A/N: Allies spoilers, so beware! If someone would like to do a companion piece to this on how Ronon and Rodney got away, please do, and you may connect it to my story in some way if you wish. Thanks to Chokolaj for filling me in on what the spoilers didn't tell me. It's given me much more to work with that should help better the story as a whole.

I am so buying the second season.

2

" This is stupid," Rodney ground out. " Stupid, stupid, pointless, stupid, waste of time, stupid..." he paused in his frenetic typing to look up, yet kept his back to Teyla. " Did I mention this was stupid?"

This wasn't the cold shoulder. Teyla knew Rodney well enough to know a cold shoulder from aggravated avoidance. Cold shoulders usually involved drawn out silences broken only by Rodney in a burst of ranting fury. He'd had his burst – once, twice – four times in total – and was all (as Zelenka had put it) 'burst-out'. Perhaps the talks with Heightmeyer had helped, or perhaps he was drained of the energy needed to feed his anger. Or perhaps he finally realized that anger did not turn back the clock, or bring back the dead.

Teyla sighed, folding her arms. " Yes, Dr. McKay."

McKay's fingers returned to their incessant clacking on the laptop. " More stupid trade, pointless bartering, haggling, always with the same outcome of universe proportion prices to be paid because we're so pathetically desperate and our interplanetary shopkeepers aren't. Time could be spent on much better pursuits than dead-end shopping for Ancient crap that had probably ended up on that world in the first place because the Ancient's were the first to grasp the concept of a 'garage sale.' We have work here that needs to be done, like tracking the wraith, hunting them down, and blowing them all to hell before they hop, skip, and jump on over to the little blue rock the majority of us like to call home."

Granted, Rodney wasn't being loud about his rants this time around, but they were just as cryptic to the Athosian.

And there was no Sheppard around to provide a translation. Teyla should have known better than to think this, but it came without warning, and pierced another hole in her heart.

" The Raalosians are known for their vast collection of Ancestor artifacts," she said by way of explanation, though Rodney had been subject to the same explanation twice already. " The fact that they have agreed to trade with us should not be taken lightly. There could be items of great use, including something that could help us track the hive ships."

McKay snorted. " Yeah, excuse me while I don't hold my breath. These Raalosians can call themselves explorers all they want, but they heard of us through the Genii who were slapping wanted posters with our faces on every conceivable world. And yes, they claim to not be very friendly with the Genii, even chased them off when the Genii got slobbery over the devices, but that doesn't make them friends, just more people who don't like the Genii."

" And who have no use for many of the devices since they cannot activate them," Teyla argued.

McKay snorted again. " All the more reason to welcome us with open arms, and hug the nearest schmuck with an ATA gene and never let go. Probably a good thing Sheppard isn't here. We'd just lose him all over again."

The bitterness in Rodney's words actually made the air of the lab go stale. Another pin-prick hole was added to Teyla's heart. Any mention of Sheppard by McKay was so laced with venom that it was teetering on turning into hatred; hatred toward what happened, hatred toward the wraith, hatred toward himself, and to Teyla's growing concern, hatred toward John. Rodney was both taking blame, and laying blame, unable to decide which he wanted to sink into more. Teyla heard the talk. Rodney was proving that he could make himself even more of a nightmare to be around, and his assistants were scrounging for excuses to avoid the lab whenever Rodney was in it.

" Dr. McKay..." Teyla began. Rodney was adept at moving fast to cut people off.

" You know, they probably only want to trade with us because we're from Atlantis and therefore must have better toys than them. They'll probably end up getting injected with the ATA gene, and all we'll get in return is some over sized reading lamp that sounded impressive at the time. This is stupid, and I'm sticking by that."

Teyla let loose another sigh. " That is fine. But Dr. Weir says that you have no choice but to go..."

" There's always a choice," Rodney muttered, and hunched his shoulders. End of discussion.

