Love, hugs, kisses and Rodney-dreams for you, Angela. You are so GREAT!
Notes: Many thanks for the reviews! Wow! Such great comments, it's incredibly good for the ego :)
Chapter 2: A pocket full of bigotry.
"We will resolve this shortly, Colonel." With a last nod, Teyla turned away from their wooden cage and proceeded to the trading hut. Ronon seemed torn between following and guarding. John made it easier. "Go with her. We'll be fine."
Of course, that was an overly confident idiocy and Ronon knew it. He stayed put for a moment before following Teyla.
"We'll be fine!" Rodney's disbelief was palpable, filling Sheppard's environment with waves upon waves of McKay-patented aggravation. "Might I remind you that we are trussed up like turkeys?"
"It's not that bad, they've just secured our hands and feet. We'll just rest here until Teyla negotiates us out. "
"Don't tell me you believe that! Just secured our hands and feet! Yeah! To our necks! I'm going to get such a backache from this; I won't be able to run when Ronon kills half the population!"
"It won't matter, Teyla'll take care of the other half and we'll make our way back at any lazy pace you like."
"Right, because that happens more often than us running for our lives until our lungs explode. Huh, wait a minute…no it doesn't!"
"Minus two on that one, McKay, but extra points for the sneering."
Rodney slumped, as much as he could with the tight leather threatening to cut off his air supply every time he so much as blinked. "I'm not in top form here, you can't count that one. Fear for my life is hindering my creativity."
John examined his bindings in the hope of finding a weakness. Like Rodney, his wrists were tied behind his head, forcing him to keep his arms elevated. The leather ran around his neck, down his back, looped around his knees to end around his ankles.
They had been confined to a cage made of long, thick, supple branches, not too far from the village. Two men walked the perimeter, watching them with eagle eyes.
"What do you think they want with us?"
John shrugged and discovered that was a mistake. He managed an answer through a coughing fit. "Don't know."
"I haven't said anything and I didn't stare that much."
"It's not your fault this time."
"This time!"
"Yes, Doctor Big-Mouth-No-Filter."
"I didn't say anything!"
"No, you were too busy drooling." John pushed himself on the ground, acquiring a truckload of dirt for his loose trousers, until his back encountered Rodney's. "Here, lean back a little."
Doing as he was told was very profitable in this instance, though John's back was not the most comfortable surface Rodney had ever encountered. "You could use some padding."
"Yeah, but I wouldn't have fetched such a good price."
"That's the CO of Atlantis, ladies and gentlemen, whoring himself through the galaxy, one village at a time!"
"That's just wrong."
"Yes, I know. You should be ashamed of yourself!"
"I haven't been ashamed of myself once since I met you. I realised there was much worse out there."
"Oh shut up!"
"That's the CSO of Atlantis, ladies and gentlemen, the Genius of comebacks! Come one come all, he will destroy you with his wit! Shut up? That's the best you can do?"
"Not everything has to be pleasing. Function is much more important than style. I've found a well-delivered shut up is as functional as they come, but I'll forgive your ignorance and obsession with the puerile stylistics of this world on account of your lowly American status."
"Right. Thank God for Canadian benevolence."
--OOOOO--
Teyla came back the bearer of bad news. "You are to take part in their monthly celebration. The moon will not show itself, they will bless the peace of the dark sky with an offering, with yourself and Rodney."
"Oh my God! They do have a Burn the Scientist festival! I'm toast! Literally!"
"Rodney, calm down. They don't, I'm not a scientist and they kept me."
"Right. They probably don't know what a scientist is. Primitive Playmates!"
A snort escaped Sheppard but he quickly refocused on Teyla, whose eyes sought Ronon before she spoke. "It seems…it is the paleness of your skin that is the determining factor."
"That's just great! They're racist," Rodney whispered the word as if it was a curse. Like John's grandmother did when she, very rarely, spoke of dirty thingsAs in: "The Smith girl, you know the one who went off to the City, she and her husband are getting a divorce." John missed the simple life, when Grandma was the scariest thing he'd encountered with white hair and funky eating habit; he'd choose Brussels sprout and goat cheese casserole over life force any day.
"What's the offering supposed to be?"
"Us! Didn't you hear!"
"I heard; no need to shout. What are we expected to do?" This would be bad, very bad. When Teyla hesitated before speaking, it meant things were going to get a lot less fun very soon.
"You need to fight." Ronon to the rescue! Providing an answer when none would dare! He seemed intrigued by the process if not slightly jealous he could not partake in the festivities.
Rodney was not so much intrigued as scared witless. "What do you mean, fight? Fight who? I can't fight the people here! They could kill me with their toes! Their pinkie toe!"
"You fight each other during the moonless night."
John could deal with that. Rodney was such a drama queen; he'd have no problem begging for mercy as John pretended to beat him to a pulp. "That's not so bad."
