. Where he wanted to confess the gut-wrenching fears that they'd fail, and spend the rest of their lives living underground. But as he opened his mouth, he asked instead, "How is your arm?"

Teyla had taken on the role of seeing to everyone else's needs, and he often forgot she had her own. He waited, and she moved restlessly. "It is still sore," she admitted. "But grows less so every day."

"You don't have to be strong for all of us." He wanted her to know that she could confide in him. "It's been hard on everyone, go ahead and complain."

"I came out here to comfort you," she said, and there was warmth and irony in her voice. "But if you want a complaint, you are leaving your clothes on the floor."

He chuckled ruefully. "Guess I walked right into that one."

A light touch on his arm, and she was standing. "You could say that," she agreed. "I am going to sleep. Do you need anything?"

"Just my -" he stumbled, not wanting to say it, and sound so pathetic. "Guitar," he said.

If she'd caught it, she didn't let on. She murmured good night, and left him alone. Come to think of it, a guitar wouldn't have been a bad thing to have right then. Music was a good way to lose yourself for a little while, and he didn't need to see the strings to know the chords. Maybe he and McKay could start up a band and lease out as entertainment for the city, staying on as morale providers. He snorted. They'd probably end up being more for comedic relief, but Rodney could play the piano. John was curious to hear him play. The two seemed incongruous with one another. Piano and McKay. Then again, Rodney's shakiness made the prospect of his playing seem dimmer than John's.

Shit. He let himself slump against the wall. The porch wasn't even a porch, just the area from the front of their house to the curb, five feet, because he'd paced it to find out. Rodney had asked him what he was doing, and John had said he was finding out how far he could go before he ran the risk of getting run over. He stayed there for a long time, thinking too much about what could go wrong in the coming weeks. Eventually, he went to bed, telling Rodney to go back to sleep when his clumsy movements woke him. John fell asleep to dreams of falling down long, dark tunnels.

OoO

The rest of the week, they played up Rodney's growing cabin fever, which wasn't hard to do since it wasn't fake, for either of them. Sitting around was beginning to wear on their nerves. There's only so many rounds of hangman, and crossword puzzles, and Rock, Paper, Scissors that one can handle; not to mention he had to take McKay's word on the latter, and John's losing streak was a little suspicious when you considered it was a game of chance.

There were no weekends on Nokomis, just rest days every six work days. Rodney finally staged an explosion, and insisted Teyla take him to see Gadmere to get some kind of job. He carried on to the point where John slapped his back a little harder than was necessary and whispered at the same time, "Overkill!"

Rodney had coughed "Jealous," and hurried away with Teyla.

When they got back, Rodney was a proud member of the Nokomis work force, with a job at the power plant. John told him congratulations, and then forced the smile to stay on his face so long it hurt.

It was all going according to plan, but the sudden reality that John would be alone, really alone, hit him, hard. It was one thing when he'd go off to sit by himself, but it was another to realize that nobody would be near if he needed them during the day. It freaked him out all over again, like what he'd felt when he'd first woken up in the hospital.

As soon as they'd finished eating dinner, he headed out to the porch. Most of the time, they respected his need to be alone, but not this time. Rodney came out and plopped down beside him. "You might want to control your happiness," he warned. "You might damage something with all the leaping about."

"I'm happy," John insisted. That same painful smile still plastered on his face.

"Ah, I see. My mistake, the look on your face, it must be that you have a bad case of hemorrhoids then, well, of course, that makes sense, my face would look like that too -"

The smile slipped. "I hate you."

Rodney breathed deep. "I'm feeling the love tonight. I can ask for an assistant, and conveniently, there you are."

"I don't want to be your assistant," John grated.

"Then what?" Rodney finally snapped. "I thought you wanted this?"

Yeah. He wanted to be left alone all day, with only the darkness staring back at him, and hoping they'd come back at the end of the day. It was stupid. He knew it. That's why he wasn't going to admit it. But, God, he had no way of telling time, no way of knowing when to expect them back except an internal progression that would probably run far too slow, or fast, depending on the point of view.

"It's not that," he protested. "I'm glad you get to go play scientist again." Always had to remember the game they played.

McKay was quiet, and John knew he was still there only because he hadn't heard Rodney get up and move away. A few minutes went by, and John's nerves twitched.

"Six letter word for frightened," Rodney said flatly.

John closed his eyes, and let his chin drop down to his chest. Why was he as readable as a book now? He didn't answer because they both knew McKay had struck oil.

When McKay touched his shoulder, it was with his shaky hand, making a point. Then he climbed to his feet, and left John. He was pretty sure he knew the message Rodney was trying to send. And John didn't know what was worse. The fact that Rodney was being the voice of reason, or that he was listening to Rodney.

It turned out to be as disconcerting as John had anticipated. Time dragged, and there were more than a few times during the first day that he was certain their gig was up, and Gadmere had taken his team into custody, leaving him here to fend for himself.

Then they arrived home, Teyla and Ronon first, with a weary McKay trailing after. John knew Rodney was tired because his feet weren't coming off the floor every time he took a step. Rodney ate the dinner Teyla made, and headed off to his bed. It kind of worried him that McKay's health was that fragile. One day of work, and he was done for, but Ronon told him to let Rodney sleep and to stop hovering.

John did, reluctantly. The next day he tried not to lose it when the seconds ticked endlessly in his mind into minutes and then hours. He finally heard a sound at the door, and turned his face towards it, relieved.

When he heard steps walk in, and no one call out, John got nervous. He forced himself to stay down, stay calm, and he called out, "Rodney?" When there was no answer, but he heard more feet shuffle in the main room, not more than ten paces from where he was sitting, and an odd hissing sound started, the sinking feeling in his gut hardened. His sixth sense was screaming something was very wrong.

"Who's there," he snarled. He wouldn't let them see him sweat. Period.

Suddenly, the feet rushed at him, and more than one pair of arms grabbed him, and wrestled him down after he'd tried to get to his feet. Now fighting back in full rage, John kicked and punched anything that he could connect with. He was rewarded with grunts and an angry voice snapped, "Knock him out, before he kills one of us!"

That's right, you bastards, he thought grimly. It was his last thought, because right after, someone stuck a needle in his thigh and the drug hit his system full blast. His punches became weaker and uncoordinated, and his thoughts slurred into drugged stupor. "Roodd…ney," he forced out through uncooperative lips before he lost consciousness and a heavier darkness flew away with him.