Teyla exhaled through her nose. The words were dancing on the tip of her tongue. Maybe we might discover something about Colonel Sheppard. To say them out loud would have been a death sentence, metaphorically speaking. Not on Rodney's part, no. Teyla could handle McKay's next onslaught of angered words. It was her own anger she would have to deal with. She was tired of the words, tired of the hope, and even more tired of the constant let down. The past searches for signs of Sheppard had not just been failures, but jokes. They'd tried to follow the path of the hive ships, landed on the worlds where Sheppard might have landed had he survived, gone to other worlds Sheppard might have fled to, and either got nothing for their efforts or tales so far fetched it took five men just to keep Ronon from breaking necks over the absurdity.

One world claimed Sheppard's spirit was now watching over them. Another said he was a wild man sneaking into their village at night and making off with their live stock. The worst by far was the suggestion that he had become a wraith. After that, the endeavor to find Sheppard had become a torturous routine that the team was forced to end, because their last search had Teyla arriving home in tears, Ronon furious enough to kill whoever got too close, and Rodney so quiet that Beckett thought he was sick, and wouldn't let him leave the infirmary for two days until he was sure.

With nothing else Teyla could think if to say, she turned and left the lab, only to come to an abrupt halt on finding Ronon leaning with his back against the wall and arms folded over his broad chest.

Ronon jerked his chin toward the now closed lab doors. " He's right you know."

Teyla tilted her head ever so slightly to one side. " You see this mission pointless as well?"

" Not so much pointless. Just... 'busy work.' We've got bigger problems."

" It is an opportunity we should not pass up. These people may provide us with something that could help us," Teyla said.

Ronon shrugged. " If you say so." He pushed off the wall and headed up the corridor. Teyla watched him go, surprised her heart still beat with all the holes in it. Teyla turned in the direction of the gym. Physical activity beat thinking any day, and she was tired of the directions her mind went, to probabilities, what-ifs, and pointless hope. She took two steps when she halted on seeing Carson standing with hands in his pockets and wearing a sympathetic expression.

" Give them time, lass," he sagely stated.

Teyla crossed her arms over her chest. " I am willing to give them all eternity. But..." she furrowed her brow. She couldn't quite explain what it was that was tearing her down so - not in the way she wanted. " It is... not easy."

Beckett smiled sadly. " Aye. But I suspect that's an understatement. And I suspect it won't be easy for some time. Four weeks isn't time enough for change. Their escape from the wraith is still fresh in their minds. Physical wounds still healin', never good reminders there. They've been through a lot, and I don't think discoverin' that their friend vanished – possibly... died – in an attempt to save 'em isn't helpin' matters. And you know Rodney..."

Teyla nodded. " I do." Heightmeyer didn't need to point it out. When McKay had been well and coherent enough to receive the bad news concerning John, the look on his face had said it all. Ronon's just as bad. The despair had been like a knife plunging over and over again, ripping the heart to shredded meat. Both men had shut down and – in all truth – had yet to really start up again.

Teyla had her head turned, staring at the silver-blue metallic wall. She reached out tentatively, and began tracing incoherent patterns with her fingertip. " I miss how it was."

Carson said nothing, only nodded.

" I miss John," she said.

SGA

Kace shoved the wire back beneath the mattress at the echo of tromping boots heading his way. He was back to his casual recline with his back to the wall and arm draped over one upturned knee. To his slight surprise, only two thugs appeared, lacking one bony individual being dragged between them. The blond, still bruised but no longer bloody, palmed the scanner. Baldy yanked the door open and waved for Kace to come out.

" Chief Judge will see you now," he grumbled in a baritone voice. Kace lifted his brow until his forehead creased.

" Really, now? And after only four days? Wow, I feel so special," he simpered, then hopped from the bed and emerged from the cell to stand between the two. He gave each a cheery smile. " You boys just made my day. Lead on."

Baldy rolled his eyes, but the blond scowled. They did indeed lead on between the rows of cells with their scattered occupants giving the evil eye to the thugs, or dropping to their knees begging for penance. They took Kace through a door, up a winding staircase, and into the opulence that was the Chief Judge's residence. The skills of a thief had Kace taking everything in without actually looking at anything. Brown, polished floors veined in crystal white, gold-framed pictures, antique artifacts sitting in glass cases or on polished tables, woven rugs of shiny thread that Kace knew could be traded for a couple of good weapons at a black market operation a few blocks from this place. Their footfalls resounded forever in the chamber sized corridor with its scattered collection of goodies. They headed up a short flight of pointlessly wide stairs, then to the right and a set of double doors through which was a real chamber where all the real goodies were kept.