"You fight to the death."
It seemed John had been wrong about his evaluation of Ronon's expression. Judging by his current one, it was not so much jealousy as wanting to obliterate everyone within a ten-mile radius that motivated the large man. "Ok, that's not so good."
"Not so good! NOT SO GOOD! I can't fight to the death! I'm the one who's going down! I'll die! You military jerk, with your training and your ridiculously high level of fitness! I hate you!"
"We're not doing this." Of course, the look on Teyla's face said otherwise. "You guys go back to the village and evaluate the situation and we'll –"
"There are close to forty villagers. They are mostly armed with spears and knives, but they do have some sort of projectile weapons which seem loaded with small rocks. There has been some sparring done this afternoon, in which Ronon participated."
"They're not bad, but you could take them."
Sheppard nodded, accepting the data and compliment. AH! He was Big Bad John; of course he could take them! "Anything else? Forest around the village was pretty dense. Any chance they're not hunters?"
"They're dressed in leather! Obviously they're hunters!" Rodney's mind was rapidly filling with images of his gory death. Sheppard towering over him proudly, a foot planted on his deceased flesh, modestly accepting the cheers and applause as a multitude of women draped themselves over him. All hail John Sheppard, for he has vanquished his opponent with one strong sword swipe. Not that they had swords, but very large knife just didn't sound as good.
"I believe they know this land very well, Colonel."
"Can you get us out with more offered in trade?"
"To keep their trust, I have been forced to admit that I was hoping for a better price when we traded earlier. I have told them that while we allow you freedom amongst our people, the time has come to make better use of your lives. I have spoken of a mutual acquaintance that suggested we might acquire a sufficient amount of grain for you, here. I am afraid they are not interested in anything but yourself and Rodney, and now believe that we did intent to trade. It will allow us to leave this world. I am sorry, but it was the only way to assure our continued freedom. They do not take kindly to those who sympathise with the Pawak, as you are known. It is possible we would also be made to take part in the celebration were we to admit we held you both in high regards."
"Good thinking. You guys need to be able to leave. Anything you can do to hold up the celebration?"
"We can take them," said Ronon, the voice of crazy 'kill them all' plans.
Rodney huffed his disbelief before wording it with a healthy serving of scorn. "Of course! You can single-handedly incapacitate half the tribe, Teyla and Sheppard can take the rest while I get the heck out of here. Good plan, let's do that. Oh…oh, oh no…" Rodney's face fell and he sighed theatrically. "…I forgot. We're tied up with choke collars, not to mention outnumbered by huge warrior-type people! Are you insane? Did you and Colonel Jackass over there attend the same tactic classes?"
Not even Ronon's glare could shut McKay up. Not that it worked on anyone in the team anymore, given that they knew better than to believe Ronon would hurt them.
"Any other plans that do not come from the mind of a walking testosterone overdose?"
"Get backup." A simple, efficient and masterful stroke of tactical genius. Teyla and Ronon were free to go, so they should! Marvel, McKay! He didn't, but John had not truly expected him to. The mumbling coming from behind was as close to eloquent praises as Sheppard was going to get.
"The festivities are set to start with the setting of the sun. Perhaps it would be wise for one of us to remain, as a precaution."
"It's too late! The sun's going to set, in…what? Two hours? I really don't want to fight to the death! You can't mess around here!"
"No, you guys head on home and send backup. A jumper and two teams on ground. Get Lorne to pick out the men."
"We will be back shortly." Teyla nodded.
She and Ronon took off at a run and John was not sure they had heard Rodney's recommendation to make sure there be no Caucasian on the teams. Not that anyone but the two Earthlings knew what Caucasian meant and, surely, they were smart enough to think of that on their own.
Rodney now found himself with much bigger problems than he had anticipated, not the least of which was an impossible itch on his elbow. He attempted to scratch it using the rock that was his team leader's head, but that did not give the desired result.
"What the hell are you doing?"
"I have an itch!"
John moved his head out of the way, effectively cutting off his air supply. Followed long seconds of coughing and cursing, interspersed with a moderate amount of whining from McKay.
"Damn it, McKay!"
"What! I have an itch!"
"I'm not a scratching post!"
Rodney lowered himself to the side and carefully rubbed his elbow against the ground, relieved when he avoided choking himself. Unfortunately, he experienced some difficulties sitting back up. Sheppard watched him with an amused grin which only served to anger Rodney. "Are you just going to watch me?"
"That's the plan."
"It's a bad one."
"What would you suggest I do? Magically untie myself to offer assistance? I'm sorry, I left my telekinesis powers at home," Sheppard said, his annoyance factor rising.
Rodney took a deep breath and bent forward, holding in his abdominal muscles in an effort to rise off the ground. The wide strip of leather dug into his skin as he pushed up with his elbow, finally managing to sit. He breathed in deeply to resume the flow of oxygen through his system.