Tall, arched windows on the other side of the room lit the place with white sunlight reflected off the crystal webbing through the cream-colored stone of the floor. There were more of those fine, glossy rugs scattered about beneath polished tables. But the real eye catchers were what overflowed the countless shelves and cases throughout the room. Devices, thousands of them, some familiar – like wraith stunners – others vaguely resembling items Kace had seen somewhere, and the rest too alien to even place a name of likeness to.

It was a painful act for Kace to pry his attention away from the treasure trove and focus it on the table he and the thugs were heading toward directly across from the door. His eminence, Chief Judge Harl, was standing before it looking nauseatingly rich in his shimmering robe of red, violet, and gold. Tall, thick about the middle, with contrasting spindly arms (and Kace was pretty sure legs too), and light flashing off a blading head – the man could have held himself with the posture of royalty all he wanted, what he hid beneath was pathetic. Unease surrounded him like a shield only Kace new existed. Harl was a man with so many agendas that it was no wonder he invested the majority of his time to maintaining his own security. The Chief Commander would have merrily removed his Chief Judge's head from his shoulders if he knew what Kace knew. Pity Kace couldn't use it, but a telepath had only two options in life – shut up and live, or be used, abused, and eventually killed. No one took kindly to mind readers on any world – Kace's own world especially.

Gorek was present standing on the other side of the table, and – low and behold, looking positively white-faced, confused, nervous, and breakable – was Sheppard trying not to cringe into the high backed chair where he was seated. The chair was turned to face Harl, with a thug standing behind it, brain scrambler in hand at the ready. Sheppard was staring at the floor, body trembling almost imperceptibly – not out of fear as Harl and the rest thought. Well, a little out of fear, confused fear, but mostly out of hunger, fatigue and, of course, pain. Can't forget the pain; it's presence was practically a shriek that could shatter glass, beating the edges of Kace's empathic awareness with a ridiculously over sized hammer.

Harl was leaning in a little toward Sheppard, holding some round object in the man's face.

" Sheppard, listen to me. We will return your meals if you activate two items, just two, and show us how they work..."

John's eye twitched, his fingers twitched, then his head twitched. Not a reaction, just involuntary muscle spasms that were the normal side effects to having one's brain twisted and fried. Harl's own fingers thrummed the device impatiently, and Kace could feel that impatience escalating toward anger in levels. Level two, his own hand shot out to grab Sheppard's slender wrist and pull his arm straight with palm up. He slapped the device into his hand. It lit up, and that was it.

Everyone watched Sheppard, Kace especially, and he had to force a frown to hide the smile. Sheppard's defiance was like static electricity popping the air around them. He barely held onto the device, and right then Kace would have given his right eye to be able to get a clear picture of what thrummed through that addled brain. The confusion was still palpable but underlying it was a an iron string of resolve that Sheppard seemed to be clinging to as though his life depended on it.

Nicely ironic. Sheppard let the device roll from his hand, and drop to the floor with a hollow clang. Harl bristled, and had he more hair it would have been standing straight up. Fingers curled into a fist which he raised and aimed at Sheppard's head.

Gorek chose that precise moment to look up, and sighed wearily. " Chief Judge Harl."

Harl didn't lower his fist even when he turned his head to see Kace. It remained poised for the strike despite the fact that Sheppard didn't seem aware of it. After several breaths, he finally relented and lowered it with a sharp sigh of his own.

" Oh, yes, right." He looked back to the table and picked up another device. " I suggest you reconsider, Sheppard. This would really go much smoother for you if it did." He placed the device in Sheppard's hand. It glowed prettily, and nothing more.

" Aver Kace," Harl said, keeping one hand gripping Sheppard's wrist, using the other to keep the device in the skinny man's grip, and moving both to look the glittering device over. " You have been charged with the crime of thievery. How do you plead?"

Kace shrugged. " I don't know. Guilty I guess. Really the fruit didn't look worth paying for anyways. Didn't think it would be much of a crime to take one. Oh well, my wrong."

" Five days confinement and two years community service."

Kace grinned. People had not been exaggerating when talking about Chief Judge Harl's 'swift hand of judgment'. Of course Kace had assumed them to be talking about the man's secondary reputation concerning his enjoyment of blood-letting and eliciting tortured screams from the accused.

" Sheppard," Harl said. " You are only hurting yourself acting this way. A simple demonstration and I promise you will receive a meal for it. If not then you will have to be punished. I am sorry."

Kace's hand shot up to his face in the act of wiping his nose to cover the snort of laughter that he couldn't hold back. To his eternal luck, no one noticed the noise. Most were too preoccupied with the increase of red to Harl's face. His fingers tightened on Sheppard's wrist hard until Harl's own wrist shook.

" Sheppard... Please. I do not wish to hurt you..."

Kace wiped his nose again.

Sheppard's fingers twitched a few times, then opened, letting the device drop with another hollow clang that resonated like a shot. Harl's mouth worked as though he were chewing something. He released Sheppard's wrist to let the limb drop lifelessly into Sheppard's lap. Harl straightened, clasped his hands behind his back, and nodded once. The man behind the chair brought the scrambler around and pressed it to Sheppard's temple.

He switched it on. Sheppard gripped the arms of the chair, arched his back, and screamed until his lungs depleted. The noise, and the aura of ripping agony, made Kace grimace and turn away in disgust. After two minutes, Harl called a stop to it.

" That is enough. Take him back to his cell. Let him ponder his actions."

Kace returned his gaze to the limp form being hauled from the seat, lifted, and half dragged over the floor and out the chamber.

Harl turned back to the table. " Oh, Kace as well."

" Thanks, boss," Kace said, turning in time with his escort. Harl didn't hear, and Kace doubted Harl even realized Kace had been there.

Back through the immaculate hall, down the winding stairs, and into the moist prison smelling of unwashed bodies and urine. Kace was shoved into his cell to see Sheppard already arrived, huddled with his back against the far wall, knees up, and head cradled in his hands as he rocked back and forth. Kace went over to his bed and plopped down onto it, emitting a squeak from the old metal. He dropped his own back against the wall and sighed, listening until the tromp of booted feet faded away to end at the thud and clank of the door. The moans and shouts of the prison kept the place from ever knowing silence.

Kace let his head roll to the side for his eyes to land on Sheppard. Sheppard had slid his hands from holding his forehead to resting on the back of his skull, forehead now on his knees, and back so tightly curved Kace could see the man's spine through the shirt. Pain kept pulsing from Sheppard in slower waves.

Kace shook his head. " You're a tough one to read, Shep..." Kace snorted out a laugh. " Literally. I don't know what's going through that twisted head of yours, but I'd love to." Kace leaned forward. " I mean all you've got to do is make those little gadgets dance for our pal judge up there and they'd leave you alone, but you don't. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're enjoying making our mutual enemy mad. And though I must admit I get a kick out of it myself, that doesn't seem like the bright thing to do. And I'd like to know why it is you choose pain over the easy way out. Like making life hard for everyone? Or is something at stake?"

No answer. Not like Kace expected it. Sheppard kept rocking back and forth with fingers entwined in a rigid weave across his head.

Kace sucked his teeth. " Well, I guess it's your business, whatever the reason." He stood, causing another squeak, and went over to the corner and the small grate there to relieve himself. When finished, he wiped his hands on his frayed trousers and moved to crouch in front of the huddled form. He studied Sheppard's head, the twitching fingers, the bruises and cuts marking up the thin flesh through the holes in the shirt, but didn't dare make another attempt at a more thorough scan, not so soon after another brain jolt. Thoughts were like deafening screams after the scramble. He did try to reach out and place his hand on the shuddering shoulder, just to see if he could, but pulled back fast when Sheppard twitched.

Kace pursed his lips. " Friend Shep," he said. " I'm normally not a negative fellow, but I don't hold out much hope for you here. Don't take it personally."