Sheppard wished he could've helped, but was perversely amused by McKay's struggle. "It's like watching a beached whale."
"Ok, stop it! I might not be as fit as you, but I'm not fat!"
"Man, you touchy much? If it's such a big deal, I'll take you on jogs more often!"
Rodney blushed, sputtered and finally harrumphed to regain his composure and avoid walking into the viper's nest laid out before him. Sheppard was denied the satisfaction of a trapped astrophysicist attempting to save himself from the horror of exercise by a deep voice coming from the left.
The guards stood straight and proud outside of the cage and the biggest one spoke. "You are to be readied for the celebration. Tonight, you will fight each other until one falls." The door to the cage opened and the speaker stepped in, followed by the two other men. He pointed his spear at them whilst they were pulled to their feet. McKay supposed he should be impressed by their little display, but he was mostly annoyed and uncomfortable. And hungry.
Forced to walk bended at an angle to avoid any unfortunate choking mishaps, John felt incredibly vulnerable and he supposed it was the point of the bindings; reduce them to being unworthy of respect, forced to grovel and bow down before these people. John had never been a victim of segregative philosophies and couldn't say he enjoyed it very much, unsurprisingly. He had always considered such thoughts to be the indication of weak minds. Nothing like a weak mind in a strong body to bring trouble to the table, and what was it with the return of Grandma's wisdom today?
They were led to a sandy area not far from the fire pit. It seemed the whole village had congregated to watch their equivalent of a coq fight. Sheppard couldn't believe they would be forced to do this! He scanned the groups that stood, eating, drinking, talking and his eyes stumbled upon Teyla and Ronon. Teyla was speaking with Kenoti, her face serious and grave. Ronon watched them being led away with ill-concealed fury, his hand stroking the weapon that hung at his side. Their eyes met. John shook his head minutely and gave a weak smile. Tonight someone would fall, but tomorrow there would be hell to pay.
Turning his attention to Rodney, John saw he had not raised his eyes from the ground; he had not seen that the rescue they so hoped for would be delayed.
Rodney's sweat glands were working overtime and he was shamefully glad when they were untied and shown to a small hut holding two buckets of water. It also held large lethal-looking sticks, imposing knives, absurd loincloth-type garments and a bowl containing what looked suspiciously like brown petroleum jelly. He considered protesting when the man informed them that they were to wash themselves, slick themselves up and slip on the primal undies, but the look Sheppard sent his way had him holding his tongue. After all, this was the man he was soon to fight to the death, it was only reasonable to keep him in a favourable state of mind.
Kenoti left them with the same two guards at the hut flap and a promise that he would return soon.
Sheppard looked at McKay's face noting the man was sweating out anxiety from each and every one of his pores. "Looks like you're going to get your dancing around the bonfire fantasy."
"That's not funny. You've just lost all your talking privileges until you pierce my heart with your mighty knife."
"Don't worry, we're not doing this."
"It wouldn't seem like we have the choice, unless you can fight forty people single-handedly! I swear, you and Ronon, two knuckleheads in charge of my precious life. It denotes a certain lack of foresight. "
Sheppard nodded and proceeded to remove his boots. "Sure, we'll mention to Elizabeth that you'd rather stay in Atlantis from now on." He smirked at Rodney's sputtered outrage, but cut in before he was bit by a ravenous retort. "We can fake this. You know how to block. Remember the training and you'll be fine. I'm not going to do anything complicated. You're pretty good with evasive manoeuvres, you focus on that and blocking, alright?"
"Blocking! Are you insane! Have you seen the size of those things!" McKay slid a finger over one of the fighting sticks. The wood was smooth and polished but the sticks were not. Imbedded at regular intervals were small, sharpened rocks; miniature spears for maximum damage. Rodney walked away from the weapons and started to undress. "How am I going to block that? This is the end of me!" He bent over to remove his boots and socks before grasping the edge of his shirt.
John folded his trousers and laid them on a wooden bench by the small table. "You'll block it because you know me, you know how I fight and I'm not going to do anything you won't expect. It won't be like training, I won't go for your weak spots. We've fought before; it's just a matter of putting on a better show. Limit the whining, the panting and the pleas for mercy and we'll be fine."
"This is not funny, Sheppard! You're not funny! I don't play-fight, it's not fun for me; I'm not a Neanderthal!"
"Jeee, thanks"
A dismissive wave of the hand was all the apology Rodney would provide. "You know what I mean. I don't like sparring! I don't like training! I would avoid it altogether if you weren't so insistent!"
"Just be glad that I was, because it's going to help. Listen, all you need to do is keep your focus on me, block, evade and counter-attack."