A clank, thud, and tromping footfalls coupled with an obnoxious, rhythmic squeak. Kace turned and watched as the prison keeper – a pudgey man with long, greasy brown hair – came waddling down the corridor pushing a wheeled tray with four levels of shelves holding plates with a bowl and crust of bread. The man ladled stew from a bucket into a bowl, and set the whole thing on the floor to slide it and two metal cups of water beneath the slot of the barred cell.

Kace crawled to it, then crawled back dragging it with him and letting stew slosh onto the plate. His initial plan was to eat with his back turned to Sheppard so he couldn't watch, but Kace doubted the man even recalled a time of day known as suppertime. Still, he couldn't do that to the guy. Hell, he couldn't even eat knowing the man behind him was gradually succumbing to starvation. Not that man. Maybe the murderer in the cell next door or the groveling excuse for a thief in the cell across the way, but not the only soul in the entire place with more backbone than Kace thought possible for such a wasted body and cracked mind.

Kace turned on his rear, bringing the food with him, to face Sheppard. Kace broke off a chunk of the bread and held it out for Sheppard, no worry about being reprimanded for it, because the warden had yet to ever consider that any of his prisoners might have heart enough to share. He was more interested in the ensuing fights to break out over the single bowl and single crust, and setting up the wagers over who would come out with the fewest bruises and most of the food. .

Kace continued to hold the bread out as he lifted the bowl to slurp some of the bitter stew with meat, vegetables, and lumps of stuff he had no desire to know what it was. He flicked his tongue over his lips and wagged the bread in front of Sheppard.

" Come on, friend. I know you're hungry. Just take it, I don't bite, I swear."

Sheppard kept rocking, twitching, and shivering, but didn't move in any other way. Kace dipped his head in an attempt at peering into Sheppard's face.

" Come on, I know you want it. No one's gonna know. It'll be our secret."

Kace heard a small gasp. Was Sheppard sobbing? He could feel the sorrow. The man was drowning in it, in his confusion and the fear it produced, trying to grasp things that were supposed to be there, but slipping from him like water through his fingers. And the more he tried, the more he drowned.

Kace didn't hold the man's sobbing against him. He wasn't cruel like that. He drank more stew and kept the bread where Sheppard could take it. Time didn't exist in a place like this, so Kace couldn't say how long it was before Sheppard finally moved, except that the bowl was almost empty. Sheppard's hands slid to his neck, allowing him to lift his head. The sunken, shadowed eyes were red, the wan face wet – definitely been crying. Sheppard looked at the bread, then at Kace. Not the first time they'd made eye contact, and not the first time that the uncertainty was so strong that it gave Kace the impression of a child confronting a complete stranger without mommy or daddy to keep him safe. Sheppard was still trying to grasp... something. Kace could see it in the way the man's forehead creased and smoothed. He could also feel it, like a physical struggle that he kept losing, but kept going at.

And he was always scared, just like he was always in pain.

Kace pursed his lips thoughtfully. " I won't hurt you," he said calmly, kindly, in the tone of one adult to another, not a child. " Come on. You want it, don't fight it. Eat, get strong, then you can piss our mutual enemy off for a little longer."

Sheppard kept looking from one to the other, back and forth, eye twitching, head twitching, a muscle in his back shuddering. Finally, he pulled one hand from off his neck, and reached it out shakily toward the bread, inching with caution. When the tips of his fingers touched the bread, his hand flinched back, but continued on when nothing happened. Finally, he snatched the bread from Kace and pulled it to him, enclosing himself around it to tear into it and stuff it in his face.

Grinning, Kace leaned back until he was almost lying down, and grabbed the water, dragging the first to set before Sheppard, and the second before himself. Sheppard finished the bread by the time Kace had his own water, and drank the cup empty with a look of rapture on his tired face. Finished, he sagged, panting, and wiped his mouth with the grimy sleeve of his shirt.

Kace lifted his own cup to his mouth and chuckled before taking a sip. " You're an odd one, Shep my friend, no question there. Maybe there's hope for you yet."

TBC...

SGA

A/N: John needs hugs. Lots and lots of hugs.