In old greyish cotton boxers, Rodney looked more helpless than he had any right to, with arms crossed over his chest and his chin lifted in defiance. "I don't know why you think I've become Ronon and acquired all these amazing fighting capabilities. I have not and you know it because you train me," he held two fingers up in the air as he spoke, "two, count 'em, two days each and every week, and let us not mention the beatings I receive from our very own Killing Machine Barbie on top of that." The volume of Rodney's voice was rising with his anxiety. "You tell me that I suck and should work out more while Teyla is politically correct in informing me that I have potential that she wishes to see me develop! Po-ten-ti-al! I've been at it for more than a year and all I've got is suckish potential!"
John proceeded to wash non-existent grit from his body. "You're not the best fighter, you aren't supposed to be, but you'll do fine. Just remember to keep your eyes on me. I won't try anything. I'll come at you slow. Besides, they don't know what kind of fighters we are."
"Well, that makes me feel so much better. Grease me up with animal fat, hand me my sticks, knife and loincloth. I am Rodney the Robust, I will squash you like tomato!"
"That's the spirit!" Sheppard smiled brightly, though his heart hung heavy in his chest.
Rodney snorted and shook his head. "I can't believe you. Here we are, ready to fight to the death, and you still give me that look!"
"What look," said Sheppard with the innocence of a puppy eating through your best shoe.
"And that one is the worst! Nobody buys it anymore. We know you're a twisted individual who uses wide eyes and funny faces to his advantage. That is, of course, when the sentient outgrowths you insist on calling eyebrows aren't confusing everyone into submitting to your doubtful charm."
The left outgrowth chose to take offence at that comment and rose in outrage though the result, when coupled with the upward curl of a mouth, was one of amusement. "Listen, we'll do fine. Teyla and Ronon are going to be back with the cavalry and they'll get us out of here. We're not going to fight to the death." His was a half-truth. Teyla and Ronon would be back, probably in time for them to avoid the death part of the celebrations; there was no sense in adding to McKay's worries.
"In the meantime we still have to fight, and I don't think they're going to let us put on a harmless show out there! I don't like pain, Sheppard, I really don't."
"I know you don't, and I won't hurt you unless I have to. Worst comes to worst, I'll let you win."
Rodney ran a frustrated hand over his face and his shoulder slumped further. "You'll let me win! That's just great then! I'll bash you up with the sticks and wait for my rescue!"
"I'd rather you didn't…but you listen to me and listen to me good. If we don't have the choice, I want you to win. Got it?"
"I'm not going to kill you to save my ass, Sheppard! I certainly am not going to beat you down a few IQ points with a club! Are you insane? I'm not!"
"It's not going to get to that. All you need to do is take me out temporarily and get me to Atlantis. Beckett can fix anything."
Rodney's eyes widened and his complexion dropped a shade closer to his boxers. "I can't–"
John grabbed Rodney's bicep and squeezed, as much to reassure him as to bully the man into acquiescing to his demands. "You do it! There's no can't about this. You. Can. Do. Anything. You've told us often enough." He released his hold and turned his back on Rodney's unconvinced features. "Now quit your whining and get on with it!"
"I can't do this. I really, really can't."
"I don't want to hear it."
The flap parted ways with the hut and Kenoti walked in. He frowned at the sight of the two pale men in the midst of an intense conversation. "You are not ready and it is nearly time. If you do not do as you must, I will see that it is done for you. Hide your pale with the ointment and wear the weaker one's coverings."
"We'll be ready, give us a minute."
"I have nothing to give you! Be ready when I return, or you will be sacrificed to the Fiery Ones tonight!"
"Sacrifice! When did this become sacrifice!"
Kenoti stood in the opening to the hut, a stripe of orange falling across his shoulder as the sun set. "It is as you choose. You will fight willingly or we will offer both of you. One will live; both will perish, it is of your choosing." He exited the hut.
"Fiery Ones! This is your fault, with your jokes, you tempted fate. You tempted fate! Sacrifice!" Rodney's exclamations were more squeaks than anything else and it pulled at John's sensibilities.
Picking up the bowl, and watching Rodney with a stern gaze, Sheppard poked a finger into the ointment, noting its slimy texture and the faint bronze colour it left on his skin. What kind of sick ritual was this? They paint them up, cover the offensive colour of their skin with a golden sheen and force them to fight each other? They make them to their image and watch them die. Why? What was the point! The people here were not hateful, apparently considered what would take place at sundown a simple form of entertainment! Why!
In a mirror of John's interrogations came Rodney's spoken words. "You know, I've been hated for my personality, my genius, but never for this very fair skin. It's a curse, it burns, it itches, it breaks out over the slightest thing, but it's never forced me to play samurai before."
"We'll be okay," John said, slathering himself golden.
Rodney nodded and proceeded to do the same. There was no use in protesting, he'd rather accept Sheppard's lamentable reassurance.